At that moment there suddenly leaped into Helen Grote’s mind, with a sense of significance, the sentence in Kuhlmann’s letter, “I need but say that I trust the hospitable Sir Gurtner’s judgment more than that of the German Ambassador.” It had never before occurred to her to correlate it, to feel any curiosity as to its place. But when Aline, referring to the night of the party so few hours before Kuhlmann’s departure, said that no one had dreamed of coming trouble she wondered to what this referred. Kuhlmann had certainly learned Sir Hermann’s view of the situation before he wrote that letter.
“But your husband guessed what was coming, didn’t he?” she asked. “He took a different view from that abominable old Ambassador, who thought we were going to let treaties be torn up, just as Germany chose, without stirring a finger?”
Aline remembered the interview she had had with her husband late that night, and his general injunction as to secrecy. By his private information with the aid of his own foresight he had sown a golden harvest while the world still slept, but surely it was impossible that this was matter of common knowledge. She saw she must be careful, a precaution that usually ends in being too careful.
“Ah, no, it came like a thunderclap to Hermann,” she said. “He was simply knocked down by it.”
Helen had not the slightest reason to make a mystery of her information.
“Yes, dear Aline,” she said. “All I meant was, when did the thunderclap come? Your party—how well I remember it—was on a Thursday, and Kuhlmann left for Germany on the Saturday, while we were still all drowsy and comfortable. But he left me a little note of adieu, and said in it that he had gone because he trusted Sir Hermann’s judgment more than the Ambassador’s.”
Aline in her desire to be careful was full of protestations.
“I had no idea of it at all,” she said volubly. “Hermann hadn’t given me the slightest clue that he was uneasy till we all knew that war was inevitable. How proud I was of being English when that splendid ultimatum went out that England would not tolerate the breaking of the treaty. But are you sure he said anything to Kuhlmann? I expect somebody else spoke to him: probably he got it mixed up and meant to say that he trusted the German Ambassador’s judgment more than Hermann’s.”
Instantly she saw that would not do, since now everyone was aware that the Ambassador had clung to the belief that England would not intervene, and from carefulness made things a shade worse.
“I remember he talked to us that night,” she said, “and was terribly pessimistic about the whole situation.”