“I need not enter into particulars with you,” pursued the Secretary. “It is enough to say that things are once more looking exceedingly black in the Balkans—so black that I do not care to trust to the telegraph. The despatch will be written to-night, and you will call for it to-morrow in time to catch the day train for Paris. Probably your best course will be to go straight to Brindisi, where I will arrange for a torpedo-boat to meet you and convey you to Constantinople. From Constantinople you will go by train to Sofia. The Paris train leaves Charing Cross at 2.20, as you know; you will find the despatch ready for you by 11.”
The Secretary was a man of few words. He had given his instructions, and had nothing more to say. Buckland withdrew, left his papers with one of the clerks, and, looking at his watch, saw that he had plenty of time to catch the 5 o’clock train from Waterloo.
When he left the Foreign Office, the news-boys were crying the evening papers, and on one of the bills Buckland read, in large block letters, the words BALKAN CRISIS. It was clear that the foreign correspondents had already got hold of something. He wished that the Secretary had been more communicative; it was tantalising to carry an important despatch of whose contents he knew nothing. No doubt it was an instruction as to the policy of the British Government. He bought two or three papers to see what the rumours were, then turned into the National Club to wait until it was time to return to Waterloo. Just as he entered the door he saw one of Count Slavianski’s men, who had come up by the same train from Shepperton, walking along from the direction of Trafalgar Square. The man gave him a salute and passed on.
The few men in the club smoking-room were talking about the news from the Balkans. Buckland, an infrequent visitor, was unknown to them, and they went on with their conversation, while he sat by the window reading his papers. He smiled as he caught an oracular remark occasionally, in a keen discussion as to what the British policy would be. As to that he knew no more than they, but his knowledge of the general situation enabled him to listen to their random shots with amusement.
What he knew was as follows.
Austria, having absorbed the Bosnian provinces some years before, and digested them with more or less satisfaction to herself, was now hungry for another meal. The raids of a number of Servian bands into the discontented portion of the annexed territories had given her a cause of complaint against Servia. The Serbs of Montenegro had been implicated in these raids, and it was common knowledge that Austria had long fixed a covetous eye on the little mountain principality which had lately become a kingdom. The papers now announced that three army corps were mobilising on the south-eastern frontier of the empire, threatening Belgrade and Cettinje. It was not announced, but all well-informed people knew, that behind Austria in these movements, as in the earlier annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, was the second member of the Triple Alliance—Germany.
The question that interested journalists, clubmen, and the Services was, what attitude would Britain take up in face of this menacing action? She had not shown up very well when Bosnia and Herzegovina were absorbed; would she do anything now to protect the tiny kingdom of Montenegro against her powerful neighbour? Buckland suspected that these questions would be answered in the despatch which he was to receive for conveyance to his chief. He hoped and believed that the answers would satisfy all who cherished the prestige of Britain. The British Cabinet would probably make a firm stand. Russia was now much more able to stiffen her back than she had been during the previous crisis, when she was only beginning to recover from the strain of the war with Japan. Turkey, too, was in a better position to resist the southward movement by which Austria was creeping to her ultimate goal—Constantinople. An improved government, and a general overhauling of the army and navy, had made her a power to be reckoned with. The third member of the Triple Alliance—Italy—certainly had no interest in seeing an Austro-German Empire extend from the Balkans to the Bosphorus, perhaps, indeed, to the Euphrates. Britain might therefore expect support from the Powers which had formerly been helpless.
One unfortunate element in the situation was the probability that Austria would have assistance from the mountaineers of Albania. These had always looked with suspicion on the reforms in Turkey, and their distrust had of late been carefully fomented by Austrian agents.
This being the general situation, the attitude of Bulgaria was of the highest importance in the calculations of each of the Powers concerned. It was rumoured that Austria was tempting Bulgaria with promises of large territorial gains when the projected dismemberment of Turkey became an accomplished fact. Bulgaria had an excellently appointed army; her support would be of great value to Montenegro; and the diplomacy of the interested Powers was therefore keenly engaged in the attempt to sway the counsels of the Government at Sofia. Buckland’s despatch would without doubt convey the advice of the British Cabinet, through their representative.
Such were the facts, and such the speculations, discussed in the papers on that July afternoon. Buckland had a cup of tea in the club, and at 4.40 hailed a taxicab to drive him to Waterloo. The 5 o’clock train was not crowded. Many of its usual passengers were holiday-making; it was too early for the rush of men returning from business. Buckland settled himself in the near corner of an empty first-class compartment, placing his official bag on the seat next to him. A few moments before 5, Count Slavianski and his secretary strolled down the platform, smoking very fat cigars, and entered the compartment in which Buckland was seated.