The marble clock upon the mantelshelf chimed eleven upon its silvery bells, causing Von Kronhelm to turn from the window to glance at his own watch.
“Tell His Majesty that it is eleven o’clock, and that there is no reply to hand,” he said sharply in German to the man in uniform seated at the table in the corner.
The instrument clicked rapidly, and a silence followed.
The German Commander waited anxiously. He stood bending slightly over the green tape in order to read the Imperial order the instant it flashed from beneath the sea.
Five minutes—ten minutes passed. The shouting of military commands in German came up from Whitehall below. Nothing else broke the quiet.
Von Kronhelm, his face more furrowed and more serious, again paced the carpet.
Suddenly the little instrument whirred and clicked as its thin green tape rolled out.
In an instant the Generalissimo of the Kaiser’s army sprang to the telegraphist’s side, and read the Imperial command.
For a moment he held the piece of tape between his fingers, then crushed it in his hand and stood motionless.
He had received orders which, though against his desire, he was compelled to obey.