The great man commended this achievement. But, like John, he felt pity for Beecher Monmouth, who had fallen so easy and gullible a victim to his wife's treachery. In regard to Cherriton's suspicions of John he took a serious view.
"I think, Treves," he said, leaning back in his chair, "we shall have to remove Cherriton from the scene. He appears, from what you tell me, not to have confided his suspicions of you either to Mrs. Beecher Monmouth or to von Kuhne. It is unfortunate that he chanced to be appointed by von Kuhne to watch Heatherpoint. But I don't think we can blame Lieutenant Parkson for letting out the fact that you were for a brief period attached to that fort. Nevertheless the position is one that must be handled swiftly and effectively."
He suddenly smiled at John.
"You have done very well up to now, Treves," he said. "But I should not like your career to be suddenly cut short when there are big things ahead. We have safely got rid of Lady Rachel Marvin in Pitt Lunan Hydro, where she can enjoy the company of other fools of her own sort, and will be unable to endanger any more of our forces by loose gossip." He paused, then went on: "The virtual suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act was a god-send to us in the handling of dangerous social fools like Lady Rachel. We could do still more than we do at present, Treves, if every one who knew of suspicious persons or suspicious gossip would only let us know. If members of the public would take the trouble to write a letter to their favourite newspaper the information would always reach us, and would enable us to keep watch on a good many suspicious characters who would otherwise escape us."
"The trouble is," said John, "the members of the public do not understand either the power of the German spy system in this country or the wideness of its extent."
"Exactly," nodded his chief. "Who, for instance, would suspect Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, the beautiful and wealthy wife of a well-known member of Parliament? But, to my mind, persons like Lady Rachel Marvin are just as dangerous to us as the actual German spies who pick up their information."
John went away from Dacent Smith's bachelor abode that night full of intense curiosity as to what Mrs. Beecher Monmouth would do in the immediate future. If, however, he thought that the death of her husband would check her activities he was speedily disillusioned. For immediately after the funeral of the late politician, Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, looking beautiful in her widow's weeds, departed for the Isle of Wight. The funeral of Beecher Monmouth had been an impressive public affair, and there had been much commiseration for the tragically bereaved young widow. It was only natural, therefore, that after so terrible a shock she should wish to withdraw herself from the public gaze. Rooms were engaged at an hotel at Newport, and Mrs. Monmouth, in deepest widow's weeds, made the journey accompanied by her maid Cecily.
She arrived at Newport on the twenty-fourth of the month, and the proprietor of the hotel, who knew of her bereavement, received her with a grave and discreet cordiality. He himself showed her to the parlour which had been allotted to her, and assured her that he would do all that was in his power to make her stay as quiet and reposeful as he possibly could.
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth thanked him cordially. That night she dined in the retirement of her little parlour, but on the following evening it was discovered that her chimney smoked a little. She therefore decided to take her dinner in the public dining-room. As the chimney in her sitting-room had never smoked before, the proprietor of the hotel was a little puzzled. Nevertheless he prepared for her a table in a quiet corner of the dining-room downstairs. Here, accompanied by Cecily, her confidential maid, who placed her chair for her and then departed, the newly-bereaved widow took her meal. The only other diners in the room were four young officers, who sat at a table in an opposite corner. Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, in her simple and costly black dress, immediately engaged their attention. They respected her sorrow, however, and, despite the evident admiration of one of them, who thought her possessed of the most beautiful profile he had ever seen, Mrs. Monmouth did not encounter from the young men a single glance. When dinner was at an end she rose gracefully, and, carrying her novel, went upstairs to her apartments. When the door had closed upon her the four young officers became animated in a surprising manner.
"By gad!" exclaimed one, "she's a dashed fine-looking woman, and young, too."