"You are wiser not to ask that" she said. "It is one of those cases where knowledge means death. But I can at least give you a hint. Have you any influence at all with any member of your government?"
"A little" Gilbert admitted.
"Then persuade them not to send your fleet to Kiel!"
Gilbert rose to his feet, and stood on the hearth-rug looking down at her.
"But, my dear young lady," he protested, "there are certain international laws which every nation respects. The game of war has its rules—unwritten, perhaps, but none the less binding. The visit of the English fleet to German waters is an affair of courtesy—"
She interrupted him ruthlessly.
"Did you ever hear of a warship called the Maine?" she asked scornfully. "Do you remember what happened to her? Can't you understand that these things can be arranged? Your better understanding with Germany hangs upon a thread. Germany knows exactly when to snap it. The English fleet will be allowed to leave Kiel harbor without a doubt, but every channel outside can be sown with mines in twenty-four hours. If I had proofs of what I know is being planned, I would give them to you! But I haven't. Go and do your best without them. The French ambassador may have something to say to your ministers in a few days which should open their eyes."
"I shall do my best," Gilbert said slowly, "but ours is an unsuspicious nation. I am afraid I shall be told that for Admiral Fisher to abandon his visit to Kiel now, without some very definite reason, would be impossible."
Adèle shrugged her shoulders.
"After all," she said, "it is your affair. England has no claims upon me.
I have never lived here, I never shall—now! My work lies in France.
Still, take my advice! Do what you can with your ministers."