“This is a war of diplomats,” said Dalroy, resolved to keep a guard on his tongue. “I am quite sure that no one in England wants war.”
“But will England fight if Germany invades Belgium?”
“Surely Germany will do no such thing. The integrity of Belgium is guaranteed by treaty.”
“Your friend the lieutenant, then, did not tell you that our army crossed the frontier to-day?”
“Is that possible?”
“Yes. It is no secret now. Didn’t you realise what he meant when he said his regiment was going to Aachen? But, what does it matter? Belgium cannot resist. She must give free passage to our troops. She will protest, of course, just to save her face.”
The talk became general among the men. At the moment there was a fixed belief in Germany that Britain would stand aloof from the quarrel. So convinced was Austria of the British attitude that the Viennese mob gathered outside the English ambassador’s residence that same evening, and cheered enthusiastically.
During another long wait Dalroy took advantage of the clamour and bustle of a crowded platform to say to Miss Beresford in a low tone, “Are you well advised to proceed viâ Brussels? Why not branch off at Oberhausen, and go home by way of Flushing?”
“I must meet my sister in Brussels,” said the girl. “She is younger than I, and at school there. I am not afraid—now. They will not interfere with any one in this train, especially a woman. But how about you? You have the unmistakable look of a British officer.”