Wilhelm walked to the empty fireplace and stared at the lifeless logs, while a sinister and cruel expression intensified the brutality of his features, "You heard of Frederick the Great stealing the dancer La Barbarina from the Venetians, bodily snatching her out of the ambassador's coach? So would I have kidnapped Lord Dundonald, 70 Wilhelmstrasse" (the palace of the British Embassy) "notwithstanding.
"I would have clapped him into Spandau, and kept him at a diet of bread and water until he revealed his secret in every detail—yes, and put to the test, too. And if starvation hadn't fetched him round—why, we have a lot of that Nuremberg bric-à-brac—thumb-screws, Spanish boots and toys of that sort—hidden away in some of the old castles and prisons——" True to his habit of manual illustration, he described some of the workings of the torture machinery by attacking the atmosphere.
"But, as said, it's neither here nor there," he resumed finally. "Back to our muttons, then, mon amie. This is the story which Metternich obtained from two sources: Whitehall and Gwyrch Castle.
"To-day Dundonald's terrible plan plays a more decisive part in England's foreign policy than ever, being regarded as the supreme reserve force, a reserve force such as the world has never dreamt of. Its point is against Germany, as a matter of course, but I doubt not that Asquith would use it upon his own allies if ever they turned against him. Hence, France, Russia, even Japan, dare not act independently of Great Britain lest she employ Dundonald's terrible secret.
"As to its nature, according to certain vague information deduced from some of the late Lord Thomas's manuscript notes found at the Welsh castle, the hope that in the meantime it had been superseded by modern explosives, and that its main principle, or allied principles, were no longer the last cry in the line of destruction, has proved absolutely untenable. His menacing method is as infallible and irresistible to-day as it was a hundred years ago; all your dynamiters, nitro-glyceriners, lydditers and the rest of them notwithstanding, Bertha."
The War Lord struck a tragic pose: "To sum up, in concocting this crime against humanity the English lord degraded his intellect beneath the meanest animal. Your poor child," he murmured, "like my fortresses and towns on the coast of the North Sea or Baltic, so Essen and the peaceful Ruhr valley may be swallowed up in the whirlwind of his enormities."
"I shall defend my boy with my last breath!" cried Bertha, jumping to her feet, "him and all my people. Tell me, Uncle Majesty, why is Essen especially menaced?"
"Its proximity to the frontier is our most vulnerable point. Pray, and pray hard, Bertha, that Wilhelmina remains our friend. If she joined our enemies, Lord Dundonald's devilish invention might be brought to your very doors, through the Zuyder Zee and Waal, and Germany's armoury, the Krupp works, obliterated; the Fatherland itself could be wiped off the map.
"I hope to prevent this by throwing an iron wall across Belgium and Northern France," he continued, tracing a line on the wall-map, while Bertha faltered out:
"And this English menace——"