"I shall rely upon you for effective measures."
At that moment a knock fell upon the door, and Conrad ushered Herr Manwitz into the room, and closed the door upon him. The big, fat man, with his swarthy, pouched cheeks, his bristling black moustache and iron-grey hair, bowed deferentially to von Kuhne.
"You desired to see me, Excellenz?"
Von Kuhne walked to the table, took up Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's letter, and handed it to him.
"Read that!" he said curtly. He spoke in German, and used the commanding tone of an exalted German officer speaking to a subordinate. Manwitz read the letter from end to end, and as he read the colour receded from his cheeks, his heart-beat quickened in growing apprehension. As the import of the letter grew plain to him, his apprehension amounted almost to terror. The thought that Treves was a member of the English secret service filled him with infinite dread. He had never in his most suspicious moments conceived such a thing as possible. Treves, the neurotic, the weak-minded drug-taker! The man who had shown cowardice in the face of the enemy, and had narrowly escaped court-martial! Was it possible that this good-looking, feeble fool had been at one and the same time a steady-nerved, watchful member of the English Intelligence Department? Even now, as he read Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's plain words, he could not credit them. Nevertheless he was afraid—mortally afraid—for his own skin. The Tower of London and a firing squad had always loomed at the back of Manwitz' mind as a thing of infinite menace. The English were so peremptory in these matters—no talk, no fuss; merely a firing squad and oblivion! He possessed none of Cherriton's cold and brutal courage. And the thought that his own name was written in the tablets of the English secret service, the knowledge that his every movement may have been watched by a skilful English spy, sent a tremor through him that was visible both to von Kuhne and Cherriton.
"You discovered this man!" said von Kuhne, thrusting out his chin and fixing his cold gaze upon Manwitz.
"That I admit," answered Manwitz; "but I am prepared to swear that he was indeed what I thought him to be. I took the utmost care, Excellenz, and it was long before I trusted him. His information, Excellenz, enabled us to sink the Polidor."
"That is quite true, Excellenz," Cherriton said, suddenly puzzled.
"And in regard to his habits," went on Manwitz, "I have seen him many times under the influence of drugs, with all the symptoms, Excellenz, which I was careful to study—dilation of the pupils, irritability, fear of imaginary enemies——"
Von Kuhne waved his hand, but Manwitz persisted.