Five minutes later, when the pair were seated in a quiet corner, Waldron asked in a low, confidential tone:
“What’s the latest? I’ve been away from the Embassy for nine weeks.”
“Oh, the political situation remains about the same. I’ve been mostly in Germany and Russia, since I was last in Madrid. I had a rather good scoop about a fortnight ago—bought the designs of the new Krupp aerial gun.”
“By Jove, did you?”
“Yes. It has taken me three months to negotiate, and the fellow who made the deal tried to back out of it at the last moment.”
“Traitors always do,” remarked the diplomat.
“Yes,” admitted the British secret-service agent, as Jack Jerningham actually was. “They usually lose heart at the crucial moment. But in this case the new invention of our friends is simply a marvellous one. It’s a feather in my cap in the department, I’m glad to say.”
“You’ve had a good many feathers in your cap during the past five years, my dear Jack,” Waldron replied. “Your successes since you left the navy have been phenomenal—especially when a year ago you obtained a copy of the secret treaty signed by Austria regarding the partition of the Balkans. That was an amazing feat—never before equalled by any secret agent, I should think.”
“Bah! Nothing really very wonderful,” was Jerningham’s modest reply. “More by good luck than anything else. I’m here in Cairo to report on the growing unrest. At home the Chief suspects German influence to be at work.”
“And what’s the result of your inquiries?”