“What is the best course?” asked the head of the Government.
“There is but one,” his colleague answered. “I shall wire to St Petersburg at once and await confirmation.”
“The situation is becoming absolutely bewildering,” observed the Premier. “It may be best, I think, to convene another meeting of the Cabinet.”
Lord Warnham, with that involuntary caution that he had developed during long years of office as Minister of Foreign Affairs, at once dismissed Frank Lawley, but allowed me to remain. As his confidential secretary I had been present on many occasions when delicate matters of diplomacy had been adjusted and plans arranged which, if divulged, would have caused an upheaval throughout Europe.
“No, I don’t think another Council is necessary, at least not to-night,” answered Lord Warnham, when the cosmopolitan messenger had closed the door behind him.
“But the whole thing is at present a mystery,” said the Prime Minister, standing astride with his broad back to the empty grate.
“Exactly. We must have news from the Embassy in St Petersburg before long. Until then, I think we should be patient.”
“But hark!” exclaimed the Premier, quite calmly, and as we all three listened we could hear the dull roar of the crowd becoming louder. The popular excitement outside was intense, and the eager multitude increased each moment. “They are clamouring for news. It is, I think, time that another statement should be made in the House.”
“As you wish,” Lord Warnham answered, with ill grace. It was part of his creed to tell the public absolutely nothing. The Premier was for publicity—he for secrecy always.
“But whatever statement is made regarding the receipt of intelligence it cannot compromise our position at St Petersburg,” the Marquis argued.