“As I was saying when I was called to the telephone,” he leaned across the table toward the incognito Royal Duke, “the desire of Your Royal Highness—pardon me, I mean, of ‘Lord Denton’—is of course to see England victorious in this contest; but that may mean years of fighting and an appalling loss of men and money. Such true patriots as yourself and ‘Mr. Karlbeck’ must see that it would be far better to end the war now, provided that a lasting peace can be ensured, and that I think I can guarantee with my discovery. I should be delighted, therefore, to co-operate with you gentlemen to that end, and if you would advocate the proposition that England allow me to go to Berlin with something to show that she is willing to enter into pour parlers, I shall bring pressure to bear on Germany to make some liberal answer.”
“Lord Denton,” however, seemed no longer interested in the matter, and was unable to concentrate his attention; while “Mr. Karlbeck” made no attempt to hide the fact that he was disgusted gusted with the evening, and wished to see it end as soon as possible.
Rebener, seeing his dinner a failure, although not quite understanding the cause, like many a nervous host compelled to face a tableful of distinguished guests who do not hesitate to show that they are bored, did the silliest thing possible under the circumstances, and drank more than he should.
Presently he began to talk in such unrestrained fashion that “Mr. Karlbeck” looked as if he would faint with apprehension, while His Royal Highness sought by every possible means to divert Edestone’s attention from the broad hints and imprudent revelations that were thrown out.
They were still engaged at this, when suddenly the door was thrown open, and some one announced in a loud voice, “The King’s Messenger!”
“Karlbeck” and “Lord Denton” sprang to their feet, their faces ashy pale, as they stood grasping the backs of their chairs. When, a moment later, Colonel Stewart, the Equerry, appeared on the threshold, they both crumpled up, and dropped into their chairs, fit subjects for the starch-pot.
The Colonel stared at them in undisguised surprise, a slow frown gathering between his eyes.
“Your Royal Highness did not mention to me this afternoon that he was dining with Mr. Edestone tonight,” he drew himself up stiffly. And it was in his mind that, on the contrary, His Royal Highness had inveighed against the American inventor as a fraud and a fakir, and had loudly urged that no attention be paid to him or his claims.
Neither did Colonel Stewart forget that certain ugly whispers had been in circulation regarding the loyalty of these two high-born Englishmen with the Teutonic names. What did it mean, then, when he found them here in the apartment of a man practically known as a German agent, and in conference with the possessor of the secret which Germany was seeking so eagerly to obtain?
Whatever his suspicions, though, he said nothing further at the time, but turned to Edestone.