“I suppose,” said Merton, “the despatches to Berlin and St. Petersburg may go in cipher by trusty messengers or any chance tourist, and that there is no need for haste.”
“Yes, that is true.”
There was a moment’s pause in this interesting consultation, the captain evidently waiting to be again invited to state his opinion. At last our chief said: “You have never seen these papers?”
“No, sir.”
“Then I had better make clear to you, in strict confidence, that they reveal to us urgent pressure on the part of the emperor to induce England to intervene with France in our sad war. The English cabinet, most fortunately, is not unanimously hostile, and Lord John Russell is hesitating. Our friends are the queen and the great middle class of dissenters, and, strange to say, the Lancashire operatives. The aristocracy, the church, finance, and literature are all our enemies, and at home, you know, things are not altogether as one could wish. Just now no general, no, not the President, is of such moment to us as our minister in London. He has looked to us for information. We could only send back mere echoes of his own fears. And now”—he struck the pile of papers with his hand—“here is the whole story. Mr. Adams must have these without delay. I should like to see his interview with Lord John. You seemed to me to have in mind something further to say. I interrupted only to let you feel the momentous character of this revelation.”
“As I understand it,” replied Merton, “you assume that the Foreign Office here will be sure these papers are in your hands.”
“We may take that for granted. They are not stupid, and the matter as it stands is for them, to say the least, awkward.”
“Yes, sir, and they will know what a man of sense should do with these papers and do at once. I may assume, then, that the whole resources of the imperial police will be used, and without scruple, to prevent them from leaving Paris or reaching London.”
“Yes,” said the chief, “of that we may be certain.”
“And if now,” said Merton, “some one of note, or two persons, go with them to London, there is a fair probability of the man or the papers being—we may say—mislaid, on the way.”