The World Masters

by George Chetwynd Griffith

"I have heard hints, too, that he is not without hopes of winning the fair Lady Olive some day, when he becomes one of the masters of the world. Granted now that it is within our power to do what we please with all of them, or, if you like to put it diplomatically, with the heads of this gigantic conspiracy against the peace and security of the world, and plot to destroy the independence of the nations and the freedom of humanity, for it is nothing else, should we not be justified in using any and every means—yes," she went on, her voice hardening, "even to the very last means of all, to snatch this tremendous power out of the hands of these sordid English and Americans and give it into those of Holy Russia. It is kidnapping, piracy, invasion of friendly territory—everything, I grant you, that is criminal under the law of nations; but remember it is also a struggle for the command of the life-force of the world—which means practically the control of the world itself and all that therein is."

"And," said the count, smiling, "I suppose you would say that, as these people are our natural enemies, with whom we shall very soon be at war—'à la guerre comme à la guerre'—I suppose you mean that when we have got the Nadine and her noble company we shall use them as hostages to prevent any accidents happening to our little Polar expedition. Really, my dear Sophie, your methods have suddenly become almost mediæval; still, if they are only successful, they will be none the less effective for that. Let me see now," he went on, leaning back in his chair and putting the tips of his fingers together, "I wonder if I can find any flaw in the arrangements. You know, it is quite essential, my dear Sophie, that there should not be any."

"My dear papa," she replied, smiling, and leaning her back against the old carved mantelpiece, "try, by all means. If you cannot find one, I don't think there can be much chance of its being anything but practically perfect."

"Very well," said the count, lighting a fresh cigarette. "In two or three days' time, when the regattas are over, the house-party at Orrel Court will break up, and a few days after that, say a week in all, Lord Orrel, with his son and daughter, and the American and his daughter, and Ma'm'selle la Marquise as Lady Olive's guest, are taking a trip across the Atlantic in the Nadine, partly in the course of business and partly on pleasure bent; Madame de Bourbon and her maids return to Paris; the Vlodoya puts into Southampton the day the Nadine sails, to take us on our trip to the Mediterranean. Your good friend the lieutenant has informed you that, although the Nadine can make twenty knots on an emergency, she will only take a leisurely summer trip across the Atlantic to Boston, at about twelve or fifteen. He has given you a chart of the course which she will take. He has also promised you that at a certain spot in mid-Atlantic there shall be a little accident to her engines which enable the Vlodoya to overtake her. The Vlodoya, commanded and well manned by good servants of the empire, with a couple of three-pounders and a Maxim in case of accident, will overhaul her and give her the alternative of surrender or sinking. That is where the piracy will begin, I suppose."

Sophie nodded, and, laughing, replied in English: "Yes, right there—as our American beauty, as Lord Hardress thinks her, would say. The Nadine is unarmed, and, of course, resistance will be useless; in fact, it would simply be the merest folly. His lordship will accept us and a portion of the Vlodoya's crew as self-invited guests; we shall then steam away together, not to Boston, but to the rendezvous with our little expedition, and once we join forces—well, the thing is practically done."

"I agree so far," said her father; "still, there are one or two accidents that we have not yet taken into account. Suppose, for instance, one of these detestable British cruisers, which seem to be everywhere, should happen to be there just then; or that even one of the big liners should come in sight at the critical moment. It seems to me that, for the present at least, secrecy is above all things essential, for if the news of—well, such an outrage, did get back to Europe, you know perfectly well that Russia would of necessity disown us, and that we and all on board the Vlodoya would simply be treated as common pirates."

"So I suppose," said Sophie, coolly; "but I have provided for that, because the day and place of rendezvous have been arranged so as to avoid the possibility of meeting any of the regular liners, and I have been careful to ascertain that no British warship will just then be under orders to cross the Atlantic, either from the North American station or from England. As for the piracy, I don't think we need trouble ourselves about that. Before many weeks France must forestall Germany's attack; Russia will, as we say, maintain the attitude of benevolent neutrality until she hears that we have got the works, then she will demand the surrender of the British concessions in China which conflict with her interests, and there will be war, and our actions, however drastic, will become legal under the law of war. In fact, my dear papa, as far as I can see, there is really only one possibility that I have not reckoned with, and that, as far as I can see, is an impossibility."

"And what is that? It is just as well we should see them all."

"It is the possibility that these English or Americans—you know how quick they are at all practical methods, pig-headed and all as they are at diplomacy—have, by some means or other, guessed that the French and Russian Polar expeditions have started at rather a suspicious time; I mean just when the Storage Works—these wonderful works, which are to light the world by electricity for a few pence an hour, and give us displays of the Aurora borealis, just as we have fireworks at public fêtes, and all the rest of it—have been completed. Now that, if you like, would be dangerous; for in such delicate work as ours success depends on surprise. Still, as I say, it is hardly possible."

"Practically impossible, I should agree with you, my dear Sophie," said the count, making the greatest mistake of his diplomatic career; "practically impossible. What do they know? What can they suspect?"