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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/30647-8.txt b/30647-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f9eb54f --- /dev/null +++ b/30647-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5916 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mystery at Geneva, by Rose Macaulay + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mystery at Geneva + An Improbable Tale of Singular Happenings + +Author: Rose Macaulay + +Release Date: December 11, 2009 [EBook #30647] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MYSTERY AT GENEVA *** + + + + +Produced by Sharon Joiner, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + [Transcriber's Notes: + + The Greek phrase on the title page has been transliterated and placed + between +plus marks+. + + Every effort has been made to replicate this text as closely + as possible, including most inconsistencies in spelling and + hyphenation. A list of examples of the above, as well as a list + of changes (corrections of spelling and punctuation) made to + the original text appears at the end of this book. + ] + + + * * * * * + + + + + MYSTERY AT GENEVA + + An improbable tale of singular happenings + + by + + ROSE MACAULAY + + Author of "Dangerous Ages," "Potterism," etc. + + + + + +hostis toia echei en hêdonê echei en hêdonê toia.+ + + + + + LONDON: 48 PALL MALL + + W. COLLINS SONS & CO. LTD. + + GLASGOW MELBOURNE AUCKLAND + + + + + Copyright 1922. + + LONDON AND GLASGOW: W. COLLINS SONS AND CO. LTD. + + + + +MYSTERY AT GENEVA + + + + +NEW NOVELS + + + TYLER OF BARNET BERNARD GILBERT + + PILGRIM'S REST F. BRETT YOUNG + + PIRACY MICHAEL ARLEN + + BEANSTALK MRS. HENRY DUDENEY + + ROSEANNE E. MARIA ALBANESI + + BIG PETER ARCHIBALD MARSHALL + + + + +NOTE + + +As I have observed among readers and critics a tendency to discern +satire where none is intended, I should like to say that this book is +simply a straightforward mystery story, devoid of irony, moral or +meaning. It has for its setting an imaginary session of the League of +Nations Assembly, but it is in no sense a study of, still less a skit +on, actual conditions at Geneva, of which indeed I know little, the +only connection I have ever had with the League being membership of +its Union. + + + + +1 + + +Henry, looking disgusted, as well he might, picked his way down the +dark and dirty corkscrew stairway of the dilapidated fifteenth century +house where he had rooms during the fourth (or possibly it was the +fifth) Assembly of the League of Nations. The stairway, smelling of +fish and worse, opened out on to a narrow cobbled alley that ran +between lofty mediæval houses down from the Rue du Temple to the Quai +du Seujet, in the ancient wharfside quarter of Saint Gervais. + +Henry, pale and melancholy, his soft hat slouched over his face, +looked what he was, a badly paid newspaper correspondent lodging in +unclean rooms. He looked hungry; he looked embittered; he looked like +one of the under dogs, whose time had not come yet, would, indeed, +never come. He looked, however, a gentleman, which, in the usual sense +of the word, he was not. He was of middle height, slim and not +inelegant of build; his trousers, though shiny, were creased in the +right place; his coat fitted him though it lacked two buttons, and he +dangled a monocle, which he screwed impartially now into one brown +eye, now into the other. If any one would know, as they very properly +might, whether Henry was a bad man or a good, I can only reply that we +are all of us mixed, and most of us not very well mixed. + +Henry was, in fact, at the moment a journalist, and wrote for the +_British Bolshevist_, a revolutionary paper with a startlingly small +circulation; and now the reader knows the very worst of Henry, which +is to say a great deal, but must, all the same, be said. + +Such as he was, Henry, on this fine Sunday morning in September, +strolled down the Allée Petit Chat, which did not seem to him, as it +seems to most English visitors, in the least picturesque, for Henry +was a quarter Italian, and preferred new streets, and buildings to +old. Having arrived at the Quai du Mont Blanc, he walked along it, +brooding on this and that, gazing with a bitter kind of envy at the +hotels which were even now opening their portals to those more +fortunate than he--the Bergues, the Paix, the Beau Rivage, the +Angleterre, the Russie, the Richemond. All these hostels were, on this +Sunday morning before the opening of the Assembly, receiving the +delegates of the nations, their staffs and secretaries, and even +journalists. Crowds of little grave-faced Japs processed into the +Hotel de la Paix; the entrance hall of Les Bergues was alive with the +splendid, full-throated converse of Latin Americans ("Ah, they live, +those Spaniards!" Henry sighed); while at the Beau Rivage the British +Empire and the Dominions hastened, with the morbid ardour of their +race, to plunge into baths after their night journey. + +Baths, thought Henry bitterly. There were no baths in the Allée Petit +Chat. All his bathing must be done in the lake--and cold comfort that +was. Henry was no lover of cold water: he preferred it warm. + +These full-fed, well-housed, nobly cleaned delegates.... Henry quite +untruly reported to his newspaper, which resented the high living of +others, that some of them occupied as many as half a dozen rooms +apiece in the hotels, with their typists, their secretaries, and their +sycophantic suites. + +Even the journalists, lodging less proudly in smaller hotels, or in +apartments, all lodged cleanly, all decently, excepting only Henry, +the accredited representative of the _British Bolshevist_. + +Bitterly and proudly, with a faint sneer twisting his lips, Henry, +leaning against the lake-side parapet, watched the tumultuous arrival +of the organisers of peace on earth. The makers of the new world. What +new world? Where tarried it? How slow were its makers at their +creative task! Slow and unsure, thought Henry, whose newspaper was not +of those who approved the League. + +With a sardonic smile Henry turned on his heel and pursued his way +along the Quai towards that immense hotel where the League Secretariat +lived and moved and had its being. He would interview some one there +and try to secure a good place in the press gallery. The Secretariat +officials were kind to journalists, even to journalists on the +_British Bolshevist_, a newspaper which was of no use to the League, +and which the Secretariat despised, as they might despise the yapping +of a tiresome and insignificant small dog. + + + + +2 + + +The Secretariat were in a state of disturbance and expectation. The +annual break in their toilsome and rather tedious year was upon them. +For a month their labours would be, indeed, increased, but life would +also move. One wearied of Geneva, its small and segregated society, +its official gossip, the Calvinistic atmosphere of the natives, its +dreary winter, its oppressive summer, its eternal lake and distant +mountains, its horrid little steamboats rushing perpetually across and +across from one side of the water to the other--one wearied of Geneva +as a place of residence. What was it (though it had its own charm) as +a dwelling-place for those of civilised and cosmopolitan minds? +Vienna, now, would be better; or Brussels: even the poor old Hague, +with its ill-fated traditions. Or, said the French members of the +staff, Paris. For the French nation and government were increasingly +attached to the League, and had long thought that Paris was its +fitting home. It would be safer there. + +However, it was at Geneva, and it was very dull except at Assembly +time, or when the Council were in session. Assembly time was +stimulating and entertaining. One saw then people from the outside +world; things hummed. Old friends gathered together, new friends were +made. The nations met, the Assembly assembled, committees committeed, +the Council councilled, grievances were aired and either remedied or +not; questions were raised and sometimes solved; governments were +petitioned, commissions were sent to investigate, quarrels were +pursued, judgments pronounced, current wars deplored, the year's work +reviewed. Eloquence rang from that world-platform, to be heard at +large, through the vastly various voices of a thousand newspapers, in +a hundred rather apathetic countries. + +In spite of the great eloquence, industry, intelligence, and many +activities of the delegates, there was, in that cosmopolitan and +cynical body, the Secretariat, a tendency to regard them, _en masse_, +rather as children to be kept in order, though to be given a +reasonable amount of liberty in such harmless amusements as talking on +platforms. Treats, dinners and excursions were arranged for them; the +Secretariat liked to see them having a good time. They would meet in +the Assembly Hall each morning to talk, before an audience; noble +sentiments would then exalt and move the nations and be flashed across +Europe by journalists. But in the afternoons they would cross the lake +again to the Palais des Nations, and meet in Rooms A, B, C, or D, +round tables (magic phrase! magic arrangement of furniture and human +beings!) in large or small groups, and do the work. The Assembly Hall +was, so to speak, the front window, where the goods were displayed, +but where one got away with the goods was in the back parlour. There, +too, the fiercest international questions boiled up, boiled over, and +were cooled by the calming temperature of the table and the sweet but +firm reasonableness of some of the representatives of the more +considerable powers. The committee meetings were, in fact, not only +more effective than the Assembly meetings, but more stimulating, more +amusing. + +Henry, entering the Palais des Nations, found it in a state of +brilliant bustle. The big hall hummed with animated talk and cheerful +greetings in many tongues, and members of the continental races shook +one another ardently and frequently by the hand. How dull it would be, +thought Henry, if ever the Esperanto people got their way, and the +flavour of the richly various speech of the nations was lost in one +colourless, absurd and inorganic language, stumblingly spoken and ill +understood. + +Henry entered a lift, was enclosed with a cynical American, a +brilliant-looking Spaniard, a tall and elegant woman of assurance and +beauty, and an intelligent-faced cosmopolitan who looked like a +British-Italian-Latin-American-Finn, which, in point of fact, he was. +Alighting at the third floor, Henry found his way to the department +he required and introduced himself to one of its officials, who gave +him a pink card assigning him to a seat in the press gallery, which he +felt would not be one he would really like. + +"You've not been out here before, have you," said the official, and +Henry agreed that this was so. + +"Well, of course we don't expect much of a show from your fanatical +paper...." The official was good-humoured, friendly, and tolerant. +The Secretariat were, indeed, sincerely indifferent to the commentary +on their proceedings both of the _Morning Post_ and the _British +Bolshevist_, for both could be taken for granted. One of these +journals feared that the League sought disarmament, the other that it +did not; to one it was a league of cranks, conscientious objectors, +and (fearful and sinister word) internationals, come not to destroy but +to fulfil the Covenant, bent on carrying out Article 8, substituting +judiciary arbitration for force, and treating Germany as a brother; +to the other it was a league of militarist and capitalist states, +an extension of the Supreme Allied Council, bent on destroying +Article 18 and other inconvenient articles of the Covenant, and +treating Germany as a dog. To both it was, in one word, Poppycock. +Sincerely, honestly, and ardently, both these journals thought +like that. They could not help it; it was temperamental, and the +way they saw things. + + + + +3 + + +Henry descended the broad and shallow double stairway of the Palais +des Nations, up and down which tripped the gay crowds who knew one +another but knew not him, and so out to lunch, which he had poorly, +inexpensively, obscurely and alone, at a low eating-house near the +Secretariat. After lunch he had coffee at a higher eating-house, on +the Quai, and sat under the pavement awning reading the papers, +listening to the band, looking at the mountain view across the lake, +and waiting until the other visitors to Geneva, having finished their +more considerable luncheons, should emerge from their hotels and +begin to walk or drive along the Quai. Meanwhile he read _L'Humeur_, +which he found on the table before him. But _L'Humeur_ is not really +very funny. It has only one joke, only one type of comic picture: a +woman incompletely dressed. Was that, Henry speculated, really funny? +It happens, after all, to nearly all women at least every morning and +every evening. Was it really funny even when to the lady thus +unattired there entered a gentleman, either M. l'Amant or M. le Mari? + +_Was_ only one thing funny, as some persons believed? Was it indeed +really funny at all? Henry, who honestly desired to brighten his life, +tried hard to think so, but failed, and relapsed into gloom. He could +not see that it was funnier that a female should not yet have +completed her toilet than that a male should not. Neither was funny. +Nothing, perhaps, was funny. The League of Nations was not funny. Life +was not funny, and probably not death. Even the _British Bolshevist_, +which he was reduced to reading, wasn't funny, though it did have on +the front page a column headed "Widow's Leap Saves Cat from Burning +House." + +A young man sat down at Henry's little table and ordered drink; a +bright, neat, brisk young man, with an alert manner. Glancing at the +_British Bolshevist_, he made a conversational opening which elicited +the fact that Henry represented this journal at Geneva. For himself, +he was, it transpired, correspondent of the _Daily Sale_, a paper +to which the _British Bolshevist_ was politically opposed but +temperamentally sympathetic; they had the same cosy, chatty touch +on life. + +The two correspondents amused themselves by watching the delegates +and other foreign arrivals strolling to and fro along the elegant +spaciousness of the Quai, chatting with one another. They noticed +little things to write to their papers about, such as hats, spats, +ways of carrying umbrellas and sticks, and so forth. They overheard +fragments of conversation in many tongues. For, clustering round about +the Assembly, were the representatives, official and unofficial, of +nearly all the world's nations, so that Henry heard in the space of +ten minutes British, French, Italians, Russians, Poles, Turks, +Americans, Armenians, Dutch, Irish, Lithuanians, Serb-Croat-Slovenes, +Czecho-Slovakians, the dwellers in Dalmatia and Istria, and in the +parts of Latin America about Brazil, Assyrio-Chaldeans, and newspaper +correspondents, all speaking in their tongues the wonderful works of +God. Geneva was like Pentecost, or the Tower of Babel. There were +represented there very many societies, which regularly settled in +Geneva for the period of the Assembly in order to send it messages, +trusting thus to bring before the League in session the good causes +they had at heart. The Women's International League was there, and the +Esperanto League, and the Non-Alcoholic Drink Society, and the +Mormons, and the Y.M.C.A. and the Union of Free Churches, and the +Unprotected Armenians, and the Catholic Association, and the Orthodox +Church Union, and the Ethical Society, and the Bolshevik Refugees (for +it was in Russia, at the moment, the turn of the other side), and the +Save the Children Committee, and the Freemasons, and the Constructive +Birth Control Society, and the Feathered Friends Protection Society, +and the Negro Equality League, and the Anti-Divorce Union, and the +Humanitarian Society, and the Eugenic Society, and the Orangemen's +Union, and the Sinn Feiners, and the Zionists, and the Saloon +Restoration League, and the S.P.G. And hundreds of Unprotected +Minorities, irresistibly (or so they hoped) moving in their appeals. + +Many of the representatives of these eager sections of humanity +walked on the Quai du Mont Blanc on this fine Sunday afternoon +and listened to the band, and buttonholed delegates and their +secretaries, and chatted, and spat. The Czecho-Slovakians spat +hardest, the Costa-Ricans loudest, the Unprotected Armenians most +frequently, and the Serb-Croat-Slovenes most accurately, but the +Assyrio-Chaldeans spat farthest. The Zionists did not walk on the +Quai. They were holding meetings together and drawing up hundreds +of petitions, so that the Assembly might receive at least one an +hour from to-morrow onwards. Zionists do these things thoroughly. + +Motor-cars hummed to and fro between the hotels and the Secretariat, +and inside them one saw delegates. Flags flew and music played, and +the _jet d'eau_ sprang, an immense crystalline tree of life, a snowy +angel, up from the azure lake into the azure heavens. + +Henry gave a little sigh of pleasure. He liked the scene. + +"Will there be treats?" he asked his companion. "I like treats." + +"Treats? Who for? The delegates get treats all right, if you mean +that." + +"For us, I meant." + +"Oh, yes, the correspondents get a free trip or a free feed now and +then too. I usually get out of them myself; official beanos bore me. +The town's very good to us; it wants the support of the press against +rival claimants, such as Brussels." + +"I should enjoy a lake trip very much," said Henry, beginning to feel +that it was good to be there. + +"Well, don't forget to hand in your address then, so that it gets on +the list." + +Henry was damped. 24 Allée Petit Chat, Saint Gervais--it sounded +rotten, and would sound worse still to the Genevan syndics, who knew +just where it was and what, and were even now engaged in plans for +pulling down and rebuilding all the old wharfside quarter. No; he +could not hand in that address.... + +"I suppose you've got to crab the show, whatever it does, haven't +you," said the _Daily Sale_ man presently. "Now I'm out to pat it on +the back--this year. I like that better. It's dull being disagreeable +all the time; so obvious, too." + +"My paper _is_ obvious," Henry owned gloomily. "Truth always is. You +can't get round that." + +"Oh, well, come," the other journalist couldn't stand that--"it's a +bit thick for one of your lot to start talking about truth. The lies +you tell daily--they have ours beat to a frazzle. Why, you couldn't +give a straight account of a bus accident!" + +"We could not. That is to say, we would not," Henry admitted. "But we +lie about points of fact because our principles are true. They're so +true that everything has to be made to square with them. If you +notice, our principles affect _all_ our facts. Yours don't, quite all. +You'd report the bus accident from pure love of sensation. We, in +reporting it, would prove that it happened because buses aren't +nationalised, or because the driver was underpaid, or the fares too +high, or because coal has gone up more than wages, or something true +of that sort. We waste nothing; we use all that happens. We're +propagandists all the time, you're only propagandists part of the +time; and commercialists the rest." + +"Oh, certainly no one would accuse you of being commercialists," +agreed the _Sale_ man kindly. "Hallo, what's up?" + +Henry had stiffened suddenly, and sat straight and rigid, like a dog +who dislikes another dog. His companion followed his tense gaze, and +saw a very neat, agreeable-looking and gentlemanly fellow, exquisitely +cleaned, shaved, and what novelists call _groomed_ (one supposes this +to be a kind of rubbing-down process, to make the skin glossy), with +gray spats, a malacca cane, and a refined gray suit with a faint +stripe and creases like knife-blades. This gentleman was strolling by +in company with the senior British delegate, who had what foreigners +considered a curious and morbid fad for walking rather than driving, +even for short distances. + +"Which troubles you?" inquired the representative of the _Daily Sale_. +"Our only Lord B., or that Secretariat fellow?" + +"That Secretariat fellow," Henry replied rather faintly. + +The other put on his glasses, the better to observe the neat, +supercilious figure. He laughed a little. + +"Charles Wilbraham. Our Gilbert. The perfect knut. The type that does +us credit abroad. Makes up for the seedy delegates and journalists, +what?... He is said to have immense and offensive private wealth. In +fact, it is obvious that he could scarcely present that unobtrusively +opulent appearance on his official salary. They don't really get much, +you know, poor fellows; not for an expensive place like this.... The +queer thing is that no one seems to know where Wilbraham gets his +money from; he never says. A very close, discreet chap; a regular +civil servant. Do you know him, then?" + +Henry hesitated for a moment, appearing to think. He then replied, in +the pained and reserved tone in which Mr. Wickham might have commented +upon Mr. Darcy, "Slightly. Very slightly. As well as I wish. In fact, +rather better. He wouldn't remember me. But I'll tell you one thing. +But for a series of trivial circumstances, I too might have been ... +oh, well, never mind. Not, of course, that for any consideration I +would serve in this ludicrous and impotent machine set up by the +corrupt states of the world. Wilbraham can: I could not. My soul, at +least, is my own." + +"Oh, come," remonstrated the other journalist. "Come, come. Surely +not.... But I must go and look up a few people. See you later on." + +Henry remained for a minute, broodingly watching the neat receding +back of Charles Wilbraham. How happy and how proud it looked, that +serene and elegant back! How proud and how pleased Henry knew Charles +Wilbraham to be, walking with the senior British delegate, whom every +one admired, along the Quai du Mont Blanc! As proud and as happy as a +prince. Henry knew better than most others Charles Wilbraham's +profound capacity for proud and princely pleasure. He loved these +assemblies of important persons; loved to walk and talk with the +great. He had, ever since the armistice, contracted a habit of being +present at those happy little gatherings which had been, so far, a +periodic feature of the great peace, and showed as yet no signs of +abating. To Paris Charles Wilbraham had gone in 1919 (and how near +Henry had been to doing the same; how near, and yet how far!). To San +Remo he had been, to Barcelona and to Brussels; to Spa, to Genoa, even +to Venice in the autumn of 1922. Besides all the League of Nations +Assemblies. Where the eagles were gathered together, there, always, +would Charles Wilbraham be. + +Henry winced at the thought of Charles's so great happiness. But let +him wait; only let Charles wait. + +"Holy Mother of God!" (for Henry was a Roman Catholic), "only let him +wait!" + + + + +4 + + +The Assembly Hall was, as seen from the Press Gallery, a study in +black and white. White sheets of paper laid on the desks, black coats, +white or black heads. + +Young and old, black and white, the delegates stood and walked about +the hall, waiting for the session of the League of Nations Assembly to +begin. The hum of talk rose up and filled the hall; it was as if a +swarm of bees were hiving. What a very great deal, thought Henry, had +the human race to say, always! Only the little Japs at the back sat in +silent rows, scores and scores of them (for Japanese are no use by +ones), immobile, impassive, with their strange little masks and +slanting eyes, waiting patiently for the business of the day to begin. +When it began, their reporters would take down everything that was +said, writing widdershins, very diligently, very slowly, in their +solemn picture language. There was something a little sinister, a +little macabre, a little Grand Guignolish about the grave, polite, +mysterious little Japs. The Yellow Peril. Perilous because of their +immense waiting patience, that would, in the end, tire the restless +Western peoples out. How they stored their energy, sitting quiet in +rows, and how the Westerners expended theirs! What conversations, what +gesticulations, what laughter filled the hall! The delegates greeting +one another, shaking one another by the hand, making their alliances +and friendships for the session, arranging meals together, kindly, +good-humoured, and polite, the best of friends in private for all +their bitter and wordy squabbles in public. The chief Russian +delegate, M. Kratzky, a small, trim little ex-Bolshevik, turned +Monarchist by the recent _coup d'état_, was engaged in a genial +conversation with the second French delegate. France had loudly and +firmly voted last year against the admission of Russia to the League, +but when the _coup d'état_ restored the Monarchist Government (a +government no less, if no more, corrupt than the Bolshevik rule which +had preceded it, but more acceptable to Europe in general), France +held out to her old ally fraternal arms. The only delegates who cut +the Russians were the Germans, and among the several delegates who cut +the Germans were the Russians, for, as new members, these delegates +were jealous one of the other. The Turkish delegates, also recently +admitted, were meanwhile delightful to the Armenians, as if to prove +how they loved these unhappy people, and how small was the truth of +the tales that were told concerning their home life together. The two +Irish delegates, O'Shane from the Free State and Macdermott from +Ulster, were personally great friends, though they did not get on well +together on platforms, as both kept getting and reading aloud +telegrams from Ireland about crimes committed there by the other's +political associates. This business of getting telegrams happens all +the time to delegates, and is a cause of a good deal of +disagreeableness. + +On this, the first morning of the Assembly, telegrams shot in in a +regular barrage, and nearly every delegate stopped several. Many came +from America. The trouble about America was that every nation in the +League had compatriots there, American by citizenship, but something +else by birth and sympathy, so that the Ukrainian congregation of +Woodlands, Pa., would telegraph to request the League to save their +relations in Ukraine from the atrocities of the Poles, and the Polish +settlement in Milwaukee would wire and entreat that their sisters and +their cousins and their aunts might be delivered from the marauding +Ukrainians, and Baptist congregations in the Middle West wired to the +Roumanian delegation to bring up before the Assembly the persecution +of Roumanian Baptists. And the Albanian delegate (a benign bishop) had +telegrams daily from Albania about the violation of Albanian frontiers +by the Serbs, and the Serbian delegate had even more telegrams about +the invasions and depredations of the Albanians. And the German and +Polish delegates had telegrams from Silesia, and the Central and South +American delegates had telegrams about troubles with neighbouring +republics. And the Armenians had desperate messages from home about +the Turks, for the Turks, despite the assignment to Armenia of a +national home, followed them there with instruments of torture and of +death, making bonfires of the adults, tossing the infants on pikes, +and behaving in the manner customarily adopted by these people towards +neighbours. There is this about Armenians: every one who lives near +them feels he must assault and injure them. There is this about Turks: +they feel they must assault and injure any one who lives near them. So +that the contiguity of Turks and Armenians has been even more +unfortunate than are most contiguities. Neither of these nations ought +to be near any other, least of all each other. + +Meanwhile the Negro Equality League wired, "Do not forget the coloured +races," and the Constructive Birth Control Society urged, "Make the +world safe from babies" (this, anyhow, was the possibly inaccurate +form in which this telegram arrived), and the Blackpool Methodist +Union said, "The Lord be with your efforts after a World Peace, +watched by all Methodists with hope, faith and prayer," and the Blue +Cross Society said, "Remember our dumb friends," and Guatemala (which +was not there) telegraphed, "Do not believe a word uttered by the +delegate from Nicaragua, who is highly unreliable." As for the +Bolshevik refugees, they sent messages about the Russian delegation +which were couched in language too unbalanced to be made public either +in the Assembly Journal or in these pages, but they would be put in +the Secretariat Library for people to read quietly by themselves. This +also occurred to a telegram from the Non-Co-operatives of India, who +wired with reference to the freedom of their country from British +rule, a topic unsuited to discussion from a world platform. + +All this fusillade of telegrams made but small impression on the +recipients, who found in them nothing new. As one of the British +delegates regretfully observed, "_Denique nullum est jam dictum quod +non sit dictum prius._" + +But one telegram there was, addressed to the acting-President of the +League, and handed in to him in the hall before the session began, +which aroused some interest. It remarked, tersely and scripturally, in +the English tongue, "I went by and lo he was not." It had been +despatched from Geneva, and was unsigned. + +"And who," said the acting-President meditatively to those round him +(he was an acute, courteous, and gentle Chinaman), "is this Lo? It is +a name" (for so, indeed, it seemed to him), "but it is not my name. +Does the sender, all the same, refer to the undoubted fact that I, who +shall open this Assembly as its President, shall, after the first +day's session, retire in favour of the newly elected President? Is it, +perhaps, a taunt from some one who wishes to remind me of the +transience of my office? Possibly from some gentleman of Japan ... or +America ... who knows? or does it, perhaps, refer not to myself, but +to some other person or persons, system or systems, who will, so the +sender foresees, have their day and cease to be?" The acting-President +was a scholar, and well read in English poetry. But, as his knowledge +did not extend to the English translation of the Hebrew Psalms, he +added, "It reads, this wire, like a quotation from literature?" + +One of the British delegates gave him its source and explained that, +in this context, "lo" was less a name than an ejaculation, and would +probably, but for the limitations of the telegraphic code, have had +after it a point of exclamation. "The telegram," added the British +delegate, who was something of a biblical student, "seems to be a +combination of the Bible and Prayer Book translations of the verse in +question. The Revised Version of the Bible has again another +translation, a rather unhappy compromise. I believe the correct +rendering----" + +"It is sarcasm," interrupted a French Secretariat official, "_C'est +l'ironie._ The sender means that we are of so little use that in his +eyes we don't exist. _C'est tout._ We're used to these gibes." + +"I expect it means," said another member of the Secretariat hopefully +(he was sick of Geneva), "that the fellow thinks the League will soon +be moved to Brussels." + +"Is Maxse visiting Geneva by any chance?" inquired one of the +delegates from Central Africa. "It has rather his touch. But then +Maxse would always sign his name. He's unashamed.... I dare say this +is merely some religious maniac reminding us that _sic transit gloria +mundi_. Very likely a Jew.... Look, I have a much better one than that +from the Non-Alcoholics...." + +So they proceeded in their leisurely, attached, and pleasant way to +discuss these outpourings from eager human hearts all over the globe. + +But the second French delegate, after brooding a while, said +suddenly, "Ce télégramme-là, celui qui dit 'j'ai traversé par là, et +voici, il est biffé!' les Boches l'ont expédié. Oui, justement. Tous +les Boches veulent détruire la Société des Nations; ils le désirent +d'autant plus depuis que l'Allemagne est admise dans la Société des +Nations. C'est une chose tout à fait certaine." + +The French would talk like that about the Germans: you could not +stop them. They had not, and possibly never would have, what is +called a League mind. Central Africa, who had remonstrated gently +but to no effect, pointing out that Germans would probably not be +acquainted with the English version of the Psalms, either Prayer +Book or Bible. To prevent international emotion from running high, +the acting-President caused the bell to be rung and the Assembly to +be summoned to their seats. + + + + +5 + + +So here, thought Henry of the _British Bolshevist_, was this great +world federation in session. He could not help being excited, for he +was naturally excitable, and it was his first (and, had he known +it, his last) Assembly. He was annoyed by the noisy moving and +chattering of the people behind him in the gallery, which prevented +his hearing the opening speech so well as he otherwise would have +done. Foreigners--how noisy they were! They were for ever passing to +and fro, shaking hands with one another, exchanging vivacious +comments. Young French widows, in their heavy crape, gayest, most +resigned, most elegant of creatures, tripped by on their pin-like +heels, sweetly smiling their patient smiles. How different from +young British widows, who, from their dress, might just as well have +only lost a parent or brother. All widows are wonderful: Henry knew +this, for always he had heard "Dear so-and-so is being simply +wonderful" said of bereaved wives, and knew that it merely and in +point of fact meant bereaved; but French widows are widows indeed. +However, Henry wished they would sit still. + +Henry was at the end of a row of English journalists. On his right, +across a little gangway, were Germans. "At close quarters," reflected +Henry, "one is not attracted by this unfortunate nation. It lacks--or +is it rather that it has--a _je ne sais quoi_.... It is perhaps more +favourably viewed from a distance: but even so not really favourably. +Possibly, like many other nations, it is seen to greatest advantage at +home. I must visit Germany." For Henry was anxious to acquire a broad, +wise, unbiased international mind. + +The acting-President was speaking, in his charming and faultless +English. He was saying what a great deal the League had done since +the preceding Assembly. It did indeed seem, as he lightly touched on +it, a very great deal. It had grappled with disease and drugs, +economics, sanitation, prostitution, and education; it had through its +Court of Justice arbitrated several times in international disputes +and averted several wars; other wars it had deplored; it had wrestled +with unemployment and even with disarmament ... ("not, perhaps, quite +happily put," murmured one British delegate to another). It had had +great tasks entrusted to it and had performed them with success. It +hoped to have, in the future, greater tasks yet; ... it had admitted +to membership several new nations, to whom it had extended the +heartiest fraternal welcome; ... above all it had survived in the face +of all its enemies and detractors.... This present session was faced +with a large and important programme. But before getting on to it +there must be elections, votings, committees, a new President, and so +forth. + +The speaker sat down amid the applause proper to the occasion, and +the interpreter rose to translate him into French. + +An elderly English clergyman behind Henry tapped his shoulder with a +pencil and said, "What paper do you represent? I am reporting for the +_Challenge_. The Churches have not taken enough interest in the +League. One must stir them up. I preach about nothing else, in these +days. The Church of England is sadly apathetic." + +"It is a fault churches have," said Henry. "All the same, the Pope has +telegraphed a blessing." + +Those who would fain follow the French interpreter hushed them. Henry +leant over, and watched Latin America conferring among itself, looking +excited and full of purpose. Latin America obviously had something on +its mind. + +"What interests them so much?" he wondered aloud, and the journalist +next him enlightened him. + +"They've made up their minds to have a Latin American President again. +They say they make a third of the Assembly, and it's disgraceful that +they don't have one every year. They don't want Edwardes again; they +want one who'll let the Spanish-Americans get on their legs every few +minutes. Edwardes had lived abroad too long and was too cosmopolitan +for them. They're going to put up a really suitable candidate this +time, and jolly well see he gets it. He won't, of course. But there +may be the hell of a row." + +"That will be very amusing," said Henry hopefully. + +They were taking the votes of the delegates for the committee on the +credentials of delegates. Suppose, thought Henry, that in that hall +there were one or more delegates whose credentials were impeachable; +delegates, perhaps who had come here by ruse with forged authority, or +by force, having stolen the credentials from the rightful owner.... It +might be done: it surely could be done, by some unprincipled +adventurer from a far country. Perhaps it had been done, and perhaps +the committee would never be the wiser. Or perhaps there would be a +public _exposé_.... That would be interesting. Public _exposés_ were +always interesting. Henry's drifting glance strayed to the platform, +where the Secretariat staff sat, or went in and out through the +folding door. There, standing by the door and watching the animated +scene, was Charles Wilbraham, composed, pleased, serene, looking like +a theatrical producer on the first night of a well-staged play. + +Yes, public _exposés_ were interesting.... + +The committee was elected and the Assembly dispersed for lunch, over +which they would occupy themselves in lobbying for the Presidential +election in the afternoon. Henry saw Charles Wilbraham go out in +company with one of the delegates from Central Africa. No doubt but +that the fellow had arranged to be seen lunching with this mainstay of +the League. To lunch with the important ... that should be the daily +goal of those for whom life is not a playground but a ladder. It was +Charles Wilbraham's daily goal: Henry remembered that from old days. + + + + +6 + + +At the afternoon session the Assembly voted for a President and six +Vice-Presidents. It took a long time, and considerable feeling was +involved. Five candidates were proposed: Roumania suggested a French +delegate, Great Britain an Albanian bishop, Japan the senior British +delegate, Central Africa an eminent Norwegian explorer, and the Latin +Americans put up, between them, three of their own race. Owing to +unfortunate temporary differences between various of these small +republics they could not all agree on one candidate. + +After what seemed to Henry, unversed in these matters, a great deal of +unnecessary voting on the part of the Assembly and of the Council, it +was announced that the delegate for Norway, Dr. Svensen, was elected +President. Amid cheers from those delegates who were pleased, from +those who had self-control enough to conceal their vexation, and from +the public in the galleries (for Dr. Svensen was the most widely +popular figure in the Assembly), the new President took his place and +made the appropriate speech, in his sonorous English. Many in the hall +were bored, some because the new President was known to be in with the +English, who are not always liked by other nations; some because he +spoke English readily and French ill, and most of them understood +French readily and English not at all; others because he was of the +party which was bent on carrying out certain measures in Europe for +which they saw no necessity. + +However, Dr. Svensen, a brief person and no word-waster, did not +detain his audience long. At six o'clock the Assembly adjourned. + + + + +7 + + +Henry despatched a short scornful story of the proceedings to his +newspaper (which would not, he knew, print a long or effusive one), +and dined with another English journalist in a café in the old _cité_. +The other journalist, Grattan, came from Paris, and was bored with the +League and with Geneva. He preferred to report crime and blood, +something, as he said, with guts in it. Statesmen assembled together +made him yawn. For his part, he wished something would happen during +the Assembly worth writing home about--some _crime passionnel_, some +blood and thunder melodrama. "Perhaps," said Henry, hopefully, "it +will." + +"Well, it may. All these hot-blooded Latins and Slavs herded +together ought to be able to produce something.... I bet you the +Spanish Americans are hatching something to-night over there...." He +waved his hand in the direction of the other side of the lake, where +the great hotels blazed their thousand windows into the night. Behind +those windows burnt who knew what of passion and of plot? + + + + +8 + + +Dr. Svensen, strolling at a late hour across the Pont du Mont Blanc +(he was returning from dinner at the Beau Rivage to his own hotel), +was disturbed by a whimpering noise behind him, like the mewing of a +little cat. Turning round, he saw a small and ragged form padding +barefoot after him, its knuckles in its eyes. The Norwegian explorer, +unlike most great men, was tender-hearted to children. Bending down to +the crying urchin, he inquired of it the cause of its trouble. Its +answer was in Russian, and to the effect that it was very hungry. Dr. +Svensen softened yet more. A hungry Russian child! That was an object +of pity which he never could resist. Russia was full of them; this one +was probably an exiled Bolshevik. He felt in his pockets for coins, +but the hungry Russian infant tugged at his coat. "Come," it said, and +Dr. Svensen gathered from it that there were yet more hungry Russians +where this came from. He followed.... + + + + +9 + + +The morning session of the Assembly was supposed to begin at ten, and +at this hour next morning the unsophisticated Henry Beechtree took +his seat in the Press Gallery. He soon perceived his mistake. The show +obviously was not going to begin for ages. No self-respecting delegate +or journalist would come into the hall on the stroke of the hour. The +superior thing, in this as in other departments of life, was to be +late. Lateness showed that serene contempt for the illusion we call +time which is so necessary to ensure the respect of others and +oneself. Only the servile are punctual.... + +But "Nothing to swank about in being late," thought Henry morosely; +"only means they've spent too long over their coffee and bread and +honey, the gluttons. I could have done the same myself." + +Indeed, he wished that he had, for he fell again into the hands of the +elderly clergyman who had addressed him yesterday, and who was, of +course, punctual too. + +"I see," said the clergyman, "that you have one of the French comic +papers with you. A pity their humour is so much spoilt by +suggestiveness." + +Suggestiveness. Henry could never understand that word as applied in +condemnation. Should not everything be suggestive? Or should all +literature, art, and humour be a cul-de-sac, suggesting no idea +whatsoever? Henry did not want to be uncharitable, but he could not +but think that those who used this word in this sense laid themselves +open to the suspicion (in this case, at least, quite unjustified), +that their minds were only receptive of one kind of suggestion, and +that a coarse one. + +"I expect," he replied, "that you mean coarseness. People often do +when they use that word, I notice. Anyhow, the papers are not very +funny, I find." + +"Suggestiveness," said the clergyman, "is seldom amusing." + +Before Henry had time to argue again about this word, he hurried on. + +"I sent yesterday a long message to the _Church Times_, the +_Guardian_, the _Commonwealth_, and the _Challenge_ about the first +meeting. It is most important that these papers should set before +their readers the part that the Church ought to play in promoting +international goodwill." + +"Indeed," said Henry, who did not see Anglican journals. He added +vaguely, "The Pope sent a telegram...." For when people spoke to him +of Church life, he said "the Pope" mechanically; it was his natural +reaction to the subject. + +"You interest me," said the English clergyman. "For the second time +you have mentioned the Pope to me. Are you, perhaps, a Roman +Catholic?" + +"I suppose," Henry absently agreed, "that is what you would call it." + +"We do, you know," the clergyman apologised. "Forgive me if it seems +discourteous.... You know, then, of course, who that is, opposite?" + +Henry looked across the hall to the opposite gallery, and perceived +that his companion was referring to a small, delicate-looking elderly +man, with the face of a priest and the clothes of a layman, who had +just taken his seat there. + +"I do not indeed." + +"He is the ex-cardinal Franchi. You know him by reputation, of +course." + +"Wasn't he suspended for heresy? I have, I think, seen some of his +books." + +"He is a great scholar and a delightful writer. No one has gone more +deeply into mediæval Church history and modern theological criticism. +So I am told, but I have not read him myself, as he prefers to write +in Italian, though he has a perfect command of several other tongues." + +"Nor I, as I am not very much interested in Church history or +theological criticism. Besides, his writings are, I suppose, +heretical." + +"I don't know as to that; I am no judge. But he was, I believe, as you +say, retired for heresy. And now he lives in the most delightful of +mediæval châteaux at Monet, a little village up the lake. I have been +to see him there. If I may, I will introduce you. He enjoys making the +acquaintance of his co-religionists. In this Calvinistic part of the +world the educated classes are nearly all Protestants. The ex-cardinal +does not care for Protestants; he finds them parvenus and bourgeois. +He is a delightfully courteous host, however, even to those, and a +wonderful talker. And his heart is in the League. A wit, a scholar, an +aristocrat, a _bon-viveur_, and a philanthropist. If your Church +retains many priests as good as those she expels, she is to be +congratulated." + +"She is," Henry agreed. "She can afford to fling out one or two by the +way. Yes; I would like to know him, the ex-cardinal; he looks witty +and shrewd, and at the same time an idealist.... But how late they are +in beginning. My watch is seldom right, but I imagine it must be after +ten-thirty." + +The young man Grattan, with whom Henry had dined last night, lounged +in, with his cynical smile. + +"You're very young and innocent, Beechtree. I suppose you've been here +since ten. It's just on eleven now. The President's not to hand and no +one seems to know where he is. Oh, well, it's not his fault; people +spoil him. His head's turned, poor Svensen. I expect he made a night +of it and is lying in this morning. I don't blame him. We don't need a +President. But there seems to be some unrest among the Secretariat." + +This seemed, indeed, to be so. The members of this body, standing +about the hall and platform, were animated and perturbed; the +more irresponsible juniors seemed amused, others anxious. The +Secretary-General was talking gravely to another high official. + +The correspondent of the _Daily Insurance_, who had been talking in +the hall to the delegates and Secretariat, watched by Henry from above +with some envy, at this point entered the Press Gallery, edged his way +to his seat, picked up the papers he had deposited there earlier, and +made rapidly for the exit. + +"Got a story already?" Grattan said to him. + +"No, but there may be one any moment. They've sent round to the +Metropole, and Svensen didn't sleep in his bed. He never came in last +night after dinner." + +He was off. Grattan whistled, and looked more cheerful. + +"That's good enough. That's a story in itself. Didn't sleep in his +bed. That's a headline all right. Good old Svensen. Here, I'm going +down to hear more. Mustn't let Jefferson get ahead of us. Come +along, Beechtree, and nose things out. This will be nuts for our +readers. Even your crabbed paper will have to give a column to Svensen +Not Sleeping in his Bed. Can't you see all the little eyes lighting +up?" + +He rushed away, and Henry followed. Meanwhile the bell was rung and +MM. les Délégués took their seats. The deputy-President, the delegate +for Belgium, took the chair. The President, he announced, was +unfortunately not yet in attendance. Pending his arrival, the Assembly +would, since time pressed, proceed with the order of the day, which +was the election of committees.... The Assembly, always ready to vote, +began to do so. It would keep them busy for some time. + + + + +10 + + +Meanwhile Henry stood about in the lobby, where a greater excitement +and buzz of talk than usual went on. Where was Dr. Svensen? The other +members of the Norwegian delegation could throw no light on the +question. He had dined last night at the Beau Rivage, with the British +delegation; he had left that hotel soon after eleven, on foot; he had +meant, presumably, to walk back to the Metropole, which stood behind +the Jardin Anglais, on the Mont Blanc side. The hall porter at the +Metropole asserted that he had never returned there. The Norwegian +delegation, not seeing him in the morning, had presumed that he had +gone out early; but now the hotel staff declared that he had not spent +the night in the hotel. + +"He probably thought he would go for a long walk; the night was fine," +Jefferson, who knew his habits, suggested. "Or for a row up the lake. +The sort of thing Svensen _would_ do." + +"In that case he's drowned," said Grattan, who was of a forthright +manner of speech. "He's a business-like fellow, Svensen. He'd have +turned up in time for the show if he could, even after a night out." + +The next thing was to inquire of the boat-keepers, and messengers were +despatched to do this. + +"I am afraid it looks rather serious," remarked a soft, grave, +important voice behind Henry's back. "I am pretty intimate with +Svensen; I was lunching with him only yesterday, as it happens. He +didn't say a word then of any plan for a night expedition, I am afraid +it looks sadly like an accident of some sort." + +"Perspicacious fellow," muttered Jefferson, who did not like Charles +Wilbraham. + +Henry edged away: neither did he like Charles Wilbraham. He did not +even turn his face towards him. + +He jostled into his friend the English clergyman, who said, "Ah, Mr. +Beechtree. I want to introduce you to Dr. Franchi." He led Henry by +the arm to the corner where the alert-looking ex-cardinal stood, +talking with the Spaniard whom Henry had noticed in the lift at the +Secretariat buildings. + +"Mr. Beechtree, Your Eminence," said the Reverend Cyril Waring, who +chose by the use of this title to show at once his respect for the +ex-cardinal, his contempt for the bigotry which had unfrocked him, and +his disgust at the scandalous tongues which whispered that the +reason for his unfrocking had been less heresy than the possession of +a wife, or even wives. If Canon Waring had heard these spiteful +_on-dits_, he paid no attention to them; he was a high-minded +enthusiast, and knew a gentleman and a scholar when he saw one. + +"The correspondent of the _British Bolshevist_," he added, "and a +co-religionist of Your Eminence's." + +The ex-cardinal gave Henry his delicate hand, and a shrewd and +agreeable smile. + +"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Beechtree. You must come and see me one +day, if you will, at my lake villa. It is a pleasant expedition, and a +beautiful spot." + +He spoke excellent English with a slight accent. A thousand pities, +thought Henry, that such a delightful person should be a heretic--such +a heretic as to have been unfrocked. Why, indeed, should any one be a +heretic? Atheism was natural enough, but heresy seemed strange. For, +surely, if one could believe anything, one could believe everything. +For his part, he believed everything.... + +Nevertheless, he accepted the invitation with pleasure. It would be a +trip, and Henry loved trips, particularly up lakes. + +Dr. Franchi, observing the young journalist with approbation, liking +his sensitive and polite face, saw it grow suddenly sullen, even +spiteful, at the sound of a voice raised in conversation not far from +him. + +"Perhaps you will do me the honour of lunching with me, M. Kratzky. I +have a little party coming, including Suliman Bey...." + +M. Kratzky was, in his way, the most deeply and profusely +blood-stained of Russians. One of the restored Monarchist government, +he it was who had organised and converted the Tche-ka to Monarchist +use, till they became in his hands an instrument of perfect and deadly +efficiency, sparing neither age, infancy, nor ill-health. M. Kratzky +had devised a system of espionage so thorough, of penalties so +drastic, that few indeed were safe from torture, confinement, or +death, and most experienced all three. One would scarcely say that the +White tyranny was worse than the Red had been, or worse than the White +before that (one would indeed scarcely say that any Russian government +was appreciably worse than any other); but it was to the full as bad, +and Kratzky (the Butcher of Odessa, as his nickname was), was its +chief tyrant. And here was Charles Wilbraham taking the butcher's +blood-stained hand and asking him to lunch. What Mr. Wickham Steed +used to feel of those who asked the Bolsheviks to lunch at Genoa in +April, 1922, Henry now felt of Charles Wilbraham, only more so. And +Suliman Bey too ... a ghastly Turk; for Turk (whatever you might think +of Russians) _were_ ghastly; the very thought of them, for all their +agreeable manners, turned Henry, who was squeamish about physical +cruelty, sick. God, what a lunch party! + +"You know our friend Mr. Wilbraham, I expect," said Dr. Franchi. + +"Scarcely," said Henry. "He wouldn't know me." + +"A very efficient young man. He has that air." + +"He has. But not really very clever, you know. It's largely put on.... +I'm told. He likes to _seem_ to know everything ... so I've heard." + +"A common peccadillo." The ex-cardinal waved it aside with a large and +tolerant gesture. "But we do not, most of us, succeed in it." + +"Oh, Wilbraham doesn't succeed. Indeed no. Most people see at once +that he is just a solemn ass. That face, you know ... like a +mushroom...." + +"Ah, that is a Bernard Shaw phrase. A bad play, that, but excellent +dialogue.... But he is good-looking, Mr. Wilbraham." + +Henry moodily supposed that he was. "In a sort of smug, cold way," he +admitted. + +"E cosa fa tra questo bel giovanotto e quel Charles Wilbraham?" +wondered the ex-cardinal, within himself. + + + + +11 + + +Henry left the Salle de la Reformation and went out into the town to +look for further light on the mystery. How proud he would be if he +should collect more information about it than the other journalists! +Than Jefferson, for instance, who was always ahead in these things, +interviewing statesmen, getting statements made to him.... No one made +statements to Henry; he never liked to ask for them. But he was, he +flattered himself, as good as any one else at nosing out news stories, +mysteries, and so forth. + +Musing deeply, he walked to the ice-cream café, close to the Assembly +Hall. There he ordered an ice of mixed framboise, pistachio, and +coffee, and some iced raspberry syrup, and sat outside under the +awning, slowly enjoying the ice, sucking the syrup through straws, and +thinking. He always thought best while eating well too; with him, as +with many others, high living and high thinking went together, or +would have, only lack of the necessary financial and cerebral means +precluded much practice of either. + +While yet in the middle of the raspberry syrup he suddenly lifted his +mouth from the straws, ejaculated softly, and laughed. + +"It is a possibility," he muttered. "A possibility, worth following +up.... Odder things have happened ... are happening, all the time.... +In fact, this is not at all an odd thing...." Decisively he rapped on +the table for his bill, paid for his meal, and rose to go, not +forgetting first to finish his raspberry syrup. + +He walked briskly along the side of the lake to the Molard jetty, +where he found a _mouette_ in act to start for the other side. How he +loved these _mouette_ rides, the quick rush through blue water, half +Geneva on either side, and the narrow shave under the Pont du Mont +Blanc. He was always afraid that one day they would not quite manage +it, but would hit the bridge; it was a fear of which he could not get +rid. He always held his breath as they rushed under the bridge, and +let it out in relief as they emerged safely beyond it. How cheap it +was: a lake trip for fifteen centimes! Henry was sorry when they +reached the other side. He walked thoughtfully up from the landing +stage to the Secretariat, where he ascended to the room of Mr. +Wilbraham. Mr. Wilbraham was not, of course, there; he was over at the +Assembly Hall. But his secretary was there; a cheerful young lady +typing letters with extraordinary efficiency and rapidity. + +"Oh," said Henry, "I'm sorry. I thought Mr. Wilbraham might possibly +be here." + +"No," said the young lady agreeably. "He is over at the Assembly. Will +you leave a message?" + +Henry laid his hat and cane on a table, and strode about the room. A +large pleasant room it was, with a good carpet; the kind of room that +Charles Wilbraham would have, and always did have. + +"No. No, I'll look in again. Or I'll see him over there this +afternoon." He looked at his watch. "Lunch time. How quickly the +morning has gone. It always does; don't you find that? And more so +than usual when it's an exciting morning like this." + +"It is exciting, isn't it. Have they found him yet? I do admire him, +don't you?" + +"Completely. No, they haven't found him. Mr. Wilbraham says it looks +sadly like an accident of some sort." + +She acknowledged his imitation of Mr. Wilbraham's voice with a smile. + +"That would be tragic. Svensen, of all the delegates! One wouldn't +mind most of them disappearing a bit. Some of them would be good +riddances." + +"Well," said Henry, changing the subject, "if we're both going out to +lunch, can't we lunch together? I'm Beechtree, of the _British +Bolshevist_." + +Miss Doris Wembley looked at Beechtree, rather liked him, and said, +"Right. But I must finish one letter first." + +She proceeded with her efficient, rapid, and noisy labours. She did +not need to look at the keyboard, she was like that type of knitter +who knits the while she gazes into space; she had learnt "Now is the +time for all good men to come to the help of the party." + +Henry, strolling round the room, observing details, had time to +speculate absently on the wonderful race of typists. He had in +the past known many of them well, and felt towards them a regard +untouched by glamour. How, he had often thought, they took life for +granted, unquestioning, unwondering, accepting, busy eternally with +labours they understood so little, performed so well, rattling +out their fusillade of notes that formed words they knew not of, +sentences that, uncomprehended, yet did not puzzle them or give them +pause, on topics which they knew only as occasioning cascades of +words. To them one word was the same, very nearly the same, as +another of similar length; words had features, but no souls; did +they fail to decipher the features of one of them, another of the +same dimensions would do. And what commas they wielded, what colons, +what semis, what stops! But efficient they were, all the same, for +they were usually approximately right, and always incredibly quick. +Henry knew that those stenographers who had been taken out to Geneva +were, in the main, of a more sophisticated order, of a higher +intellectual equipment. But Charles Wilbraham's secretary was of the +ingenuous type. Probably the more sophisticated would not stay with +him. A pretty girl she was, with a round brown face, kind dark eyes, +and a wide, sweet, and dimpling mouth. Henry, like every one else, +liked a girl to be pretty, but, quite unlike most young men, he +preferred her to be witty. The beauty of the dull bored him very +soon; Henry had his eccentricities. He did not think that Miss +Wembley was going to be amusing, but still, he intended to cultivate +her acquaintance. + +Henry looked at his watch. It was twelve forty-five. "Can't the rest +wait?" he said. + +"I'm just on done. It's a re-type I'm doing. I spelt parliament with a +small p, and Mr. Wilbraham said he couldn't send it, not even if I +rubbed it out with the eraser. He said it would show, and it was to +the F.O., who are very particular." + +"My God," Henry ejaculated, in a low yet violent tone, and gave a +bitter laugh. His eyes gleamed fiercely. "I can imagine," he said, +with restraint, "that Mr. Wilbraham might be particular. He _looks_ +particular." + +"Well, he is, rather. But he's quite right, I suppose. Messy letters +look too awful. Some men will sign simply anything. I don't like +that.... There, now I've done." + +"Come along then," said Henry rapidly. + + + + +12 + + +The Assembly met again at four o'clock, and proceeded under the +Deputy President with the order of the day. But it was a half-hearted +business. No one was really interested in anything except the fate of +Dr. Svensen, who, it had transpired from inquiry among the +boat-keepers, had not taken a boat on the lake last night. + +"Foul play," said the journalist Grattan, hopefully. "Obviously foul +play." + +"Ask the Bolshevist refugees," the _Times_ correspondent said with a +shrug. For he had no opinion of these people, and believed them to +be engaged in a continuous plot against the peace of the world, in +combination with the Germans. The _Morning Post_ was inclined to +agree, but held that O'Shane, the delegate from the Irish Free State, +was in it too. Whenever any unpleasant incident occurred, at home or +abroad (such as murders, robberies, bank failures, higher income tax, +Balkan wars, strikes, troubles in Ireland, or cocaine orgies), the +_Times_ said, "Ask the Bolshevists and the Germans," and the _Morning +Post_ said, "Ask the Bolshevists and the Germans by all means, +but more particularly ask Sinn Fein," just as the _Daily Herald_ +said, "Ask the capitalists and Scotland Yard," and some eminent +_littérateurs_, "Ask the Jews." We must all have our whipping-boys, +our criminal suspects; without them sin and disaster would be too +tragically diffused for our comfort. Henry Beechtree's suspect was +Charles Wilbraham. He knew that he suspected Charles Wilbraham too +readily; Wilbraham could not conceivably have committed all the sins +of which Henry was fain to believe him guilty. Henry knew this, and +kept a guard on his own over-readiness, lest it should betray him +into rash accusation. Information; evidence; that was what he had to +collect. + +The question was, as an intelligent member of the Secretariat pointed +out, who stood to benefit by the disappearance of Svensen from the +scenes? Find the motive for a deed, and very shortly you will find the +doer. Had Svensen a private enemy? No one knew. Many persons +disapproved of the line he was apt to take in public affairs: he +wanted to waste money on feeding hungry Russians ("No one is sorrier +than my tender-hearted nation for starving persons," the other +delegates would say, "but we have no money to send them, and are not +Russians always hungry?") and was in an indecent hurry about +disarmament, which should be a slow and patient process. ("No one is +more anxious than my humane nation for peace," said the delegates, +"but there is a dignified caution to be observed.") Yes; many persons +disagreed with Svensen as to the management of the affairs of the +world; but surely no one would make away with him on that account. +Far more likely did it seem that he had inadvertently stumbled into +the lake, after dining well. What an end to so great and good a man! + + + + +13 + + +Lord Burnley, the senior British delegate, that distinguished, +notable, and engaging figure in the League, had, as has been said +earlier, a strange addiction to walking. This afternoon, having parted +from his friends outside the Assembly Hall, he started, as was a +favourite pastime of his, to walk through the older and more +picturesque streets of the city, for which he had a great taste. + +As he strolled in his leisurely manner up the Rue de la Cité, stopping +now and then to look at its antique and curious shops, he came to a +book shop, whose outside shelf was stocked with miscellaneous +literature. Lord Burnley, who could seldom pass an old bookshop +without pausing, stopped to glance at the row of paper-backs, and +was caught by a familiar large bound book among them. Familiar +indeed, for was it not one of his own works? He put on his glasses and +looked closer. Yes: the volume was inscribed _Scepticism as a Basis +for Faith_, by George Burnley. And printed on a paper label below the +title, was the inscription, "Special Edition, recently annotated by +the Author." + +Strange! Lord Burnley was puzzled. For neither recently nor at any +other time was he conscious of having issued a special annotated +edition of this work. + +For a minute or two he pondered, standing on the pavement. Then, +deciding to inquire further into this thing, he stooped his head and +shoulders and passed under the low lintel into the little dark shop. + + + + +14 + + +Henry, having left the Assembly, sent off his message to his newspaper +(it was entirely about the disappearance of Dr. Svensen), glanced into +his pigeon-hole on his way out, and found there, among various +superfluous documents, a note addressed to him by the ex-cardinal +Franchi, suggesting that, if he should not find himself better +employed, he should give the writer his company at dinner at eight +o'clock that evening, at his villa at Monet, two miles up the lake. He +would find a small electric launch waiting for him at seven-thirty at +the Eaux-Vives jetty, in which would be Dr. Franchi's niece, who had +been attending the Assembly that afternoon. + +"Excellent," thought Henry. "I will go." For he was greatly attracted +by Dr. Franchi, and liked also to dine out, and to have a trip up to +Monet in a motor launch. + +He went back to his indigent rooms in the Allée Petit Chat, and washed +and dressed. (Fortunately, he had at no time a heavy beard, so did not +have to shave in the evenings.) Well-dressed he was not, even in his +evening clothes, which were a cast-off of his brother's, and not, as +evening clothes should be, faultless; but still they passed, and Henry +always looked rather nice. + +"Not a bad face," he reflected, surveying it in the dusty speckled +glass. "A trifle weak perhaps. I _am_ a trifle weak; that is so. But, +on the whole, the face of a gentleman and a decent fellow. And not +devoid of intelligence.... Interesting, to see one's own face. +Especially in this odd glass. Now I must be off. Hat, stick, overcoat, +scarf--that is everything." + +He walked down to the Eaux-Vives jetty, where a smart electric launch +did indeed await him, and in it a young lady of handsome appearance, +who regarded him with friendly interest and said, in pronounced +American with an Italian accent, "I'm real pleased to meet you, Mr. +Beechtree. Step right in. We'll start at once." + +Henry stepped right in, and sat down by this prepossessing girl. + +"I must introduce myself," she said. "My name is Gina Longfellow, and +I'm Dr. Franchi's niece." + +"What excellent English you talk," said Henry politely. + +"American," she corrected him. "My father was a native of Joliet, Ill. +Are you acquainted with the Middle West?" + +"I've travelled there," said Henry, and repressed a shudder, for he +had found the Middle West deplorable. He preferred South America. + +"I am related to the poet," said Miss Longfellow. "That great poet who +wrote _Hiawatha_, _Evangeline_, and _The Psalm of Life_. Possibly you +came across him out in the States?" + +"No," said Henry. "I fancy he was even then dead. You are a descendant +of his?" + +"A descendant--yes. I remember now; he died, poor nonno.... The lake +pleases you, Mr. Beechtree?" + +"Indeed, yes. It is very beautiful." + +Miss Longfellow's fine dark eyes had a momentary flicker of +resentment. Most young men looked at her, but Mr. Beechtree at the +lake, with his melancholy brooding eyes. Henry liked handsome young +women well enough, but he admired scenery more. The smooth shimmer of +the twilight waters, still holding the flash of sunset, the twinkling +city of lights they were swiftly leaving behind them at the lake's +head, the smaller constellations of the lakeside villages on either +hand--these made on Henry, whose æsthetic nerve was sensitive, an +unsteadying impression. + +Miss Longfellow recalled his attention. + +"Do you think the League will last?" she inquired sharply. "Do you +like Geneva? Do you think the League will be moved somewhere else? +Isn't it a real pity the French are so obstructionist? Will the +Americans come in?" + +Henry adjusted his monocle and looked at her in some surprise. + +"Well," she said impatiently, "I guess you're used to those questions +by now." + +"But you've left out the latest," Henry said. "What do you think can +have happened to Svensen?" + +"Ah, there you have us all guessing," she amiably returned. "Poor +Svensen. Who'd have thought it of him?" + +"Thought what?" + +"Why, this. He always seemed such a white man. My, isn't it queer what +people will do?" + +Henry, who had been brought up on Dr. Svensen's narrations of his +Arctic explorations, and greatly revered him, said, "But I don't +believe he's done anything." + +"Not done a get-away, you mean? Well now, why should he, after all? +Perhaps he fell right into this deep lake after dining, and couldn't +get out, poveretto. Yet he was a real fine swimmer they say." + +"Most improbable," said Henry, who had dismissed that hypothesis +already. He leant forward and spoke discreetly. "I fancy, Miss +Longfellow, there are those in Geneva who could throw some light on +this affair if they chose." + +"You don't say! Dio mio! Now isn't that quite a notion!" Miss +Longfellow was interested. "Why, Mr. Beechtree, you don't suspect foul +play, do you?" + +Henry nodded. + +"I suppose I rather easily suspect foul play," he candidly admitted. +"It's more interesting, and I'm a journalist. But in this case there +are reasons----" + +"Now isn't this too terribly exciting! Reasons! Just you tell me all +you know, Mr. Beechtree, if it's not indiscreet. Non son' +giornalista, io!" + +"I don't _know_ anything. Except that there are people who might be +glad to get Svensen out of the way." + +"But who are they? I thought every one respected him ever so!" + +"Respect is akin to fear," said Henry. + +On that dictum, the launch took a swift turn to the right, and dashed +towards a jetty which bore on a board above it the words, "Château +Léman. Defense." + +"A private jetty," said Henry. + +"Yes. The village jetty is beyond. This is my uncle's. That path only +leads up to the Château." + +They disembarked, and climbed up a steep path which led through a +wrought iron gate into a walled garden that ran down to the lake's +edge. Henry, who was romantic, said, "How very delightful. How old is +the Château?" + +"Chi sa? Real old, I can tell you. Ask Uncle Silvio. He's great on +history. He's for ever writing historical books. History and +heresy--Dio mio! That is why they turned him out of the Church, you +know." + +"So I heard.... Are you a Catholic, Miss Longfellow?" + +She gave a little shrug. + +"I was brought up Catholic. Women believe what they are taught, as a +rule, don't they?" + +"I hadn't observed it," Henry said, "particularly. Are women so unlike +men then?" + +"That's quite a question, isn't it. What do you think?" + +"I can't think in large sections and masses of people," Henry replied. +"Women are so different one from another. So are men. That's all I can +see, when people talk of the sexes." + +"_Macchè!_ You don't say!" said Miss Longfellow, looking at him +inquiringly. "Most people always think in large masses of people. They +find it easier, more convenient, more picturesque." + +"It is indeed so," Henry admitted. "But less accurate. Accuracy--do +you agree with me?--is of an importance very greatly underestimated by +the majority of persons." + +"I guess," said Miss Longfellow, not interested, "you're quite a +clever young man." + +Henry replied truthfully, "Indeed, no," and at this point they turned +a bend in the path and the château was before them in the evening +light; an arcaded, balconied, white-washed building, vine-covered and +red-roofed, with queer outside staircases and green-shuttered windows, +many of which were lit. Certainly old, though restored. A little way +from it was a small belfried chapel. + +"Charming," said Henry, removing his eyeglass the better to look. +"Amazingly charming." + +A big door stood open and through this they passed into a hall lit by +large hanging lamps and full of dogs, or so it seemed to Henry, for on +all sides they rose to stare at him, to sniff at his ankles, for the +most part with the air of distaste commonly adopted towards Henry by +these friends of man. + +"You're not a dog lover?" Miss Longfellow suggested, and Henry again +replied that he could not like or dislike his fellows in large +sections; some dogs he liked, others not, as with men, women, and +children. + +"But I guess they don't like you very much," she returned, shrewdly +observing their manners to him. "Now isn't that cute, how they take to +some people and not to others. They all love Uncle Silvio on sight. +Stray dogs follow him in the road and won't leave him. Half these are +strays.... They know he likes them, that's what it is. Dogs always +know, they say, don't they." + +"Know what?" asked Henry, suspicious that she meant that dogs know a +good character from a bad, which was what "they" ("they" meaning the +great collection of noodles who constitute the public) do actually +say. The things "they" say! They even say that children too (the most +foolish of God's creatures) have this intuitive knowledge; they say +that to drink hot tea makes you cooler, that it is more tiring going +down-hill than up, that honesty is the best policy, that love makes +the world go round, that "literally" bears the same meaning as +"metaphorically" ("she was literally a mother to him," they will say), +that an apple a day keeps the doctor away, that those who say least +feel most, that one must live. There is truly no limit to what "they," +in their folly, will say. So Henry, wincing among the suspicious dogs, +moodily, and not for the first time, reflected. + +Miss Longfellow did not answer his inquiry, but stood in the hall and +cried, "Zio!" in a voice like a May cuckoo's. + +A door opened, and in a moment Dr. Franchi, small and frail and +charming, came forward with a sweet smile and hand outstretched, +through a throng of fawning, grinning dogs. + +"A pleasure indeed, Mr. Beechtree." + +"He is like Leo XIII.," was Henry's thought. "Strange, that he should +be a heretic!" + + + + +15 + + +They sat at dinner on a terrace, under hanging lamps, looking out at +the lake through vine-festooned arches. The moon rose, like the +segment of an orange, sending a softly glowing path to them across +black water. Here and there the prow lanterns of boats rosily gleamed. +The rest was violet shadow. + +How Henry, after his recent experiences of cheap cafés, again enjoyed +eating a meal fit for a gentleman. Radiant silver, napery like snow +(for, in the old fashion still in use on the continent, Dr. Franchi +had a fair linen cloth spread over his dinner-table; there is no doubt +but that this extravagant habit gives an old-world charm to a meal), +food and wines of the most agreeable, conversation to the liking of +all three talkers (which is, after all, the most that can be said of +any conversation), one of the loveliest views in Europe, and gentle +night air--Henry was indeed fortunate. How kind, he reflected, was +this ex-cardinal, who, having met him but once, asked him to such a +pleasant entertainment. Why was it? He must try to be worthy of it, to +seem cultivated and agreeable and intelligent. But Henry knew that he +was none of these things; continually he had to be playing a part, +trying to hide his folly under a pretence of being like other people, +sensible and informed and amusing, whereas really he was more like an +animal, interested in the foolish and fleeting impressions of the +moment. He was not fit for a gentleman's dinner-table. + +The conversation was of all manner of things. They spoke, of course, +of the League. + +"It has a great future," said Dr. Franchi, "by saying which I by no +means wish to underrate its present." + +"Rather capitalist in tendency, perhaps?" the correspondent of the +_British Bolshevist_ suggested. "A little too much in the hands of the +major states?" But he did not really care. + +"You misjudge it," Dr. Franchi said. "It is a very fair association +of equal states. A true democracy: little brothers and great, hand +in hand. Oh, it will do great things; is, indeed, doing great things +now. One cannot afford to be cynical about such an attempt. Anything +which encourages the nations to take an interest in one another's +concerns----" + +"There has surely," said Henry, still rather apathetically voicing his +paper, "always been too much of that already. Hence wars. Nations +should keep themselves to themselves. International impertinence ... +it's a great evil. Live and let live." + +"You don't then agree that we should attempt a world-cosmogony? That +the nations should be as brothers, and concern themselves with one +another's famines, one another's revolutions, one another's frontiers? +But why this curious insistence on the nation as a unit? Why select +nationality, rather than the ego, the family, the township, the +province, the continent, the hemisphere, the planet, the solar system, +or even the universe? Isn't it just a little arbitrary, this stress we +lay on nationalism, patriotism, love of one particular country, of the +territories united fortuitously under one particular government? What +is a government, that we should regard it as a connecting link? What +is a race, that queer, far-flung thing whose boundaries march with +those of no nation? And when we say we love a country, do we mean its +soil, the people under its government, or the scattered peoples +everywhere sharing some of the same blood and talking approximately +the same tongue? What, in fact, is this _patriotism_, this love of +country, that we all feel, and that we nearly all exalt as if it were +a virtue? We don't praise egoism, or pride of family, or love of a +particular town or province, in the same way. What magic is there in +the ring that embraces a country, that we admire it as precious metal +and call the other rings foolish or base? You will admit that it is a +queer convention." + +"All conventions are queer, I think," Henry said indifferently. "But +there they are. One accepts them. It is less trouble." + +"It makes more trouble in the end, my young friend.... I will tell you +one thing from my heart. If the League of Nations should fail, should +go to pieces, it will be from excess of this patriotism. Every country +out for its own hand. That has always been the trouble with the world, +since we were hordes of savages grouped in tribes one against the +other--as, indeed, we still are." + +"Well, zio mio," said Miss Longfellow breezily, "if you don't look out +for number one, no one else will, you may be dead sure. And _then_ +where are you? In the soup, sure thing. Nel zuppo!" She gave a gay, +chiming, cuckooish laugh. A cheerful girl, thought Henry. + +"Viva the League of Nations!" she cried, and drank brightly of her +marsala. + +Dr. Franchi, with an indulgent smile for youthful exuberance, drank +too. + +"The hope for the world," he said. "You don't drink this toast, Mr. +Beechtree?" + +"My paper," said Henry, "believes that such hope for the world as +there may be lies elsewhere." + +"Ah, your paper. And you yourself?" + +"I? I see no hope for the world. No hope, that is to say, that it will +ever be an appreciably better world than it is at present. Before that +occurs, I imagine that it will have broken its string, as it were, and +dashed off into space, and so an end." + +"And my hopes for it are two--an extension of country-love into +world-love, and a purified version of the Christian faith." + +"Purified...." Henry recollected that Dr. Franchi was a modernist and +a heretic. "A queer word," he mused. "I am not sure that I know what +it means." + +"Ah. You are orthodox Catholic, no doubt. You admit no possible +impurities in the faith." + +"I have never thought about it. I do not even know what an impurity +is. One thing does not seem to me much more pure than another, and not +much more odd. For my part, I accept the teaching of the Church +wholesale. It seems simpler." + +"Until you come to think about it," said the ex-cardinal. "Then it +ceases to be simple, and becomes difficult and elaborate to a high +degree. Too difficult for a simple soul like myself. For my part, I +have been expelled from the bosom of my mother the Church, and am now, +having completed immense replies to the decree Lamentabili Sane and to +the encyclical Pascendi Gregis, writing a History of the Doctrine of +Transubstantiation. Does the topic interest you?" + +"I am no theologian," said Henry. "And I have been told that if one +inquires too closely into these mysteries, faith wilts. I should not +like that. So I do not inquire. It is better so. I should not wish to +be an atheist. I have known an atheist whom I have very greatly +disliked." + +The thought of this person shadowed his brow faintly with a scowl, not +unobserved by his host and hostess. "But," he added, "he became a +worse thing; he is now an atheist turned Catholic...." + +"There I am with you," the ex-cardinal agreed. "About the Catholic +convert there is often a quite peculiar lack of distinction.... But we +will not talk about these." + + + + +16 + + +They were now eating fruit. Melon, apricots, pears, walnuts, figs, and +fat purple grapes. The night ever deepened into a greater loveliness. +In the steep, sweet garden below the terrace nightingales sang. + +"On such a night as this," said Dr. Franchi, cracking a walnut, "it is +difficult to be an atheist." + +"Why so?" asked Henry dreamily, biting a ripe black fig, and wishing +that the ex-cardinal had not thought it necessary to give so lovely +and familiar an opening phrase so tedious an end. + +"Don't tell me," he added quickly, repenting his thoughtless question. +"What nightingales! What figs! And what apricocks!" (for so he always +called this fruit). He hated to talk about atheists, and about how God +had fashioned so beautiful a world. It might be so, but the world, on +such a night, was enough in itself. + +Dr. Franchi's keen, gentle eyes, the eyes of a shrewd weigher of men, +observed him and his distastes. + +"An æsthete," he judged. "God has given him intuition rather than +reason. And not very much even of that. He might easily be misled, +this youth." + +Aloud he said, "All I meant was that + + "'Holy joy about the earth is shed, + And Holiness upon the deep,' + +as one of your Edwardian poets has sung. That was a gifted generation: +may it rest in peace. For I think it mostly perished in that +calamitous war we had.... But your Georgians--they too are a gifted +generation, is it not so?" + +"You mean by Georgians those persons who are now flourishing under +the sovereignty of King George the Fifth of England? Such as myself? +I do not really know. How could it be that gifts go in generations? +A generation, surely, is merely chronological. Gifts are sporadic. +No, I find no generation, as such, gifted. Except, of course, with +the gifts common to all humanity.... People speak of the Victorians, +and endow them with special qualities, evil or good. They were +all black recently; now they are being white-washed--or rather +enamelled. I think they had no qualities, as a generation (or rather +as several generations, which, of course, they were); men and women +then were, in the main, the same as men and women to-day, I see +nothing but individuals. The rest is all the fantasy of the foolish, +who love to generalise, till they cannot see the trees for the wood. +Generalisations make me dizzy. I see nothing but the separate trees. +There _is_ nothing else...." + +Dreamily Henry wandered on, happy and fluent with wine and figs. A +ripe black fig, gaping to show its scarlet maw--what could be more +lovely, and more luscious to the palate? + +As to Miss Longfellow, she was eating her dessert so rapidly and with +such relish that she had no time for conversation. All she contributed +to it was, between bites, a cheerful nod now and then at Henry to show +that she agreed with him. + +"Yours," said Dr. Franchi, "is not, perhaps, the most natural view of +life. It is more natural to see people in large groups, with definite +characteristic markings, according to period, age, nationality, sex, +or what not. Also, such a view has its truth, though, like all truths, +it may be over-stressed.... But here comes our coffee. After we have +drunk it, Gina will leave us perhaps and you and I will smoke our +cigars and have a little talk on political questions, and matters +outside a woman's interests. Our Italian women do not take the same +interest in affairs which your English women do." + +"No," Miss Longfellow readily agreed. "We don't like the New Woman +over here. Perhaps Mr. Beechtree admires her though." + +"The New Woman?" Henry doubtfully queried. "Is there a new woman? I +don't know the phrase, except from old Victorian _Punch_ Pictures.... +Thank you, yes; a little cherry brandy." + +"Ah, is the woman question, then, over in your country--died out? +Fought to a finish, perhaps, with honours to the victorious sex?" + +"The woman question, sir? What woman question? I know no more of woman +questions than of man questions, I am afraid. There is an infinity of +questions you may ask about all human beings. People ask them all the +time. Personally, I don't; it is less trouble not to. There people +are; you can take them or leave them, for what they're worth. Why ask +questions about them? There is never a satisfactory answer." + +"A rather difficult youth to talk to," the ex-cardinal reflected. "He +fails to follow up, or, apparently, even to understand, any of the +usual conversational gambits. Is he very ignorant, or merely +perverse?" + +As to Miss Longfellow, she gave Henry up as being not quite all there, +and anyhow a bloodless kind of creature, who took very little notice +of her. So she went indoors and played the piano. + +"I am failing," thought Henry. "She does not like me. I am not being +intelligent. They will talk of things above my head, things I cannot +understand." + +Apathy held him, drinking cherry brandy under the moon, and he could +not care. Woman question? Man question? What was all this prating? + + + + +17 + + +"And now," said Dr. Franchi, as he enjoyed a cigar and Henry a +cigarette and both their liqueurs, "let us talk of this mysterious +business of poor Svensen." + +"Yes, do let's," said Henry, for this was much more in his line. + +"I may misjudge you, Mr. Beechtree, but I have made a guess that you +entertain certain suspicions in this matter. Is that the case? Ah, I +see I am right. No, tell me nothing you do not wish. In fact, tell me +nothing at all. It would be, at this point, indiscreet. Instead, let +us go through all the possible alternatives." He paused, and puffed at +his cigar for a while in thoughtful silence. + +"First of all," he presently resumed, "poor Svensen may have met with +an accident. He may have fallen into the lake and have been drowned. +But this we will set aside as improbable. Geneva is seldom quite +deserted at night, and he would have attracted attention. Besides +which, I have heard that he is an excellent swimmer. No; an improbable +contingency. What remains? Foul play. Some person or persons have +attacked him in a deserted spot and either murdered or kidnapped him. +But who? And for what purpose? Robbery? Personal enmity? Revenge? Or +an impersonal motive, such as a desire, for some reason, to damage and +retard the doings of the Assembly? It might be any of these.... Let us +for a moment take the hypothesis that it is the last. To whom, then, +might such a desire be attributed? Unfortunately, my dear Mr. +Beechtree, to many different persons." + +"But more to some than to others," Henry brightly pointed out. + +"Certainly more to some than to others. More to the Poles than to the +Lithuanians, for instance, for is it not to the Polish interest to +hold up the proceedings of the Assembly while the present violation of +the Lithuanian frontier by Polish hordes continues? Well they know +that any inquiry into that matter set on foot by the League would end +in their discomfiture. Every day that they can retard the appointment +of a committee of inquiry is to the good, from their point of view. + +"Again, take Russia. The question of the persecution of the Bolsheviks +is to be brought up in the Assembly early. Naturally the Russian +delegation are not anxious for the exposure of their governmental +methods which would accompany this. And then there are the Bolshevik +refugees themselves--a murderous gang, who would readily dispose of any +one, from mere habit. Nor can Argentine be supposed to be anxious for +the inquiry into her dispute with Paraguay which the Paraguay delegation +intend to bring forward. The Argentine delegation may well have orders +to delay this inquiry as long as possible, in order that the dispute may +arrange itself domestically, in Argentine interests, without the +intervention of the League. There is, too, the Graeco-Turkish war, which +both the Greeks and the Turks desire to carry on in peace. There are +also several questions of humanitarian legislation, which by no means +all the members of the League desire to see proceeded with--the traffic +in women, for instance, and that in certain drugs. And what about the +Irish delegates? Are they not both, for their different reasons, full +of anger and discontent against Great Britain and against Europe in +general, and may they not well intend, in the determined manner of their +race, to hold up the association of nations at the pistol's mouth, so to +speak, until it considers their grievances and adjudicates in their +favour? And then we must not exclude from suspicion the natives of +this city and canton. Calvinists are, in my experience, capable of +any malicious crime. A dour, jealous, unpleasant people. They might +(and often have they done so) perpetrate any wickedness in the name of +the curious God they worship." + +"Indeed, yes," said Henry. "How confusing it all is, to be sure! But +you haven't mentioned the biggest stumbling-block of all, +sir--disarmament." + +"Ah, yes; disarmament. As you say, the most tremendous issue of all. +And it is, as every one knows, going to be, during this session of the +League, decisively dealt with by the Council. Many a nation, militant +from terror, from avarice, from arrogance, or from habit, many a +political faction, and many a big business, has a vital interest in +hindering disarmament discussions. You think then, that----" + +"I will tell you," said Henry, leaning forward eagerly and lowering +his rather high voice, "what I think. I think that there are those not +far from us who have a great deal of money in armaments, and who get +nervy whenever the subject comes up. There are things that I know.... +I came out here knowing them, and meaning to speak when the time came. +Not because it was my duty, which is why (I understand) most people +expose others, but because I had a very great desire to. There is some +one towards whom I feel a dislike--a very great dislike; I may say +hate. He deserves it. He is a most disagreeable person, and has done +me, personally, a great injury"--(Henry was feeling the expansive +influence of the cherry brandy)--"and naturally I wish to do him one +in my turn. I have wished it for several years; to be exact, since the +year 1919. I have waited and watched. I have always known him to be +detestable, but until recently I thought that he was also detestably +and invariably in the right--or, anyhow, that he could not be proved +in the wrong. Lately I learnt something that altered this opinion. I +discovered a thing about him which would, if it were known (having +regard to the position he occupies), utterly shame and discredit him. +I am now, I have a feeling, on the track of discovering yet another +and a worse thing--that he has done away with the elected President of +the Assembly, in order to wreck the proceedings so that the armament +question should not come up." + +"The armament question?" + +Henry gazed at the ex-cardinal with the wide, ferocious stare of the +slightly intoxicated. + +"What would you say if I told you that a certain highly placed +official on the League of Nations Secretariat has enormous sums of +money invested in an armaments business? That he derives nearly all +his income from it? That he is the son-in-law of the head of the +business, and has in it vast sums which increase at every rumour of +war and which would dwindle away if any extensive disarmament scheme +should ever really be seriously contemplated by the nations? That his +father-in-law, this munitions prince, is even now in Geneva, privately +visiting his daughter and son-in-law and holding a watching brief on +the Assembly proceedings? I ask you, what would the League staff say +of one of their members of which this should be revealed? Would he be +regarded as a fit incumbent of the office he holds? Wouldn't he be +dismissed, kicked out as incompetent--as unscrupulous, I mean," Henry +amended quickly. His voice had risen in a shrill and trembling +crescendo of dislike. + +Dr. Franchi, leaning placidly back in his chair, his delicate fingers +stroking a large Persian cat on his knee, shrewdly watched him. + +"I had better say," he observed, in his temperate and calming manner, +"that I believe I know to whom you allude. I have guessed, since I saw +you this morning when a certain individual was speaking near you, that +you took no favourable view of him. And now I perceive that you are +justified. You will be doubly justified if we can prove, what I am +trying to agree with you is not improbable, that he has indeed made away +with this unfortunate Svensen. I am tempted to share your view of this +unpleasing person. Among other things he is a Catholic convert; as to +these we have already exchanged our views.... Do you know what I think? +This; that Svensen's will not be the only disappearance at Geneva. For +what would be the use of getting rid of one man only, however prominent? +The Assembly, after the first shock, would proceed with its doings. But +what if man after man were to disappear? What if the whole fabric of +Assembly, Council, and Committees should be disintegrated, till no one +could have thoughts for anything but the mysterious disappearances and +how to solve the riddle, and how, still more, to preserve each one +himself from a like fate? Could any work be continued in such +circumstances, in such an atmosphere? No. The Assembly would +become merely a collection of bewildered and nervous individuals +turning themselves into amateur detectives, and, incidentally, the +laughing-stock of the world. The League might never recover such +prestige as it has, after such a disastrous session. Mark my words; +there will be further attempts on the persons of prominent delegates. +Whether they will be successful attempts or not is a question. Who is +responsible for them is another question. You say (and I am half with +you) our friend of the Secretariat, who had better be nameless until we +can bring him to book. Others will say other things. Many will be +suspected. Notably, no doubt, the Spanish Americans, who lend themselves +readily to such suspicions; they have that air, and human life is +believed not to be unduly sacred to them. Besides, they never got on +with Svensen, who is reported to have alluded to them not infrequently +as 'those damned Red Indians.' The Scandinavian temperament and theirs +are so different. I do not even feel sure myself that they are not +implicated. The initiation of the affair by our Secretariat friend +would not, in fact, preclude their participation in it. I had nearly +said, show me a Spanish-American, still worse a Portuguese, and I will +show you a scoundrel. Nearly, but not quite, for it is a mistake to say +such things of one's brothers in the League. Besides, I like them. They +are pleasing, amusing fellows, and do not rasp one's nerves like the +Germans and many others. One can forgive them much; indeed, one has to. +Many people, again, would be glad to put responsibility on the Germans. +An unfortunate race, for nothing is so unfortunate as to be unloved. We +must discover the truth, Mr. Beechtree. You have a line of inquiry to +follow?" + +"I am making friends with the fellow's secretary," said Henry. "She +likes me, I may say. And she talks quite a lot. She would not +consciously betray her chief's confidence, though she does not like +him; but all the same I get many clues from her.... Oh, my God----!" + +The ejaculation, which was made under his breath, was shocked +involuntarily out of him by the sight of Dr. Franchi's Persian cat +extracting with its paw from a bowl that stood on the terrace +balustrade a large gold-fish and devouring it. + +After the first glance Henry looked away, leaning back in his chair, +momentarily overcome with a feeling of nausea, which made his face +glisten white and damp, and caused the sweat to break hotly on his +brow, while the lake swayed and darkened before his eyes. It was a +feeling to which he was unfortunately subject when he saw the smaller +of God's creatures suffering these mischances at the hands of their +larger brethren. His nerves were not strong, and he had an excessive +dislike of witnessing unpleasant sights. + +"You don't feel well?" Dr. Franchi solicitously inquired. + +"The gold-fish," his guest murmured. "Eaten alive ... what an end!" + +Dr. Franchi's delicate, dark Latin brows rose. + +"The gold-fish? Ah, my wicked Pellico.... I cannot keep him from the +bowl, the rascal. I regret that he so upset you. But the sensibility +of gold-fish is not great, surely? As the peasants say, non son +chretiani loro!" + +"Forgive me. To see a live fish devoured ... it took me unawares.... I +shall be all right soon...." + +As from a great distance Henry, still fighting the sensation of +nausea, was half aware of the ex-cardinal's piercing eyes fixed on him +with extraordinary intensity. + +"I am all right now," said Henry. "A momentary faintness--quite +absurd.... I expect gold-fish do not really feel either emotion or +pain. They say that fish do not feel hooks. Or worms, either.... They +say all sorts of comforting things about this distressing world, don't +they. One should try to believe them all...." + +"You are," said Dr. Franchi quietly, "if I may say so, a decidedly +unusual young man." + +"Indeed, no," said Henry. "But I have encroached on you long enough. I +must go." + + + + +18 + + +The motor-launch churned its foaming path down the moonlit lake. Henry +sat in the stern, trailing his fingers in cool, phosphorescent water, +happy, drowsy, and well fed. What a delightful evening! What a +charming old man! What a divine way of being taken home! And now he +had the warm, encouraged feeling of not pursuing a lone trail, for the +ex-cardinal's last words to him had been: "Coraggio! Follow every +clue; push home every piece of evidence. Between us we will yet lay +this enemy of the public good by the heel." + +The very thought that they would yet do that flushed Henry's cheek and +kindled his eye. + +Assuredly the wicked should not always flourish like the bay tree. "I +went by, and lo he was not," thought Henry, quoting the queer message +received by the President before the first session of the Assembly. + +The launch dashed up to the Quai du Seujet, and Henry presented +a franc to the pilot, and stepped off, trying to emulate this +gentleman's air of never having visited such a low wharf before. "You +have brought me rather too far," he said. "But I will walk back." + +But, now he came to think of it, Dr. Franchi's man must obviously +know where he lived, so camouflage was unavailing. He had intended +(only, lost in thought, he had let the moment pass) to be set down +at the Paquis, as if he had been staying on the Quai du Mont Blanc +or thereabouts. But he had said nothing, and, without doubt or +hesitation, this disagreeable chauffeur (or whatever an electric +launch man was called) had made for the Quai du Seujet and drawn up +at it, as if he knew, as doubtless he did, that Henry's lodging was +in one of the squalid alleys off it. + +It could not be helped. Things do get about; Henry knew that of old. +However, to maintain the effect of his words to the man, he started to +walk away from the St. Gervais quarter towards the Mont Blanc bridge, +until the launch was foaming on its homeward way. Then he retraced his +steps. + +As he passed the end of the bridge, he saw a well-known and +characteristic figure, small, trim, elegant, the colour of ivory, +clad in faultless evening dress, beneath an equally faultless light +coat, standing by the parapet. Some one was with him, talking to +him--an equally characteristic figure, less well known to the world +at large, but not less well known to Henry. + +Henry stopped abruptly, and stood in the shadow of a newspaper kiosk. +He was not in the least surprised. Any hour of the day or night did +for Charles Wilbraham to talk to the great. He would leave a dinner at +the same time as the most important person present, in order to +accompany him on his way. He would waylay cabinet ministers in +streets, bishops (though himself not of their faith) in closes, and +royal personages incognito. He would impede their progress, or walk +delicately beside them, talking softly, respectfully, with that +perfect propriety of diction and address which he had always at +command. + +"Soapy Sam," muttered Henry from behind the kiosk. + +The two on the bridge moved on. They came towards Henry, strolling +slowly and talking. The well-known personage was apparently telling an +amusing story, for Charles was all attention and all smiles. + +"As Chang was saying to me the other night," Henry prospectively and +unctuously quoted Charles. + +They left the bridge, and turned along the Quai du Mont Blanc. +Charles's rather high laugh sounded above the current of their talk. + +They paused at the Hotel des Bergues. The eminent person mounted its +steps; Charles accompanied him up the steps and inside. Probably the +eminent person wished, by calling on some one there, to shake off +Charles before going to his own hotel. But he had not shaken off +Charles, who was of a tenacious habit. + +"Calling on the Latin Americans," Henry commented. "Wants to have a +drink and a chat without Charles. Won't get it, poor chap. Well, I +shall sleuth around till they come out. I'm going to trail Charles +home to his bed, if it takes all night." + +He settled himself on the parapet of the Quai and watched the hotel +entrance. He did not have to wait long. In some minutes Charles came +out alone. He looked, thought Henry, observing him furtively from +under his pulled down hat brim, a little less elated than he had +appeared five minutes earlier. His self-esteem had suffered some blow, +thought Henry, who knew Charles's mentality. Mentality: that was the +word one used about Charles, as if he had been a German during the +late war (Germans having, as all readers of newspapers will remember, +mentalities). + +Charles walked rapidly across the bridge, towards the road that led to +his own châlet, a mile out of the town. Henry, keeping his distance, +hurried after him, through the steep, silent, sleeping city, up on to +the dusty, tram-lined, residential road above it, till Charles stopped +at a villa gate and let himself in. + +Then Henry turned back, and tramped drowsily down the dusty road +beneath the moonless sky, and down through the steep, sleeping city, +and across the Pont des Bergues, and so to the Quai du Seujet and the +Allée Petit Chat, which lay dense and black and warm in shadow, and +was full of miawling cats, strange sounds, and queer acrid smells. The +drainage system of the St. Gervais quarter was crude. + +In the stifling bedroom of his crazy tenement, Henry undressed and +sleepily tumbled into bed as the city clock struck two. + +In the dawn, below the miawling of lean cats and the yelping of dogs, +he heard the lapping and shuffling of water, and thought of boats and +beating oars. + + + + +19 + + +To what cold seas of inchoate regret, of passionate agnosticism as to +the world's meanings, if any, does one too often wake, and know not +why! Henry, on some mornings, would wake humming (as the queer phrase +goes) with prosperity, and spring, warm and alive, to welcome the new +day. On other mornings it would be as if he shivered perplexed on the +brink of a fathomless abyss, and life engulfed him like chill waters, +and he would strive, defensively, to divest himself of himself and be +but as one of millions of the ant-like creatures that scurry over the +earth's face, of no more significance to himself than were the myriad +others. He could just achieve this state of impersonality while he lay +in bed. But when he got up, stood on the floor, looked at the world no +longer from beyond its rim but from within its coils, he became again +enmeshed, a creature crying "I, I, I," a child wanting Pears' soap and +never getting it, a pilgrim here on earth and stranger. Then the seas +of desolation would swamp him and he would sink and sink, tumbled in +their bitter waves. + +In such a mood of causeless sorrow he woke late on the morning after +he had dined with Dr. Franchi. To keep it at arms' length he lay and +stared at his crazy, broken shutters, off which the old paint flaked, +and thought of the infinite strangeness of all life, a pastime which +very often engaged him. Then he thought of some one whom he very +greatly loved, and was refreshed by that thought; and, indeed, to love +and be loved very greatly is the one stake to cling to in these +troubled seas, the one unfailing life-buoy. Then, turning his mind +into practical channels, he thought of hate, and of Charles Wilbraham, +and of how best to strive that day to compass him about with ruin. + +So meditating, he splashed himself from head to foot with cold water, +dressed, and sallied forth from his squalid abode to the nearest café. +Coffee and rolls and the Swiss morning papers and the clear jolly air +of the September morning put heart into him, as he sat outside the +café by the lake. Opening his paper, he read of "Femme coupée en +morceaux" and "L'Affaire Svensen," and then a large heading, +"Disparition de Lord Burnley." Henry started. Here was news indeed. +And he had failed to get hold of it for his paper. Lord Burnley, it +seemed, had been strolling alone about the city in the late afternoon; +many people had seen him in the Rue de la Cité and the neighbourhood. +He had even been observed to enter a bookshop. The rest was silence. +From that bookshop he had not been seen to emerge. The bookseller +affirmed that he had left after spending a few minutes in the shop. No +further information was to hand. + +"_Cherchez la femme_," one comic paper had the audacity to remark, à +propos l'affaire Svensen and Burnley. Even Svensen and Burnley, so +pure-hearted, so public-spirited, so League-minded, were not immune +from such ill-bred aspersions. + + + + +20 + + +The elegant and scholarly Spaniard, Luiz Vaga, strolled by. He wore a +canary-coloured waistcoat and walked like a fastidious and graceful +bullfinch. He stopped beside Henry's breakfast-table, cocked his head +on one side, and said, "Hallo. Good-morning. Heard the latest news?" + +Henry admitted that he had heard no news later than that in the +morning press. + +"Chang's gone now," said Vaga. "Gone to join Svensen and Burnley. I +regret to say that he was last seen, late last night, paying a call on +my fellow-countrymen from South America at Les Bergues hotel. Serious +suspicion rests on these gentlemen, for poor Chang has not been heard +of since." + +"Somehow," Henry said thoughtfully, "I am not surprised. L'addition, +s'il vous plaît. No, I cannot say I am surprised. I rather thought +that there would be more disappearances very shortly. Burnley and +Chang. A good haul.... Who saw him going into the Bergues?" + +"Our friend Wilbraham, who was out late with him last night. And the +Bergues people don't deny it. But they say he left again, soon after +midnight. The hall porter, who has, it is presumed, been corrupted, +confirms this. But he never returned to his hotel. Poor Burnley and +Chang! Two good talkers, scholars, and charming fellows. There are +few such, in this vulgar age. It is taking the best, this unseen +hand that strikes down our delegates in their prime. So many could +be spared.... But God's will must be done. These South Americans are +its very fitting tools, for they don't care what they do, reckless +fellows. Mind you, I don't accuse them. Personally I should be more +inclined to suspect the Zionists, or the Bolshevik refugees, or your +Irishmen, or some of the Unprotected Minorities, or the Poles, or +the Anti-Vivisection League, who are very fierce. But, for choice, +the Poles; anyhow as regards Burnley. There were certain words once +publicly spoken by Burnley to the Polish delegation about General +Zeligowsky which have rankled ever since. Zeligowsky has many wild +disbanded soldiers at his command.... However--Chang, anyhow, went +to see the South Americans, and has not emerged. There we are." + +"There we are," Henry thoughtfully agreed, as they strolled over the +Pont du Mont Blanc. "And what, then, is Wilbraham's explanation of the +affair Chang?" + +Vaga shrugged his shoulders. + +"Our friend Wilbraham is too discreet to make allegations. He merely +states the fact--that he saw Chang into the Bergues between twelve and +one and left him there.... I gather that he accompanied him into the +hotel, but did not stay there long himself. I can detect a slight +acrimony in his manner on the subject, and deduce from it that he was +not perhaps encouraged by Dr. Chang or his hosts to linger. I flatter +myself I know Wilbraham's mentality fairly well--if one may be +permitted that rather opprobrious word." + +"Yes, indeed," Henry said. "It is precisely what Wilbraham has. I know +it well." + +"In that case, I believe if you had heard Wilbraham on this matter of +his call at Les Bergues that you would agree with me that his +importance suffered there some trifling eclipse." + +"There may be other reasons," said Henry, "in this case, for the +manner you speak of.... But I won't say any more now." He bit off the +stream of libel that had risen to his lips and armed himself in a +careful silence, while the Spaniard cocked an inquiring dark eye at +his brooding profile. + +In the Jardin Anglais they overtook Dr. Franchi and his niece, making +their way to the Assembly Hall. The ex-cardinal was greatly moved. +"Poor Dr. Chang," he lamented, "and Burnley too, of all men! A wit, a +scholar, a philosopher, a metaphysician, a theologian, a man of +affairs. In fine, a man one could talk to. What a mind! I am greatly +attached to Lord Burnley. They must be found, gentlemen. Alive or +(unthinkable thought) dead, they must be found. The Assembly must do +nothing else until this sinister mystery is unravelled. We must employ +detectives. We must follow every clue." + +Miss Longfellow said, "My! Isn't it all quite too terribly sinister! +Don't you think so, Mr. Beechtree?" + +Henry said he did. + + + + +21 + + +They reached the Assembly Hall. The lobby, buzzing with delegates, +Secretariat, journalists, Genevan syndics, and excitement, was like a +startled hive. The delegates from Cuba, Chili, Bolivia, and Paraguay, +temporarily at one, were informing the eager throng who crowded round +them that Dr. Chang had left the Bergues hotel, after a chat and a +whisky with the delegate from Paraguay, at twelve-thirty precisely. +The delegate from Paraguay had gone out with him and had left him on +the Pont des Bergues. He had said that he was going to cross this +bridge and stroll round the old _cité_ before going to bed, as he +greatly admired the picturesque night aspect of these ancient +streets and houses that clustered round the cathedral. He had then, +presumably, made his way to this old, tortuous and unsafe maze of +streets, so full of dark archways, trap-doors, cellars, winding +stairways, evil smells, and obscure alleys. ("These alleys," as a +local guide-book coldly puts it, "are not well inhabited, but the +visitor may safely go through those of houses 5 and 17." Had Dr. +Chang, perhaps, been through, part of the way through, numbers 4 or 16 +instead?) + +"That's right; put it on the _cité_," muttered Grattan, who was fond +of this part of Geneva, for he often dined there, and who admired the +representatives of the South American states as hopeful agents of +crime and mystery. + +No evidence, it seemed, was forthcoming that any one had seen Dr. +Chang in the _cité_, but then, as the delegate from Paraguay remarked, +even the inhabitants of the _cité_ must sleep sometimes. + +Police and detectives had early been put to work to search the +cathedral quarter. Systematically they were making inquiries in it, +street by street, house by house. Systematically, too, others were +making inquiries in the old St. Gervais quarter. + +"But police detective work is never any good," as Henry, a well-read +person in some respects, remarked. "It is well known that one requires +non-constabulary talent." + + + + +22 + + +The bell rang, and a shaken and disorganised Assembly assembled in the +hall. The Deputy-President, in an impassioned speech, lamented the +sinister disappearance of his three so eminent colleagues. As he +remarked, this would not do. Some evil forces were at work, assaulting +the very life of the League, for it must now be apparent that these +disappearances were not coincidences, but links in a connected chain +of crime. What and whose was the unseen hand behind these dastardly +deeds? What secret enemies of the League were so cunningly and +assiduously at work? Was murder their object, or merely abduction? +Whose turn would it be next? (At this last inquiry a shudder rippled +over the already agitated assembly.) But MM. les Délégués might rest +assured that what could be done was being done, both for the discovery +of their eminent colleagues, the detection of the assaulters, and the +aversion of such disasters in future. + +At this point the delegate for Greece leapt to his feet. + +"_What_," he demanded, "is being done with this last object? What +provision is being made for the safety of our persons?" + +His question was vigorously applauded, while the English interpreter, +quite unheard, explained it to those in the hall who lacked adequate +knowledge of the French language. + +The Deputy-President was understood to reply that it was uncertain as +yet what effective steps could be taken, but that all the forces of +law and order in Geneva had been invoked, and that MM. les Délégués +were hereby warned not to go about alone by night, or, indeed, much by +day, and not to venture into obscure streets or doubtful-looking +shops. + +Mademoiselle the delegate from Roumania demanded the word. +Mademoiselle the delegate for Roumania was a large and buxom lady with +a soft, mellifluous voice that cooed like a turtle-dove's when she +spoke eloquently from platforms of the wrongs of unhappy women and +poor children. This delegate was female indeed. Not hers the +blue-stocking sexlessness of the Scandinavian lady delegates, with +their university degrees, their benign, bumpy foreheads, and their +committee manners. She had been a mistress of kings; she was a very +woman, full of the _élan_ of sex. When she swam on to the platform and +turned her eyes to the ceiling, it was seen that they brimmed with +tears. + +"Mon Dieu, M. le Vice-Président," she ejaculated. "Mon Dieu!" And +proceeded in her rich, voluptuous voice to dwell on the iniquities of +the traffic in women and children all over the world. The nets of +these traffickers were spread even in Geneva--that city of good +works--and who would more greatly desire to make away with the good +men of the League of Nations than these wicked traffickers? How well +it was known among them that Lord Burnley, Dr. Svensen, and Dr. Chang +held strong opinions on this subject.... + +At this point a French delegate leaped to his feet and made strong and +rapid objection to these accusations. No one more strongly than his +pure and humane nation disliked this iniquitous traffic in flesh and +blood, but the devil should have his due, and there was no proof that +the traffickers were guilty of the crimes now under discussion. Much +might be allowed a lady speaker in the height of her womanly +indignation, which did credit to her heart and sex, but scarcely so +much as that. + +For a moment it looked like a general squabble, for other delegates +sprang to their feet and called out, and the interpreters, dashing +round the hall with notebooks, could scarcely keep pace, and every one +was excited except the Japanese, who sat solemnly in rows and watched. +For the hold, usually so firm, exercised by the chair over the +Assembly, had given way under the stress of these strange events, and +in vain did the Deputy-President knock on the table with his hammer +and cry "Messieurs! Messieurs! La parole est à Mademoiselle la +Déléguée de la Roumanie!" + +But he could not repress those who called out vehemently that "Il ne +s'agit pas à present de la traite des femmes; il s'agit seulement de +la disparition de Messieurs les Délégués!" And something unconsidered +was added about those states more recently admitted to the League, +which had to be hastily suppressed. + +Mademoiselle la Déléguée on the platform continued meanwhile to coo to +heaven her indignation at the iniquitous traffic in these unhappy +women, until the Deputy-President, in his courteous and charming +manner, suggested in her ear that she should, for the sake of peace, +desist, whereupon she smiled and bowed and swept down into the hall, +to be surrounded by congratulating friends shaking her by the hand. + +"M. Menavitch demande la parole," announced the Deputy-President, who +should have known better. The delegate for the Serb-Croat-Slovene +state stood up in his place (it was scarcely worth while to ascend the +platform for his brief comments) and remarked spitefully that he had +just (as so often) had a telegram from Belgrade to the effect that a +thousand marauding Albanians had crossed their frontier and were +invading Serbia, and that, to his personal knowledge, there was a gang +of these marauders in Geneva, and, in his view, the responsibility for +any ruffianly crime committed in this city was not far to seek. He +then sat down, amid loud applause from the Greeks and cries of "shame" +from the English-speaking delegates. A placid Albanian bishop rose +calmly to reply. He, too, it seemed, had had a telegram from the seat +of his government, and his was about the Serbs, but before he had time +to state its contents the Deputy-President stayed the proceedings. +"The session," he said, "cannot be allowed to degenerate into an +exchange of international personalities." + +"And why not?" inquired the Belfast voice of the delegate from Ulster. +"I'd say the Pope of Rome had some knowledge of this. I wouldn't put +it past him to have plotted the whole thing." + +"Ask the Black and Tans," his Free State colleague was naturally moved +to retort. + +"My God," whispered the Secretary-General to the Deputy-President. "If +the Irish are off.... We must stop this." + +Fortunately, here the delegates for Paraguay eased the situation by +proposing that the question of the disappearance of delegates should +be referred to a committee to be elected for that purpose, and that +the voting for that committee should begin forthwith. (The South +American delegates always welcomed the appointment of committees, for +they always hoped to be on them.) Lord John Lester, one of the +delegates from Central Africa, who was less addicted to committees, +thinking that their methods lacked expedition, rose to protest, but +was overruled. The Assembly as a whole would obviously feel happier +about this affair if it were in committee hands, so the elections were +proceeded with at once. The delegate for Central Africa resigned +himself, only remarking that he hoped at least that the sessions of +the committee would be public, for as he had often said, publicity was +the life blood of the League. + +Journalists in the Press Gallery breathed a sigh of disappointment. +"In another minute," said the _Times_ to Henry, "we should have had +the Poles accusing the Lithuanians, the Greeks the Turks, the Turks +the Armenians, and every one the Germans. Already the French are +running round with a tale about the Germans having done it out of +revenge for the Silesian decision. Probably it's quite true. Only I +back the Bolshevik refugees to have had a hand in it somewhere too. +Well, I shall go lobbying, and hear the latest." + +Henry too went lobbying. + +In the lobby something of a fracas was proceeding between a member of +the Russian delegation and a Bolshevik refugee. It seemed that the +latter was accusing the former of having been responsible for the +disappearance of Dr. Svensen, who had always had such a kind heart for +starving Russians, and who had irritated the Whites in old days by +sending money to the Bolshevik government for their relief. The +accusing refugee, who looked a hairy ruffian indeed, was supported by +applause from a claque of Finns, Ruthenians, Lithuanians, Esthonians, +Latvians, and others who had a dislike for the Russian Empire. M. +Kratzky's well-earned nickname, "Butcher of Odessa," was freely hurled +at him, and the Slavs present were all in an uproar, as Slavs will be +if you excite them. + +Gravely, from a little way off, a group of Japanese looked on. + +"Obviously," the _Times_ murmured discreetly, "the Bolshies think +attack the best form of self-defence. I'm much mistaken if they don't +know something of this business." For it was well known that the +exiled Bolsheviks were vexed at the admission of monarchist Russia to +the League, and might take almost any means (Russians, whether White +or Red, being like that) of showing it. + +"An enemy hath done this thing," murmured the gentle voice of Dr. +Silvio Franchi to Lord John Lester, who had walked impatiently out of +the Assembly Hall when the voting began, because he did not believe +that a committee was going to be of the least use in finding his +friends. He turned courteously towards the ex-cardinal, whom he +greatly liked. + +"What discord, where all was harmony and brotherhood!" continued Dr. +Franchi sadly. + +"Not quite all. Never quite all, even before," corrected Lord John, +who, though an idealist, faced facts. "There were always elements of +... But we were on the way; we were progressing. And now--this." + +He waved his hand impatiently at the vociferous Slavs, and then at the +door of the Assembly Hall. "All at one another's throats; all hurling +accusations; all getting telegrams from home about each other; all +playing the fool. And there are some people who say there is no need +for a League of Nations in such a world!" + + + + +23 + + +Impatiently Lord John Lester pushed his way through the chattering +crowds in the lobby, and out into the street. He wanted to breathe, +and to get away from the people who regarded the recent disasters +mainly as an excitement, a news story, or a justification for their +international distastes. To him they were pure horror and grief. They +were his friends who had disappeared; it was his League which was +threatened. + +Moodily he walked along the paths of the Jardin Anglais; broodingly he +seated himself upon a bench and stared frowning at the _jet d'eau_, +and suspected, against his will, the Spanish and Portuguese Americans. + +A large lady in purple, walking on high-heeled shoes as on stilts, and +panting a little from the effort, stopped opposite him. + +"Such a favour!" she murmured. "I told my husband it was too much to +ask. But no, he would have it. He made me come and speak to you. I've +left him over there by the fountain." She creaked and sat down on the +bench, and Lord John, who had risen as she addressed him, sat down +too, wondering how most quickly to get away. + +"The Union," said the lady; and at that word Lord John bent towards +her more attentively. "Lakeside branches. We're starting them, my +husband and I, in all the lake villages. So important; so necessary. +These villages are terribly behind the times. They simply _live_ +in the past. And what a past! Picturesque if you will--but not +progressive--oh, no! So some of us have decided that there _must_ be +a branch of the Union in every lake village. We have brought a little +band of organisers over to Geneva to-day, to attend the Assembly. +But the Assembly is occupied this morning in electing committees. +Necessary, of course; but no mention of the broader principles on +which the League rests can be made until the voting is over. So we are +having a little business meeting in an office off the Rue Croix d'Or. +And when my husband and I caught sight of you he said to me, 'If only +we could get Lord John to come right away now and address a few words +to our little gathering--oh, but really quite a few--its dead bones +would live!' Now, do I ask too much, Lord John?" + +"My dear lady," said Lord John, "I'm really sorry, but I simply +haven't the time, I wish you all the luck in the world, but----" + +The purple lady profoundly sighed. + +"I _told_ my husband so. It was too much to ask. He's a colonel, you +know--an Anglo-Indian--and always goes straight for what he wants, +never hesitating. He _would_ make me ask you; ... but at least we have +your good wishes, Lord John, haven't we?" + +"Indeed, yes." + +"The motto of our little village branches," she added as she rose, "is +_Si vis pacem, para bellum_. Or, in some villages, _Si vis bellum, +para pacem_. Both so true, aren't they? Now which do you think is the +best?" + +Lord John Lester looked down at her in silence, momentarily at a loss +for an answer. + +"Really, my dear lady, ... I'm afraid I don't like either at all. In +fact, neither in any way expresses the ideals or principles of the +League." + +She looked disappointed. + +"Now, you _don't_ say so! But those are the lines we're founding our +branches on. One has to be so careful, don't you think, or a branch +may get on the wrong lines, with all these peace cranks about. And +every branch has its influence. They're ignorant in these lake +villages, but they do mean well, and they're only anxious to learn. If +only you would come and tell our little organising band how we _ought_ +to start them!" + +Lord John, having taken the lady in, from her topmost purple feathers +to her pin-like heels, decided that, in all probability, she had not +got a League mind. And she and the Anglo-Indian colonel (who probably +had not got this type of mind either, for Anglo-Indian colonels so +exceedingly often have another) were going to start branches of the +League of Nations Union all up the lake, to be so many centres of +noxious, watered-down, meaningless League velleity, of the type which +he, Lord John, found peculiarly repugnant. Perhaps, after all, it +might be his duty to go and say a few wholesome words to the little +organising band assembled in the office off the Rue Croix d'Or. Yes; +it was obviously his duty, and not to be shirked. With a sigh he +looked at his watch. It need not take him more than half an hour, all +told. + +"Very well," he said. "If you would find a very few words of any +use----" + +She gave a joyful pant. + +"You're _too_ good, Lord John! _How_ grateful we shall all be! You +shall tell us _all_ about how we ought to do it, and give us some +really _good_ mottoes!... I remember helping with branches of the +National Service League before the war, and they had such a nice +motto--'The path of duty is the way to safety.' ... _That_ would be a +good Union motto, don't you think? Or '_Festina lente_'--for we +mustn't be impatient, must we? Or, 'Hands across the sea!' For +_nothing_ is so important as keeping our _entente_ with France intact, +is it.... The people of this country will not stand any weakening +... _you_ know.... My husband reads me that out of the paper at +breakfast.... There he is ... Frederick, isn't this good of Lord +John...." + + + + +24 + + +Professor Arnold Inglis, that most gentle, high-minded and engaging of +scholars, who most unfittingly represented part of a wild, hot, +uncultured, tropical continent on the League, strolled out after lunch +before the meeting of Committee 9 to see the flowers and fruit in the +market-place. He was sad, because, like his fellow-delegate and +friend, Lord John Lester, he hated this sort of disturbance. Like Lord +John, he resented this violence which was assaulting the calm and +useful progress of the Assembly, and was torn with anxiety for the +fate of the three delegates. He wished he had Lord John with him this +afternoon, that they might discuss the situation, but he had not seen +him since he had left the Assembly that morning, so characteristically +impatient at the prospect of the appointment of Committee 9. + +Professor Inglis stood by a fruit-stall and looked down absently at +the lovely mass of brilliant fruit and vegetables that lay on it. + +Presently he became aware that some one at his side was pouring forth +a stream of not unbeautiful language in a low, frightened voice. +Looking round, he saw a small, ugly, malaria-yellow woman, gazing at +him with frightened black eyes and clasped hands, and talking rapidly +in a curious blend of ancient and modern Greek. What she appeared to +be saying was:-- + +"I am persecuted by Turks; I beg you to succour me!" + +"But what," said Professor Inglis, also speaking in a blend, but with +more of the ancient tongue in it that had hers, for he was more at +home in classical than in modern Greek, "can I do? Can you not appeal +to the police?" + +"I dare not," she replied. "I am in a minority in my house; I am an +unprotected serving-woman, and there are three Turks in the same house +who leave me no peace. Even now one of them is waiting for me with a +stick because I had a misfortune and broke his hookah." + +"It is certainly," said the Professor, "a case for the police. If you +do not like to inform them, I will do so myself. Tell me where you +live." + +"Just round the corner here, in a house in that passage," she said. +"Come with me and see for yourself, sir, if you doubt my word as to my +sufferings." + +Professor Inglis hesitated for a moment, not wishing to be drawn into +city brawls, but when she added, "I appealed to you, sir, because I +have been told how you are always on the side of the unprotected, and +also love the Greeks," his heart melted in him, and he forgot that, +though he did indeed love the ancient Greeks, he did not very much +care for the moderns of that race (such, for example, as M. Lapoulis, +the Greek delegate), and only remembered that here did indeed seem to +be a very Unprotected Minority (towards which persons his heart was +always soft), and that the Minority was a woman, poor, ill-favoured, +and malarial, talking a Greek more ancient than was customary with her +race, and persecuted by Turks, which nation Professor Inglis, in spite +of his League mind, could not induce himself to like. All these things +he recollected as he stood hesitating by the fruit stall, and he +reflected also that, until he had in some degree verified the woman's +tale, he would not care to trouble the already much burdened police +with it; so, with a little sigh, he turned to the poor woman and told +her he would come with her to her house and see for himself, and would +then assist her to take steps to protect herself. She thanked him +profusely, and led the way to the passage which she had mentioned. + + + + +25 + + +Chivalry, pity for the unprotected, love of the Greek tongue, dislike +of Turks--by all these quite creditable emotions was Professor Inglis +betrayed, as you may imagine, to his fate. + + + + +26 + + +Henry Beechtree, when he left the Assembly Hall, had, for his part, +fish to fry in the Secretariat, and thither he made his rapid way. He +had arranged to meet Miss Doris Wembley, the secretary of Charles +Wilbraham, that morning in her chief's room, and then to lunch with +her. + +Henry was getting to know Miss Wembley very well. It seemed to him as +if he had always known her, as, indeed, he had. He knew the things she +would say before she said them. He knew which were the subjects she +would expand on, and which would land her, puzzled and uninterested, +in inward non-comprehension and verbal assent. She was a nice girl, a +jolly girl, an efficient girl, and a very pretty girl. She liked +Henry, whom she thought amusing, shabby, and queer. + +They began, of course, by talking of the fresh disappearances. + +"We've got bets in the Secretariat on who will be the next," she told +him. "I've put my money on Branting. I don't know why, but I somehow +feel he'll go soon. But some people say it'll be the S.G. himself.... +Isn't it too awful for their wives, poor things? Poor little Madame +Chang! They say she's being simply wonderful." + +"Wonderful," repeated Henry. "That's what widows are, isn't it? But is +it, I wonder, enough to make one wonderful that one's husband should +disappear alive? You see, they may not be dead, these poor delegates; +they may exist, hidden away somewhere." + +"Oh, dear, yes, I hope so. Isn't it all too weird? Have you _any_ +theories, Mr. Beechtree?" + +Henry looked non-committal and said that doubtless every one in Geneva +had their private suspicions (often, for that matter, made public), +and that he was no exception. He then turned the conversation on to +Wilbraham's father-in-law, who was staying so privately in Geneva, +and they had much fruitful talk on this and other subjects. + + + + +27 + + +The Assembly, having elected the committee, and listened to a long +speech from a Persian prince about the horrors of modern warfare, and +a poem of praise from an eminent Italian Swiss on the beauties of the +poet Dante, whose birthday was approaching, broke up for lunch. + +The committee (which was to be called Committee 9) was to meet at the +Secretariat that afternoon and consider what steps should next be +taken. It was a rather large committee, because nearly every one had +been anxious to be on it. It consisted of delegates from France, Great +Britain, Italy, Norway, Central Africa, Sweden, Belgium, Holland, +Spain, Albania, Serbia, Brazil, Chili, Bolivia, Panama, Paraguay, +Uruguay, Costa Rica, Guatemala, Greece, Poland, Lithuania, and Haiti. +Its sessions were to be in private, in spite of the strongly expressed +contrary desire of Lord John Lester. The chairman was the delegate +for Paraguay. It was expected that he would carefully and skilfully +guide the lines on which the committee should work so that the +regrettable suspicions which had accidentally fallen on certain Latin +Americans should be diverted into other and more deserving channels. + + + + +28 + + +The proceedings of the first meeting of Committee No. 9 can be best +reported in the words of the Assembly Journal for the following day. +This journal, with its terse and yet detailed accounts of current +happenings, its polite yet lucid style, and its red-hot topicality +(for it is truly a journal), makes admirable reading for those who +like their literature up-to-date. Those who attend the meetings of the +Assembly are, as a matter of fact, excellently well-provided by the +enterprise of the Secretariat with literature. A delegated or a +journalist's pigeon-hole is far better than a circulating library. +New every morning is the supply, and those who, in their spare hours, +like a nice lie down and a nice read (all in two languages) shall have +for their entertainment the Assembly Journal for the day, the Verbatim +Record of the last meetings of the Assembly and Committees, selected +press opinions of the affair (these are often very entertaining, and +journalists approach them with the additional interest engendered by +the hope that the comments they themselves have sent home to their +papers may have been selected for quotation: in passing it may be +observed that Henry Beechtree had, in this matter, no luck), and all +kinds of documents dealing with every kind of matter--the Traffic in +Women, Children, and Opium, the admission of a new State to the +League, international disputes, disagreeable telegrams from one +country about another, the cost of living in Geneva, the organisation +of International Statistics, International Health, or International +Education, the Economic Weapon of the League, the status or the +frontiers of a Central European state, the desirability of a greater +or a less great publicity, messages from the Esperanto Congress, and +so on and so forth; every kind of taste is, in fact, catered for. + +To quote, then, the Journal for the day after the first meeting of the +Committee for Dealing with the Disappearance of Delegates:-- + + "Committee No. IX. met yesterday, Wednesday, Sept. 8th, at + 3.30 p.m., under the chairmanship of M. Croza (Paraguay). + + "The Chairman pointed out that the agenda before the Committee + fell under several heads:-- + + "1. Deprecation of baseless suspicions and malicious + aspersions. + + "2. Investigation into possible or probable motives for the + assaults. + + "3. Consideration of the adoption of precautionary measures + to safeguard in future the persons of delegates. + + "4. Organisation of complete house to house search of the + city of Geneva by police. + + "5. Consideration of various suspicions based on reason and + common sense. + + "In order to carry on these lines of inquiry, five + sub-committees were appointed, each of which would report to + the plenary committee day by day. + + "All the sittings of the sub-committees would be in private, as + the publicity which had been demanded by one of the delegates + from Central Africa would vitiate, in this case, the + effectiveness of the inquiry. + + "Before the sub-committees separated, several members addressed + the committee. M. Gomez (Panama) proposed that special + attention should be given to the fact that Geneva at all times, + but particularly during the sessions of the Assembly, was a + centre of pestilential societies, among whom were to be found + in large numbers Socialists, Bolshevists, Freemasons, and Jews. + In his opinion, the headquarters of all these societies should + be raided. Above all, it should be remembered that the + delegates were all brothers in friendship, and as such were + above the suspicion of any but the basest minds. + + "M. Chapelle (France) said this was indeed true of the + delegates, but that it would be a mistake if the committee + should not keep its mind open to all possibilities, and it must + be remembered that some of the nations most recently admitted + to the League had bands of their fellow-countrymen in Geneva, + who were undoubtedly sore in spirit over recent economic and + political decisions, and might (without, well understood, the + sanction of their delegates) have been guilty of this attack on + the personnel of the League by way of revenge. + + "Signor Nelli (Italy) strongly deprecated the suggestion of M. + Chapelle as unworthy of the spirit of fraternity between + nations which should animate members of the League. + + "After some further discussion of Item 5 of the agenda, it was + agreed to leave it to the sub-committee appointed to consider + it, and the committee then broke up into five sub-committees." + +The Journal, always discreet, sheltered under the words "further +discussion of Item 5" a good deal of consideration of various +suspicions based on reason and common sense. Most members of the +committee, in fact, had their suggestions to make; in committee people +always felt they could speak more freely than in the Assembly, and did +so. Bolshevist refugees, bands of marauding Poles disbanded from +General Zeligowski's army, Sinn Feiners, Orangemen, Albanians, Turks, +unprotected Armenians, Jugo-Slavs, women-traffickers, opium merchants, +Greeks, Zionists, emissaries from Frau Krupp, Mormons, Americans, +Indians, and hired assassins from _l'Intransigeant_ and the _Morning +Post_--all these had their accusers. Finally Mr. Macdermott (Ulster) +said he would like to point out what might not be generally known, +that there was a very widespread Catholic society of dubious morals +and indomitable fanaticism, which undoubtedly had established a branch +in Geneva for the Assembly, and much might be attributable to this. + +It was this suggestion which finally caused the chairman to break +the committee hastily up into its sub-committees. And, as has +been said, none of this discussion found its way into the very +well-edited Journal, though it would appear after some days in the +_procès-verbaux_. + + + + +29 + + +After the committee broke up, Fergus Macdermott from Belfast, who was +not on one of the sub-committees, walked briskly away from the +Secretariat, and had tea in company with the young man who represented +the _Morning Post_, and who was an old school-fellow of his. Excited +by his own utterances on the subject of Catholics, Fergus Macdermott +suddenly remembered, while drinking his tea, what day it was. + +"My God," he remarked, profoundly moved, to Mr. Garth of the _Morning +Post_, "it's the 8th of September." + +"What then?" inquired Mr. Garth, who was an Englishman and knew not +days, except those on which university matches were to be played or +races run or armistices celebrated. "What's the 8th?" + +The blue eyes of Mr. Macdermott gazed at him with a kind of kindling +Orange stare. + +"The 8th," he replied, "is a day we keep in Ulster." + +"Do you? How?" + +"By throwing stones," said Mr. Macdermott, simply and fervently. "At +processions, you know. It's a great Catholic day--like August 15th--I +forget why. Some Catholic foolery. The birthday of the Virgin Mary, I +fancy. Anyhow we throw stones.... I wonder will there be any +processions here?" + +"You can't throw stones if there are," his more discreet friend +admonished him. "Pull yourself together, Fergus, and don't look so +fell. These things simply aren't done outside your maniac country, you +know. Remember where and what you are." + +The wild blue fire still leapt in Mr. Macdermott's Celtic eyes. His +mind obviously still hovered round processions. + +"Of course," he explained, "one couldn't throw stones. Not abroad. But +one might go and look on...." + +"Certainly not. Not if I can prevent you. You'll disgrace the League +by shouting: 'To hell with the Pope.' I know you. If a procession is +anywhere in the offing, it will make you feel so at home that you'll +lose your head entirely. Go and find O'Shane and punch his head if you +want to let off steam. He'll be game, particularly as it's one of his +home festivals too. You're neither of you safe to have loose on the +Nativity of the B.V.M., if that's what it is." + +Macdermott gazed at the lake with eyes that dreamed of home. + +"It'd be a queer thing," he murmured, "if there wouldn't be a +procession somewhere to-day, even in this godly Protestant city...." + +"Well, in case there should, and to keep you safe, you'd better come +and dine with me at eight at my inn. Don't dress. I must go and send +off my stuff now. See you later, then." + +Fergus Macdermott, left alone, strolled along towards his own hotel, +but when he was half-way to it a clashing of bells struck on his ear, +and reminded him that the Catholic Church of Notre Dame was only a few +streets away. No harm to walk that way, and see if anything was doing. +He did so. On the door of the church a notice announced that the +procession in honour of the Nativity of Our Lady would leave the +church at eight o'clock and pursue a route, which was given in detail. + +"Well, I can't see it," said Fergus Macdermott. "I shall be having +dinner." He went back to his hotel and typed out a manifesto, or +petition, as he called it, for presentation to the Assembly when +quieter times should supervene and make the consideration of general +problems possible again. The manifesto was on the subject of the +tyranny exercised over Ulster by the Southern Free State Government. +At the same moment, in his room at the same hotel, Denis O'Shane, the +Free State delegate, was typing _his_ manifesto, which was about the +tyranny exercised over South Ireland by Ulster. + +At 7.45 Macdermott finished his document, read it through with +satisfaction and remembered that he had to go and dine with Garth. He +left his hotel with this intention, and could not have said at what +point his more profound, his indeed innate intention, which was to go +to the Church of Notre Dame, asserted itself. Anyhow, at eight +o'clock, there he was in the Place Cornavin, arriving at the outskirts +of the crowd which was watching the white-robed crucifer and acolytes +leading the procession out of the open church doors and down the +steps. + +Macdermott, blocked by the crowd, could hardly see. He felt in an +inferior position towards this procession, barred from it by a kindly +and reverent crowd of onlookers. In his native city things were +different. He had here no moral support for his just contempt of +Popish flummery. He did not want to do anything to the procession, +merely to stare it down with the disgust it deserved, but this was +difficult when he could only see it above bared heads. + +A voice just above him said, in French: "Monsieur cannot see. He would +get a better view from this window here. I beg of you to come in, +monsieur." + +Looking up, Macdermott saw the face of a kindly old woman looking down +at him from the first-floor window of the high house behind him. +Certainly, he admitted, he could not see, and he would rather like to. +He entered the hospitable open door, which led into a shop, and +ascended a flight of stone steps. + +On the top step, in the darkness of a narrow passage, a chloroformed +towel was flung and held tight over his head and face, and he was +borne to the ground. + + + + +30 + + +Thus this young Irishman's strong religious convictions, which did him +credit, betrayed him to his doom. But, incomprehensibly, doom in the +sense (whatever sense that was) in which it had overtaken his +fellow-delegates, was after all averted. He did not disappear into +silence as they had. On the contrary, the kindly old woman who had +rushed from the front window and bent over him as he lay unconscious +on the stair-head, saw him presently open his eyes and stir, and heard +the faint, bewildered murmur of "to hell with the Pope," which is +what Orangemen say mechanically when they come to, as others may say, +"Where am I?" + +Very soon he sat up, dizzily. + +"I was chloroformed," he said, "by some damned Republican. Where is +the chap? Don't let him make off." + +But he was informed that this person had already disappeared. When the +old lady of the house, hearing him fall, had come out and found him, +there had been no trace of either his assaulter or of the chloroformed +towel. The kindly old lady was almost inclined to think that monsieur +must have fainted, and fancied the Republican, the chloroform, and the +attack. + +Fergus Macdermott, who never either fainted or fancied, assured her +that this was by no means the case. + +"It's part, no doubt," he said, "of this Sinn Fein plot against +delegates. Why they didn't put it through in my case I can't say. I +suppose they heard you coming.... But what on earth did they _mean_ to +do with me? Now, madame, we must promptly descend and make inquiries +as to who was seen to leave your front door just now. There is no +time to be lost.... Only I feel so infernally giddy...." + +The inquiries he made resulted in little. Some standers-by had seen +two men leave the house a few minutes since, but had observed nothing, +neither what they were like nor where they went. No, it had not been +observed that they were of South Irish aspect. + +It seemed hopeless to track them. The old lady said that she lived +there alone with her husband, above the shop; but that, of course, any +scoundrel might stray into it while the door stood open, and lurk in +ambush. + +"How did they guess that the old lady was going to invite me in?" +Macdermott wondered. "If they did guess, that is, and if it was really +part of the anti-delegate campaign. Of course, if not, they may merely +have guessed she should ask some one (it may be her habit), and hidden +in ambush to rob whoever it might be. But they didn't rob me.... It +could be that this good old lady was in the plot herself, no less, for +all she speaks so civil. But who is to prove that, I ask you? It's +queer and strange...." + +Thus pondering, Fergus Macdermott took a cab and drove to the hotel +where he was to dine with Garth, the representative of the _Morning +Post_. He would be doing Garth a good turn to let him get in with the +tale before the other papers; he would be able to wire it home +straight away. The _Morning Post_ deserved that: a sound paper it was, +and at times the only one in England that got hold of and stated the +Truth. This attack on Macdermott proved conclusively to his mind, what +he and the _Morning Post_ had from the first suspected and said, that +the Irish Republicans were at the back of the whole business, helped, +as usual, by German and Bolshevik money. + +"Ah, this proves it," said Macdermott, his blue eyes very bright in +his white face as he drove along. + +As to the procession, he had forgotten all about it. + + + + +31 + + +Mademoiselle Bjornsen, substitute delegate for one of the Scandinavian +countries, a doctor of medicine, and a woman of high purpose and +degree, of the type which used to be called, in the old days when it +flourished in Great Britain, _feminist_, often walked out in the +evening for a purpose which did her great credit. She was of those +good and disinterested women who care greatly for the troubles of +their less fortunate, less well-educated and less well-principled +sisters, and who often patrol streets in whatever city they happen to +find themselves, with a view to extending the hand of succour to those +of their sex who appear to be in error or in need. + +On this evening of the 8th of September, Mlle. Bjornsen was starting +out, after her dinner at the Hôtel Richemond, on her nightly patrol, +when she was joined by Mlle. Binesco from Roumania, a lady whose rich +and exuberant personality was not, perhaps, wholly in accord with her +own more austere temperament, but whom she acknowledged to abound in +good intentions and sisterly pity for the unfortunate of her sex. For +her part, Mlle. Binesco did not regard Mlle. Bjornsen as a very +womanly woman, but respected her integrity and business-like methods, +and felt her to be, perhaps, an effective foil to herself. It may be +observed that there are in this world mental females, mental males, +and mental neutrals. You may know them by their conversation. The +mental females, or womanly women, are apt to talk about clothes, +children, domestics, the prices of household commodities, love +affairs, or personal gossip. Theirs is rather a difficult type of +conversation to join in, as it is above one's head. Mental males, or +manly men, talk about sport, finance, business, animals, crops, or how +things are made. Theirs is also a difficult type of conversation to +join in, being also above one's head. Male men as a rule, like female +women, and vice versa; they do not converse, but each supplies the +other with something they lack, so they gravitate together and make +happy marriages. In between these is the No-Man's Land, filled with +mental neutrals of both sexes. They talk about all the other things, +such as books, jokes, politics, love (as distinct from love affairs), +people, places, religion (in which, though they talk more about it, +they do not, as a rule, believe so unquestioningly as do the males and +the females, who have never thought about it and are rather shocked if +it is mentioned), plays, music, current fads and scandals, public +persons and events, newspapers, life, and anything else which turns +up. Their conversation is easy to join in, as it is not above one's +head. They gravitate together, and often marry each other, and are +very happy. If one of them makes a mistake and marries a mental male +or a mental female, the marriage is not happy, for they demand +conversation and interest in things in general, and are answered only +by sex; they tell what they think is a funny story, and meet the +absent eye and mechanical smile of one who is thinking how to turn a +heel or a wheel, how to sew a frock or a field, how most cheaply to +buy shoes or shares. And they themselves are thought tiresome, queer, +unsympathetic, unwomanly or unmanly, by the more fully sexed partner +they have been betrayed by love's blindness into taking unto +themselves. + +This is one of life's more frequent tragedies, but had not affected +either Mlle. Binesco, who was womanly, and had always married (so to +speak) manly men, or Mlle. Bjornsen, who was neutral, and had not +married any one, having been much too busy. + +Anyhow, these two ladies were at one in their quest to-night. Both, +whatever their minds might be like, had warm feminine hearts. Geneva, +that godly Calvinist city, was a poor hunting-ground on the whole for +them. But they turned their steps to the old _cité_, rightly believing +that among those ancient and narrow streets vice might, if anywhere, +flit by night. + +"These wicked traffickers in human flesh and blood," observed Mlle. +Binesco sighing (for she was rather stout), as they ascended the Rue +de la Cité; "do not tell me they are not somehow behind the mysterious +assaults on our unhappy comrades of the League. Never tell me so, for +I will not believe it." + +"I will not tell you so," Mlle. Bjornsen, an accurate person, replied, +"for I know nothing at all about it, nor does any one else. But to me +it seems improbable, I sometimes think, mademoiselle, that there is +some danger that the preoccupation which women like ourselves +naturally feel with the suppression of this cruel trade and the rescue +of its victims, may at times lead us into obsession or exaggeration. I +try to guard myself against that. Moderation and exactitude are +important." + +"Ah, there speaks the north. For me, mademoiselle, I cannot be +moderate; it is a quality alien to my perhaps over-impetuous +temperament. I have never been cautious--neither in love, hate, nor in +the taking of risks. You will realise, Mademoiselle, that the risk you +and I are taking to-night is considerable. Have we not been warned not +to penetrate into the more squalid parts of the city by night? And we +are not only delegates, but women. At any moment we might be attacked +and carried off to some dwelling of infamy, there to wait deportation +to another land." + +"I do not expect it," replied the Scandinavian lady, who had a sense +of humour. + +A shrill giggle broke on their ears from a side street. Glancing down +it, they saw a young girl, wearing like flags the paint and manner of +her profession, and uttering at intervals its peculiar cry--that +shrill, harsh laugh which had drawn the ladies' attention. + +"Ah!" a coo of satisfaction came from Mlle. Binesco. "_Voilà une +pauvre petite!_" + +As the girl saw them, she darted away from them down the alley, +obviously suspicious of their intentions. Quickly they followed; here, +obviously, was a case for assistance and rescue. + +The kind mouth of Mlle. Bjornsen set in determination; her intelligent +eyes beamed behind their glasses. + +The girl fluttered in front of them, still uttering the peculiar cry +of her species, which to the good ladies was a desperate appeal for +help, till she suddenly bolted beneath a low, dark archway. + +The ladies hesitated. Then, "I must follow her, poor girl," Mlle. +Bjornsen remarked simply, for the courage of a thousand Scandinavian +heroes beat in her blood. + +"And where you adventure, my dear friend," cried Mlle. Binesco, "I, a +Roumanian woman and a friend of kings, will not be behind! We advance, +then, in the name of humanity and of our unhappy sex!" + + + + +32 + + +Humanity, compassion, womanly sympathy, and devotion to the cause of +virtue--by these noble qualities these two poor ladies were lured to +their fate. For it should be by now superfluous to say that, though +they entered that archway, they did not emerge from it. + + + + +33 + + +There also disappeared that night the good Albanian bishop, +betrayed by who knew what of episcopal charity and response to +appeals for succour from his fellow-countrymen, the helpless +sheep of his flock, threatened by the wolfish atrocities of the +ineffable Serb-Croat-Slovenes. + +It did indeed seem that this unseen hand was taking the highest +types of delegate for its purposes so mysterious and presumably +so fell. + + + + +34 + + +Every one turned next morning with interest to the day's issue of +"Press Opinions" to discover what the world's newspapers were saying +of the tragic and extraordinary state of affairs in Geneva. They were +saying, it seemed, on the whole, very much what might be expected of +them. The American press, for instance, observed that the League, +without the support of the United States, was obviously falling into +the state of disruption and disintegration which had long since been +prophesied. What was to be expected, when the Monroe Doctrine was +being threatened continually by the bringing before the League of +disputes between the South and Central American republics, disputes +which, being purely American, could not possibly be settled by +European intervention in any shape or form? On this question of the +Monroe Doctrine, the security and utility of the whole League +rested.... It was rumoured that it was the shaky attitude of the +League on this point that was responsible for its present collapse.... + +("Seems very like saying that America is behind the whole game," +commented many readers.) + +The French press commented on the fact that no one had yet dared to +lay a hand on the French delegates. "Whatever," it said, "may be +thought of the other delegates, the whole world has agreed to see in +France a nation so strong, so beneficent, and so humane, that it +merits the confidence of humanity at large. Without it, no affairs +could flourish. The tribute to the prestige of France evinced by this +notable omission of assault cannot but be gratifying to all who love +France. With the tragic disappearance of several English-speaking +delegates, it might perhaps be natural to dispense with the tedious +use of two languages where only one is necessary. No one listens to +the interpretations into English of French speakers; the general +chatter of voices and movement which immediately starts when the +English interpreter begins, is surely sign enough of the general +feeling on this point...." + +The more nationalist section of the Italian press--the _Popolo +d'Italia_, for instance--prophesied, with tragic accuracy, that the +Albanian delegate would very soon be among the victims of this +criminal plot, in which it was not, surely, malicious to detect +Yugo-Slav agency. It also spoke with admiration of the poet Dante. + +The Swiss press, in much distress, urged the clearing up of this +tragic mystery, which so foully stained the records of the noble city +of Geneva, so beautiful in structure, so chaste in habits, so +idealistic in outlook, the centre of the intellectual thought of +Europe, and, above all, so cheap to live in. For their part (so said +_La Suisse_), they attributed these outrages to criminal agents from +the hotels and shops of Brussels, Vienna, and other cities which might +be mentioned, who had been sent to discredit Geneva as a safe and +suitable home for the League. Fortunately, however, such discrediting +was impossible: on the contrary, the cities discredited were the +above-mentioned, which had hatched and put into execution such a +wicked plot. + +The extracts selected from the British press spoke with various +voices. The _Morning Post_ commented, without much distress, on the +obvious disintegration and collapse of the League, which had always +had within itself the seeds of ruin and now was meeting its expected +Nemesis. Such preposterous houses of cards, said the _Morning Post_, +cannot expect to last long in a world which is, in the main, a +sensible place. It did not now seem probable that, as some said, +Bolshevists were behind these outrages; on further consideration it +was not even likely to be Irish traitors; for these sections of the +public would doubtless approve the League, typical as it was of the +folly which so strongly actuated themselves. Far more likely was it +that their assaults were the work, misguided but surely excusable, of +the Plain Man, irritated at last to execute judgment on these frenzied +and incompetent efforts after that unprofitable dream of the +visionary, a world peace. It was well known that the question of +disarmament was imminent.... + +The _British Bolshevist_ (its leader, not its correspondent, who +seldom got quoted by the _Press Bulletin_) agreed with the _Morning +Post_ that the house of cards was collapsing because of its inherent +vices, but was inclined to think that the special vice for which it +was suffering retribution was its failure to deal faithfully with +Article 18 of the Covenant, which concerned the publicity of treaties. +The _British Bolshevist_ always had Article 18 a good deal on its +mind. + +The _Times_ said that these strange happenings showed the importance +of keeping on frank and friendly terms (the _Times_ often used these +two incompatible adjectives as if they were synonymous) with France. +They served to emphasise and confirm that _entente_ of which the +British people were resolved to suffer no infringement. + +The _Daily News_ thought that the enemies of disarmament and of the +various humanitarian efforts of the League were responsible for these +assaults. + +The _Manchester Guardian_ correspondent said that at last the +Assembly, formerly a little dull, had taken on all the interest of a +blood and thunder melodrama.... + + + + +35 + + +The days went by, and the nights. Why dwell on them, or, in detail, +on the strange--or rather the now familiar, but none the less +sinister--events which marked each? One could tell of the disappearance, +one after another, of the prominent members of the Council--of the +decoy of Signor Nelli, the chief Italian delegate, by messengers as from +Fiume with strange rumours of Jugo-Slav misdeeds; of the sudden +disappearance of Latin Americans from the Casino, whither they had gone +to chat, to drink, and to play; of the silent stealing away of rows +upon rows of Japanese, none knew how or why; of how Kristna, the +distinguished Indian, was lured to meet a supposed revealer of a Ghandi +anti-League plot. + +As full-juiced apples, waxing over-mellow, drop in a silent autumn +night, so dropped these unhappy persons, delegate by delegate, to +their unguessed at doom. And it would indeed appear as if there were +some carefully deliberated design against the welfare of the League, +for gradually it appeared that those taken had, on the whole, this +welfare more at heart than those left; their ideals were more pacific, +their hearts more single, their minds more League. + +The Turkish delegation, for example, did not disappear. Nor the +Russian, nor the German, nor the Greek, nor the Serb-Croat-Slovene. + +In the hands of those left, the Assembly and its committees were less +dangerous to the wars of the world than they had been before. The +best, from a League stand-point, were gone. What, for instance, would +happen to the disarmament question should it be brought up, with the +most ardent members of the disarmament committee thus removed from the +scene? But, indeed, how could that or any other question be brought +up, in the present state of agitation, when all minds were set on the +one problem, on how to solve this appalling mystery that spread its +tentacles further every day? The only committee which sat, or +attempted any business, was Committee 9, on the Disappearance of +Delegates--and that was signally impotent to do more than meet, pass +resolutions, and report on unavailing measures taken. + +The other committees, on humanitarian questions, on intellectual, +financial, economic, political, and transit questions, were struck +helpless. Not a frontier dispute, not an epidemic, not a drug, not so +much as a White Slave, could be discussed. Truly the very League +itself seemed struck to the heart. All the Assembly could do was meet, +vote, pass resolutions, and make speeches about the horrors of the +next war and the necessity of thwarting the foul plot against the +wellbeing of the League. + +Meanwhile Central Europe rumbled, as usual, indeed as always, +with disputes that might at any moment become blows. Affairs in +Jugo-Slavia, in Hungary, in Greece, in Albania, in Czecho-Slovakia, +in Poland, and in Russia, were not quiet. Greece and Turkey were +hideously at war. Nor were the South and Central American republics +free from unrest. Russia was reaching out its evil White hands +to grasp and weld again into a vast unhappy whole its former +constituent republics of Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia, Esthonia, +Tauride, and White Russia. There seemed every chance that it would +shortly succeed in doing so. The nations growled everywhere like +sullen dogs on fragile chains. Never had the League of Nations, in +all its brief career, been more necessary, never less available. Not +a grievance could be given that public airing from what is called a +world platform, which is so beneficial to the airers, so apt at +promoting fraternal feeling, so harmless to all concerned. Instead, +grievances festered and went bad, and blood-poisoning was rapidly +setting in. Not a voice could be raised, as many voices would have +been raised, from that world-platform, to urge contending parties to +refer their differences to the Court of International Justice, so +ready and eager to adjudicate, to apply international conventions, +whether general or particular, international custom as evidence for +a general practice accepted as law, and teachings of the most highly +qualified publicists as subsidiary means for the determination of +rules of law. For all this is what these aged and wise judges +sitting at the Hague were equipped and ready to do, if only the +nations would ask them to do it. But it was not to be expected +that the nations should make use of such a strange procedure for +themselves, unless prompted and even urged thereto by the weight of +opinion in the Assembly. + +Yes, Europe, and indeed the world, was, as always, in a parlous +state, rushing on ruin with no hand raised to give it pause, even as +in the evil old days before the conception and foundation of the +League. The journalists were as busy as, and more profoundly happy +than, they would have been had the Assembly been running its appointed +course. They ran about picking up clues, Marconi-graphing messages to +their papers about the latest disappearances, the latest theories, the +newest rumours. Each became a private detective, pursuing a lone +trail. Other journalists flocked to the scene; where they had come in +their tens, they now came in their hundreds, for here was News. The +Assembly of the League of Nations is not News, until it stumbles on +mystery and disaster, becoming material for a shocker. The meeting +together of organisations for the betterment of the world is not News, +in the sense that their failure is. Deeply Henry, going about his +secret and private business, intent and absorbed, pondered this +question of News, what it is and what it is not. Crime is News; +divorce is News; girl mothers are News; fabric gloves and dolls' eyes +are, for some unaccountable reason, News; centenaries of famous men +are, for some still stranger reason, News; railway accidents are News; +the wrong-doing of clergymen is News; strangest of all, women are, +inherently and with no activities on their part, News, in a way that +men are not. Henry had often thought this very singular. He had read +in accounts of public gatherings (such as criminal trials, tennis +tournaments, boxing matches, etc.), such statements as "There were +many well-dressed women present." These women had done nothing to +deserve their fame; they were merely present, just as men were. But +never had Henry read, "There were many well-dressed men present," for +men were not News. To be News in oneself, without taking any +preliminary action--that was very exciting for women. A further +question arose: were women News to their own sex, or only to men? And +were men perhaps News to women? "There were many well-dressed men +present." ... Ah, that would be exciting reading for women, and +perhaps a woman reporter would thrill to it and set it down. But men +do not care how many men were present, or how well they were dressed, +or what colour their hats and suits were. All sorts of articles and +letters appear in the papers about women. Profound questions are +raised concerning them. Should they smoke? Should they work? Vote? +Take Orders? Marry? Exist? Are not their skirts too short, or their +sleeves? Have they a sense of humour, of honour, of direction? Are +spinsters superfluous? But how seldom similar inquiries are propounded +about men. How few persons discuss superfluous bachelors, or whether +the male arm or leg is an immodest sight, or whether men should vote. +For men are not News. + +Anyhow, thought Henry, anyhow delegates became News the moment they +disappeared. If you do wrong you are News, and if you have a bad +accident, you are News, but if you mysteriously disappear, you are +doubly and trebly News. To be News once in one's life--that is +something for a man. Though sometimes it comes too late to be +enjoyed. + + + + +36 + + +In and out of the maze of ancient streets that are Old Geneva, to and +fro along the alleys that lead through balconied, leaning houses, up +and down obscure and sudden flights of stone steps, Henry wandered +under the September moon. All day he had, with the help of Charles +Wilbraham's unwitting secretary, tracked Charles Wilbraham. He knew +how Charles had begun the morning by dictating proud and ponderous +documents in his proud and ponderous voice, and talking to people who +came in and out of his room; how he had then gone to the Assembly Hall +and chatted in the lobby to every one of sufficient importance to be +worth his while, including ex-Cardinal Franchi, who had of late been +making friends with him, and with whom he had dined last night at the +Château Léman; how then Charles had lunched with two Russians, a +Greek, and a Pole, and Sir John Levis, his father-in-law, at the Café +du Nord, hatching Henry did not know what (for the Nord was much too +expensive for him) of anti-League mischief and crime; how after lunch +Charles had attended the meetings of the sub-committees on the +Disappearance of Delegates, going from one to another looking +business-like and smug and as if he were at strictly private +meetings, as indeed he was. Then up to his room for his tea (Charles +never missed this meal) and down again to see how Sub-Committee 5 +("Consideration of Various Suspicions based on Reason and Common +Sense") was getting on, and then up again to do some more work. (For +there was this about Charles, as even Henry had to admit--he worked +hard. Ambition, the last infirmity of noble minds, offensive and +irritating quality as it is, has at least this one good fruit.) Then +Charles had been to a large dinner given by the Canadian delegation to +members of the Secretariat, and had made a facetious speech; and now, +at eleven-thirty, he was walking about the old city, followed at some +distance by Henry Beechtree. + +Charles was not alone. He had with him M. Kratzky from Russia, Sir +John Levis, and a small, quiet Calvinist minister, whom Henry had +lately seen about Geneva. + +The four gentlemen turned out of the Rue du Perron down the narrow, +ancient and curious Passage de Monnetier, and out of that into a deep +arched alley running through a house into another street. Henry, +watching from the corner of the Passage de Monnetier, did not dare to +follow nearer for some moments. When he had given them a little time, +he softly tiptoed to the mouth of the alley. It was one of those deep +cobbled passages that run through many houses in the old quarter. It +was profoundly dark; Henry could only faintly discern the three +figures half-way down it. They seemed to have stopped, and to be +bending down as if looking for something on the ground. The spark of +an electric torch gleamed suddenly, directed by the little clergyman; +its faint disc of light swam over the dirty floor of the passage, till +it came to rest on an iron ring that lay flat to the ground. The +clergyman seized this ring and jerked at it; after a moment it left +the ground in his hand, and with it the flap of a trap-door. + +Whispers inaudible to Henry passed between the members of the party; +then, one by one, the three figures descended through the open trap +into the bowels of the earth, and the lid closed upon them. + +Henry tiptoed forward; should he follow? On the whole--no. On the +whole he would wait until Wilbraham, his father-in-law, M. Kratzky, +and the clergyman emerged. What, after all, would be the use of +finding oneself underground with desperate, detected criminals, whose +habit it apparently was to stick at nothing? What, after all, could he +do? + +Henry was shivering, less from fear than excitement. Here, indeed, was +a clue. Were they kept immured underground, these unfortunate captive +delegates? And did Wilbraham and his criminal associates visit them +from time to time with food and drink? Or without? With nothing, +perhaps, but taunts? And how many more in Geneva knew of this +trap-door and its secret? There were, every one knew, a number of +these old _trappons_ in the city, leading usually to disused cellars; +their presence excited no suspicion. Probably no one ever used the +obscure and hidden trap in this dark alley. + +It was queer, how sure Henry felt that this curious nocturnal +expedition on the part of Charles, his father-in-law, M. Kratzky and +the Calvinist pastor had to do with the mystery of the delegates. +He knew it beyond a doubt. Nor was he surprised. It came as a +consummation of his suspicion and his hopes. Of Charles Wilbraham's +villainy he had long been all but sure; of the villainy of M. Kratzky +all the world knew; of the villainy of an ammunitions knight and a +Calvinist pastor there needed little to convince Henry. But he knew +that he must make sure. He must not go to the police, or to the +committee, with an unproved tale. He must wait and investigate and +prove. + +He waited, in the dark archway beneath the crazy jumble of houses, +with the sudden voices and footfalls of the midnight city echoing from +time to time in the dark streets beyond. He waited and waited and +waited. Now and then a dog or a cat rushed by him, startling him. +Then, after twenty minutes or so, he wearied of waiting. Weariness and +curiosity defeated caution; he pulled up the trap-door by its ring and +peered down into blackness. Blackness, stillness, emptiness, and a +queer, mouldy smell. Henry sat on the hole's edge for a full minute, +dangling his legs. Then, catching his breath a little (it may or may +not have been mentioned that Henry was not very brave), he swung +himself down on to a hard, earthy floor. + +It was a tunnel he was in; a passage about six feet high and four feet +wide. How many feet or yards long was a more difficult and a much more +interesting question. Feet? Yards? It might be miles. Henry's +imagination bored through the impenetrable dark in front of the little +moon thrown by his electric torch; through and along, through and +along, towards what? The horrid four who had preceded him--where were +they? Did they lurk, planning some evil, farther along the tunnel, +just out of earshot? Or had they emerged by some other exit? Or were +they even now returning, to meet Henry in a moment face to face, to +brush by him as he pressed against the damp brick wall, to turn on him +suddenly that swimming moon of light ... and then what? + +Charles Wilbraham was no taker of human life, Henry felt assured. He +was too prudent, too respectable, too much the civil servant. M. +Kratzky, on the other hand, _was_ a taker of human life--he did it as +naturally as others would slay midges; while he breathed he slew. If +Henry should be discovered spying, M. Kratzky's counsels would be all +for making forthwith an end of Henry. Sir John Levis was an armament +knight: members of the staff of the _British Bolshevist_ needed not to +know more of him than that: the Calvinist minister was either a +Calvinist minister, and that was bad, or a master-criminal of the +underworld disguised as a Calvinist minister, and that was worse. Or +both of these. Four master-criminals of the underworld--these +intriguing, appalling creatures, so common in the best fiction, so +rare even in the worst life--if one were to meet four of them together +in a subterranean passage.... Could human flesh and nerves endure it? + +Henry, with his shuddering dislike of seeing even a goldfish injured +or slain, shrank far more shudderingly from being injured or slain +himself. The horrid wrench that physical assault was--and then, perhaps, +the sharp break with life, the plunge into a blank unknown--and never +to see again on this earth the person whom one very greatly loved.... + +As has been said, Henry was not brave. But he was, after all, a +journalist on the scent of a story, and that takes one far; he was +also a hunter in pursuit of a hated quarry, and that takes one +farther. + +Henry crossed himself, muttered a prayer and advanced down the +passage, his torch a lantern before his feet, his nerves shivering +like telegraph wires in a winter wind, but fortunately not making the +same sound. + + + + +37 + + +On and on and on. It was cold down there, like death, and bitter like +death, and dark. Rats scuffled and leaped. Once Henry trod on one of +them; it squeaked and fled, leaving him sick and cold. His imagination +was held and haunted by the small quiet pastor; he seemed, on the +whole, the worst of the four miscreants. A sinister air of deadly +badness there had been about him.... Lines ran in and out of Henry's +memory like cold mice. Something about "a grim Genevan minister walked +by with anxious scowl." ... Horrid.... It made you sweat to think of +him. Then on the passage there opened another passage, running sharply +into it from the right. That was odd. Which should be followed? + +Henry swung his flashlight up each in turn, and both seemed the same +narrow blackness. He advanced a few steps, and on his left yet another +turning struck out from the main tunnel. + +"My God," Henry reflected, "the place is a regular catacomb." + +If one should lose oneself therein, one might wander for days, as one +did in catacombs.... Having no tallow candle, but only an electric +torch, one might eat one's boots ... the very rats.... + +Not repressing a shudder, Henry stood hesitating at the cross-roads, +looking this way and that, his ears strained to listen for sounds. + +And presently, turning a corner, he perceived that there were +sounds--footsteps and low voices, advancing down the left-hand passage +towards him. Quickly shutting his light, he stepped back till he came +to the right-hand turning, and went a little way up it, to where it +sharply bent. Just round the corner he stopped, and stood hidden. He +was gambling on the chance that whoever was coming would advance, back +or forward, along the main tunnel when they struck into it. If, on the +other hand, they crossed this and turned up his passage, he could +hastily recede before them until perhaps another turning came, or +possibly some exit, or until they turned on him that horrid moon of +light and caught him.... + +Well, life is a gamble at all times, and more particularly to those +who play the spy. + +Henry listened. The steps came nearer. They had a queer, hollow sound +on the earthy floor. Low voices murmured. + +It came to Henry suddenly that these were not the voices of Charles +Wilbraham, of Sir John Levis, of M. Kratzky, or, presumably then, of +the little pastor. These were voices more human, less deadly. + +The footsteps reached the main passage, and then halted. + +"Here's a puzzle," said a voice. "Which way, then? Will we divide, or +take the one road?" + +And then Henry, though he loved not Ulster, thanked God and came +forward. + +At the sound of his advance a flashlight was swung upon him, and the +Ulster voice said, "Put them up!" + +Henry put them up. + +"It's all right, man. It's only Beechtree," said another voice, after +a moment's inspection, and Henry, though he loved not the _Morning +Post_, blessed its correspondent. + +"Good Lord, you're right.... What are you doing here, Beechtree? Is +your paper in this damned Republican plot, as well as Sinn Fein, +Bolsheviks, Germans, and the Pope? I wouldn't put it past the _British +Bolshevist_ to have a finger in it----" + +"Indeed, no," said Henry. "You are quite mistaken, Macdermott. This +plot is being run by armament profiteers, White Russia, and Protestant +ministers. They're all down here doing it now. I am tracking them. And +His Holiness, you remember, sent an encouraging message to the +Assembly----" + +"The sort of flummery he _would_ encourage.... I beg your pardon, +Beechtree. We will not discuss religion: not to-night. Time is short. +How did _you_ get into this rat-trap? And whom, precisely, are you +tracking?" + +"Through a _trappon_ in an archway off the Passage de Monnetier. And I +am tracking Wilbraham, Sir John Levis, M. Kratzky, and a Protestant +clergyman, who all preceded me through it. But I don't know in the +least where they have got to. There are so many ramifications in this +affair. I took it for a single tunnel, but it seems to be a regular +system." + +"It is," said Garth. "It extends on the other side of the water too. +We got into it this evening through that house in the Place Cornavin +where Macdermott was bilked by a Sinn Feiner." + +"We had our suspicions of that house ever since," Macdermott went on; +"so we went exploring this evening, and by the luck of God they'd gone +out and left the door on the latch, so we slipped in and searched +around, and found a trap-door in a cupboard--where they'd have shoved +me down if they hadn't given up the idea half-way. It lets you down +into a passage just like this, that runs down to the water and comes +out in the courtyard of one of those tumble-down old pigeon-cotes by +the Quai du Seujet. We came out there, and then tried over this side, +through a trap by the Molard jetty I'd noticed before, and it led us +here. There are dozens of these _trappons_ on both sides. Lots of +them are inside houses. I always thought they led only to cellars.... +As to your four chaps, wherever they've got to, no doubt they're +exploring too. Wilbraham in a plot! Likely." + +"It is," said Henry. "Very likely indeed. There are plenty of facts +about Wilbraham you don't know. I've been finding them out for several +years. I shall lay them before Committee 9 to-morrow." + +The other two looked at him with the good-natured pity due to the +correspondent of the _British Bolshevist_. + +"Your lunatic paper has turned your brain, my son," Garth said. + +"Well, let's be getting on," Macdermott impatiently urged. "Which way +did your plotters take, Beechtree? We may as well be getting after +them, anyhow." + +"I don't know. I've lost them. I didn't follow at once, you see; I +waited, thinking they would come out presently. When they didn't, I +came down too. But by that time they'd got a long start. And, as there +are other exits, they may have got out anywhere." + +"Well, let's come along and look. We'll each take a different passage; +we'll explore every avenue, like Cabinet Ministers. I'll go straight +ahead; one of you two take that right-hand road, and the other the +next turning, whenever it comes. We'll each get out where and how we +can. Come on." + +Garth turned up to the right. Henry went on with Macdermott for some +way, till another turning branched off, running left. + +"Ah, there's yours," said the Ulster delegate. "I shall keep straight +on, whatever alluring avenues open on either side to tempt me. +To-morrow (if we get out of this) we'll bring a gang of police down +and do the thing thoroughly. Good luck, Beechtree. Don't scrag honest +civil servants or good clergymen on sight. And don't let old Kratzky +scrag you. Politically he's on the right side (that's why he'd want to +scrag you, and quite right, too), but personally he's what you might +call a trifle unprincipled, and that's why he'd do it as soon as look +at you." + + + + +38 + + +Henry walked alone again. The passage oozed water. The silence was +chilly and deep. Against it and far above it, occasional sounds beat, +as the world's sounds beat downwards into graves. + +Geneva was amazing. How many people knew that it was under-run by this +so intricate tunnel system? Did the town authorities know? Surely yes. +And, knowing, had they not thought, when the recent troubles began, to +explore these avenues? (How that horrid phrase always stuck in one's +mind; one could not get away from it, as many a statesman, many an +orator daily proved.) But possibly they had explored them with no +result. Possibly Sub-section 4 (Organisation of Search) of Committee 9 +knew all about them. What that sub-section did not yet know was that +Charles Wilbraham, hand in glove with autocrat Russia, armament kings, +and the Calvinist church, lurked and plotted in the avenues by night, +like the spider in her web waiting for flies. + +There were turnings here and there, to one side or the other, but +Henry kept a straight course. + +At last he was brought up sharp, nearly running his face into a rough +clay wall, and above him he saw a trap-door. Here, then, was his exit. +The door was only just above his head; he pushed at it with his hands; +it gave not at all. + +After all, one would expect a trap-door to be bolted. He wondered if +it would be of any use to knock. Did it give on to a street, a +courtyard, or a house? + +He rapped on it with the end of his electric torch, softly and then +loudly. He went on rapping, and knew the fear that assails the +assaulter of impregnable, unyielding silence, the panic of him who +calls aloud in an empty house and is answered only by the tiny sounds +of creaking, scuffling, and whispering that cause the skin to creep, +the blood to curdle, the marrow to freeze, the heart to stop, and the +spirit to be poured out like water. Strange and horrid symptoms! +Curdled blood, frozen marrow, unbeating heart ... who first discovered +that this is what occurs to these organs when fear assaults the +brain? Have physiologists said so, or is it a mere amateur guess at +truth, another of the foolish things "they" say? + +In these speculations Henry's mind engaged while he stood in the black +bowels of the earth and beat for entry at the world's closed door. + +At last he heard sounds as of advancing steps. Bolts were drawn +heavily back; the trap-door was raised, and a face peered down; a +brownish face with a small black moustache and a smooth skin stretched +tightly over fat. A glimmer of light struggled with the darkness. "Chi +c'è?" said a harsh voice, whispering. + +"Sst! son'io." Henry thought this the best answer. His nerves had +relaxed on hearing the Italian language, a tongue not spoken +habitually by Wilbraham, M. Kratzky, Sir John Levis, or Calvinist +pastors. It is a reassuring tongue; one feels, but how erroneously, +that those speaking it cannot be very far out of the path of human +goodness. And to Henry it was partly native. The very sight of the +plump, smooth, Italian face made him feel at ease. + +The face peered down into the darkness, and a stump of candle burning +in a saucer threw a wavering beam on to Henry's face looking up. + +"Già," the voice assented to Henry's rather obvious statement. "Voul +scendere, forse?" + +Henry said he did, and a stool was handed down to him. In another +minute he stood on the stone floor of a largish cellar, almost +completely blocked with casks and wood stacks. From it steps ran up to +another floor. + +The owner of the plump Italian face had a small plump figure clad in +shirt, trousers, and slippers. His bright dark eyes stared at his +visitor, heavy with sleep. He had obviously been roused from bed. +Surprise, however, he did not show; probably he was used to it. + +He talked to Henry in Italian. + +"You roused me from sleep. You have a message, perhaps? You wish +something done?" + +Henry, not knowing whether this Italian Swiss knew more than he ought +to know, or whether he was merely assisting the police investigations, +answered warily, "No message. But I have been down there on the +business, and had to return this way. I must now go as quickly as +possible in to the town." + +He added, at a venture, glancing sideways at the other, "Signor +Wilbraham was down there with his colleagues." + +The man started, and the saucer wavered in his hand. Signor Wilbraham +was obviously either to him a suspect name, or else his master and +leader in intrigue. He was frightened of Wilbraham. + +"Where is he now?" he asked. "Will he come here?" + +"I think not. Be at ease. He has disappeared in another direction. +Have the kindness to show me the way out." + +The man led the way to the steps and up them, into a tiny ground-floor +bedroom, and through that into a passage. As he unbolted a side door, +Henry said to him, "You know something about Signor Wilbraham, then?" + +The plump little figure shrugged. + +"A good deal too much, certainly." + +"Good," said Henry. "Later you shall tell what you know. Don't be +afraid. He can't hurt you." + +As to that the raised eyebrows showed doubt. Wilbraham, it was +apparent, inspired a deep mistrust. The fat little man was shivering, +either from fear or cold or thwarted sleep, as he opened the door for +Henry to pass out. + +"The will of God will be done," was what he regretfully said, "unless +his dear Mother can by any means avert it. For me, I escape, if +necessary, where they cannot find me. Good-night, Signore." + +He shut the door softly behind Henry, who found himself outside a +block of old houses at the lake end of the Rue Muzy, under a setting +moon, as the city clocks struck two. The night, which had seemed to +Henry already so long, was yet, as nights of action go, young. + +Henry, as he walked homewards by the lake's edge, wondered where and +in what manner Macdermott and Garth had emerged, or would emerge, to +the earth's face. + +The earth's face! Never, on any of the lovely nights in that most +lovely place, had it seemed to Henry fairer than it seemed this night, +as he walked along the Quai des Eaux Vives, the clean, cool air +filling his lungs and gently fanning his damp forehead, the dark and +shining water lapping softly against its stone bounds. How far better +was the earth's face than its inside! + +Henry, tired and chilled, had now no thought but sleep. To-morrow +early he would go to the President of Committee 9 with his report. +Also he would wire the story early to his paper. As he lay in bed, too +much excited, after all, to sleep (for Henry suffered from nervous +excitement in excess) he composed his press story. Anti-disarmament, +anti-peace fiends, plotting with Russian Monarchists to wreck the +League ... all this had the _British Bolshevist_ many a time +suggested, but now it could speak with no uncertain voice. Names might +even be given.... Then, in the evening, when the police had explored +the avenues, investigated the mystery, and proved the facts, a second +telegram, more detailed, could be despatched. What a scoop! After all, +thought Henry, tossing wakeful and wide-eyed in the warm dawn, after +all he was proving himself a good journalist. No one could say after +this that he was not a good journalist. + + + + +39 + + +M. Fernandez Croza, delegate from Paraguay, and President of the +Committee on the Disappearance of Delegates, sat after breakfast with +his private secretary and his stenographer in his sitting-room at the +Hotel des Bergues, dictating a speech he meant to deliver at that +morning's session of the Assembly on the beauties of a world peace. It +was a very creditable and noble speech, and he meant to deliver it in +Spanish, as a protest, though his English and French were faultless. + +M. Croza was a graceful person, young for a delegate, slightly built, +aquiline, brown skinned, black haired, shaved clean in the English +and American manner, which Latins seldom use, and which he had picked +up, among other things, in the course of an Oxford education. The +private secretary and the stenographer were a swarthy young man and +woman with full lips and small moustaches. + +M. Croza was clever, determined, and patriotic; he believed firmly in +the future of the Latin American republics, and particularly in that +of Paraguay; in the necessity of imbuing into the staff of the League +of Nations more Latin American blood, and in the desirability of +making Spanish a third official language in the Assembly. He disliked +the Secretariat as at present constituted, thinking it European, +narrow, and conceited, and he could, when orating on topics less noble +and more imminent than a world peace, make a very relevant and acute +speech. + +To him, already thus busy at ten o'clock in the morning, entered a +hotel messenger with a card bearing the name of the correspondent of +the _British Bolshevist_, and the words "Urgent and private +business." + +"I suppose he wants a statement on the Paraguay attitude towards +Argentine meat," M. Croza commented. "I had better see him." + +He turned to his stenographer, and said (in Spanish, in which tongue, +it may be observed, it sounded even better than in the English +rendering): "And so the gentle doves of peace comma pursued down +stormy skies by the hawks of war comma shall find at length ... shall +find at length.... Alvarez, please finish that sentence later on. That +will do for the present, señorita.... Admit Mr. Beechtree, messenger." + +Mr. Beechtree was admitted. The slim, pale, shabby and yet somehow +elegant young man, with his monocle, so useless, so foppish, dangling +on its black ribbon, pleased, on the whole, M. Croza's fastidious +taste. + +After introductions, courtesies, apologies, and seatings, Mr. +Beechtree got to business. + +"I have," he began, in his soft, light, tired voice, "a curious story +to tell. I am in a position, after much search, to throw a good deal +of light on the recent mysterious disappearances. I have evidence of +a very serious nature indeed...." + +M. Croza, in his capacity of President of Committee 9, had become used +to such evidence of late. But he always welcomed it, and did so now, +with an encouraging nod. + +Perhaps the nod, though encouraging, had an air of habit, for Mr. +Beechtree added quickly, "What I have to tell you is most unusual. It +implicates persons not usually implicated. Indeed, never before. I am +not here to hurl random accusations against persons for whom I happen +to feel a distaste. I am here with solid, documentary evidence. I have +it in this case." He opened his shabby dispatch case, and showed it +full of papers. + +"It implicates," he continued, "an individual who holds a +distinguished position on the staff of the Secretariat." + +M. Croza leant forward, interested, stimulated, not displeased. + +"You amaze me," he said. "Take a note, Alvarez, if you please." + +"Some years ago," said Henry, gratified by the delegate's attention +and the secretary's poised pencil, "before the League of Nations, +so-called----" + +"It _is_ the League of Nations," said the delegate, with a little +frown. + +"To be sure it is," Henry recollected himself. He had merely used +"so-called" as a term indicative of contempt, like "sic," forgetting +that he was not addressing the readers of the _British Bolshevist_. +"Well, before the League of Nations existed--to be exact, in the year +1919--I had occasion, by chance, to discover some things about this +individual. I learnt that his wife was the daughter of an armaments +knight, and that he himself had a great deal of money in the business. +There was no great harm in this, from his point of view; he never, in +those days, professed to be a pacifist, for, though he wielded +throughout the war a pen in preference to a sword, he truly believed +it to be mightier; he was, in fact, in the Ministry of Information. He +was not inconsistent in those days, though he was, I imagine, never +easy in his mind about this money he had, and held his shares under +his wife's name only. But when the League Secretariat was formed, he +was one of the first to receive an appointment on it. It was not +generally known where he got his income from, and he found himself in +a prominent position on the staff of a League, one of whose objects, +if only one among many, is to end war. So there he was, his fortune +dependent on the continuation of the very thing he was officially +working to suppress. It wasn't to be expected that he should be +pleased at the prospect of the disarmament question coming up before +the Assembly; or at the prospect of the various disputes going on now +in the world being discussed in the Assembly and referred to judicial +arbitration. Much better for him if the rumours and threats of war +should continue." + +"Continue," stated the delegate, "they always will. That, Mr. +Beechtree, we may take as certain, in this imperfect world. Yes.... +He's an Englishman, I assume, this friend of yours?" + +"An Englishman, yes. Intensely an Englishman." Henry paused a moment. +"I had better tell you at once; he is Charles Wilbraham." + +"Wilbraham!" M. Croza was startled. He felt no love for Wilbraham, +who, for his part, felt and showed little for the Latin American +republics. M. Croza bitterly remembered various sneers which had been +repeated to him.... Besides, it was Wilbraham who had cast suspicion +on Paraguay. Further, he had been at Oxford with Wilbraham, and had +disliked him there. + +"Go on, sir," he said gravely and yet ardently. + +"So," said Henry, "Wilbraham hatches a scheme. Or, possibly it is +hatched by his father-in-law, Sir John Levis (he's one of the +directors of Pottle & Kett's, the great armament firm), and Wilbraham +is persuaded to carry it out; it doesn't matter which. Levis has been +in Geneva now for some days. He has lain rather low and has not been +staying at Wilbraham's house, but I've evidence from his secretary +that they have been constantly together. They cast around to find +convenient colleagues, unscrupulous enough to do desperate things, and +with their own reasons for wishing to nullify the work of the League +and to hold up discussion of international affairs while disturbances +come to a head." + +"Such colleagues," mused M. Croza, "would not be hard to find." + +"Whom do they pitch on? There are a number of possibly suitable +helpers, and I can't say how many of them are involved. But what I +have evidence of is that they brought in the Russian delegate to their +councils--Kratzky, who is a byword even among Russians for sticking at +nothing. If Kratzky could stave off discussion of European politics +and paralyse the Assembly until Russia should be ready and able to +pounce on and hold by force the new Russian republics--well, naturally +monarchist Russia would be pleased. I have evidence that Wilbraham and +Levis have been continually meeting and conferring with Kratzky since +the Assembly began. Kratzky, that bloody butcher...." + +M. Croza, whose sympathy was all with small republics against major +powers, agreed about Kratzky. + +"You haven't," he suggested, "notes of what has actually passed +between Wilbraham and Kratzky on the subject?" + +"I regret that I have not. I could never get near enough.... But +I have evidence of continual meetings, continual lunches and +conferences. This I have obtained from Wilbraham's secretary. She has +to keep his engagements for him. I have obtained possession of the +little pocket-book in which she notes them. I have it here. See: +'Saturday, Lunch, Café du Nord, Kratzky and Sir John. Sunday, Up +Salève, with Kratzky. Monday, 8 a.m., Bathe, Kra----' No, that can't +be Kratzky; he wouldn't bathe; that must be some one else. And so on, +and so on. Now, I ask you, what would one talk about to Kratzky all +that time except some iniquitous intrigue? It's all Kratzky knows +about. So, you see, when I began to suspect all this, I took to +tracking Wilbraham, following him about. It's been, I can tell you, +a most tiring job. Wilbraham is such a very tedious man. A most +frightful bore. His very voice makes me sick.... But I followed him. +I tracked him. All over the shop I tracked him. And last night he +trapesed round the town with Levis and Kratzky and a horrid little +Calvinist clergyman who must be in it too. I hate Calvinists, don't +you?" + +"Intolerable persons," agreed the delegate from Paraguay. + +"Well, at last they hared down a trap-door in an archway into the +bowels of the earth. I saw them into it. After some time I went down +too. I couldn't find them, but I found an extraordinary system of +tunnelling--a regular catacomb. You get in and out of it all over the +town, through _trappons_, mostly in old houses, I think. I didn't +discover where half the tunnels ended. But obviously Wilbraham and his +friends know all about it. And that's what they've done with the +delegates. Either hidden them somewhere alive down there, or killed +them. When Kratzky's in an affair, the people up against him don't, as +a rule, come out alive.... I don't know how much the police know about +this tunnel business, but they must make a complete investigation, of +course." + +"Obviously, without delay.... A singular story, Mr. Beechtree; very +singular." + +"Life is singular," said Henry. + +"There you are very right." ... But M. Croza, used to the political +life of South American republics, found no stories of plots and +intrigues really singular. "You have reason," he added, "to think +badly of Mr. Wilbraham, I infer?" + +"Grave reasons. I know him for a very ugly character. It is high time +he was exposed." + +M. Croza thought so too. As has been said, he did not care for Charles +Wilbraham. And what a counter-charge to Wilbraham's accusations again +the residents at the Hotel des Bergues! + +"One of these Catholic converts," he reflectively commented. "I do not +like them. To be born a Catholic, that is one thing, and who can help +it? After all, it is the true faith. To become a Catholic--that is +quite another thing, and seems to us in Paraguay to denote either +feebleness of intellect or a dishonest mind. In a man, that is. Women, +of course, are different, not having intellect, and being naturally +_dévotes_. So, anyhow, we believe in Paraguay. But perhaps one is +unfair." + +"It is difficult not to be unfair to these," Henry agreed. "But it is +more than difficult, it is impossible, to be unfair to Wilbraham. +Nothing we think or say of him can be in excess of the truth. Such is +Wilbraham. He always has been.... Now, if you will, sir, I will show +you the documents I have with me which corroborate my story." + +The delegate beckoned to his secretary. + +"Go through Mr. Beechtree's papers, Alvarez. I must be getting to the +Assembly. It is past the hour.... At this afternoon's meeting of +Committee 9, Mr. Beechtree, I will lay these suggestions of yours +before my colleagues, and we will consider what action shall be taken. +You will be present. Meanwhile, Alvarez, have orders taken to the +police to explore the subterranean passages. Mr. Beechtree, you will +be able to direct them to the means of entry, will you not." + +"I shouldn't wonder," said Henry, "if they are being explored. +Macdermott, from Ulster, and Garth of the _Morning Post_, were down +there last night. I don't know if they ever got out or not, but if +they did they'll be doing something about it this morning. They take a +different view from mine, I may say. Macdermott suspects Sinn Feiners +(Ulster has only one idea, you know), and Garth agrees with him, but +adds Bolsheviks and Germans. Neither of them would suspect either +Wilbraham or Kratzky without absolute proof. They do not like +Wilbraham. No one does. But they are obsessed with their pet ideas." + +"To every man his own scapegoat; it's the law of life. Now, Mr. +Beechtree, I must leave you. We meet again at three o'clock. Here is a +card of entry to the committee meeting. Till then I shall say nothing +to any one. I will lay your story before the committee for what it is +worth, but I do not, you must remember, commit myself to it. It is +merely a basis for inquiry, and the committee shall undoubtedly have +the facts before them. But care and discretion are advisable.... Your +paper, I think, is not celebrated for its love either for the League +of Nations and its Secretariat, or of monarchist Russia, or of +armament princes? We must be prepared for the imputation to you of +prejudice." + +"It would be," Henry admitted, "not unjustified. My paper is +prejudiced. So am I. To be prejudiced is the privilege of the thinking +human being. After all, we are not animals, to judge everything by its +smell and taste as it comes before us, irrespective of preconceived +theories. The open mind is the empty mind. The pre-judgment is often +the deliberate and considered judgment, based on reason, whereas the +post-judgment is a hasty makeshift affair, based on the impressions of +the moment. Fortunately, however, the two are apt, in the same mind, +to concur----" + +"Quite so, quite so." M. Croza, who was in a hurry, nodded affably but +decidedly, and Henry, who was apt, in the interests of discussion, to +forget himself, left him. + + + + +40 + + +Henry despatched straightway a long message to the _British +Bolshevist_, guarded in language but sinister in implication, and +hinting that further developments and more definite revelations were +imminent. In the journalists' lobby he encountered Garth, who had also +been sending a message. + +"Oh, hallo," said Garth, "so you got out all right. So did Macdermott. +I had the devil of a time. I tried one exit that didn't work; must +have been bolted on the outside, I suppose. Anyhow, I hammered away +and nothing happened. Then I struck another avenue and came to another +trap which gave after mighty efforts on my part, and I came up into +that book-shop which Burnley disappeared into, and which told the +police so firmly that he left again in a few minutes. The trap was +hidden away under the counter. I didn't stop; I thought it probably +wasn't healthy, so I unbolted the front door and crept off home to +bed. First thing this morning I put the police on the track, and +they're getting busy now asking the bookseller questions and sending +gangs to work the catacombs. One thing I've discovered; that book-shop +is a meeting-place for Bolshie refugees and German anarchists. They +meet in the old chap's back parlour and do their plotting there and +send gold to the trade-unions." + +"How do you know?" Henry asked, interested. + +"Well, it's quite obvious. Too busy to go into the evidence now. I +must look in at the Assembly and see what's doing...." + +Henry perceived that the correspondent of the _Morning Post_ was +actuated, in the matter of Bolshevists, Germans, trade-unions, and +gold, rather by a deliberate and considered pre-judgment than by the +hasty and makeshift impressions of the moment, or, anyhow, that the +two had in his mind concurred. He asked after Macdermott. + +"Oh, Macdermott found Sinn Fein plots all over the place. He had a +hair-raising time. He went miles and miles, he says, and came up at +last against a wall. There was no trap-door: it was merely a +cul-de-sac. So he retraced his steps and took a by-path, and emerged +finally in a brothel close to the cathedral. Of course, the advantage +of a brothel is that it's alive and humming even at dead of night; +anyhow it was morning by that time, so he had no difficulty in making +himself heard. He couldn't get anything out of the people; they were +German Swiss, and pretended to be merely stupid. But they're being +sorted by the police this morning." + +"And where do the Sinn Feiners come in?" + +"Oh, I don't know. They meet there to plot, Macdermott said. Together +with Germans. Probably they've a bomb-cache in the tunnels too. He +told O'Shane about it, and O'Shane said republicans would never make +use of a disorderly house, not even for the best patriotic purposes. +He's rather sick that he wasn't on to this catacombs business too; +he'd have found Orange plots down there. I left them at it.... What's +going on within, Jefferson?" + +"That damned little Greek holding forth on the importance of disarming +Turkey. We've just had Paraguay on the beauties of a world peace and +the peaceful influence of the South American republics." + +"Well," said Garth, "I shall go in and hear the Greek. He always makes +things hum." + +Henry, too, went in and heard the Greek, whose manner of oratory he +enjoyed. + + + + +41 + + +Committee 9 met at three o'clock in the spacious and sunny saloon +known as Committee Room C. The only portion of the public admitted was +the correspondent of the _British Bolshevist_, who sat behind the +President's chair with a portfolio full of papers, looking pale, +shabby, and tired, but exalted, like one whose great moment is at +hand. + +After the minutes of the last meeting had been read, the President +rose to address the committee, in French. He had, he said, some fresh +and important facts to communicate. A quite new line of inquiry had +that day been suggested to him by one who had for some time been +secretly pursuing investigations. The facts revealed were so +startling, so amazing, that very substantial evidence would be +necessary to persuade committee members of their truth. It could at +present be only a tentative theory that was set before the committee; +but let the committee remember that _magna est veritas et prevalebit_; +that they were there to fulfil a great duty, and not to be deterred by +any fears, any reluctances, any personal friendships, any dread of +scandal, from seeking to draw out truth from her well. He asked his +colleagues to listen while he told them a strange story. + +The story, as he told it, gained from his more important presence, his +more eloquent and yet more impartial manner, a plausibility which +Henry's had lacked. His very air, of one making a painful and +tentative revelation, was better than Henry's rather shrill eagerness. +Every now and then he paused and waved his hand at Henry sitting +behind him, and said, "My friend Mr. Beechtree here has documentary +evidence of this, which I will lay before the committee shortly." +When, after long working up to it, he gave the suspected member of the +Secretariat the name of Wilbraham, it fell on the tense attention of +the whole table. Henry, looking up to watch its reception, saw +surprise on many faces, incredulity on several, pleasure on more, +amusement on a few. He met also the blue eyes of Mr. Macdermott fixed +on him with a smile of cynical admiration. Macdermott would doubtless +have something to say when the President had done. But what he was now +thinking was that the correspondent of the _British Bolshevist_ had +more journalistic gifts than one would have given him credit for. + +"Where, you may demand of me," proceeded the President, "is M. +Wilbraham now? That I cannot tell you. He entered this system of +secret passages last night in company with those who are suspected by +Mr. Beechtree of being his fellow conspirators, and he has not been +seen since. Have they, possibly, escaped, their evil work done? +Whither have they gone? Who was that Protestant pastor? What doings, +gentlemen, engage the attentions of M. Kratzky of Russia, that enemy +of small republics, Sir John Levis of Pottle and Kett, that enemy of +peace, a _soi-disant_ Protestant pastor, the presumed enemy of true +religion, and M. Wilbraham of the Secretariat? Mind, gentlemen, I +impute nothing. I merely inquire." + +A murmur of applause broke from the Latin Americans. As it died down, +Henry, looking up, saw standing by the door Charles Wilbraham, cool, +immaculate, attentive, and unperturbed, and the _soi-disant_ +Protestant pastor at his elbow. + + + + +42 + + +Henry allowed himself a smile. Here, then, arrived after all the years +of waiting, was the hour. The hour of reckoning; the hour in which he, +brought face to face with Charles Wilbraham, should expose him before +men for what he was. The hour when Charles Wilbraham should face him, +reduced at last to impotent silence, deflated to limp nothingness like +a gas balloon, and find no word of defence. Shamed and dishonoured, he +would slink away, at long last in the wrong. In the wrong himself, +after all these years of putting others there. Truly, Henry's hour had +arrived. + +The President, too, had seen the new-comers now. He paused in his +speaking; he was for a moment at a loss. Then, "Gentlemen, excuse me, +but this is a strictly private session," he said clearly across the +large room, in his faultless Oxford English. + +Charles Wilbraham bowed slightly and advanced. + +"Forgive me, sir, but I have a card of admittance. Also for my friend +here, Signor Angelo Cristofero." + +"Angelo Cristofero"--the name seemed to ripple over a section of the +committee like a wind on waters. + +"Who is he?" asked Henry, of an Italian Swiss, and the answer came +pat. + +"The greatest detective at present alive. An Italian, but at home in +all countries, all languages, and all disguises. Really a marvellous +genius. Nothing balks him." + +"We have, you see," continued Wilbraham, in his disagreeable, sneering +voice, "some rather important information to communicate to the +committee, if you will pardon the interruption. Presently I will ask +Signor Cristofero to communicate it. But for the moment might I be +allowed to ask for a little personal explanation? Since I entered the +room I heard a remark or two relating to myself and various friends of +mine which struck me as somewhat strange...." + +M. Croza courteously bowed to him, with hostile eyes. + +"You have a right to an explanation, sir. As you have entered at what +I can but call such a very inopportune moment, you heard what I was +saying--words uttered, need I say, in no malicious spirit, but in a +sincere and public-spirited desire to discover the truth. I was +accusing and do accuse, no one; I was merely laying before the +committee information communicated to me this morning by Mr. Henry +Beechtree." + +"Mr. Henry Beechtree?" + +Charles Wilbraham turned on this gentleman the indifferent and +contemptuous regard with which one might look at and dismiss some +small and irrelevant insect. + +"And who, if I may ask, is Mr. Henry Beechtree?" + +"The correspondent, sir, of one of the newspapers of your country--the +_British Bolshevist_." + +Charles laughed. "Indeed? Hardly, perhaps, an organ which commands +much influence. However, by all means let me hear Mr. Beechtree's +information. I am, I infer, from what I overheard, engaged in some +kind of conspiracy, together with my friends M. Kratzky, Sir John +Levis, and this gentleman here. May I know further details, or are +they for the private edification of the committee only?" + +Charles heavily sarcastic, ponderously ironic--how well Henry +remembered it. + +"Are we," he went on, "supposed to have spirited away, or even +murdered, the missing delegates, may I ask?" + +"That," said M. Croza politely, "was Mr. Beechtree's suggestion--only, +of course, a suggestion, based on various facts which had come to his +knowledge. You can, doubtless, disprove these facts, sir, or account +for them in some other way. No one will be more delighted than the +committee over which I preside." + +"Might I hear these sinister facts?" Charles was getting smoother, +more unctuous, more happy, all the time. It was the little curl of his +lip, so hateful, so familiar, with which he said these words, which +seemed to snap something in Henry's brain. He pushed back his chair +and sprang to his feet, breathless and dizzy and hot. He regarded not +the cries of "Order," from the chair and the table; order or not, he +must speak now to Charles. + +"You shall hear them, sir," he said, and his voice rang shrilly up and +up to a high and quivering note. "There is one, at least which you +will not be able to deny. That is that you have shares, large and +numerous, in the armaments firm of Pottle and Kett, of which Sir John +Levis, your father-in-law, is chief director." + +Charles fixed on him a surprised stare. He put on his pince-nez, the +better to look. + +"I do not think," he said, in his calm, smooth voice, "that I am +called upon to discuss with you the sources of my income. In fact, I'm +afraid I don't quite see how you come into this affair at all--er--Mr. +Beechtree. But, since your statement has been made in public, perhaps +I may inform the committee that it is wholly erroneous. I had once +such shares as this--er--gentleman mentioned. It ought to be +unnecessary to inform this committee that I sold them all on my +appointment to the Secretariat of the League, since to hold them +would, I thought, be obviously inconsistent with League principles. If +it interests the committee to know, such money that I possess is now +mostly in beer. Mr.--er--Beechtree's information, Mr. President, is +just a little behind the times. Such a stirring organ as the _British +Bolshevist_ should, perhaps, have a more up-to-date correspondent. +Will you, Mr. President, request Mr. Beechtree to be seated? I fear I +find myself unable to discuss my affairs with--er--him personally." + +Charles's eyes, staring at Henry through his pince-nez, became like +blue glass. For a moment silence held the room. Henry flushed, paled, +wilted, wavered as he stood. Thrusting desperately his monocle into +his eye, he strove to return stare for stare. After a moment Charles's +high complacent laugh sounded disagreeably. He had made quite sure. + +"How do you do, Miss Montana? We haven't, I think, met since January, +1919." He turned to the puzzled committee. "Miss Montana, a former +lady secretary of mine in the Ministry of Information, Mr. President. +Dismissed by me for incompetence. What she is doing here in this +disguise I do not know; that is between her and the newspaper which, +so she says, employs her. May Signor Cristofero now be permitted to +lay his rather important information before the committee? We waste +time, and time is precious at this juncture." + + + + +43 + + +The situation was of an unprecedented unusualness. The President of +Committee 9 hardly knew how to deal with it. All eyes gazed at Henry, +who said quietly, "That is a damned lie," felt giddy, and sat down, +leaning back in his chair and turning paler. The monocle dropped from +his eye and hung limply from its ribbon. Henry literally could not, +after his tiring night, his exhausting day, the emotional strain of +the last hour, stand up to Charles Wilbraham any more. If he could +have a dose of sal volatile--a cocktail--anything ... as it was, he +wilted, all but crumpled up; all he was able for was to sit, as +composed as might be, under a deadly fire of eyes. + +The pause was ended by Fergus Macdermott, who heaved largely from his +chair and remarked, "I would like to second Mr. Wilbraham's suggestion +that we will hear Mr. Cristofero's communication. May I also suggest +that the income of Mr. Wilbraham is between himself and his bankers, +and the sex of Mr. Beechtree between him and his God, and that both +are irrelevant to the business before this committee and need not be +discussed." The committee applauded this, though they felt a keen +interest in both the irrelevant topics. The President called on Signor +Cristofero to address the committee, and beckoned Mr. Wilbraham to a +chair. + +The little _soi-disant_ pastor stepped forward. He was a spare, small, +elderly man, with a white face and gentian-blue eyes and a mouth that +could make up as anything. During the last few days it had been a prim +and rather smug button. Now it had relaxed in shrewder, wider lines. +He showed to Committee 9 the face not of the Calvinist pastor but of +the great detective. He spoke the Italian of the Lombardy Alps, the +French of Marseilles, the English of New York, the German of Alsace, +the Russian of Odessa, the Yiddish of the Roman Ghetto, the Serbian of +Dalmatia, the Turkish of the Levant, the Greek of the Dodacenese, and +many other of the world's useful tongues. He addressed the committee +in French, speaking rapidly and clearly, illustrating his story with +those gestures of the hands which in reality (though it is not +commonly admitted) make nothing clearer, but are merely a luxury +indulged in by speakers, who thus elucidate and emphasise their +meaning to themselves and to no one else. However, Signor Cristofero's +words were so admirably clear that his confusing gestures did not +matter. + +He had, so he said, been sent for three weeks ago from New York, where +he had been engaged on a piece of work which he had just concluded, by +Mr. Charles Wilbraham, who had requested him to come immediately to +Geneva and investigate this strange matter of the disappearing +delegates. He had not known Mr. Wilbraham, but he had recognised the +importance of this matter. He had arrived incognito, assumed the +costume in which they now saw him, which is one the least calculated +to arouse suspicion in Geneva, and set to work. After careful secret +inquiries and investigations, he had found that the suspicions he had +had from the outset were confirmed. He had long known of a secret +society which was at work to wreck the League of Nations. Its +activities were so multifarious, so skilful, so obscure, and often so +entirely legitimate, that it was impossible to check them. The society +had its agents all over the world, in all countries. Some were paid, +others worked out of good will. This society objected to the League +partly because it was afraid of the decrease of armaments, and +ultimately of wars. Unlikely as this prospect sounded, the society was +taking no chances. Among its members were the directors of armament +firms, inventors, professional soldiers of high rank, War Office +officials, those who hoped to get some advantage for themselves or +their countries out of wars, and those who genuinely thought the +League a dangerous and foolish thing calculated to upset the peace of +the world. Many of its members also objected to the League on all +kinds of other grounds, disliking its humanitarian enterprises, its +interference with nefarious traffickings, such as those in women, +opium, and cocaine. Powerful patent medicine manufacturers were +exasperated by its anti-epidemic efforts; many great financiers +objected to the way it spent its money; some great powers thought they +would be freer in their dealings with smaller powers without it. And +so on and so forth. All over the world, in every department of life, +there were to be found those who, for one reason or another, rightly +or wrongly, reasonably or unreasonably, objected to the League. And so +this society had been formed. It collected its agents as it could, and +employed them as occasion served. It was considered by the society +specially important to prevent the success of this present session of +the Assembly, which had a large and varied agenda before it, including +the renewed discussion of the reduction of armaments, which was, it +was believed, to be pressed with great earnestness by certain +delegates, so that some issue could scarcely be evaded. Besides which, +the society had come to the conclusion that to make, once, a complete +fool of the League Assembly and Council before the world, so that its +constitution would be disintegrated and its achievements would be as +dust before the wind, would deal the prestige of the League such a +heavy blow as permanently to discredit it. To this end, after much +cogitation, the society had got hold of a very brilliant and +accomplished agent indeed; an agent who cared not what he did nor for +what side he fought, so long as he was largely enough paid. To him, to +this unscrupulous and able man, the society had said, "Hold up and +discredit the coming Assembly somehow. The method we leave to you. You +have _carte blanche_ in the matter of money, and you shall be paid an +immense sum for success." + +"This man," said Signor Cristofero, "undertook the mission. With +unparalleled skill, scheming and ingenuity, he decoyed and entrapped +member after member of the Assembly, luring each one by some suitable +bait to some spot where there was a trap-door giving on to the +system of underground passages which runs, as is well known to the +authorities, beneath part of Geneva. What the authorities did _not_ +know, is the number of trap-door entries to these passages, and where +they ultimately lead. I have been exploring them now for some days. +Last night I conducted Mr. Wilbraham through them, together with his +friends M. Kratzky and Sir John Levis. At a certain point in one of +the tunnels one appears to come up against an earth wall; it seems to +be a cul-de-sac. I made the discovery that it is not a cul-de-sac. The +earth wall is a skilful disguise; it swings back, and the passage +continues. It continues, gentlemen, on and on, far outside the city, +running beside the lake, till it ends at last in a cellar. What +cellar, you demand? Gentlemen, it is the cellar of a château two miles +up the lake. A large and ancient château, inhabited by a former +cardinal of the church. He was retired from this office some years +ago; he said and says it was for heretical opinions expressed in +books. In reality it was less for this (though this too had its +influence in the decision of the Church) than for a plethora of wives. +The wives without the heresies might have been winked at, for the +Church has a wise blind side and knows that its children are but dust; +even (though this is less probable) the heresies without the wives +might have been ignored; but the combination was excessive. The +cardinal had to go. Since then he has been living in this château, +writing vast and abstruse works on theology and enjoying the +loveliness of the scenery, the beauty of his house and garden, the +amenities of such witty and scholarly society as he could collect +around him, and the companionship of a lady whom he inaccurately calls +his niece. His name--gentlemen, many of you know it and him--is +Franchi, Dr. Silvio Franchi. Here, indeed, was a sharp tool ready +to the hands of our society. They send for him; he accepts the +commission; he conceives the ingenious scheme of secretly extending +the underground tunnels to his château and adding trap-door entries to +them in houses and courtyards where he could command the services of +the owners, who were generously paid. One by one he lures the +delegates into these houses, these alleys. Lord Burnley he decoys with +the display of a book of his own, strangely inscribed; that we know. +The baits offered to the other gentlemen and ladies we do not yet know +fully of, though a few have come to my knowledge. We shall doubtless +eventually have the story of each. Anyhow, one after another, and each +in his appropriate manner, the delegates disappear underground. They +are then conveyed by Dr. Franchi's employees either underground all +the way to the château or to an exit close to the lake, whence they +can be secretly embarked by covered boat. By whatever means, they +arrive at the château, and are there accommodated in what is known as +the Keep Wing, which has the appearance of a large, commodious and +many-roomed guest house, but which is as strongly guarded as a prison. +They are not ill-treated; they are made comfortable; often they dine +in company with Dr. Franchi, who enjoys their society and keeps them +well amused. I learnt this yesterday from Dr. Franchi's trusted +servant, a scoundrel of a Roumanian Baptist, who was moved at last by +the persecution of his co-religionists and relatives in Roumania, +touchingly set before him by Mademoiselle the Roumanian delegate, to +give the League a chance. After many years' faithful service this +ruffian betrayed his master and is assisting me to arrest him. The +human heart is truly a strange mixture. + +"I have myself, last night, together with the three gentlemen I +mentioned, been along the tunnel as far as the château cellar. We +could not, of course, then enter it, and we returned the way we came. +Dr. Franchi does not know that his secret has been discovered. I have +arranged to call on him, with a detachment of police, to-day, in order +to inform him of it, arrest him, and release the prisoners. That is +all I have to tell you, gentlemen." + + + + +44 + + +Murmurs indicative of the utmost interest broke out round the table +directly Signor Cristofero stopped speaking. Interest mingled here and +there with a little disappointment, for many a cherished theory had to +be abandoned or modified. Mr. Macdermott, for instance, had not yet +found a place for Sinn Fein in the plot as at present revealed, nor +Mr. O'Shane for Ulster. The Lithuanian delegate was, to say the least +of it, surprised that the affair was not more largely due to disbanded +Polish soldiers of Zeligowski's army, and the delegates of more than +one nation found it strange that the Germans appeared to be out of +this thing. But, after all, Dr. Franchi had been only the agent; he +might be backed by any one in the world, and doubtless was. Also, he +must have had many ruffians in his employ to do the executive work. So +no doubt really and in the main things were pretty much as each member +of the committee had suspected. The members who looked most gratified +were the Latin Americans, from whom suspicion was now honourably +lifted (though they regretted that Charles Wilbraham was no longer a +suspect), and the Serb-Croat-Slovene delegate, who stared at his +Italian colleague with a rather malicious smile. Had he not always +said that Italians (unless it were Albanians) had done this thing? + +The President, after thanking Signor Cristofero much for his highly +interesting and important information, asked if any other gentleman +would like to say anything. The delegate from Bolivia begged to +propose that the committee should accompany Signor Cristofero and the +police on the visit to the château, as they certainly ought to be +present on the occasion. This suggestion was received with universal +acclamation, and it was decided that a steamer should take them all up +to Monet at six-thirty. + +A subdued voice from beside the President's chair inquired whether the +press would also be permitted on the expedition. In the excitement, +astonishment, and disappointment of Signor Cristofero's story and the +prospect of such a stimulating lake trip, the correspondent of the +_British Bolshevist_ had temporarily forgotten his (or her, as the +case might be) own troubles. + +The inquiry focused the attention of the committee again on Mr. +Beechtree, that dubious, if irrelevant, problem. A smile ran round the +room. + +The President said that undoubtedly correspondents would be permitted +to accompany the expedition, for reports of the day's discoveries and +events must as soon as possible be communicated to the press. + + + + +45 + + +Mr. Beechtree, feeling uncomfortable under the general interest and in +the intolerable presence of Mr. Wilbraham, slipped away. He wanted +privacy to think, to hide from the fire of eyes. More, he wanted +coffee. And perhaps a raspberry ice-cream soda with it. There was one +place he knew of.... Dashing down to the Paquis, he just caught a +_mouette_ for the Eaux Vives jetty. From there to the ice-cream café +was but a short way. He hurried to it, and soon was enjoying the +comfort of coffee, a raspberry ice-cream soda, and meringues. After +all, there was always that, however bitter a defeat one might suffer +at the hands of life. He also had a cocktail. + +He drank, ate, and imbibed through straw, to give himself a little +courage and cheerfulness in the black bitterness of defeat. Black +bitterness it was, for his long-laid scheme of revenge had toppled, +crashing on the top of him, and Charles Wilbraham, eyeing the ruins, +hatefully and superciliously smiled, for ever and always in the +right.... + +Charles Wilbraham towered, with his hateful rightness, before Henry's +drowsy eyes (how long it was since he had slept!), and he slipped for +a moment into a dream, the straw falling from his mouth. + +He woke with a start, hastily ate a meringue, called for his bill, +and looked at his watch. It was nearly six o'clock. In half an hour +the steamer would start for Monet. Well, that at least would be +interesting. Henry was all for getting what joy he could out of this +uneven life. + +He walked across the Jardin Anglais, and saw at the pier the party of +pleasure crowding on to a pleasant-looking white steamer called _Jean +Jacques_. Pulling his soft hat over his eyes, Henry slipped in among +the throng, and embarked on what might well prove to be his last +official lake trip. He felt rather shy, for he had become, though in a +minor way, News. Women were News; and women disguised as men were +doubly and trebly News (and Henry felt sure that Charles Wilbraham +would be believed on this point rather than he, who had said it was a +damned lie). + +He slipped through the crowd and took up a nonchalant attitude in the +bows, smoking cigarettes and looking at the view. + + + + +46 + + +They were a happy and expectant party. The decks hummed with happy and +excited talk. All feuds seemed to be healed by the common interest. +The committee seemed truly a League of Brothers. This is the value of +parties of pleasure. The only people who looked sullen were the group +of policemen, for Swiss policemen habitually wear this air. + +From group to group, with M. Kratzky at his elbow, moved Charles +Wilbraham, complacent, proud, triumphant, like a conjurer who has done +a successful trick. "Here is the rabbit, gentlemen," he seemed to be +saying. His colleagues on the Secretariat watched him cynically. +Wilbraham had put this job through very well, but how bad it had been +for him! Emphatically they did not like Wilbraham. + +"And the man who really did the trick has forgotten all about it, and +is talking to every one in their own language about the affairs of +their own countries," as Vaga the Spaniard remarked. He had a peculiar +distaste for Charles. + +Grattan came up grinning to Henry. + +"Hallo, Beechtree. You seem to have provided one of the sensations of +the day. I didn't know you had it in you. I'm sorry your sporting +effort to upset our friend Wilbraham failed." + +"So am I," Henry gloomily returned. "He deserves to be upset. And I'm +not even now sure he hadn't a hand in it all.... But of course it's no +use saying so. No one will ever believe it of him now that I've mucked +it so. They'll believe nothing I say.... Did you hear what he said +about me at the committee meeting? I suppose every one has." + +"Well, I imagine it's got about more or less. Is it true, by the way?" + +"On the contrary, a complete and idiotic lie." + +The expressionless detachment of Henry's voice and face moved Grattan +to mirth. + +"That's all right, then; I'll put it about. You keep on smiling, old +bean. No one's going to worry, even if it wasn't a lie, you know." + +"Wilbraham will worry. He will, no doubt, take steps to have me +excluded from the Press Gallery as a disreputable character. I don't +particularly mind. What I do mind is that it isn't Wilbraham who's +going to get run in for this business, but poor old Franchi. I _like_ +Franchi. He's delightful, however many delegates he's kidnapped." + +"Oh, the more the better. A jolly old sportsman. My word, what a +brain! Talk of master criminals, ... and to think that I once thought +the Assembly scarcely worth coming for. Live and learn. I shall never +miss another." He called to Garth, who was passing. + +"I say, Garth, Beechtree says he's not a lady and that Wilbraham's a +liar. Spread it about, there's a good chap." + +Garth nodded. He, like Grattan, believed Wilbraham on this point and +not Henry, but it was more comfortable to take Henry at his own +valuation. After all, if the chap _was_ a woman, whose concern was it +but his own? Rather a caddish trick on Wilbraham's part to have +publicly accused him. Though, to be sure, he had just been by him +publicly accused, so perhaps they were quits. But, poor girl (if she +was a girl), she must be feeling up a tree now. She seemed a nice +enough person, too; a bit of a fool, of course, but then any one who'd +write for the _British Bolshevist_, that pestilential rag, would need +to be either a fool or a knave, or both. + +So, on the whole, Henry was not acutely uncomfortable among his +colleagues of the press. + +Once Wilbraham passed close to him talking to the second British +delegate, and fixed him with a glassy stare. Henry, refusing to be +embarrassed, put up his monocle and stared back, as if surprised at +the ill-breeding of this person. + +So they came to the Monet pier, as the village church clock chimed +seven. + + + + +47 + + +The scheme of action had been carefully planned and organised by +Signor Cristofero, with the help of the perfidious Roumanian Baptist +at the château, who now, terrified at his own treachery, only longed +for his master to be removed from the scene. The ex-cardinal, this +Baptist had said, meant to dine that night, as he often did when he +had not company, with his prisoners in the Keep Wing. He would be +there when the detective, the police, the committee, and the press +arrived at the château, and the party would be conducted there at +once, to surprise the host and his guests at meat. + +The delegate from Costa Rica had asked the detective if they should +all bring weapons, but Signor Cristofero had said no. + +"Quite unnecessary. Franchi does not go armed. He does not go in for +bloodshed, except for some necessary purpose. When he sees he is +trapped, he will throw down his hand with resignation. After all, the +penalty for the abduction without injury, even of many delegates, is +not very heavy. A term of imprisonment, then he will be free again. He +intended, of course, to make his escape from the neighbourhood when he +released his prisoners, and so be beyond reach of capture when the +truth came out. He will be mortified at the failure of his plan--in so +far as it has failed--but for himself he will not very greatly care. I +know Dr. Franchi of old." + +So revolvers were only taken by delegates and journalists of those +nations which regard these weapons as a natural part of the human +equipment for facing society. + +As they trailed up from the Monet pier through the village, the party +had the innocuous, cheerful, plebeian, only-man-is-vile air of all +large parties of pleasure in beautiful country. + +They approached the château by its public drive, which turned off the +road beyond the village. Signor Cristofero knocked on the front door, +which was opened by a villainous looking young man whom the party +presumed to be the repentant Roumanian Baptist, and whom Signor +Cristofero addressed fluently in a tongue even stranger than are most +tongues. The young man replied in the same. + +"Dr. Franchi is in the Keep Wing, dining with the delegates," Signor +Cristofero informed his companions. "This man will conduct us there +and admit us. He has the pass keys." + +The party, led by the scowling Baptist, trooped into the château like +a party of eager tourists ciceroned by a sulky guide. + +They passed through the hall, through the company of dogs who seemed +to like everybody except Henry and the delegate from Haiti, and thence +along a sunny, airy corridor which led up to a nail-studded, +triple-locked oak door, behind an ecclesiastical leather curtain. The +Roumanian produced three keys, unlocked the door, and led the way +along a further passage, this time only lighted by high, small +windows. Here began the Keep Wing. At the farther end of this corridor +was another oak door, this time only once locked. From beyond it came +the sound of cheerful voices raised in talk and laughter. The +Roumanian hung back. He obviously did not desire to lead the way any +farther. After a short, low-toned conversation with Signor Cristofero, +he went back through the triple-locked door. + +"He fears his master," the detective remarked, with a shrug. "He is +going to make his escape from the château, lest the other servants +execute vengeance on him. No matter. We are now arrived." + +Having with a gesture summoned round him the police, he opened the +door and led the way into the room beyond. + +It was a large refectory, with a long table down the middle. At the +near end of it sat Dr. Franchi, with lifted glass; down the sides were +ranged the lost delegates. One of them--perhaps Lord Burnley, who sat +on his host's right--seemed to have been telling an amusing story, for +all at the near end of the table were laughing. Or rather, nearly all: +for, resolute in its gravity, its air of protest, the face of Lord +John Lester, the mainstay of the League, was bent sadly over a dish +of salted almonds. + +The ex-cardinal had barely time to look round at the noise of entry +before three policemen seized him firmly and snapped handcuffs on his +wrists. + + + + +48 + + +It was a scene the like of which, it is safe to say, had never before +been seen among all the strange scenes which had been enacted along +the shores of that most lovely lake. A strange scene, and a strange +company. + +The faces of some thirty delegates, interrupted in their meal, were +turned, with varying expressions, upon the new-comers. Lord John +Lester sprang to his feet, with an impatient cry of "At last!" which +was, however, drowned by the ecstatic croon of Mademoiselle the +delegate for Roumania, "Ah! mon Dieu! Nous sommes sauvés! Un jour de +plus, et nous serions deportées," and a loud cry from Miss Gina +Longfellow, who sprang from her seat at the other end of the table. + +"Dio mio! We sure are copped!" + +"Arrest the lady also, as an accomplice," remarked Signor Cristofero +quietly. + +Dr. Franchi suddenly began to struggle violently, thus engaging the +attention of the police. As suddenly, he ceased to struggle, and said +calmly, "Ebbene. E scappata," and it was apparent that Miss Longfellow +had vanished. + +"You will not find her now," said her uncle. "She knows where to hide. +Besides, what has she done, the innocent?" + +"The passages are guarded," Signor Cristofero remarked. + +"Not, I think, my dear Angelo," said Dr. Franchi, looking at him for +the first time, "the passage she will take.... So, Angelo, this is +your work. I might have guessed. Gentlemen, my only and distinguished +brother." + +With a bow he introduced Signor Cristofero to his guests. + +The detective smiled grimly at him, and addressed him in the Italian +of the Lombardy Alps. + +"This point is mine, I think, Silvio. It is a long war between us, in +which you often score, but this point is mine." + +"I grant it you, my dear Angelo, without rancour. Your abilities have +always been so near the level of my own that I can take defeat at your +hands without mortification. You will at least pay me the tribute of +acknowledging the ingenuity and partial success of my scheme." + +"That tribute I always pay you, Silvio. But, as has occasionally +happened before, your ingenuity broke down at one point. You yielded +to a whimsical impulse, and sent to the officials of the League a +certain telegram couched in the words of the English version of a +Hebrew psalm. When I heard this, I, remembering your addiction to the +English translation of the psalms, identified you at once.... But this +is no time for conversation. Later, a statement will be demanded of +you. At present my business is to deliver you over to the law, and to +give these gentlemen their liberty." + +"You will find no difficulty in either, my dear brother.... This, +then, gentlemen and ladies, is good-bye. I must apologise for any +inconvenience that may have been caused by your detention, either to +yourselves or to the society which you represent, and I must thank you +for the great pleasure you have afforded me by your company. I think +that, at least, you will be able to report that you have suffered no +great discomforts while my guests." + +"We have been most excellently entertained," Lord Burnley replied, and +a murmur of assent ran round the table. + +The Albanian Bishop rose to his feet, lifting his glass. + +"Your health, sir," he said, and the other delegates drank the toast. +(All except Lord John Lester, who impatiently muttered "Pshaw!") + +"Indeed," said Mlle. Binesco, "Dr. Franchi has been more than kind. +Another few days, and we might have fallen into the hands of the +iniquitous traffickers behind him and been deported overseas--but he +personally has been most good to us. _All_ we could want...." + +Fergus Macdermott had pushed to the front of the interested onlookers. + +"I'd like to ask you one question, sir. Why didn't your people finish +the job they began on myself--if it was your people, and not, as I +suspect, some Sinn Fein scoundrels?" + +The ex-cardinal gave his kindly smile. + +"It was certainly my people, Mr. Macdermott. But, in attacking you, +they made a mistake. When they perceived who you were, they desisted. +They had, you see, orders not to remove certain delegates, of whom you +and your colleague from South Ireland were two, from the scene. It was +considered that the Irish delegates would serve the cause I have the +honour to represent better by their presence at the Assembly than by +their absence from it." + +"Enough talk," Signor Cristofero put in. "It is time we went." + +"Brief and to the point as ever, dear brother. Good-bye, then, +gentlemen and ladies. I regret, Lord Burnley, not to have had time in +which to finish the interesting conversation we began last night on +the subject of my present book. It will have to keep for happier days. +Meanwhile, I hope to have a quiet little time in which to meditate on +and complete the book." + +As he passed Henry Beechtree on his way to the door, he stopped. + +"Ah, my dear young man. Luck did not favour our little plan, did it?" + +"That person," said the disagreeable voice of Charles Wilbraham, "is, +if I may be allowed to mention it, a young woman, Dr. Franchi." + +The ex-cardinal turned to him a cold face. + +"I have known that, Mr. Wilbraham, a good deal longer than you have." +He smiled sweetly at Henry. + +"Yes, my young friend. There was an incident, you may recollect, of a +goldfish.... I have several--er--nephews and nieces--and have watched +them grow up. Never yet have I seen the boys disturbed by such +episodes. Masculine nerves are, as a rule, more robust. You should +remember this in future.... You will pardon my having noticed the +incident. I would never have referred to it had not the subject been +raised. Some day you shall dine with me again, if you will.... But my +good brother grows impatient. Good-bye again, my friends. A rivederci." + +He was led away. He would be taken to Geneva in a police launch, with +the detective, the police, and the arrested servants. The delegates +and press were to follow in the steamer. + + + + +49 + + +The return journey of the rescuers and the rescued was a happy one +indeed. If fraternity had prevailed on the outward voyage, now far +more were all (or most) hearts knit together. What happy greetings +were exchanged, what stories related, what mysteries made clear! The +happy press were told the tale of each captured delegate; they learnt +of the pursuit after vice of the two public-spirited ladies, and their +consequent entrapment, of the decoy of Lord John Lester through his +devotion to the Union of the League, of how Professor Inglis had been +betrayed through his pity for the poor Greek woman, of how Dr. Chang, +leaving the Bergues hotel at midnight, had taken a walk through the +Saint Gervais quarter, and been led by the smell of opium to +investigate a mysterious opium den whose floor had failed beneath his +feet and dropped him into an underground passage, along which he had +been conducted to an exit close to the Seujet Wharf, hustled into a +covered boat, and carried up the lake. Many such strange tales the +released captives told, and the journalists took down breathlessly on +their writing-pads. Geneva, one perceived, must be full of the paid +agents of the ex-cardinal and the society which employed him. Not that +Dr. Franchi had told his captives anything of this society; he had +merely said that he was anxious for good company, and had therefore +taken the liberty of capturing the pick of the eminent persons present +at Geneva and entertaining them as his guests. + +"If you knew, gentlemen," he had said, "how one wearies for a little +intelligence, a little wit, a little _bonhomie_, in this dour +country!" + +Naturally, they had not believed him, but some of them had been, all +the same, a little flattered at their own selection. + +They had had, it seemed, a delightful time. Books, newspapers, +delicate food and wines, games, conversation, everything except +liberty, had been provided for their delectation. + +"One can't help, in some ways, being even a little sorry it is at an +end," Lord Burnley murmured, as he watched the lights of the château +recede, and thought of the dusty days of labour which were to follow. + +"If only it's not too late--if only irretrievable damage has not been +done," muttered Lord John Lester, frowning at the same lights, +thinking of the vast agenda for the session, and of the growling +nations of the world. + +"I think," the voice of Charles Wilbraham came, high and conceited, to +Henry Beechtree as he lurked disgraced in a corner and listened and +watched, "I think we may say we have put a spoke in the wheel of +these scoundrels this time. Yes; _I_ think we may say that...." + + + + +50 + + +Henry that night packed his things. He was leaving next day. He was +not going to wait to be dismissed by his paper. He knew that, if he +did not go, he would with ignominy be removed. + +So he packed, in his small hot room after dinner, with the cats and +dogs uttering their cries in the courtyard below, and beyond them the +small whispering cry of water beating and shuffling against the wharf. + +His adventure was over. In fact, Henry must now be called Miss +Montana, for such was, in truth, her name, and such, as Charles +Wilbraham had truly said, her sex. + +How superciliously had he said it, how superciliously staring her down +the while. As, long ago, he had superciliously stared her down when he +had said to his secretary, "This cannot go on, Miss Montana. I must +make another arrangement. Particularly in view of Paris...." + +Particularly in view of Paris. Ah, yes, that was the sting. Who would +have wanted to go on being Charles Wilbraham's secretary but for +Paris? For to that heaven of secretaries, the Paris Peace Conference, +Charles had been called, and was going that month, January, 1919. She +had been going with him. What delight! What a world of joy had opened +before her when she heard it! What a peace! It would make up for all +the weary years of war, all the desolating months of servitude to +Charles Wilbraham. And now, within a fortnight of starting, Charles +said he must make another arrangement. For his secretary had shown +gross carelessness, hopeless incompetence: she had done a frightful +thing. She had put a Foreign Office letter into an envelope addressed +to the Archbishop of Westminster, and vice versa, and so despatched +them. It was the climax, so Charles told her, of a long series of +misdeeds. Also, she was slow on the typewriter, spelt Parliament with +a small p, and used the eraser too frequently, and you could, said +Charles, see the smudge made by that a mile off. So--in fine, Charles +must make another arrangement and must in fact, in point of fact, he +unctuously told her, ask her forthwith to take a minute to the +establishment, bidding them obtain for him another secretary. The +bitterness of that moment swept back to Henry now across the years. +She remembered how, wordless, sullen, and fighting that dizziness that +attacked her in moments of stress, she had stood before him, loathing +his smooth voice, his lofty choice of words, his whole arrogant, +pompous presence. Then he had dictated the minute. + + "_From_ Mr. Wilbraham. + + "_To_ the Establishment Branch. + + "I find I have to make other arrangements about a secretary. I + shall be glad if you will transfer Miss Montana to other work, + and send some one to me more thoroughly efficient. It would be + well if I could have a selection up for interview and make a + choice, preferably after a preliminary trial. The work will be + responsible, as I am going out to the Peace Conference in a + fortnight. + + "8.1.1919." + +"Kindly see," Charles had ordered her, "that that is typed and goes +down immediately. I shall be glad to have it for initialing in not +more than five minutes from now." + +That had been the way Charles had always addressed his secretaries; +Charles was like that. Courtesy to a subordinate was, in his view, +wholly wasted. He kept all he had of it for his superiors. "The only +really rude man in the Ministry," Henry had heard him called by the +typists, and typists always know. + +Miss Montana had been subsequently transferred to the Establishment +Branch, where she had spent her time typing chits about other people's +salaries and appointments. Finally, when the staff was reduced, she +was the first to be dismissed. She had never been to Paris; never +seen the Peace Conference. Charles, with first one bullied secretary, +now another, had moved on his triumphant way from conference to +conference, a tour unbroken by his appointment to the staff of the +League of Nations Secretariat. Miss Montana had never been to a +conference in her life. + +In her loafing, idle and poor, about London, with her idle and poor +brother and her Irish journalist lover, bitterness had grown more +bitter. No money, no prospects, no career. Only chance bits of +freelance journalism, not enough to pay the rent of decent rooms. She +had vowed to be revenged on Charles, but no way presented itself. She +had prayed God to send her to some bright continental place with a +sunny climate and if possible with some sort of conference going on, +but no ladder thereto reared itself for her climbing. Her lover, a +young man from Dublin, who wrote for, among other papers, the _British +Bolshevist_, went out to represent this journal at the League Assembly +at Geneva one year. He fell foul there of Charles Wilbraham, who +objected to his messages, which, indeed, were not in the best of +taste; but, as he said, if you write for vulgar papers you must send +vulgar messages sometimes or they won't print you. Charles had him +boycotted from public dinners, and otherwise annoyed. Hearing of it, +Miss Montana consecrated afresh her vow to be revenged on Charles. The +next year this journalist was to have gone to Geneva again, but +instead he encountered an Orange bullet while reporting a riot in +Belfast on August 15th, and was still laid up with the effects at the +beginning of September. Then Miss Montana had conceived her brilliant +idea. She would take his place. She would get back on Charles. She +would disguise herself so that he would not know her if they met, +and somehow she would be avenged. Incidentally, she would have a +conference, in a bright continental climate, and earn some money. + +Eventually she had persuaded the young man to write to the +_Bolshevist_ telling them that he had a journalist friend already in +Geneva, one Henry Beechtree, who might safely be entrusted with the +not onerous job of reporting the proceedings of the Assembly for them. +The _Bolshevist_ did not really much care who did this job, or how it +was done, so they accepted the services of this Mr. Beechtree. + +Thus, for Miss Montana, opened out at once an entertaining adventure, +a temporary and scanty means of livelihood, and a chance of revenge. +Surely now, knowing what she knew of Charles (for she had worked hard +to collect injurious facts), she could somehow bring him to indignity +and disgrace. How she had worked for this end! How patiently she had +schemed, waited, watched, prayed, made friends with a dull girl, +followed Charles about.... Let him wait, she had said; only let +Charles wait. And now had come her hour, and it had, after all, turned +on her and proved to be, as always, the hour not of herself, but of +Charles. Charles was in the right; she was in the wrong. Charles (she +might have known it) had done nothing so unseemly as to retain +armament shares while entering the staff of the League; Charles had +transferred his money to beer. Charles had not conspired against the +League. Rather had Charles conceived the clever idea of engaging a +famous detective to solve the mystery, and triumphantly he had had it +solved. Charles emerged from this business, as always from every +business, with credit; Charles was triumphantly in the right. + +It came to Miss Montana afresh, what she had really always known, that +the Charleses of this world always are in the right. You cannot put +them in the wrong. They put you in the wrong, for ever and ever. They +may be all wrong, within and without, but they cannot be in the wrong. +The wrong is in them, not they in it. However false, selfish, +complacent, arrogant, and abominable a life Charles might have led, +one would know that at the Judgment Day he would somehow be in the +right.... Right with God, Charles would be, and contemptuously and +without surprise he would watch his neighbours' condemnation. Had he +not joined the True Church to make sure of this ultimate rightness, +and because it was fashionable just now? Much Charles cared for +religion! If Catholics were once more to be persecuted instead of +admired, how soon would Charles leave them! Yes, Charles would always +be in the right with the best people.... + +The heart and soul of Miss Montana went out passionately across land +and sea to her wild journalist lover in Dublin, that poor and reckless +failure, with whom nothing went right, who had scarcely a shilling to +his name nor an ounce of health in his body. He was more than all the +Charles Wilbrahams of the world together; infinitely more brilliant, +more valuable, more alive; but never did he succeed, for life was not +on his side. And now he would lose his job on the _British Bolshevist_ +(not that that mattered much), and be further discredited, for +perpetrating this fraud which had been so unfortunately exposed. He +would go under, deeper and deeper under, and so would she. The +underworld, that vague and fearful place, would receive them. His +generous and trusting love for her had joined with his love of a joke +to sink him. Together they would sink, and over their bodies Charles +Wilbraham would climb, as on stepping-stones, to higher things. Higher +and higher, plumping with prosperity like a filbert in the sun, while +his eyes dropped fatness, and his corn and wine and oil increased.... + +Thus bitterly mused Miss Montana, sitting in her grimy room by her +shabby gladstone bag, throwing therein her pyjamas, her socks, her +collars, her safety razor, her passport (the passport was about Denis +O'Neill, but it had served Henry Beechtree well enough; there is one +advantage about passports: the nonsensical story on them is seldom +read, nor the foolish portrait glanced at). + +To-morrow she would walk once more about the romantic, clean, and +noble city, look her last on the most lovely lake, visit the ice-cream +café and perhaps go up Salève, which she had not yet had time to do. +Or up the lake to Nyons. She would not visit the Assembly Hall or the +Secretariat, for by those she encountered there she would be looked at +askance. She had made a fool of herself and been made a fool of, and +she had, it would be supposed, tried to make a fool of Committee 9 in +order to spite Charles Wilbraham. She would be thought no gentleman, +even no lady. And yet, did they but know it, she had accused Charles +in good faith, though with such rancour as they would be amazed to +know of, such rancour as Serb-Croat-Slovenes scarce feel against +Albanians, or Bolsheviks against Bourgeoisie. + +Miss Montana, past laughter, past tears, past sleep, and even now past +hate, considered for a while where comfort could best be sought, then +crept down the crazy winding staircase of her lodgings and so to the +lake's edge. She would take a boat and have a last moonlight row. + + + + +51 + + +The September days went by, and once again, on the shores of that most +lovely lake, the nations assembled and talked. + + + * * * * * + + + + +GLASGOW: W. COLLINS SONS AND CO. LTD. + + + + +Messrs. + +COLLINS' + +Latest Novels + +[Illustration] + +_Messrs. COLLINS will always be glad to send their book lists +regularly to readers who will send name and address._ + + +PIRACY + +Michael Arlen + +This is the story of Ivor Pelham Marlay between the ages of 18 and 32, +and the period is London, 1910-1922. It is the history of England, two +loves, and an ideal. Mr. Arlen deals with all the types of London +Society, and he likes to bring out the queer and unexpected sides of +his characters. No one who read Mr. Arlen's first book, _A London +Venture_, or his delightful short stories, _A Romantic Lady_, needs to +be told that he writes wittily and well. + + +TYLER OF BARNET + +Bernard Gilbert + +Author of _Old England_ + +This long, powerful novel shows the dilemma of a middle-aged man with +an invalid wife and grown-up children, who falls passionately in love +for the first time. As he is a man of iron self-control he represses +his passion till it bursts all bounds, with a tragic result. No one +now writing knows so well or describes so vividly life in the English +countryside as does Bernard Gilbert. + + +THE PIT-PROP SYNDICATE + +Freeman Wills Crofts + +Another brilliantly ingenious detective story by the author of _The +Ponson Case_. The mystery of the real business of the syndicate +utterly baffled the clever young "amateurs" who tried to solve it, and +it took all the experience and perseverance of the "professionals" to +break up the dangerous and murderous gang. + + +THE BEAUTIFUL AND DAMNED + +F. Scott Fitzgerald + +This book has caused an even greater sensation in America than _This +Side of Paradise_. It is a long, searching, and absolutely convincing +study of degeneration, that degeneration which ruins so many of the +rich, young, idle people. The "smart set" of New York is hurled into +the limelight and mercilessly revealed. A witty, pungent, and entirely +original book. + + +DANDELION DAYS + +Henry Williamson + +This is the tale of a boy's last terms at a public school, a very +sensitive, unusual boy, and it is in a sense a sequel to _The +Beautiful Years_. It is the work of a very clever young writer whose +nature essays have attracted the widest attention here and in America, +and is utterly unlike the usual "school story." It is a subtle and +beautifully written study of character. + + +BEANSTALK + +Mrs. Henry Dudeney + +A charmingly told novel of Sussex. The theme is Motherhood, and all +the emotional subtleties of the desire for children. + + +PENDER AMONG THE RESIDENTS + +Forrest Reid + +This is an episode in the life of Rex Pender, who inherited and came +to live at Ballycastle. It is the story of the curious spiritual +experience which came to him there. It is in a sense a "ghost story," +but it is told by an artist and a stylist. "The Residents," moreover, +are admirably contrasted, and in some cases deliciously humorously +drawn. A charming, enigmatic, "different" book. + + +THE DEAVES AFFAIR + +Hulbert Footner + +This is a story of Evan Weir's wooing, and a very strenuous and +original pursuit it proved. In fact the lady of his choice so far +dissembled her love, as frequently to threaten his further existence. +At the time, Evan was acting as secretary to old Simeon Deaves, famed +as the possessor of the "tightest wad" in New York. + +Now certain individuals had designs upon old Simeon and his hoard, and +amongst them was the forcible and beautiful object of Evan's +affections. + +Like _The Owl Taxi_, it goes with a splendid snap, and is packed with +exciting and humorous incidents. + + +ROSEANNE + +Madame Albanesi + +The author calls this an "old-fashioned story." It does not concern +itself with sex or any other problems, but is just a lively, well-told +life of a very fascinating heroine who has plenty of adventures +sentimental and otherwise. + + + + +Collins' 'First Novel' Library + +Autumn Titles + + +EXPERIENCE + +Catherine Cotton + +This charming chronicle has no "plot." It is an attempt to present a +happy, witty, simple-minded woman who attracted love because she gave +it out. This is a very difficult type of book to write. The attention +of the reader must be aroused and held by the sheer merit of the +writing, and the publishers believe they have found in Catherine +Cotton a writer with just the right gifts of wit, sympathy, and +understanding. + + +DOMENICO + +H. M. Anderson + +This is the story of a Cardinal of Rome, a member of one of the great +noble families. In his youth something had happened which had thrown a +shadow over his life. There are three great crises in his life, one of +them due to this shadow, one to the contrast between his conscience +and his ambition, and the third when, an exile in England, he falls in +love. Miss Anderson shows much skill in drawing the character of this +great and tragic figure. + + + + + [Transcriber's Notes and Amendments: + + In addition to the listed inconsistencies in hyphenation or + spelling, nationalities in general are inconsistently hyphenated + and were left as printed. + + Hotel / Hôtel + lake-side / lakeside + world-platform / world platform + Costa Rica / Costa-Rica + Spanish American / Spanish-American(s) + deputy-President / Deputy President / Deputy-President + bookshop / book-shop / book shop + motor launch / motor-launch + gold-fish / goldfish + Zeligowski / Zeligowsky + Jugo-Slav / Yugo-Slav + master criminals / master-criminals + + + The following is a list of corrections made to the original. + + Ch. 4, p. 29, 'télégramme là' to 'télégramme-là'. + ("Ce télégramme-là, celui qui dit 'j'ai traversé par là,) + + Ch. 9, p. 44, added close double quote after 'ten-thirty'. + (ten-thirty.") + + Ch. 11, p. 56, 'If' to 'if'. + ("if we're both going out to) + + Ch. 11, p. 56, 'Wembly' to 'Wembley'. + (Miss Doris Wembley looked at Beechtree) + + Ch. 14, p. 65, added close double quote after 'everything'. + (scarf--that is everything.") + + Ch. 15, p. 75, added period after 'moment'. + (moment. He was not fit) + + Ch. 15, p. 78, 'Beech-tree' to 'Beechtree'. + ("You don't drink this toast, Mr. + Beechtree?") + + Ch. 17, p. 94, changed nested double quotes to single quotes. + ('those damned Red Indians.') + + Ch. 22, p. 118, changed 'hwy' to 'why'. + ("And why not?" inquired the Belfast voice) + + Ch. 22, p. 121, added open double quote before 'There'. + ("There were always elements of) + + Ch. 23, p. 124, added close single quote after 'live!'. + (would live!' Now, do I ask too much) + + Ch. 23, p. 124, added open double quote before 'is'. + (she added as she rose, "is) + + Ch. 35, p. 168, changed 'news' to 'News'. + (For men are not News.) + + Ch. 39, p. 199, changed double quote to single quote. + (Monday, 8 a.m., Bathe, Kra----') + + Ch. 42, p. 214, added period after 'Mr'. + ("And who, if I may ask, is Mr. Henry Beechtree?") + + Ch. 43, p. 225, removed extra 'you' in 'you many of you'. + (many of you know it and him) + + Ch. 45, p. 231, changed 'Jaques' to 'Jacques'. + (Jacques_. Pulling his soft hat over his eyes) + + Ch. 46, p. 234, changed 'if' to 'it'. + (What I do mind is that it isn't Wilbraham) + + + The following Italian errors have been retained: + + Ch. 15, p. 78, retained 'Nel zuppo'. + (In the soup, sure thing. Nel zuppo!) + + Ch. 17, p. 97, retained 'chretiani'. + (non son chretiani loro!") + + Ch. 38, p. 187, retained 'Voul'. + ("Voul scendere, forse?") + ] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mystery at Geneva, by Rose Macaulay + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MYSTERY AT GENEVA *** + +***** This file should be named 30647-8.txt or 30647-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/6/4/30647/ + +Produced by Sharon Joiner, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mystery at Geneva + An Improbable Tale of Singular Happenings + +Author: Rose Macaulay + +Release Date: December 11, 2009 [EBook #30647] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MYSTERY AT GENEVA *** + + + + +Produced by Sharon Joiner, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p> </p> + +<div id="tnote"> + <p class="center"><b>Transcriber's Notes:</b></p> + <p>Every effort has been made to replicate this text as closely as +possible, including most inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation; a +<a href="#inconsistencies">list of examples</a> of the above appears at the end of this book.</p> + <p>Changes (corrections of spelling and punctuation) made to the +original text are marked <span class="tn" title="transcriber's note">like this</span>. +The original text appears when hovering the cursor over the marked text. In addition, +a <a href="#corrections">list of these changes</a>, with links to the text, appears at the end of the book for those who would +rather see an itemized list of changes.</p> + + <p>To see the transliteration of the phrase in <span class="greek" title="hover text">Greek</span> + on the title page, hover the cursor over it. Note that Greek letters with diacritical + marks do not render properly in IE6 and lower.</p> + + <p>A <a href="#toc">Table of Contents</a> has been added below the verso to aid in navigation. The page numbers +in the right margin are self-linking to aid in bookmarking a specific page in the text.</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h1>MYSTERY AT GENEVA<br /> + +<span class="subtitle"><i>An improbable tale of singular happenings</i></span></h1> + +<h2><span class="smaller"><i>by</i></span><br /> + +ROSE MACAULAY<br /> + +<span class="subtitle">Author of “Dangerous Ages,” “Potterism,” etc.</span></h2> + +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<p class="title" title="Greek: hostis toia echei en hêdonê echei en hêdonê toia"><span class="greek">ὅστις τοῖα ἔχει ἐν ἡδονῇ ἔχει ἐν ἡδονῇ τοῖα.</span></p> + +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 76px;"> +<img src="images/logo.png" width="76" height="75" alt="logo" title="logo" /> +</div> + +<p class="title">LONDON: 48 PALL MALL<br /> + +<span class="larger">W. COLLINS SONS & CO. LTD.</span><br /> + +GLASGOW MELBOURNE AUCKLAND</p> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p class="title smaller">Copyright 1922.<br /> +<span class="gap"> </span><br /> +LONDON AND GLASGOW: W. COLLINS SONS AND CO. LTD.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h2><a name="toc" class="smcap">Table of Contents</a></h2> +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="50%" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="4" summary="CONTENTS"> + +<tr><td> </td><td align="left"><a href="#NOTE"><b>NOTE</b></a></td><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap1"><b>Chapter 1</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap18"><b>Chapter 18</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap35"><b>Chapter 35</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap2"><b>Chapter 2</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap19"><b>Chapter 19</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap36"><b>Chapter 36</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap3"><b>Chapter 3</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap20"><b>Chapter 20</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap37"><b>Chapter 37</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap4"><b>Chapter 4</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap21"><b>Chapter 21</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap38"><b>Chapter 38</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap5"><b>Chapter 5</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap22"><b>Chapter 22</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap39"><b>Chapter 39</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap6"><b>Chapter 6</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap23"><b>Chapter 23</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap40"><b>Chapter 40</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap7"><b>Chapter 7</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap24"><b>Chapter 24</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap41"><b>Chapter 41</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap8"><b>Chapter 8</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap25"><b>Chapter 25</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap42"><b>Chapter 42</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap9"><b>Chapter 9</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap26"><b>Chapter 26</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap43"><b>Chapter 43</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap10"><b>Chapter 10</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap27"><b>Chapter 27</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap44"><b>Chapter 44</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap11"><b>Chapter 11</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap28"><b>Chapter 28</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap45"><b>Chapter 45</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap12"><b>Chapter 12</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap29"><b>Chapter 29</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap46"><b>Chapter 46</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap13"><b>Chapter 13</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap30"><b>Chapter 30</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap47"><b>Chapter 47</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap14"><b>Chapter 14</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap31"><b>Chapter 31</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap48"><b>Chapter 48</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap15"><b>Chapter 15</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap32"><b>Chapter 32</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap49"><b>Chapter 49</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap16"><b>Chapter 16</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap33"><b>Chapter 33</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap50"><b>Chapter 50</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#chap17"><b>Chapter 17</b></a></td><td align="left"><a href="#chap34"><b>Chapter 34</b></a></td> +<td align="left"><a href="#chap51"><b>Chapter 51</b></a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h1> +MYSTERY AT GENEVA +</h1> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="centerbox bbox"> +<p class="center"><i>NEW NOVELS</i></p> +<hr class="boxhr" /> +<table border="0" width="100%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="4" summary="NOVELS"> + <tr> + <td align="left"><span class="left">TYLER OF BARNET</span></td> + <td align="right"><span class="right smaller">BERNARD GILBERT</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="left"><span class="left">PILGRIM'S REST</span></td> + <td align="right"><span class="right smaller">F. BRETT YOUNG</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="left"><span class="left">PIRACY</span></td> + <td align="right"><span class="right smaller">MICHAEL ARLEN</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="left"><span class="left">BEANSTALK</span></td> + <td align="right"><span class="right smaller">MRS. HENRY DUDENEY</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="left"><span class="left">ROSEANNE</span></td> + <td align="right"><span class="right smaller">E. MARIA ALBANESI</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="left"><span class="left">BIG PETER</span></td> + <td align="right"><span class="right smaller">ARCHIBALD MARSHALL</span></td> + </tr> +</table> + +</div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h2><a name="NOTE" id="NOTE">NOTE</a></h2> + +<p>As I have observed among readers and critics a tendency to discern +satire where none is intended, I should like to say that this book is +simply a straightforward mystery story, devoid of irony, moral or +meaning. It has for its setting an imaginary session of the League of +Nations Assembly, but it is in no sense a study of, still less a skit +on, actual conditions at Geneva, of which indeed I know little, the +only connection I have ever had with the League being membership of +its Union.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1" href="#Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="chap1" id="chap1">1</a></h2> + +<p>Henry, looking disgusted, as well he might, picked his way down the +dark and dirty corkscrew stairway of the dilapidated fifteenth century +house where he had rooms during the fourth (or possibly it was the +fifth) Assembly of the League of Nations. The stairway, smelling of +fish and worse, opened out on to a narrow cobbled alley that ran +between lofty mediæval houses down from the Rue du Temple to the Quai +du Seujet, in the ancient wharfside quarter of Saint Gervais.</p> + +<p>Henry, pale and melancholy, his soft hat slouched over his face, +looked what he was, a badly paid newspaper correspondent lodging in +unclean rooms. He looked hungry; he looked embittered; he looked like +one of the under dogs, whose time had not come yet, would, indeed, +never come. He looked, however, a gentleman, which, in the usual sense +of the word, he was not. He was of middle height, slim and not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2" href="#Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +inelegant of build; his trousers, though shiny, were creased in the +right place; his coat fitted him though it lacked two buttons, and he +dangled a monocle, which he screwed impartially now into one brown +eye, now into the other. If any one would know, as they very properly +might, whether Henry was a bad man or a good, I can only reply that we +are all of us mixed, and most of us not very well mixed.</p> + +<p>Henry was, in fact, at the moment a journalist, and wrote for the +<i>British Bolshevist</i>, a revolutionary paper with a startlingly small +circulation; and now the reader knows the very worst of Henry, which +is to say a great deal, but must, all the same, be said.</p> + +<p>Such as he was, Henry, on this fine Sunday morning in September, +strolled down the Allée Petit Chat, which did not seem to him, as it +seems to most English visitors, in the least picturesque, for Henry +was a quarter Italian, and preferred new streets, and buildings to +old. Having arrived at the Quai du Mont Blanc, he walked along it, +brooding on this and that, gazing with a bitter kind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3" href="#Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> of envy at the +hotels which were even now opening their portals to those more +fortunate than he—the Bergues, the Paix, the Beau Rivage, the +Angleterre, the Russie, the Richemond. All these hostels were, on this +Sunday morning before the opening of the Assembly, receiving the +delegates of the nations, their staffs and secretaries, and even +journalists. Crowds of little grave-faced Japs processed into the +Hotel de la Paix; the entrance hall of Les Bergues was alive with the +splendid, full-throated converse of Latin Americans (“Ah, they live, +those Spaniards!” Henry sighed); while at the Beau Rivage the British +Empire and the Dominions hastened, with the morbid ardour of their +race, to plunge into baths after their night journey.</p> + +<p>Baths, thought Henry bitterly. There were no baths in the Allée Petit +Chat. All his bathing must be done in the lake—and cold comfort that +was. Henry was no lover of cold water: he preferred it warm.</p> + +<p>These full-fed, well-housed, nobly cleaned delegates.... Henry quite +untruly reported to his newspaper, which resented<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4" href="#Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> the high living of +others, that some of them occupied as many as half a dozen rooms +apiece in the hotels, with their typists, their secretaries, and their +sycophantic suites.</p> + +<p>Even the journalists, lodging less proudly in smaller hotels, or in +apartments, all lodged cleanly, all decently, excepting only Henry, +the accredited representative of the <i>British Bolshevist</i>.</p> + +<p>Bitterly and proudly, with a faint sneer twisting his lips, Henry, +leaning against the lake-side parapet, watched the tumultuous arrival +of the organisers of peace on earth. The makers of the new world. What +new world? Where tarried it? How slow were its makers at their +creative task! Slow and unsure, thought Henry, whose newspaper was not +of those who approved the League.</p> + +<p>With a sardonic smile Henry turned on his heel and pursued his way +along the Quai towards that immense hotel where the League Secretariat +lived and moved and had its being. He would interview some one there +and try to secure a good place in the press gallery. The Secretariat +officials were kind to journalists, even to journalists on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5" href="#Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +<i>British Bolshevist</i>, a newspaper which was of no use to the League, +and which the Secretariat despised, as they might despise the yapping +of a tiresome and insignificant small dog.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap2" id="chap2">2</a></h2> + +<p>The Secretariat were in a state of disturbance and expectation. The +annual break in their toilsome and rather tedious year was upon them. +For a month their labours would be, indeed, increased, but life would +also move. One wearied of Geneva, its small and segregated society, +its official gossip, the Calvinistic atmosphere of the natives, its +dreary winter, its oppressive summer, its eternal lake and distant +mountains, its horrid little steamboats rushing perpetually across and +across from one side of the water to the other—one wearied of Geneva +as a place of residence. What was it (though it had its own charm) as +a dwelling-place for those of civilised and cosmopolitan minds? +Vienna, now, would be better; or Brussels: even the poor old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6" href="#Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> Hague, +with its ill-fated traditions. Or, said the French members of the +staff, Paris. For the French nation and government were increasingly +attached to the League, and had long thought that Paris was its +fitting home. It would be safer there.</p> + +<p>However, it was at Geneva, and it was very dull except at Assembly +time, or when the Council were in session. Assembly time was +stimulating and entertaining. One saw then people from the outside +world; things hummed. Old friends gathered together, new friends were +made. The nations met, the Assembly assembled, committees committeed, +the Council councilled, grievances were aired and either remedied or +not; questions were raised and sometimes solved; governments were +petitioned, commissions were sent to investigate, quarrels were +pursued, judgments pronounced, current wars deplored, the year's work +reviewed. Eloquence rang from that world-platform, to be heard at +large, through the vastly various voices of a thousand newspapers, in +a hundred rather apathetic countries.</p> + +<p>In spite of the great eloquence, industry,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7" href="#Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> intelligence, and many +activities of the delegates, there was, in that cosmopolitan and +cynical body, the Secretariat, a tendency to regard them, <i>en masse</i>, +rather as children to be kept in order, though to be given a +reasonable amount of liberty in such harmless amusements as talking on +platforms. Treats, dinners and excursions were arranged for them; the +Secretariat liked to see them having a good time. They would meet in +the Assembly Hall each morning to talk, before an audience; noble +sentiments would then exalt and move the nations and be flashed across +Europe by journalists. But in the afternoons they would cross the lake +again to the Palais des Nations, and meet in Rooms A, B, C, or D, +round tables (magic phrase! magic arrangement of furniture and human +beings!) in large or small groups, and do the work. The Assembly Hall +was, so to speak, the front window, where the goods were displayed, +but where one got away with the goods was in the back parlour. There, +too, the fiercest international questions boiled up, boiled over, and +were cooled by the calming temperature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8" href="#Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> of the table and the sweet but +firm reasonableness of some of the representatives of the more +considerable powers. The committee meetings were, in fact, not only +more effective than the Assembly meetings, but more stimulating, more +amusing.</p> + +<p>Henry, entering the Palais des Nations, found it in a state of +brilliant bustle. The big hall hummed with animated talk and cheerful +greetings in many tongues, and members of the continental races shook +one another ardently and frequently by the hand. How dull it would be, +thought Henry, if ever the Esperanto people got their way, and the +flavour of the richly various speech of the nations was lost in one +colourless, absurd and inorganic language, stumblingly spoken and ill +understood.</p> + +<p>Henry entered a lift, was enclosed with a cynical American, a +brilliant-looking Spaniard, a tall and elegant woman of assurance and +beauty, and an intelligent-faced cosmopolitan who looked like a +British-Italian-Latin-American-Finn, which, in point of fact, he was. +Alighting at the third floor, Henry found his way to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9" href="#Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> department +he required and introduced himself to one of its officials, who gave +him a pink card assigning him to a seat in the press gallery, which he +felt would not be one he would really like.</p> + +<p>“You've not been out here before, have you,” said the official, and +Henry agreed that this was so.</p> + +<p>“Well, of course we don't expect much of a show from your fanatical +paper....” The official was good-humoured, friendly, and tolerant. The +Secretariat were, indeed, sincerely indifferent to the commentary on +their proceedings both of the <i>Morning Post</i> and the <i>British +Bolshevist</i>, for both could be taken for granted. One of these +journals feared that the League sought disarmament, the other that it +did not; to one it was a league of cranks, conscientious objectors, +and (fearful and sinister word) internationals, come not to destroy +but to fulfil the Covenant, bent on carrying out Article 8, +substituting judiciary arbitration for force, and treating Germany as +a brother; to the other it was a league of militarist and capitalist +states, an extension of the Supreme Allied Council,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10" href="#Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> bent on +destroying Article 18 and other inconvenient articles of the Covenant, +and treating Germany as a dog. To both it was, in one word, Poppycock. +Sincerely, honestly, and ardently, both these journals thought like +that. They could not help it; it was temperamental, and the way they +saw things.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap3" id="chap3">3</a></h2> + +<p>Henry descended the broad and shallow double stairway of the Palais +des Nations, up and down which tripped the gay crowds who knew one +another but knew not him, and so out to lunch, which he had poorly, +inexpensively, obscurely and alone, at a low eating-house near the +Secretariat. After lunch he had coffee at a higher eating-house, on +the Quai, and sat under the pavement awning reading the papers, +listening to the band, looking at the mountain view across the lake, +and waiting until the other visitors to Geneva, having finished their +more considerable luncheons, should emerge from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11" href="#Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> their hotels and +begin to walk or drive along the Quai. Meanwhile he read <i>L'Humeur</i>, +which he found on the table before him. But <i>L'Humeur</i> is not really +very funny. It has only one joke, only one type of comic picture: a +woman incompletely dressed. Was that, Henry speculated, really funny? +It happens, after all, to nearly all women at least every morning and +every evening. Was it really funny even when to the lady thus +unattired there entered a gentleman, either M. l'Amant or M. le Mari?</p> + +<p><em>Was</em> only one thing funny, as some persons believed? Was it indeed +really funny at all? Henry, who honestly desired to brighten his life, +tried hard to think so, but failed, and relapsed into gloom. He could +not see that it was funnier that a female should not yet have +completed her toilet than that a male should not. Neither was funny. +Nothing, perhaps, was funny. The League of Nations was not funny. Life +was not funny, and probably not death. Even the <i>British Bolshevist</i>, +which he was reduced to reading, wasn't funny, though it did have on +the front page a column<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12" href="#Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> headed “Widow's Leap Saves Cat from Burning +House.”</p> + +<p>A young man sat down at Henry's little table and ordered drink; a +bright, neat, brisk young man, with an alert manner. Glancing at the +<i>British Bolshevist</i>, he made a conversational opening which elicited +the fact that Henry represented this journal at Geneva. For himself, +he was, it transpired, correspondent of the <i>Daily Sale</i>, a paper to +which the <i>British Bolshevist</i> was politically opposed but +temperamentally sympathetic; they had the same cosy, chatty touch on +life.</p> + +<p>The two correspondents amused themselves by watching the delegates and +other foreign arrivals strolling to and fro along the elegant +spaciousness of the Quai, chatting with one another. They noticed +little things to write to their papers about, such as hats, spats, +ways of carrying umbrellas and sticks, and so forth. They overheard +fragments of conversation in many tongues. For, clustering round about +the Assembly, were the representatives, official and unofficial, of +nearly all the world's nations, so that Henry heard in the space of +ten minutes British,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13" href="#Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> French, Italians, Russians, Poles, Turks, +Americans, Armenians, Dutch, Irish, Lithuanians, Serb-Croat-Slovenes, +Czecho-Slovakians, the dwellers in Dalmatia and Istria, and in the +parts of Latin America about Brazil, Assyrio-Chaldeans, and newspaper +correspondents, all speaking in their tongues the wonderful works of +God. Geneva was like Pentecost, or the Tower of Babel. There were +represented there very many societies, which regularly settled in +Geneva for the period of the Assembly in order to send it messages, +trusting thus to bring before the League in session the good causes +they had at heart. The Women's International League was there, and the +Esperanto League, and the Non-Alcoholic Drink Society, and the +Mormons, and the Y.M.C.A. and the Union of Free Churches, and the +Unprotected Armenians, and the Catholic Association, and the Orthodox +Church Union, and the Ethical Society, and the Bolshevik Refugees (for +it was in Russia, at the moment, the turn of the other side), and the +Save the Children Committee, and the Freemasons, and the Constructive +Birth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14" href="#Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> Control Society, and the Feathered Friends Protection Society, +and the Negro Equality League, and the Anti-Divorce Union, and the +Humanitarian Society, and the Eugenic Society, and the Orangemen's +Union, and the Sinn Feiners, and the Zionists, and the Saloon +Restoration League, and the S.P.G. And hundreds of Unprotected +Minorities, irresistibly (or so they hoped) moving in their appeals.</p> + +<p>Many of the representatives of these eager sections of humanity walked +on the Quai du Mont Blanc on this fine Sunday afternoon and listened +to the band, and buttonholed delegates and their secretaries, and +chatted, and spat. The Czecho-Slovakians spat hardest, the Costa-Ricans +loudest, the Unprotected Armenians most frequently, and the +Serb-Croat-Slovenes most accurately, but the Assyrio-Chaldeans spat +farthest. The Zionists did not walk on the Quai. They were holding +meetings together and drawing up hundreds of petitions, so that the +Assembly might receive at least one an hour from to-morrow onwards. +Zionists do these things thoroughly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15" href="#Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p><p>Motor-cars hummed to and fro between the hotels and the Secretariat, +and inside them one saw delegates. Flags flew and music played, and +the <i>jet d'eau</i> sprang, an immense crystalline tree of life, a snowy +angel, up from the azure lake into the azure heavens.</p> + +<p>Henry gave a little sigh of pleasure. He liked the scene.</p> + +<p>“Will there be treats?” he asked his companion. “I like treats.”</p> + +<p>“Treats? Who for? The delegates get treats all right, if you mean +that.”</p> + +<p>“For us, I meant.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, the correspondents get a free trip or a free feed now and +then too. I usually get out of them myself; official beanos bore me. +The town's very good to us; it wants the support of the press against +rival claimants, such as Brussels.”</p> + +<p>“I should enjoy a lake trip very much,” said Henry, beginning to feel +that it was good to be there.</p> + +<p>“Well, don't forget to hand in your address then, so that it gets on +the list.”</p> + +<p>Henry was damped. 24 Allée Petit Chat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16" href="#Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> Saint Gervais—it sounded +rotten, and would sound worse still to the Genevan syndics, who knew +just where it was and what, and were even now engaged in plans for +pulling down and rebuilding all the old wharfside quarter. No; he +could not hand in that address....</p> + +<p>“I suppose you've got to crab the show, whatever it does, haven't +you,” said the <i>Daily Sale</i> man presently. “Now I'm out to pat it on +the back—this year. I like that better. It's dull being disagreeable +all the time; so obvious, too.”</p> + +<p>“My paper <em>is</em> obvious,” Henry owned gloomily. “Truth always is. You +can't get round that.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, come,” the other journalist couldn't stand that—“it's a +bit thick for one of your lot to start talking about truth. The lies +you tell daily—they have ours beat to a frazzle. Why, you couldn't +give a straight account of a bus accident!”</p> + +<p>“We could not. That is to say, we would not,” Henry admitted. “But we +lie about points of fact because our principles are true. They're so +true that everything has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17" href="#Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> to be made to square with them. If you +notice, our principles affect <em>all</em> our facts. Yours don't, quite all. +You'd report the bus accident from pure love of sensation. We, in +reporting it, would prove that it happened because buses aren't +nationalised, or because the driver was underpaid, or the fares too +high, or because coal has gone up more than wages, or something true +of that sort. We waste nothing; we use all that happens. We're +propagandists all the time, you're only propagandists part of the +time; and commercialists the rest.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, certainly no one would accuse you of being commercialists,” +agreed the <i>Sale</i> man kindly. “Hallo, what's up?”</p> + +<p>Henry had stiffened suddenly, and sat straight and rigid, like a dog +who dislikes another dog. His companion followed his tense gaze, and +saw a very neat, agreeable-looking and gentlemanly fellow, exquisitely +cleaned, shaved, and what novelists call <em>groomed</em> (one supposes this +to be a kind of rubbing-down process, to make the skin glossy), with +gray spats, a malacca cane, and a refined gray suit with a faint +stripe and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18" href="#Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> creases like knife-blades. This gentleman was strolling by +in company with the senior British delegate, who had what foreigners +considered a curious and morbid fad for walking rather than driving, +even for short distances.</p> + +<p>“Which troubles you?” inquired the representative of the <i>Daily Sale</i>. +“Our only Lord B., or that Secretariat fellow?”</p> + +<p>“That Secretariat fellow,” Henry replied rather faintly.</p> + +<p>The other put on his glasses, the better to observe the neat, +supercilious figure. He laughed a little.</p> + +<p>“Charles Wilbraham. Our Gilbert. The perfect knut. The type that does +us credit abroad. Makes up for the seedy delegates and journalists, +what?... He is said to have immense and offensive private wealth. In +fact, it is obvious that he could scarcely present that unobtrusively +opulent appearance on his official salary. They don't really get much, +you know, poor fellows; not for an expensive place like this.... The +queer thing is that no one seems to know where Wilbraham gets his +money from; he never says. A very close, discreet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19" href="#Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> chap; a regular +civil servant. Do you know him, then?”</p> + +<p>Henry hesitated for a moment, appearing to think. He then replied, in +the pained and reserved tone in which Mr. Wickham might have commented +upon Mr. Darcy, “Slightly. Very slightly. As well as I wish. In fact, +rather better. He wouldn't remember me. But I'll tell you one thing. +But for a series of trivial circumstances, I too might have been ... +oh, well, never mind. Not, of course, that for any consideration I +would serve in this ludicrous and impotent machine set up by the +corrupt states of the world. Wilbraham can: I could not. My soul, at +least, is my own.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come,” remonstrated the other journalist. “Come, come. Surely +not.... But I must go and look up a few people. See you later on.”</p> + +<p>Henry remained for a minute, broodingly watching the neat receding +back of Charles Wilbraham. How happy and how proud it looked, that +serene and elegant back! How proud and how pleased Henry knew Charles +Wilbraham to be, walking with the senior<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20" href="#Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> British delegate, whom every +one admired, along the Quai du Mont Blanc! As proud and as happy as a +prince. Henry knew better than most others Charles Wilbraham's +profound capacity for proud and princely pleasure. He loved these +assemblies of important persons; loved to walk and talk with the +great. He had, ever since the armistice, contracted a habit of being +present at those happy little gatherings which had been, so far, a +periodic feature of the great peace, and showed as yet no signs of +abating. To Paris Charles Wilbraham had gone in 1919 (and how near +Henry had been to doing the same; how near, and yet how far!). To San +Remo he had been, to Barcelona and to Brussels; to Spa, to Genoa, even +to Venice in the autumn of 1922. Besides all the League of Nations +Assemblies. Where the eagles were gathered together, there, always, +would Charles Wilbraham be.</p> + +<p>Henry winced at the thought of Charles's so great happiness. But let +him wait; only let Charles wait.</p> + +<p>“Holy Mother of God!” (for Henry was a Roman Catholic), “only let him +wait!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21" href="#Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="chap4" id="chap4">4</a></h2> + +<p>The Assembly Hall was, as seen from the Press Gallery, a study in +black and white. White sheets of paper laid on the desks, black coats, +white or black heads.</p> + +<p>Young and old, black and white, the delegates stood and walked about +the hall, waiting for the session of the League of Nations Assembly to +begin. The hum of talk rose up and filled the hall; it was as if a +swarm of bees were hiving. What a very great deal, thought Henry, had +the human race to say, always! Only the little Japs at the back sat in +silent rows, scores and scores of them (for Japanese are no use by +ones), immobile, impassive, with their strange little masks and +slanting eyes, waiting patiently for the business of the day to begin. +When it began, their reporters would take down everything that was +said, writing widdershins, very diligently, very slowly, in their +solemn picture language. There was something a little sinister, a +little macabre, a little Grand Guignolish about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22" href="#Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> the grave, polite, +mysterious little Japs. The Yellow Peril. Perilous because of their +immense waiting patience, that would, in the end, tire the restless +Western peoples out. How they stored their energy, sitting quiet in +rows, and how the Westerners expended theirs! What conversations, what +gesticulations, what laughter filled the hall! The delegates greeting +one another, shaking one another by the hand, making their alliances +and friendships for the session, arranging meals together, kindly, +good-humoured, and polite, the best of friends in private for all +their bitter and wordy squabbles in public. The chief Russian +delegate, M. Kratzky, a small, trim little ex-Bolshevik, turned +Monarchist by the recent <i>coup d'état</i>, was engaged in a genial +conversation with the second French delegate. France had loudly and +firmly voted last year against the admission of Russia to the League, +but when the <i>coup d'état</i> restored the Monarchist Government (a +government no less, if no more, corrupt than the Bolshevik rule which +had preceded it, but more acceptable to Europe in general), France +held out to her old ally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23" href="#Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> fraternal arms. The only delegates who cut +the Russians were the Germans, and among the several delegates who cut +the Germans were the Russians, for, as new members, these delegates +were jealous one of the other. The Turkish delegates, also recently +admitted, were meanwhile delightful to the Armenians, as if to prove +how they loved these unhappy people, and how small was the truth of +the tales that were told concerning their home life together. The two +Irish delegates, O'Shane from the Free State and Macdermott from +Ulster, were personally great friends, though they did not get on well +together on platforms, as both kept getting and reading aloud +telegrams from Ireland about crimes committed there by the other's +political associates. This business of getting telegrams happens all +the time to delegates, and is a cause of a good deal of +disagreeableness.</p> + +<p>On this, the first morning of the Assembly, telegrams shot in in a +regular barrage, and nearly every delegate stopped several. Many came +from America. The trouble about America was that every nation in the +League<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24" href="#Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> had compatriots there, American by citizenship, but something +else by birth and sympathy, so that the Ukrainian congregation of +Woodlands, Pa., would telegraph to request the League to save their +relations in Ukraine from the atrocities of the Poles, and the Polish +settlement in Milwaukee would wire and entreat that their sisters and +their cousins and their aunts might be delivered from the marauding +Ukrainians, and Baptist congregations in the Middle West wired to the +Roumanian delegation to bring up before the Assembly the persecution +of Roumanian Baptists. And the Albanian delegate (a benign bishop) had +telegrams daily from Albania about the violation of Albanian frontiers +by the Serbs, and the Serbian delegate had even more telegrams about +the invasions and depredations of the Albanians. And the German and +Polish delegates had telegrams from Silesia, and the Central and South +American delegates had telegrams about troubles with neighbouring +republics. And the Armenians had desperate messages from home about +the Turks, for the Turks, despite the assignment to Armenia of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25" href="#Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +national home, followed them there with instruments of torture and of +death, making bonfires of the adults, tossing the infants on pikes, +and behaving in the manner customarily adopted by these people towards +neighbours. There is this about Armenians: every one who lives near +them feels he must assault and injure them. There is this about Turks: +they feel they must assault and injure any one who lives near them. So +that the contiguity of Turks and Armenians has been even more +unfortunate than are most contiguities. Neither of these nations ought +to be near any other, least of all each other.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the Negro Equality League wired, “Do not forget the coloured +races,” and the Constructive Birth Control Society urged, “Make the +world safe from babies” (this, anyhow, was the possibly inaccurate +form in which this telegram arrived), and the Blackpool Methodist +Union said, “The Lord be with your efforts after a World Peace, +watched by all Methodists with hope, faith and prayer,” and the Blue +Cross Society said, “Remember our dumb friends,” and Guatemala (which +was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26" href="#Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> there) telegraphed, “Do not believe a word uttered by the +delegate from Nicaragua, who is highly unreliable.” As for the +Bolshevik refugees, they sent messages about the Russian delegation +which were couched in language too unbalanced to be made public either +in the Assembly Journal or in these pages, but they would be put in +the Secretariat Library for people to read quietly by themselves. This +also occurred to a telegram from the Non-Co-operatives of India, who +wired with reference to the freedom of their country from British +rule, a topic unsuited to discussion from a world platform.</p> + +<p>All this fusillade of telegrams made but small impression on the +recipients, who found in them nothing new. As one of the British +delegates regretfully observed, “<i>Denique nullum est jam dictum quod +non sit dictum prius.</i>”</p> + +<p>But one telegram there was, addressed to the acting-President of the +League, and handed in to him in the hall before the session began, +which aroused some interest. It remarked, tersely and scripturally, in +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27" href="#Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> English tongue, “I went by and lo he was not.” It had been +despatched from Geneva, and was unsigned.</p> + +<p>“And who,” said the acting-President meditatively to those round him +(he was an acute, courteous, and gentle Chinaman), “is this Lo? It is +a name” (for so, indeed, it seemed to him), “but it is not my name. +Does the sender, all the same, refer to the undoubted fact that I, who +shall open this Assembly as its President, shall, after the first +day's session, retire in favour of the newly elected President? Is it, +perhaps, a taunt from some one who wishes to remind me of the +transience of my office? Possibly from some gentleman of Japan ... or +America ... who knows? or does it, perhaps, refer not to myself, but +to some other person or persons, system or systems, who will, so the +sender foresees, have their day and cease to be?” The acting-President +was a scholar, and well read in English poetry. But, as his knowledge +did not extend to the English translation of the Hebrew Psalms, he +added, “It reads, this wire, like a quotation from literature?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28" href="#Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p><p>One of the British delegates gave him its source and explained that, +in this context, “lo” was less a name than an ejaculation, and would +probably, but for the limitations of the telegraphic code, have had +after it a point of exclamation. “The telegram,” added the British +delegate, who was something of a biblical student, “seems to be a +combination of the Bible and Prayer Book translations of the verse in +question. The Revised Version of the Bible has again another +translation, a rather unhappy compromise. I believe the correct +rendering——”</p> + +<p>“It is sarcasm,” interrupted a French Secretariat official, “<i>C'est +l'ironie.</i> The sender means that we are of so little use that in his +eyes we don't exist. <i>C'est tout.</i> We're used to these gibes.”</p> + +<p>“I expect it means,” said another member of the Secretariat hopefully +(he was sick of Geneva), “that the fellow thinks the League will soon +be moved to Brussels.”</p> + +<p>“Is Maxse visiting Geneva by any chance?” inquired one of the +delegates from Central Africa. “It has rather his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29" href="#Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> touch. But then +Maxse would always sign his name. He's unashamed.... I dare say this +is merely some religious maniac reminding us that <i>sic transit gloria +mundi</i>. Very likely a Jew.... Look, I have a much better one than that +from the Non-Alcoholics....”</p> + +<p>So they proceeded in their leisurely, attached, and pleasant way to +discuss these outpourings from eager human hearts all over the globe.</p> + +<p>But the second French delegate, after brooding a while, said +suddenly, “Ce <a name="tnpg29" id="tnpg29" class="tn" title="télégramme là">télégramme-là</a>, celui qui dit ‘j'ai traversé par là, et +voici, il est biffé!’ les Boches l'ont expédié. Oui, justement. Tous +les Boches veulent détruire la Société des Nations; ils le désirent +d'autant plus depuis que l'Allemagne est admise dans la Société des +Nations. C'est une chose tout à fait certaine.”</p> + +<p>The French would talk like that about the Germans: you could not stop +them. They had not, and possibly never would have, what is called a +League mind. Central Africa, who had remonstrated gently but to no +effect, pointing out that Germans<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30" href="#Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> would probably not be acquainted +with the English version of the Psalms, either Prayer Book or Bible. +To prevent international emotion from running high, the +acting-President caused the bell to be rung and the Assembly to be +summoned to their seats.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap5" id="chap5">5</a></h2> + +<p>So here, thought Henry of the <i>British Bolshevist</i>, was this great +world federation in session. He could not help being excited, for he +was naturally excitable, and it was his first (and, had he known it, +his last) Assembly. He was annoyed by the noisy moving and chattering +of the people behind him in the gallery, which prevented his hearing +the opening speech so well as he otherwise would have done. +Foreigners—how noisy they were! They were for ever passing to and +fro, shaking hands with one another, exchanging vivacious comments. +Young French widows, in their heavy crape, gayest, most resigned, most +elegant of creatures, tripped by on their pin-like heels, sweetly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31" href="#Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +smiling their patient smiles. How different from young British widows, +who, from their dress, might just as well have only lost a parent or +brother. All widows are wonderful: Henry knew this, for always he had +heard “Dear so-and-so is being simply wonderful” said of bereaved +wives, and knew that it merely and in point of fact meant bereaved; +but French widows are widows indeed. However, Henry wished they would +sit still.</p> + +<p>Henry was at the end of a row of English journalists. On his right, +across a little gangway, were Germans. “At close quarters,” reflected +Henry, “one is not attracted by this unfortunate nation. It lacks—or +is it rather that it has—a <i>je ne sais quoi</i>.... It is perhaps more +favourably viewed from a distance: but even so not really favourably. +Possibly, like many other nations, it is seen to greatest advantage at +home. I must visit Germany.” For Henry was anxious to acquire a broad, +wise, unbiased international mind.</p> + +<p>The acting-President was speaking, in his charming and faultless +English. He was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32" href="#Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> saying what a great deal the League had done since +the preceding Assembly. It did indeed seem, as he lightly touched on +it, a very great deal. It had grappled with disease and drugs, +economics, sanitation, prostitution, and education; it had through its +Court of Justice arbitrated several times in international disputes +and averted several wars; other wars it had deplored; it had wrestled +with unemployment and even with disarmament ... (“not, perhaps, quite +happily put,” murmured one British delegate to another). It had had +great tasks entrusted to it and had performed them with success. It +hoped to have, in the future, greater tasks yet; ... it had admitted +to membership several new nations, to whom it had extended the +heartiest fraternal welcome; ... above all it had survived in the face +of all its enemies and detractors.... This present session was faced +with a large and important programme. But before getting on to it +there must be elections, votings, committees, a new President, and so +forth.</p> + +<p>The speaker sat down amid the applause<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33" href="#Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> proper to the occasion, and +the interpreter rose to translate him into French.</p> + +<p>An elderly English clergyman behind Henry tapped his shoulder with a +pencil and said, “What paper do you represent? I am reporting for the +<i>Challenge</i>. The Churches have not taken enough interest in the +League. One must stir them up. I preach about nothing else, in these +days. The Church of England is sadly apathetic.”</p> + +<p>“It is a fault churches have,” said Henry. “All the same, the Pope has +telegraphed a blessing.”</p> + +<p>Those who would fain follow the French interpreter hushed them. Henry +leant over, and watched Latin America conferring among itself, looking +excited and full of purpose. Latin America obviously had something on +its mind.</p> + +<p>“What interests them so much?” he wondered aloud, and the journalist +next him enlightened him.</p> + +<p>“They've made up their minds to have a Latin American President again. +They say they make a third of the Assembly, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34" href="#Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> it's disgraceful that +they don't have one every year. They don't want Edwardes again; they +want one who'll let the Spanish-Americans get on their legs every few +minutes. Edwardes had lived abroad too long and was too cosmopolitan +for them. They're going to put up a really suitable candidate this +time, and jolly well see he gets it. He won't, of course. But there +may be the hell of a row.”</p> + +<p>“That will be very amusing,” said Henry hopefully.</p> + +<p>They were taking the votes of the delegates for the committee on the +credentials of delegates. Suppose, thought Henry, that in that hall +there were one or more delegates whose credentials were impeachable; +delegates, perhaps who had come here by ruse with forged authority, or +by force, having stolen the credentials from the rightful owner.... It +might be done: it surely could be done, by some unprincipled +adventurer from a far country. Perhaps it had been done, and perhaps +the committee would never be the wiser. Or perhaps there would be a +public <i>exposé</i>.... That would be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35" href="#Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> interesting. Public <i>exposés</i> were +always interesting. Henry's drifting glance strayed to the platform, +where the Secretariat staff sat, or went in and out through the +folding door. There, standing by the door and watching the animated +scene, was Charles Wilbraham, composed, pleased, serene, looking like +a theatrical producer on the first night of a well-staged play.</p> + +<p>Yes, public <i>exposés</i> were interesting....</p> + +<p>The committee was elected and the Assembly dispersed for lunch, over +which they would occupy themselves in lobbying for the Presidential +election in the afternoon. Henry saw Charles Wilbraham go out in +company with one of the delegates from Central Africa. No doubt but +that the fellow had arranged to be seen lunching with this mainstay of +the League. To lunch with the important ... that should be the daily +goal of those for whom life is not a playground but a ladder. It was +Charles Wilbraham's daily goal: Henry remembered that from old days.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36" href="#Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="chap6" id="chap6">6</a></h2> + +<p>At the afternoon session the Assembly voted for a President and six +Vice-Presidents. It took a long time, and considerable feeling was +involved. Five candidates were proposed: Roumania suggested a French +delegate, Great Britain an Albanian bishop, Japan the senior British +delegate, Central Africa an eminent Norwegian explorer, and the Latin +Americans put up, between them, three of their own race. Owing to +unfortunate temporary differences between various of these small +republics they could not all agree on one candidate.</p> + +<p>After what seemed to Henry, unversed in these matters, a great deal of +unnecessary voting on the part of the Assembly and of the Council, it +was announced that the delegate for Norway, Dr. Svensen, was elected +President. Amid cheers from those delegates who were pleased, from +those who had self-control enough to conceal their vexation, and from +the public in the galleries (for Dr. Svensen was the most widely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37" href="#Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +popular figure in the Assembly), the new President took his place and +made the appropriate speech, in his sonorous English. Many in the hall +were bored, some because the new President was known to be in with the +English, who are not always liked by other nations; some because he +spoke English readily and French ill, and most of them understood +French readily and English not at all; others because he was of the +party which was bent on carrying out certain measures in Europe for +which they saw no necessity.</p> + +<p>However, Dr. Svensen, a brief person and no word-waster, did not +detain his audience long. At six o'clock the Assembly adjourned.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap7" id="chap7">7</a></h2> + +<p>Henry despatched a short scornful story of the proceedings to his +newspaper (which would not, he knew, print a long or effusive one), +and dined with another English journalist in a café in the old <i>cité</i>. +The other journalist, Grattan, came from Paris, and was bored with the +League and with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38" href="#Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> Geneva. He preferred to report crime and blood, +something, as he said, with guts in it. Statesmen assembled together +made him yawn. For his part, he wished something would happen during +the Assembly worth writing home about—some <i>crime passionnel</i>, some +blood and thunder melodrama. “Perhaps,” said Henry, hopefully, “it +will.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it may. All these hot-blooded Latins and Slavs herded together +ought to be able to produce something.... I bet you the +Spanish Americans are hatching something to-night over there....” He +waved his hand in the direction of the other side of the lake, where +the great hotels blazed their thousand windows into the night. Behind +those windows burnt who knew what of passion and of plot?</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap8" id="chap8">8</a></h2> + +<p>Dr. Svensen, strolling at a late hour across the Pont du Mont Blanc +(he was returning from dinner at the Beau Rivage to his own hotel), +was disturbed by a whimpering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39" href="#Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> noise behind him, like the mewing of a +little cat. Turning round, he saw a small and ragged form padding +barefoot after him, its knuckles in its eyes. The Norwegian explorer, +unlike most great men, was tender-hearted to children. Bending down to +the crying urchin, he inquired of it the cause of its trouble. Its +answer was in Russian, and to the effect that it was very hungry. Dr. +Svensen softened yet more. A hungry Russian child! That was an object +of pity which he never could resist. Russia was full of them; this one +was probably an exiled Bolshevik. He felt in his pockets for coins, +but the hungry Russian infant tugged at his coat. “Come,” it said, and +Dr. Svensen gathered from it that there were yet more hungry Russians +where this came from. He followed....</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap9" id="chap9">9</a></h2> + +<p>The morning session of the Assembly was supposed to begin at ten, and +at this hour next morning the unsophisticated Henry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40" href="#Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> Beechtree took +his seat in the Press Gallery. He soon perceived his mistake. The show +obviously was not going to begin for ages. No self-respecting delegate +or journalist would come into the hall on the stroke of the hour. The +superior thing, in this as in other departments of life, was to be +late. Lateness showed that serene contempt for the illusion we call +time which is so necessary to ensure the respect of others and +oneself. Only the servile are punctual....</p> + +<p>But “Nothing to swank about in being late,” thought Henry morosely; +“only means they've spent too long over their coffee and bread and +honey, the gluttons. I could have done the same myself.”</p> + +<p>Indeed, he wished that he had, for he fell again into the hands of the +elderly clergyman who had addressed him yesterday, and who was, of +course, punctual too.</p> + +<p>“I see,” said the clergyman, “that you have one of the French comic +papers with you. A pity their humour is so much spoilt by +suggestiveness.”</p> + +<p>Suggestiveness. Henry could never understand that word as applied in +condemnation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41" href="#Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> Should not everything be suggestive? Or should all +literature, art, and humour be a cul-de-sac, suggesting no idea +whatsoever? Henry did not want to be uncharitable, but he could not +but think that those who used this word in this sense laid themselves +open to the suspicion (in this case, at least, quite unjustified), +that their minds were only receptive of one kind of suggestion, and +that a coarse one.</p> + +<p>“I expect,” he replied, “that you mean coarseness. People often do +when they use that word, I notice. Anyhow, the papers are not very +funny, I find.”</p> + +<p>“Suggestiveness,” said the clergyman, “is seldom amusing.”</p> + +<p>Before Henry had time to argue again about this word, he hurried on.</p> + +<p>“I sent yesterday a long message to the <i>Church Times</i>, the +<i>Guardian</i>, the <i>Commonwealth</i>, and the <i>Challenge</i> about the first +meeting. It is most important that these papers should set before +their readers the part that the Church ought to play in promoting +international goodwill.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed,” said Henry, who did not see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42" href="#Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> Anglican journals. He added +vaguely, “The Pope sent a telegram....” For when people spoke to him +of Church life, he said “the Pope” mechanically; it was his natural +reaction to the subject.</p> + +<p>“You interest me,” said the English clergyman. “For the second time +you have mentioned the Pope to me. Are you, perhaps, a Roman +Catholic?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose,” Henry absently agreed, “that is what you would call it.”</p> + +<p>“We do, you know,” the clergyman apologised. “Forgive me if it seems +discourteous.... You know, then, of course, who that is, opposite?”</p> + +<p>Henry looked across the hall to the opposite gallery, and perceived +that his companion was referring to a small, delicate-looking elderly +man, with the face of a priest and the clothes of a layman, who had +just taken his seat there.</p> + +<p>“I do not indeed.”</p> + +<p>“He is the ex-cardinal Franchi. You know him by reputation, of +course.”</p> + +<p>“Wasn't he suspended for heresy? I have, I think, seen some of his +books.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43" href="#Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p><p>“He is a great scholar and a delightful writer. No one has gone more +deeply into mediæval Church history and modern theological criticism. +So I am told, but I have not read him myself, as he prefers to write +in Italian, though he has a perfect command of several other tongues.”</p> + +<p>“Nor I, as I am not very much interested in Church history or +theological criticism. Besides, his writings are, I suppose, +heretical.”</p> + +<p>“I don't know as to that; I am no judge. But he was, I believe, as you +say, retired for heresy. And now he lives in the most delightful of +mediæval châteaux at Monet, a little village up the lake. I have been +to see him there. If I may, I will introduce you. He enjoys making the +acquaintance of his co-religionists. In this Calvinistic part of the +world the educated classes are nearly all Protestants. The ex-cardinal +does not care for Protestants; he finds them parvenus and bourgeois. +He is a delightfully courteous host, however, even to those, and a +wonderful talker. And his heart is in the League. A wit, a scholar, an +aristocrat, a <i>bon-viveur</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44" href="#Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> and a philanthropist. If your Church +retains many priests as good as those she expels, she is to be +congratulated.”</p> + +<p>“She is,” Henry agreed. “She can afford to fling out one or two by the +way. Yes; I would like to know him, the ex-cardinal; he looks witty +and shrewd, and at the same time an idealist.... But how late they are +in beginning. My watch is seldom right, but I imagine it must be after +<a name="tnpg44" id="tnpg44" class="tn" title="ten-thirty.">ten-thirty.”</a></p> + +<p>The young man Grattan, with whom Henry had dined last night, lounged +in, with his cynical smile.</p> + +<p>“You're very young and innocent, Beechtree. I suppose you've been here +since ten. It's just on eleven now. The President's not to hand and no +one seems to know where he is. Oh, well, it's not his fault; people +spoil him. His head's turned, poor Svensen. I expect he made a night +of it and is lying in this morning. I don't blame him. We don't need a +President. But there seems to be some unrest among the Secretariat.”</p> + +<p>This seemed, indeed, to be so. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45" href="#Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> members of this body, standing +about the hall and platform, were animated and perturbed; the more +irresponsible juniors seemed amused, others anxious. The +Secretary-General was talking gravely to another high official.</p> + +<p>The correspondent of the <i>Daily Insurance</i>, who had been talking in +the hall to the delegates and Secretariat, watched by Henry from above +with some envy, at this point entered the Press Gallery, edged his way +to his seat, picked up the papers he had deposited there earlier, and +made rapidly for the exit.</p> + +<p>“Got a story already?” Grattan said to him.</p> + +<p>“No, but there may be one any moment. They've sent round to the +Metropole, and Svensen didn't sleep in his bed. He never came in last +night after dinner.”</p> + +<p>He was off. Grattan whistled, and looked more cheerful.</p> + +<p>“That's good enough. That's a story in itself. Didn't sleep in his +bed. That's a headline all right. Good old Svensen. Here, I'm going +down to hear more. Mustn't let<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46" href="#Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> Jefferson get ahead of us. Come +along, Beechtree, and nose things out. This will be nuts for our +readers. Even your crabbed paper will have to give a column to Svensen +Not Sleeping in his Bed. Can't you see all the little eyes lighting +up?”</p> + +<p>He rushed away, and Henry followed. Meanwhile the bell was rung and +MM. les Délégués took their seats. The deputy-President, the delegate +for Belgium, took the chair. The President, he announced, was +unfortunately not yet in attendance. Pending his arrival, the Assembly +would, since time pressed, proceed with the order of the day, which +was the election of committees.... The Assembly, always ready to vote, +began to do so. It would keep them busy for some time.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap10" id="chap10">10</a></h2> + +<p>Meanwhile Henry stood about in the lobby, where a greater excitement +and buzz of talk than usual went on. Where was Dr. Svensen? The other +members of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47" href="#Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> Norwegian delegation could throw no light on the +question. He had dined last night at the Beau Rivage, with the British +delegation; he had left that hotel soon after eleven, on foot; he had +meant, presumably, to walk back to the Metropole, which stood behind +the Jardin Anglais, on the Mont Blanc side. The hall porter at the +Metropole asserted that he had never returned there. The Norwegian +delegation, not seeing him in the morning, had presumed that he had +gone out early; but now the hotel staff declared that he had not spent +the night in the hotel.</p> + +<p>“He probably thought he would go for a long walk; the night was fine,” +Jefferson, who knew his habits, suggested. “Or for a row up the lake. +The sort of thing Svensen <em>would</em> do.”</p> + +<p>“In that case he's drowned,” said Grattan, who was of a forthright +manner of speech. “He's a business-like fellow, Svensen. He'd have +turned up in time for the show if he could, even after a night out.”</p> + +<p>The next thing was to inquire of the boat-keepers, and messengers were +despatched to do this.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48" href="#Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p><p>“I am afraid it looks rather serious,” remarked a soft, grave, +important voice behind Henry's back. “I am pretty intimate with +Svensen; I was lunching with him only yesterday, as it happens. He +didn't say a word then of any plan for a night expedition, I am afraid +it looks sadly like an accident of some sort.”</p> + +<p>“Perspicacious fellow,” muttered Jefferson, who did not like Charles +Wilbraham.</p> + +<p>Henry edged away: neither did he like Charles Wilbraham. He did not +even turn his face towards him.</p> + +<p>He jostled into his friend the English clergyman, who said, “Ah, Mr. +Beechtree. I want to introduce you to Dr. Franchi.” He led Henry by +the arm to the corner where the alert-looking ex-cardinal stood, +talking with the Spaniard whom Henry had noticed in the lift at the +Secretariat buildings.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Beechtree, Your Eminence,” said the Reverend Cyril Waring, who +chose by the use of this title to show at once his respect for the +ex-cardinal, his contempt for the bigotry which had unfrocked him, and +his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49" href="#Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> disgust at the scandalous tongues which whispered that the +reason for his unfrocking had been less heresy than the possession of +a wife, or even wives. If Canon Waring had heard these spiteful +<i>on-dits</i>, he paid no attention to them; he was a high-minded +enthusiast, and knew a gentleman and a scholar when he saw one.</p> + +<p>“The correspondent of the <i>British Bolshevist</i>,” he added, “and a +co-religionist of Your Eminence's.”</p> + +<p>The ex-cardinal gave Henry his delicate hand, and a shrewd and +agreeable smile.</p> + +<p>“I am glad to meet you, Mr. Beechtree. You must come and see me one +day, if you will, at my lake villa. It is a pleasant expedition, and a +beautiful spot.”</p> + +<p>He spoke excellent English with a slight accent. A thousand pities, +thought Henry, that such a delightful person should be a heretic—such +a heretic as to have been unfrocked. Why, indeed, should any one be a +heretic? Atheism was natural enough, but heresy seemed strange. For, +surely, if one could believe anything, one could believe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50" href="#Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> everything. +For his part, he believed everything....</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he accepted the invitation with pleasure. It would be a +trip, and Henry loved trips, particularly up lakes.</p> + +<p>Dr. Franchi, observing the young journalist with approbation, liking +his sensitive and polite face, saw it grow suddenly sullen, even +spiteful, at the sound of a voice raised in conversation not far from +him.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you will do me the honour of lunching with me, M. Kratzky. I +have a little party coming, including Suliman Bey....”</p> + +<p>M. Kratzky was, in his way, the most deeply and profusely +blood-stained of Russians. One of the restored Monarchist government, +he it was who had organised and converted the Tche-ka to Monarchist +use, till they became in his hands an instrument of perfect and deadly +efficiency, sparing neither age, infancy, nor ill-health. M. Kratzky +had devised a system of espionage so thorough, of penalties so +drastic, that few indeed were safe from torture, confinement,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51" href="#Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> or +death, and most experienced all three. One would scarcely say that the +White tyranny was worse than the Red had been, or worse than the White +before that (one would indeed scarcely say that any Russian government +was appreciably worse than any other); but it was to the full as bad, +and Kratzky (the Butcher of Odessa, as his nickname was), was its +chief tyrant. And here was Charles Wilbraham taking the butcher's +blood-stained hand and asking him to lunch. What Mr. Wickham Steed +used to feel of those who asked the Bolsheviks to lunch at Genoa in +April, 1922, Henry now felt of Charles Wilbraham, only more so. And +Suliman Bey too ... a ghastly Turk; for Turk (whatever you might think +of Russians) <em>were</em> ghastly; the very thought of them, for all their +agreeable manners, turned Henry, who was squeamish about physical +cruelty, sick. God, what a lunch party!</p> + +<p>“You know our friend Mr. Wilbraham, I expect,” said Dr. Franchi.</p> + +<p>“Scarcely,” said Henry. “He wouldn't know me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52" href="#Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p><p>“A very efficient young man. He has that air.”</p> + +<p>“He has. But not really very clever, you know. It's largely put on.... +I'm told. He likes to <em>seem</em> to know everything ... so I've heard.”</p> + +<p>“A common peccadillo.” The ex-cardinal waved it aside with a large and +tolerant gesture. “But we do not, most of us, succeed in it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Wilbraham doesn't succeed. Indeed no. Most people see at once +that he is just a solemn ass. That face, you know ... like a +mushroom....”</p> + +<p>“Ah, that is a Bernard Shaw phrase. A bad play, that, but excellent +dialogue.... But he is good-looking, Mr. Wilbraham.”</p> + +<p>Henry moodily supposed that he was. “In a sort of smug, cold way,” he +admitted.</p> + +<p>“E cosa fa tra questo bel giovanotto e quel Charles Wilbraham?” +wondered the ex-cardinal, within himself.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53" href="#Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="chap11" id="chap11">11</a></h2> + +<p>Henry left the Salle de la Reformation and went out into the town to +look for further light on the mystery. How proud he would be if he +should collect more information about it than the other journalists! +Than Jefferson, for instance, who was always ahead in these things, +interviewing statesmen, getting statements made to him.... No one made +statements to Henry; he never liked to ask for them. But he was, he +flattered himself, as good as any one else at nosing out news stories, +mysteries, and so forth.</p> + +<p>Musing deeply, he walked to the ice-cream café, close to the Assembly +Hall. There he ordered an ice of mixed framboise, pistachio, and +coffee, and some iced raspberry syrup, and sat outside under the +awning, slowly enjoying the ice, sucking the syrup through straws, and +thinking. He always thought best while eating well too; with him, as +with many others, high living and high thinking went together, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54" href="#Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +would have, only lack of the necessary financial and cerebral means +precluded much practice of either.</p> + +<p>While yet in the middle of the raspberry syrup he suddenly lifted his +mouth from the straws, ejaculated softly, and laughed.</p> + +<p>“It is a possibility,” he muttered. “A possibility, worth following +up.... Odder things have happened ... are happening, all the time.... +In fact, this is not at all an odd thing....” Decisively he rapped on +the table for his bill, paid for his meal, and rose to go, not +forgetting first to finish his raspberry syrup.</p> + +<p>He walked briskly along the side of the lake to the Molard jetty, +where he found a <i>mouette</i> in act to start for the other side. How he +loved these <i>mouette</i> rides, the quick rush through blue water, half +Geneva on either side, and the narrow shave under the Pont du Mont +Blanc. He was always afraid that one day they would not quite manage +it, but would hit the bridge; it was a fear of which he could not get +rid. He always held his breath as they rushed under the bridge, and +let it out in relief as they emerged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55" href="#Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> safely beyond it. How cheap it +was: a lake trip for fifteen centimes! Henry was sorry when they +reached the other side. He walked thoughtfully up from the landing +stage to the Secretariat, where he ascended to the room of Mr. +Wilbraham. Mr. Wilbraham was not, of course, there; he was over at the +Assembly Hall. But his secretary was there; a cheerful young lady +typing letters with extraordinary efficiency and rapidity.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Henry, “I'm sorry. I thought Mr. Wilbraham might possibly +be here.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said the young lady agreeably. “He is over at the Assembly. Will +you leave a message?”</p> + +<p>Henry laid his hat and cane on a table, and strode about the room. A +large pleasant room it was, with a good carpet; the kind of room that +Charles Wilbraham would have, and always did have.</p> + +<p>“No. No, I'll look in again. Or I'll see him over there this +afternoon.” He looked at his watch. “Lunch time. How quickly the +morning has gone. It always does; don't you find that? And more so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56" href="#Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +than usual when it's an exciting morning like this.”</p> + +<p>“It is exciting, isn't it. Have they found him yet? I do admire him, +don't you?”</p> + +<p>“Completely. No, they haven't found him. Mr. Wilbraham says it looks +sadly like an accident of some sort.”</p> + +<p>She acknowledged his imitation of Mr. Wilbraham's voice with a smile.</p> + +<p>“That would be tragic. Svensen, of all the delegates! One wouldn't +mind most of them disappearing a bit. Some of them would be good +riddances.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Henry, changing the subject, “<a name="tnpg56a" id="tnpg56a" class="tn" title="If">if</a> we're both going out to +lunch, can't we lunch together? I'm Beechtree, of the <i>British +Bolshevist</i>.”</p> + +<p>Miss Doris <a name="tnpg56b" id="tnpg56b" class="tn" title="Wembly">Wembley</a> looked at Beechtree, rather liked him, and said, +“Right. But I must finish one letter first.”</p> + +<p>She proceeded with her efficient, rapid, and noisy labours. She did +not need to look at the keyboard, she was like that type of knitter +who knits the while she gazes into space; she had learnt “Now is the +time for all good men to come to the help of the party.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57" href="#Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>Henry, strolling round the room, observing details, had time to +speculate absently on the wonderful race of typists. He had in the +past known many of them well, and felt towards them a regard untouched +by glamour. How, he had often thought, they took life for granted, +unquestioning, unwondering, accepting, busy eternally with labours +they understood so little, performed so well, rattling out their +fusillade of notes that formed words they knew not of, sentences that, +uncomprehended, yet did not puzzle them or give them pause, on topics +which they knew only as occasioning cascades of words. To them one +word was the same, very nearly the same, as another of similar length; +words had features, but no souls; did they fail to decipher the +features of one of them, another of the same dimensions would do. And +what commas they wielded, what colons, what semis, what stops! But +efficient they were, all the same, for they were usually approximately +right, and always incredibly quick. Henry knew that those +stenographers who had been taken out to Geneva were, in the main, of a +more sophisticated order, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58" href="#Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> a higher intellectual equipment. But +Charles Wilbraham's secretary was of the ingenuous type. Probably the +more sophisticated would not stay with him. A pretty girl she was, +with a round brown face, kind dark eyes, and a wide, sweet, and +dimpling mouth. Henry, like every one else, liked a girl to be pretty, +but, quite unlike most young men, he preferred her to be witty. The +beauty of the dull bored him very soon; Henry had his eccentricities. +He did not think that Miss Wembley was going to be amusing, but still, +he intended to cultivate her acquaintance.</p> + +<p>Henry looked at his watch. It was twelve forty-five. “Can't the rest +wait?” he said.</p> + +<p>“I'm just on done. It's a re-type I'm doing. I spelt parliament with a +small p, and Mr. Wilbraham said he couldn't send it, not even if I +rubbed it out with the eraser. He said it would show, and it was to +the F.O., who are very particular.”</p> + +<p>“My God,” Henry ejaculated, in a low yet violent tone, and gave a +bitter laugh. His eyes gleamed fiercely. “I can imagine,” he said, +with restraint, “that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59" href="#Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> Mr. Wilbraham might be particular. He <em>looks</em> +particular.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he is, rather. But he's quite right, I suppose. Messy letters +look too awful. Some men will sign simply anything. I don't like +that.... There, now I've done.”</p> + +<p>“Come along then,” said Henry rapidly.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap12" id="chap12">12</a></h2> + +<p>The Assembly met again at four o'clock, and proceeded under the +Deputy President with the order of the day. But it was a half-hearted +business. No one was really interested in anything except the fate of +Dr. Svensen, who, it had transpired from inquiry among the +boat-keepers, had not taken a boat on the lake last night.</p> + +<p>“Foul play,” said the journalist Grattan, hopefully. “Obviously foul +play.”</p> + +<p>“Ask the Bolshevist refugees,” the <i>Times</i> correspondent said with a +shrug. For he had no opinion of these people, and believed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60" href="#Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> them to +be engaged in a continuous plot against the peace of the world, in +combination with the Germans. The <i>Morning Post</i> was inclined to +agree, but held that O'Shane, the delegate from the Irish Free State, +was in it too. Whenever any unpleasant incident occurred, at home or +abroad (such as murders, robberies, bank failures, higher income tax, +Balkan wars, strikes, troubles in Ireland, or cocaine orgies), the +<i>Times</i> said, “Ask the Bolshevists and the Germans,” and the <i>Morning +Post</i> said, “Ask the Bolshevists and the Germans by all means, but +more particularly ask Sinn Fein,” just as the <i>Daily Herald</i> said, +“Ask the capitalists and Scotland Yard,” and some eminent +<i>littérateurs</i>, “Ask the Jews.” We must all have our whipping-boys, +our criminal suspects; without them sin and disaster would be too +tragically diffused for our comfort. Henry Beechtree's suspect was +Charles Wilbraham. He knew that he suspected Charles Wilbraham too +readily; Wilbraham could not conceivably have committed all the sins +of which Henry was fain to believe him guilty. Henry knew this, and +kept a guard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61" href="#Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> on his own over-readiness, lest it should betray him +into rash accusation. Information; evidence; that was what he had to +collect.</p> + +<p>The question was, as an intelligent member of the Secretariat pointed +out, who stood to benefit by the disappearance of Svensen from the +scenes? Find the motive for a deed, and very shortly you will find the +doer. Had Svensen a private enemy? No one knew. Many persons +disapproved of the line he was apt to take in public affairs: he +wanted to waste money on feeding hungry Russians (“No one is sorrier +than my tender-hearted nation for starving persons,” the other +delegates would say, “but we have no money to send them, and are not +Russians always hungry?”) and was in an indecent hurry about +disarmament, which should be a slow and patient process. (“No one is +more anxious than my humane nation for peace,” said the delegates, +“but there is a dignified caution to be observed.”) Yes; many persons +disagreed with Svensen as to the management of the affairs of the +world; but surely no one would make away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62" href="#Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> with him on that account. +Far more likely did it seem that he had inadvertently stumbled into +the lake, after dining well. What an end to so great and good a man!</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap13" id="chap13">13</a></h2> + +<p>Lord Burnley, the senior British delegate, that distinguished, +notable, and engaging figure in the League, had, as has been said +earlier, a strange addiction to walking. This afternoon, having parted +from his friends outside the Assembly Hall, he started, as was a +favourite pastime of his, to walk through the older and more +picturesque streets of the city, for which he had a great taste.</p> + +<p>As he strolled in his leisurely manner up the Rue de la Cité, stopping +now and then to look at its antique and curious shops, he came to a +book shop, whose outside shelf was stocked with miscellaneous +literature. Lord Burnley, who could seldom pass an old bookshop +without pausing, stopped to glance at the row of paper-backs, and +was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63" href="#Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> caught by a familiar large bound book among them. Familiar +indeed, for was it not one of his own works? He put on his glasses and +looked closer. Yes: the volume was inscribed <i>Scepticism as a Basis +for Faith</i>, by George Burnley. And printed on a paper label below the +title, was the inscription, “Special Edition, recently annotated by +the Author.”</p> + +<p>Strange! Lord Burnley was puzzled. For neither recently nor at any +other time was he conscious of having issued a special annotated +edition of this work.</p> + +<p>For a minute or two he pondered, standing on the pavement. Then, +deciding to inquire further into this thing, he stooped his head and +shoulders and passed under the low lintel into the little dark shop.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap14" id="chap14">14</a></h2> + +<p>Henry, having left the Assembly, sent off his message to his newspaper +(it was entirely about the disappearance of Dr. Svensen), glanced into +his pigeon-hole on his way out,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64" href="#Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> and found there, among various +superfluous documents, a note addressed to him by the ex-cardinal +Franchi, suggesting that, if he should not find himself better +employed, he should give the writer his company at dinner at eight +o'clock that evening, at his villa at Monet, two miles up the lake. He +would find a small electric launch waiting for him at seven-thirty at +the Eaux-Vives jetty, in which would be Dr. Franchi's niece, who had +been attending the Assembly that afternoon.</p> + +<p>“Excellent,” thought Henry. “I will go.” For he was greatly attracted +by Dr. Franchi, and liked also to dine out, and to have a trip up to +Monet in a motor launch.</p> + +<p>He went back to his indigent rooms in the Allée Petit Chat, and washed +and dressed. (Fortunately, he had at no time a heavy beard, so did not +have to shave in the evenings.) Well-dressed he was not, even in his +evening clothes, which were a cast-off of his brother's, and not, as +evening clothes should be, faultless; but still they passed, and Henry +always looked rather nice.</p> + +<p>“Not a bad face,” he reflected, surveying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65" href="#Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> it in the dusty speckled +glass. “A trifle weak perhaps. I <em>am</em> a trifle weak; that is so. But, +on the whole, the face of a gentleman and a decent fellow. And not +devoid of intelligence.... Interesting, to see one's own face. +Especially in this odd glass. Now I must be off. Hat, stick, overcoat, +scarf—that is <a name="tnpg65" id="tnpg65" class="tn" title="everything.">everything.” </a></p> + +<p>He walked down to the Eaux-Vives jetty, where a smart electric launch +did indeed await him, and in it a young lady of handsome appearance, +who regarded him with friendly interest and said, in pronounced +American with an Italian accent, “I'm real pleased to meet you, Mr. +Beechtree. Step right in. We'll start at once.”</p> + +<p>Henry stepped right in, and sat down by this prepossessing girl.</p> + +<p>“I must introduce myself,” she said. “My name is Gina Longfellow, and +I'm Dr. Franchi's niece.”</p> + +<p>“What excellent English you talk,” said Henry politely.</p> + +<p>“American,” she corrected him. “My father was a native of Joliet, Ill. +Are you acquainted with the Middle West?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66" href="#Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p><p>“I've travelled there,” said Henry, and repressed a shudder, for he +had found the Middle West deplorable. He preferred South America.</p> + +<p>“I am related to the poet,” said Miss Longfellow. “That great poet who +wrote <i>Hiawatha</i>, <i>Evangeline</i>, and <i>The Psalm of Life</i>. Possibly you +came across him out in the States?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Henry. “I fancy he was even then dead. You are a descendant +of his?”</p> + +<p>“A descendant—yes. I remember now; he died, poor nonno.... The lake +pleases you, Mr. Beechtree?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, yes. It is very beautiful.”</p> + +<p>Miss Longfellow's fine dark eyes had a momentary flicker of +resentment. Most young men looked at her, but Mr. Beechtree at the +lake, with his melancholy brooding eyes. Henry liked handsome young +women well enough, but he admired scenery more. The smooth shimmer of +the twilight waters, still holding the flash of sunset, the twinkling +city of lights they were swiftly leaving behind them at the lake's +head, the smaller<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67" href="#Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> constellations of the lakeside villages on either +hand—these made on Henry, whose æsthetic nerve was sensitive, an +unsteadying impression.</p> + +<p>Miss Longfellow recalled his attention.</p> + +<p>“Do you think the League will last?” she inquired sharply. “Do you +like Geneva? Do you think the League will be moved somewhere else? +Isn't it a real pity the French are so obstructionist? Will the +Americans come in?”</p> + +<p>Henry adjusted his monocle and looked at her in some surprise.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she said impatiently, “I guess you're used to those questions +by now.”</p> + +<p>“But you've left out the latest,” Henry said. “What do you think can +have happened to Svensen?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, there you have us all guessing,” she amiably returned. “Poor +Svensen. Who'd have thought it of him?”</p> + +<p>“Thought what?”</p> + +<p>“Why, this. He always seemed such a white man. My, isn't it queer what +people will do?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68" href="#Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p><p>Henry, who had been brought up on Dr. Svensen's narrations of his +Arctic explorations, and greatly revered him, said, “But I don't +believe he's done anything.”</p> + +<p>“Not done a get-away, you mean? Well now, why should he, after all? +Perhaps he fell right into this deep lake after dining, and couldn't +get out, poveretto. Yet he was a real fine swimmer they say.”</p> + +<p>“Most improbable,” said Henry, who had dismissed that hypothesis +already. He leant forward and spoke discreetly. “I fancy, Miss +Longfellow, there are those in Geneva who could throw some light on +this affair if they chose.”</p> + +<p>“You don't say! Dio mio! Now isn't that quite a notion!” Miss +Longfellow was interested. “Why, Mr. Beechtree, you don't suspect foul +play, do you?”</p> + +<p>Henry nodded.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I rather easily suspect foul play,” he candidly admitted. +“It's more interesting, and I'm a journalist. But in this case there +are reasons——”</p> + +<p>“Now isn't this too terribly exciting! Reasons! Just you tell me all +you know,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69" href="#Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> Mr. Beechtree, if it's not indiscreet. Non son' +giornalista, io!”</p> + +<p>“I don't <em>know</em> anything. Except that there are people who might be +glad to get Svensen out of the way.”</p> + +<p>“But who are they? I thought every one respected him ever so!”</p> + +<p>“Respect is akin to fear,” said Henry.</p> + +<p>On that dictum, the launch took a swift turn to the right, and dashed +towards a jetty which bore on a board above it the words, “Château +Léman. Defense.”</p> + +<p>“A private jetty,” said Henry.</p> + +<p>“Yes. The village jetty is beyond. This is my uncle's. That path only +leads up to the Château.”</p> + +<p>They disembarked, and climbed up a steep path which led through a +wrought iron gate into a walled garden that ran down to the lake's +edge. Henry, who was romantic, said, “How very delightful. How old is +the Château?”</p> + +<p>“Chi sa? Real old, I can tell you. Ask Uncle Silvio. He's great on +history. He's for ever writing historical books. History and +heresy—Dio mio! That is why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70" href="#Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> they turned him out of the Church, you +know.”</p> + +<p>“So I heard.... Are you a Catholic, Miss Longfellow?”</p> + +<p>She gave a little shrug.</p> + +<p>“I was brought up Catholic. Women believe what they are taught, as a +rule, don't they?”</p> + +<p>“I hadn't observed it,” Henry said, “particularly. Are women so unlike +men then?”</p> + +<p>“That's quite a question, isn't it. What do you think?”</p> + +<p>“I can't think in large sections and masses of people,” Henry replied. +“Women are so different one from another. So are men. That's all I can +see, when people talk of the sexes.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Macchè!</i> You don't say!” said Miss Longfellow, looking at him +inquiringly. “Most people always think in large masses of people. They +find it easier, more convenient, more picturesque.”</p> + +<p>“It is indeed so,” Henry admitted. “But less accurate. Accuracy—do +you agree with me?—is of an importance very greatly underestimated by +the majority of persons.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71" href="#Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p><p>“I guess,” said Miss Longfellow, not interested, “you're quite a +clever young man.”</p> + +<p>Henry replied truthfully, “Indeed, no,” and at this point they turned +a bend in the path and the château was before them in the evening +light; an arcaded, balconied, white-washed building, vine-covered and +red-roofed, with queer outside staircases and green-shuttered windows, +many of which were lit. Certainly old, though restored. A little way +from it was a small belfried chapel.</p> + +<p>“Charming,” said Henry, removing his eyeglass the better to look. +“Amazingly charming.”</p> + +<p>A big door stood open and through this they passed into a hall lit by +large hanging lamps and full of dogs, or so it seemed to Henry, for on +all sides they rose to stare at him, to sniff at his ankles, for the +most part with the air of distaste commonly adopted towards Henry by +these friends of man.</p> + +<p>“You're not a dog lover?” Miss Longfellow suggested, and Henry again +replied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72" href="#Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> that he could not like or dislike his fellows in large +sections; some dogs he liked, others not, as with men, women, and +children.</p> + +<p>“But I guess they don't like you very much,” she returned, shrewdly +observing their manners to him. “Now isn't that cute, how they take to +some people and not to others. They all love Uncle Silvio on sight. +Stray dogs follow him in the road and won't leave him. Half these are +strays.... They know he likes them, that's what it is. Dogs always +know, they say, don't they.”</p> + +<p>“Know what?” asked Henry, suspicious that she meant that dogs know a +good character from a bad, which was what “they” (“they” meaning the +great collection of noodles who constitute the public) do actually +say. The things “they” say! They even say that children too (the most +foolish of God's creatures) have this intuitive knowledge; they say +that to drink hot tea makes you cooler, that it is more tiring going +down-hill than up, that honesty is the best policy, that love makes +the world go round, that “literally” bears the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73" href="#Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> meaning as +“metaphorically” (“she was literally a mother to him,” they will say), +that an apple a day keeps the doctor away, that those who say least +feel most, that one must live. There is truly no limit to what “they,” +in their folly, will say. So Henry, wincing among the suspicious dogs, +moodily, and not for the first time, reflected.</p> + +<p>Miss Longfellow did not answer his inquiry, but stood in the hall and +cried, “Zio!” in a voice like a May cuckoo's.</p> + +<p>A door opened, and in a moment Dr. Franchi, small and frail and +charming, came forward with a sweet smile and hand outstretched, +through a throng of fawning, grinning dogs.</p> + +<p>“A pleasure indeed, Mr. Beechtree.”</p> + +<p>“He is like Leo XIII.,” was Henry's thought. “Strange, that he should +be a heretic!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap15" id="chap15">15</a></h2> + +<p>They sat at dinner on a terrace, under hanging lamps, looking out at +the lake<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74" href="#Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> through vine-festooned arches. The moon rose, like the +segment of an orange, sending a softly glowing path to them across +black water. Here and there the prow lanterns of boats rosily gleamed. +The rest was violet shadow.</p> + +<p>How Henry, after his recent experiences of cheap cafés, again enjoyed +eating a meal fit for a gentleman. Radiant silver, napery like snow +(for, in the old fashion still in use on the continent, Dr. Franchi +had a fair linen cloth spread over his dinner-table; there is no doubt +but that this extravagant habit gives an old-world charm to a meal), +food and wines of the most agreeable, conversation to the liking of +all three talkers (which is, after all, the most that can be said of +any conversation), one of the loveliest views in Europe, and gentle +night air—Henry was indeed fortunate. How kind, he reflected, was +this ex-cardinal, who, having met him but once, asked him to such a +pleasant entertainment. Why was it? He must try to be worthy of it, to +seem cultivated and agreeable and intelligent. But Henry knew that he +was none<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75" href="#Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> of these things; continually he had to be playing a part, +trying to hide his folly under a pretence of being like other people, +sensible and informed and amusing, whereas really he was more like an +animal, interested in the foolish and fleeting impressions of the +<a name="tnpg75" id="tnpg75" class="tn" title="moment He">moment. He</a> was not fit for a gentleman's dinner-table.</p> + +<p>The conversation was of all manner of things. They spoke, of course, +of the League.</p> + +<p>“It has a great future,” said Dr. Franchi, “by saying which I by no +means wish to underrate its present.”</p> + +<p>“Rather capitalist in tendency, perhaps?” the correspondent of the +<i>British Bolshevist</i> suggested. “A little too much in the hands of the +major states?” But he did not really care.</p> + +<p>“You misjudge it,” Dr. Franchi said. “It is a very fair association of equal states. A true democracy: +little brothers and great, hand in hand. Oh, it will do great things; +is, indeed, doing great things now. One cannot afford to be cynical +about such an attempt. Anything which encourages the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76" href="#Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> nations to take +an interest in one another's concerns——”</p> + +<p>“There has surely,” said Henry, still rather apathetically voicing his +paper, “always been too much of that already. Hence wars. Nations +should keep themselves to themselves. International impertinence ... +it's a great evil. Live and let live.”</p> + +<p>“You don't then agree that we should attempt a world-cosmogony? That +the nations should be as brothers, and concern themselves with one +another's famines, one another's revolutions, one another's frontiers? +But why this curious insistence on the nation as a unit? Why select +nationality, rather than the ego, the family, the township, the +province, the continent, the hemisphere, the planet, the solar system, +or even the universe? Isn't it just a little arbitrary, this stress we +lay on nationalism, patriotism, love of one particular country, of the +territories united fortuitously under one particular government? What +is a government, that we should regard it as a connecting link? What +is a race, that queer, far-flung thing whose boundaries march with +those of no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77" href="#Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> nation? And when we say we love a country, do we mean its +soil, the people under its government, or the scattered peoples +everywhere sharing some of the same blood and talking approximately +the same tongue? What, in fact, is this <em>patriotism</em>, this love of +country, that we all feel, and that we nearly all exalt as if it were +a virtue? We don't praise egoism, or pride of family, or love of a +particular town or province, in the same way. What magic is there in +the ring that embraces a country, that we admire it as precious metal +and call the other rings foolish or base? You will admit that it is a +queer convention.”</p> + +<p>“All conventions are queer, I think,” Henry said indifferently. “But +there they are. One accepts them. It is less trouble.”</p> + +<p>“It makes more trouble in the end, my young friend.... I will tell you +one thing from my heart. If the League of Nations should fail, should +go to pieces, it will be from excess of this patriotism. Every country +out for its own hand. That has always been the trouble with the world, +since we were hordes of savages grouped in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78" href="#Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> tribes one against the +other—as, indeed, we still are.”</p> + +<p>“Well, zio mio,” said Miss Longfellow breezily, “if you don't look out +for number one, no one else will, you may be dead sure. And <em>then</em> +where are you? In the soup, sure thing. Nel zuppo!” She gave a gay, +chiming, cuckooish laugh. A cheerful girl, thought Henry.</p> + +<p>“Viva the League of Nations!” she cried, and drank brightly of her +marsala.</p> + +<p>Dr. Franchi, with an indulgent smile for youthful exuberance, drank +too.</p> + +<p>“The hope for the world,” he said. “You don't drink this toast, Mr. +<a name="tnpg78" id="tnpg78" class="tn" title="Beech-tree">Beechtree</a>?”</p> + +<p>“My paper,” said Henry, “believes that such hope for the world as +there may be lies elsewhere.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, your paper. And you yourself?”</p> + +<p>“I? I see no hope for the world. No hope, that is to say, that it will +ever be an appreciably better world than it is at present. Before that +occurs, I imagine that it will have broken its string, as it were, and +dashed off into space, and so an end.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79" href="#Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p><p>“And my hopes for it are two—an extension of country-love into +world-love, and a purified version of the Christian faith.”</p> + +<p>“Purified....” Henry recollected that Dr. Franchi was a modernist and +a heretic. “A queer word,” he mused. “I am not sure that I know what +it means.”</p> + +<p>“Ah. You are orthodox Catholic, no doubt. You admit no possible +impurities in the faith.”</p> + +<p>“I have never thought about it. I do not even know what an impurity +is. One thing does not seem to me much more pure than another, and not +much more odd. For my part, I accept the teaching of the Church +wholesale. It seems simpler.”</p> + +<p>“Until you come to think about it,” said the ex-cardinal. “Then it +ceases to be simple, and becomes difficult and elaborate to a high +degree. Too difficult for a simple soul like myself. For my part, I +have been expelled from the bosom of my mother the Church, and am now, +having completed immense replies to the decree Lamentabili Sane and to +the encyclical Pascendi Gregis, writing a History of the Doctrine of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80" href="#Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +Transubstantiation. Does the topic interest you?”</p> + +<p>“I am no theologian,” said Henry. “And I have been told that if one +inquires too closely into these mysteries, faith wilts. I should not +like that. So I do not inquire. It is better so. I should not wish to +be an atheist. I have known an atheist whom I have very greatly +disliked.”</p> + +<p>The thought of this person shadowed his brow faintly with a scowl, not +unobserved by his host and hostess. “But,” he added, “he became a +worse thing; he is now an atheist turned Catholic....”</p> + +<p>“There I am with you,” the ex-cardinal agreed. “About the Catholic +convert there is often a quite peculiar lack of distinction.... But we +will not talk about these.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap16" id="chap16">16</a></h2> + +<p>They were now eating fruit. Melon, apricots, pears, walnuts, figs, and +fat purple grapes. The night ever deepened into a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81" href="#Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> greater loveliness. +In the steep, sweet garden below the terrace nightingales sang.</p> + +<p>“On such a night as this,” said Dr. Franchi, cracking a walnut, “it is +difficult to be an atheist.”</p> + +<p>“Why so?” asked Henry dreamily, biting a ripe black fig, and wishing +that the ex-cardinal had not thought it necessary to give so lovely +and familiar an opening phrase so tedious an end.</p> + +<p>“Don't tell me,” he added quickly, repenting his thoughtless question. +“What nightingales! What figs! And what apricocks!” (for so he always +called this fruit). He hated to talk about atheists, and about how God +had fashioned so beautiful a world. It might be so, but the world, on +such a night, was enough in itself.</p> + +<p>Dr. Franchi's keen, gentle eyes, the eyes of a shrewd weigher of men, +observed him and his distastes.</p> + +<p>“An æsthete,” he judged. “God has given him intuition rather than +reason. And not very much even of that. He might easily be misled, +this youth.”</p> + +<p>Aloud he said, “All I meant was that</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82" href="#Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘Holy joy about the earth is shed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.25em;">And Holiness upon the deep,’</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>as one of your Edwardian poets has sung. That was a gifted generation: +may it rest in peace. For I think it mostly perished in that +calamitous war we had.... But your Georgians—they too are a gifted +generation, is it not so?”</p> + +<p>“You mean by Georgians those persons who are now flourishing under the +sovereignty of King George the Fifth of England? Such as myself? I do +not really know. How could it be that gifts go in generations? A +generation, surely, is merely chronological. Gifts are sporadic. No, I +find no generation, as such, gifted. Except, of course, with the gifts +common to all humanity.... People speak of the Victorians, and endow +them with special qualities, evil or good. They were all black +recently; now they are being white-washed—or rather enamelled. I +think they had no qualities, as a generation (or rather as several +generations, which, of course, they were); men and women then were, in +the main, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83" href="#Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> same as men and women to-day, I see nothing but +individuals. The rest is all the fantasy of the foolish, who love to +generalise, till they cannot see the trees for the wood. +Generalisations make me dizzy. I see nothing but the separate trees. +There <em>is</em> nothing else....”</p> + +<p>Dreamily Henry wandered on, happy and fluent with wine and figs. A +ripe black fig, gaping to show its scarlet maw—what could be more +lovely, and more luscious to the palate?</p> + +<p>As to Miss Longfellow, she was eating her dessert so rapidly and with +such relish that she had no time for conversation. All she contributed +to it was, between bites, a cheerful nod now and then at Henry to show +that she agreed with him.</p> + +<p>“Yours,” said Dr. Franchi, “is not, perhaps, the most natural view of +life. It is more natural to see people in large groups, with definite +characteristic markings, according to period, age, nationality, sex, +or what not. Also, such a view has its truth, though, like all truths, +it may be over-stressed.... But here comes our coffee. After we have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84" href="#Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +drunk it, Gina will leave us perhaps and you and I will smoke our +cigars and have a little talk on political questions, and matters +outside a woman's interests. Our Italian women do not take the same +interest in affairs which your English women do.”</p> + +<p>“No,” Miss Longfellow readily agreed. “We don't like the New Woman +over here. Perhaps Mr. Beechtree admires her though.”</p> + +<p>“The New Woman?” Henry doubtfully queried. “Is there a new woman? I +don't know the phrase, except from old Victorian <i>Punch</i> Pictures.... +Thank you, yes; a little cherry brandy.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, is the woman question, then, over in your country—died out? +Fought to a finish, perhaps, with honours to the victorious sex?”</p> + +<p>“The woman question, sir? What woman question? I know no more of woman +questions than of man questions, I am afraid. There is an infinity of +questions you may ask about all human beings. People ask them all the +time. Personally, I don't; it is less trouble not to. There people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85" href="#Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +are; you can take them or leave them, for what they're worth. Why ask +questions about them? There is never a satisfactory answer.”</p> + +<p>“A rather difficult youth to talk to,” the ex-cardinal reflected. “He +fails to follow up, or, apparently, even to understand, any of the +usual conversational gambits. Is he very ignorant, or merely +perverse?”</p> + +<p>As to Miss Longfellow, she gave Henry up as being not quite all there, +and anyhow a bloodless kind of creature, who took very little notice +of her. So she went indoors and played the piano.</p> + +<p>“I am failing,” thought Henry. “She does not like me. I am not being +intelligent. They will talk of things above my head, things I cannot +understand.”</p> + +<p>Apathy held him, drinking cherry brandy under the moon, and he could +not care. Woman question? Man question? What was all this prating?</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86" href="#Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="chap17" id="chap17">17</a></h2> + +<p>“And now,” said Dr. Franchi, as he enjoyed a cigar and Henry a +cigarette and both their liqueurs, “let us talk of this mysterious +business of poor Svensen.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, do let's,” said Henry, for this was much more in his line.</p> + +<p>“I may misjudge you, Mr. Beechtree, but I have made a guess that you +entertain certain suspicions in this matter. Is that the case? Ah, I +see I am right. No, tell me nothing you do not wish. In fact, tell me +nothing at all. It would be, at this point, indiscreet. Instead, let +us go through all the possible alternatives.” He paused, and puffed at +his cigar for a while in thoughtful silence.</p> + +<p>“First of all,” he presently resumed, “poor Svensen may have met with +an accident. He may have fallen into the lake and have been drowned. +But this we will set aside as improbable. Geneva is seldom quite +deserted at night, and he would have attracted attention. Besides<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87" href="#Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +which, I have heard that he is an excellent swimmer. No; an improbable +contingency. What remains? Foul play. Some person or persons have +attacked him in a deserted spot and either murdered or kidnapped him. +But who? And for what purpose? Robbery? Personal enmity? Revenge? Or +an impersonal motive, such as a desire, for some reason, to damage and +retard the doings of the Assembly? It might be any of these.... Let us +for a moment take the hypothesis that it is the last. To whom, then, +might such a desire be attributed? Unfortunately, my dear Mr. +Beechtree, to many different persons.”</p> + +<p>“But more to some than to others,” Henry brightly pointed out.</p> + +<p>“Certainly more to some than to others. More to the Poles than to the +Lithuanians, for instance, for is it not to the Polish interest to +hold up the proceedings of the Assembly while the present violation of +the Lithuanian frontier by Polish hordes continues? Well they know +that any inquiry into that matter set on foot by the League would end +in their discomfiture. Every day that they can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88" href="#Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> retard the appointment +of a committee of inquiry is to the good, from their point of view.</p> + +<p>“Again, take Russia. The question of the persecution of the Bolsheviks +is to be brought up in the Assembly early. Naturally the Russian +delegation are not anxious for the exposure of their governmental +methods which would accompany this. And then there are the Bolshevik +refugees themselves—a murderous gang, who would readily dispose of +any one, from mere habit. Nor can Argentine be supposed to be anxious +for the inquiry into her dispute with Paraguay which the Paraguay +delegation intend to bring forward. The Argentine delegation may well +have orders to delay this inquiry as long as possible, in order that +the dispute may arrange itself domestically, in Argentine interests, +without the intervention of the League. There is, too, the +Graeco-Turkish war, which both the Greeks and the Turks desire to +carry on in peace. There are also several questions of humanitarian +legislation, which by no means all the members of the League desire to +see proceeded with—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89" href="#Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> traffic in women, for instance, and that in +certain drugs. And what about the Irish delegates? Are they not both, +for their different reasons, full of anger and discontent against +Great Britain and against Europe in general, and may they not well +intend, in the determined manner of their race, to hold up the +association of nations at the pistol's mouth, so to speak, until it +considers their grievances and adjudicates in their favour? And then +we must not exclude from suspicion the natives of this city and +canton. Calvinists are, in my experience, capable of any malicious +crime. A dour, jealous, unpleasant people. They might (and often have +they done so) perpetrate any wickedness in the name of the curious God +they worship.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, yes,” said Henry. “How confusing it all is, to be sure! But +you haven't mentioned the biggest stumbling-block of all, +sir—disarmament.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes; disarmament. As you say, the most tremendous issue of all. +And it is, as every one knows, going to be, during this session of the +League, decisively dealt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90" href="#Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> with by the Council. Many a nation, militant +from terror, from avarice, from arrogance, or from habit, many a +political faction, and many a big business, has a vital interest in +hindering disarmament discussions. You think then, that——”</p> + +<p>“I will tell you,” said Henry, leaning forward eagerly and lowering +his rather high voice, “what I think. I think that there are those not +far from us who have a great deal of money in armaments, and who get +nervy whenever the subject comes up. There are things that I know.... +I came out here knowing them, and meaning to speak when the time came. +Not because it was my duty, which is why (I understand) most people +expose others, but because I had a very great desire to. There is some +one towards whom I feel a dislike—a very great dislike; I may say +hate. He deserves it. He is a most disagreeable person, and has done +me, personally, a great injury”—(Henry was feeling the expansive +influence of the cherry brandy)—“and naturally I wish to do him one +in my turn. I have wished it for several years; to be exact, since the +year 1919.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91" href="#Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> I have waited and watched. I have always known him to be +detestable, but until recently I thought that he was also detestably +and invariably in the right—or, anyhow, that he could not be proved +in the wrong. Lately I learnt something that altered this opinion. I +discovered a thing about him which would, if it were known (having +regard to the position he occupies), utterly shame and discredit him. +I am now, I have a feeling, on the track of discovering yet another +and a worse thing—that he has done away with the elected President of +the Assembly, in order to wreck the proceedings so that the armament +question should not come up.”</p> + +<p>“The armament question?”</p> + +<p>Henry gazed at the ex-cardinal with the wide, ferocious stare of the +slightly intoxicated.</p> + +<p>“What would you say if I told you that a certain highly placed +official on the League of Nations Secretariat has enormous sums of +money invested in an armaments business? That he derives nearly all +his income from it? That he is the son-in-law of the head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92" href="#Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> of the +business, and has in it vast sums which increase at every rumour of +war and which would dwindle away if any extensive disarmament scheme +should ever really be seriously contemplated by the nations? That his +father-in-law, this munitions prince, is even now in Geneva, privately +visiting his daughter and son-in-law and holding a watching brief on +the Assembly proceedings? I ask you, what would the League staff say +of one of their members of which this should be revealed? Would he be +regarded as a fit incumbent of the office he holds? Wouldn't he be +dismissed, kicked out as incompetent—as unscrupulous, I mean,” Henry +amended quickly. His voice had risen in a shrill and trembling +crescendo of dislike.</p> + +<p>Dr. Franchi, leaning placidly back in his chair, his delicate fingers +stroking a large Persian cat on his knee, shrewdly watched him.</p> + +<p>“I had better say,” he observed, in his temperate and calming manner, +“that I believe I know to whom you allude. I have guessed, since I saw +you this morning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93" href="#Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> when a certain individual was speaking near you, +that you took no favourable view of him. And now I perceive that you +are justified. You will be doubly justified if we can prove, what I am +trying to agree with you is not improbable, that he has indeed made +away with this unfortunate Svensen. I am tempted to share your view of +this unpleasing person. Among other things he is a Catholic convert; +as to these we have already exchanged our views.... Do you know what I +think? This; that Svensen's will not be the only disappearance at +Geneva. For what would be the use of getting rid of one man only, +however prominent? The Assembly, after the first shock, would proceed +with its doings. But what if man after man were to disappear? What if +the whole fabric of Assembly, Council, and Committees should be +disintegrated, till no one could have thoughts for anything but the +mysterious disappearances and how to solve the riddle, and how, still +more, to preserve each one himself from a like fate? Could any work be +continued in such circumstances, in such an atmosphere?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94" href="#Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> No. The +Assembly would become merely a collection of bewildered and nervous +individuals turning themselves into amateur detectives, and, +incidentally, the laughing-stock of the world. The League might never +recover such prestige as it has, after such a disastrous session. Mark +my words; there will be further attempts on the persons of prominent +delegates. Whether they will be successful attempts or not is a +question. Who is responsible for them is another question. You say +(and I am half with you) our friend of the Secretariat, who had +better be nameless until we can bring him to book. Others will say +other things. Many will be suspected. Notably, no doubt, the +Spanish Americans, who lend themselves readily to such suspicions; +they have that air, and human life is believed not to be unduly sacred +to them. Besides, they never got on with Svensen, who is reported to +have alluded to them not infrequently <a name="tnpg94" id="tnpg94" class="tn" title="as “those damned Red Indians.” The"> +as ‘those damned Red Indians.’ The</a> +Scandinavian temperament and theirs are so different. I do not +even feel sure myself that they are not implicated. The initiation +of the affair<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95" href="#Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> by our Secretariat friend would not, in fact, +preclude their participation in it. I had nearly said, show me a +Spanish-American, still worse a Portuguese, and I will show you a +scoundrel. Nearly, but not quite, for it is a mistake to say such +things of one's brothers in the League. Besides, I like them. They +are pleasing, amusing fellows, and do not rasp one's nerves like the +Germans and many others. One can forgive them much; indeed, one has +to. Many people, again, would be glad to put responsibility on the +Germans. An unfortunate race, for nothing is so unfortunate as to be +unloved. We must discover the truth, Mr. Beechtree. You have a line of +inquiry to follow?”</p> + +<p>“I am making friends with the fellow's secretary,” said Henry. “She +likes me, I may say. And she talks quite a lot. She would not +consciously betray her chief's confidence, though she does not like +him; but all the same I get many clues from her.... Oh, my God——!”</p> + +<p>The ejaculation, which was made under his breath, was shocked +involuntarily out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96" href="#Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> of him by the sight of Dr. Franchi's Persian cat +extracting with its paw from a bowl that stood on the terrace +balustrade a large gold-fish and devouring it.</p> + +<p>After the first glance Henry looked away, leaning back in his chair, +momentarily overcome with a feeling of nausea, which made his face +glisten white and damp, and caused the sweat to break hotly on his +brow, while the lake swayed and darkened before his eyes. It was a +feeling to which he was unfortunately subject when he saw the smaller +of God's creatures suffering these mischances at the hands of their +larger brethren. His nerves were not strong, and he had an excessive +dislike of witnessing unpleasant sights.</p> + +<p>“You don't feel well?” Dr. Franchi solicitously inquired.</p> + +<p>“The gold-fish,” his guest murmured. “Eaten alive ... what an end!”</p> + +<p>Dr. Franchi's delicate, dark Latin brows rose.</p> + +<p>“The gold-fish? Ah, my wicked Pellico.... I cannot keep him from the +bowl, the rascal. I regret that he so upset you. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97" href="#Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> the sensibility +of gold-fish is not great, surely? As the peasants say, non son +chretiani loro!”</p> + +<p>“Forgive me. To see a live fish devoured ... it took me unawares.... I +shall be all right soon....”</p> + +<p>As from a great distance Henry, still fighting the sensation of +nausea, was half aware of the ex-cardinal's piercing eyes fixed on him +with extraordinary intensity.</p> + +<p>“I am all right now,” said Henry. “A momentary faintness—quite +absurd.... I expect gold-fish do not really feel either emotion or +pain. They say that fish do not feel hooks. Or worms, either.... They +say all sorts of comforting things about this distressing world, don't +they. One should try to believe them all....”</p> + +<p>“You are,” said Dr. Franchi quietly, “if I may say so, a decidedly +unusual young man.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, no,” said Henry. “But I have encroached on you long enough. I +must go.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98" href="#Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="chap18" id="chap18">18</a></h2> + +<p>The motor-launch churned its foaming path down the moonlit lake. Henry +sat in the stern, trailing his fingers in cool, phosphorescent water, +happy, drowsy, and well fed. What a delightful evening! What a +charming old man! What a divine way of being taken home! And now he +had the warm, encouraged feeling of not pursuing a lone trail, for the +ex-cardinal's last words to him had been: “Coraggio! Follow every +clue; push home every piece of evidence. Between us we will yet lay +this enemy of the public good by the heel.”</p> + +<p>The very thought that they would yet do that flushed Henry's cheek and +kindled his eye.</p> + +<p>Assuredly the wicked should not always flourish like the bay tree. “I +went by, and lo he was not,” thought Henry, quoting the queer message +received by the President before the first session of the Assembly.</p> + +<p>The launch dashed up to the Quai du Seujet, and Henry presented a +franc to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99" href="#Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> pilot, and stepped off, trying to emulate this +gentleman's air of never having visited such a low wharf before. “You +have brought me rather too far,” he said. “But I will walk back.”</p> + +<p>But, now he came to think of it, Dr. Franchi's man must obviously know +where he lived, so camouflage was unavailing. He had intended (only, +lost in thought, he had let the moment pass) to be set down at the +Paquis, as if he had been staying on the Quai du Mont Blanc or +thereabouts. But he had said nothing, and, without doubt or +hesitation, this disagreeable chauffeur (or whatever an electric +launch man was called) had made for the Quai du Seujet and drawn up at +it, as if he knew, as doubtless he did, that Henry's lodging was in +one of the squalid alleys off it.</p> + +<p>It could not be helped. Things do get about; Henry knew that of old. +However, to maintain the effect of his words to the man, he started to +walk away from the St. Gervais quarter towards the Mont Blanc bridge, +until the launch was foaming on its homeward way. Then he retraced his +steps.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100" href="#Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p><p>As he passed the end of the bridge, he saw a well-known and +characteristic figure, small, trim, elegant, the colour of ivory, clad +in faultless evening dress, beneath an equally faultless light coat, +standing by the parapet. Some one was with him, talking to him—an +equally characteristic figure, less well known to the world at large, +but not less well known to Henry.</p> + +<p>Henry stopped abruptly, and stood in the shadow of a newspaper kiosk. +He was not in the least surprised. Any hour of the day or night did +for Charles Wilbraham to talk to the great. He would leave a dinner at +the same time as the most important person present, in order to +accompany him on his way. He would waylay cabinet ministers in +streets, bishops (though himself not of their faith) in closes, and +royal personages incognito. He would impede their progress, or walk +delicately beside them, talking softly, respectfully, with that +perfect propriety of diction and address which he had always at +command.</p> + +<p>“Soapy Sam,” muttered Henry from behind the kiosk.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101" href="#Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + +<p>The two on the bridge moved on. They came towards Henry, strolling +slowly and talking. The well-known personage was apparently telling an +amusing story, for Charles was all attention and all smiles.</p> + +<p>“As Chang was saying to me the other night,” Henry prospectively and +unctuously quoted Charles.</p> + +<p>They left the bridge, and turned along the Quai du Mont Blanc. +Charles's rather high laugh sounded above the current of their talk.</p> + +<p>They paused at the Hotel des Bergues. The eminent person mounted its +steps; Charles accompanied him up the steps and inside. Probably the +eminent person wished, by calling on some one there, to shake off +Charles before going to his own hotel. But he had not shaken off +Charles, who was of a tenacious habit.</p> + +<p>“Calling on the Latin Americans,” Henry commented. “Wants to have a +drink and a chat without Charles. Won't get it, poor chap. Well, I +shall sleuth around till they come out. I'm going to trail Charles +home to his bed, if it takes all night.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102" href="#Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p><p>He settled himself on the parapet of the Quai and watched the hotel +entrance. He did not have to wait long. In some minutes Charles came +out alone. He looked, thought Henry, observing him furtively from +under his pulled down hat brim, a little less elated than he had +appeared five minutes earlier. His self-esteem had suffered some blow, +thought Henry, who knew Charles's mentality. Mentality: that was the +word one used about Charles, as if he had been a German during the +late war (Germans having, as all readers of newspapers will remember, +mentalities).</p> + +<p>Charles walked rapidly across the bridge, towards the road that led to +his own châlet, a mile out of the town. Henry, keeping his distance, +hurried after him, through the steep, silent, sleeping city, up on to +the dusty, tram-lined, residential road above it, till Charles stopped +at a villa gate and let himself in.</p> + +<p>Then Henry turned back, and tramped drowsily down the dusty road +beneath the moonless sky, and down through the steep, sleeping city, +and across the Pont des Bergues,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103" href="#Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> and so to the Quai du Seujet and the +Allée Petit Chat, which lay dense and black and warm in shadow, and +was full of miawling cats, strange sounds, and queer acrid smells. The +drainage system of the St. Gervais quarter was crude.</p> + +<p>In the stifling bedroom of his crazy tenement, Henry undressed and +sleepily tumbled into bed as the city clock struck two.</p> + +<p>In the dawn, below the miawling of lean cats and the yelping of dogs, +he heard the lapping and shuffling of water, and thought of boats and +beating oars.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap19" id="chap19">19</a></h2> + +<p>To what cold seas of inchoate regret, of passionate agnosticism as to +the world's meanings, if any, does one too often wake, and know not +why! Henry, on some mornings, would wake humming (as the queer phrase +goes) with prosperity, and spring, warm and alive, to welcome the new +day. On other mornings it would be as if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104" href="#Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> he shivered perplexed on the +brink of a fathomless abyss, and life engulfed him like chill waters, +and he would strive, defensively, to divest himself of himself and be +but as one of millions of the ant-like creatures that scurry over the +earth's face, of no more significance to himself than were the myriad +others. He could just achieve this state of impersonality while he lay +in bed. But when he got up, stood on the floor, looked at the world no +longer from beyond its rim but from within its coils, he became again +enmeshed, a creature crying “I, I, I,” a child wanting Pears' soap and +never getting it, a pilgrim here on earth and stranger. Then the seas +of desolation would swamp him and he would sink and sink, tumbled in +their bitter waves.</p> + +<p>In such a mood of causeless sorrow he woke late on the morning after +he had dined with Dr. Franchi. To keep it at arms' length he lay and +stared at his crazy, broken shutters, off which the old paint flaked, +and thought of the infinite strangeness of all life, a pastime which +very often engaged him. Then he thought of some one whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105" href="#Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> he very +greatly loved, and was refreshed by that thought; and, indeed, to love +and be loved very greatly is the one stake to cling to in these +troubled seas, the one unfailing life-buoy. Then, turning his mind +into practical channels, he thought of hate, and of Charles Wilbraham, +and of how best to strive that day to compass him about with ruin.</p> + +<p>So meditating, he splashed himself from head to foot with cold water, +dressed, and sallied forth from his squalid abode to the nearest café. +Coffee and rolls and the Swiss morning papers and the clear jolly air +of the September morning put heart into him, as he sat outside the +café by the lake. Opening his paper, he read of “Femme coupée en +morceaux” and “L'Affaire Svensen,” and then a large heading, +“Disparition de Lord Burnley.” Henry started. Here was news indeed. +And he had failed to get hold of it for his paper. Lord Burnley, it +seemed, had been strolling alone about the city in the late afternoon; +many people had seen him in the Rue de la Cité and the neighbourhood. +He had even been observed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106" href="#Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> to enter a bookshop. The rest was silence. +From that bookshop he had not been seen to emerge. The bookseller +affirmed that he had left after spending a few minutes in the shop. No +further information was to hand.</p> + +<p>“<i>Cherchez la femme</i>,” one comic paper had the audacity to remark, à +propos l'affaire Svensen and Burnley. Even Svensen and Burnley, so +pure-hearted, so public-spirited, so League-minded, were not immune +from such ill-bred aspersions.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap20" id="chap20">20</a></h2> + +<p>The elegant and scholarly Spaniard, Luiz Vaga, strolled by. He wore a +canary-coloured waistcoat and walked like a fastidious and graceful +bullfinch. He stopped beside Henry's breakfast-table, cocked his head +on one side, and said, “Hallo. Good-morning. Heard the latest news?”</p> + +<p>Henry admitted that he had heard no news later than that in the +morning press.</p> + +<p>“Chang's gone now,” said Vaga. “Gone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107" href="#Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> to join Svensen and Burnley. I +regret to say that he was last seen, late last night, paying a call on +my fellow-countrymen from South America at Les Bergues hotel. Serious +suspicion rests on these gentlemen, for poor Chang has not been heard +of since.”</p> + +<p>“Somehow,” Henry said thoughtfully, “I am not surprised. L'addition, +s'il vous plaît. No, I cannot say I am surprised. I rather thought +that there would be more disappearances very shortly. Burnley and +Chang. A good haul.... Who saw him going into the Bergues?”</p> + +<p>“Our friend Wilbraham, who was out late with him last night. And the +Bergues people don't deny it. But they say he left again, soon after +midnight. The hall porter, who has, it is presumed, been corrupted, +confirms this. But he never returned to his hotel. Poor Burnley and +Chang! Two good talkers, scholars, and charming fellows. There are few +such, in this vulgar age. It is taking the best, this unseen hand that +strikes down our delegates in their prime. So many could be spared.... +But God's will must be done. These South Americans are its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108" href="#Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> very +fitting tools, for they don't care what they do, reckless fellows. +Mind you, I don't accuse them. Personally I should be more inclined to +suspect the Zionists, or the Bolshevik refugees, or your Irishmen, or +some of the Unprotected Minorities, or the Poles, or the +Anti-Vivisection League, who are very fierce. But, for choice, the +Poles; anyhow as regards Burnley. There were certain words once +publicly spoken by Burnley to the Polish delegation about General +Zeligowsky which have rankled ever since. Zeligowsky has many wild +disbanded soldiers at his command.... However—Chang, anyhow, went to +see the South Americans, and has not emerged. There we are.”</p> + +<p>“There we are,” Henry thoughtfully agreed, as they strolled over the +Pont du Mont Blanc. “And what, then, is Wilbraham's explanation of the +affair Chang?”</p> + +<p>Vaga shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Our friend Wilbraham is too discreet to make allegations. He merely +states the fact—that he saw Chang into the Bergues between twelve and +one and left him there....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109" href="#Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> I gather that he accompanied him into the +hotel, but did not stay there long himself. I can detect a slight +acrimony in his manner on the subject, and deduce from it that he was +not perhaps encouraged by Dr. Chang or his hosts to linger. I flatter +myself I know Wilbraham's mentality fairly well—if one may be +permitted that rather opprobrious word.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed,” Henry said. “It is precisely what Wilbraham has. I know +it well.”</p> + +<p>“In that case, I believe if you had heard Wilbraham on this matter of +his call at Les Bergues that you would agree with me that his +importance suffered there some trifling eclipse.”</p> + +<p>“There may be other reasons,” said Henry, “in this case, for the +manner you speak of.... But I won't say any more now.” He bit off the +stream of libel that had risen to his lips and armed himself in a +careful silence, while the Spaniard cocked an inquiring dark eye at +his brooding profile.</p> + +<p>In the Jardin Anglais they overtook Dr. Franchi and his niece, making +their way to the Assembly Hall. The ex-cardinal was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110" href="#Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> greatly moved. +“Poor Dr. Chang,” he lamented, “and Burnley too, of all men! A wit, a +scholar, a philosopher, a metaphysician, a theologian, a man of +affairs. In fine, a man one could talk to. What a mind! I am greatly +attached to Lord Burnley. They must be found, gentlemen. Alive or +(unthinkable thought) dead, they must be found. The Assembly must do +nothing else until this sinister mystery is unravelled. We must employ +detectives. We must follow every clue.”</p> + +<p>Miss Longfellow said, “My! Isn't it all quite too terribly sinister! +Don't you think so, Mr. Beechtree?”</p> + +<p>Henry said he did.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap21" id="chap21">21</a></h2> + +<p>They reached the Assembly Hall. The lobby, buzzing with delegates, +Secretariat, journalists, Genevan syndics, and excitement, was like a +startled hive. The delegates from Cuba, Chili, Bolivia, and Paraguay, +temporarily at one, were informing the eager<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111" href="#Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> throng who crowded round +them that Dr. Chang had left the Bergues hotel, after a chat and a +whisky with the delegate from Paraguay, at twelve-thirty precisely. +The delegate from Paraguay had gone out with him and had left him on +the Pont des Bergues. He had said that he was going to cross this +bridge and stroll round the old <i>cité</i> before going to bed, as he +greatly admired the picturesque night aspect of these ancient streets +and houses that clustered round the cathedral. He had then, +presumably, made his way to this old, tortuous and unsafe maze of +streets, so full of dark archways, trap-doors, cellars, winding +stairways, evil smells, and obscure alleys. (“These alleys,” as a +local guide-book coldly puts it, “are not well inhabited, but the +visitor may safely go through those of houses 5 and 17.” Had Dr. +Chang, perhaps, been through, part of the way through, numbers 4 or 16 +instead?)</p> + +<p>“That's right; put it on the <i>cité</i>,” muttered Grattan, who was fond +of this part of Geneva, for he often dined there, and who admired the +representatives of the South<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112" href="#Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> American states as hopeful agents of +crime and mystery.</p> + +<p>No evidence, it seemed, was forthcoming that any one had seen Dr. +Chang in the <i>cité</i>, but then, as the delegate from Paraguay remarked, +even the inhabitants of the <i>cité</i> must sleep sometimes.</p> + +<p>Police and detectives had early been put to work to search the +cathedral quarter. Systematically they were making inquiries in it, +street by street, house by house. Systematically, too, others were +making inquiries in the old St. Gervais quarter.</p> + +<p>“But police detective work is never any good,” as Henry, a well-read +person in some respects, remarked. “It is well known that one requires +non-constabulary talent.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap22" id="chap22">22</a></h2> + +<p>The bell rang, and a shaken and disorganised Assembly assembled in the +hall. The Deputy-President, in an impassioned speech, lamented the +sinister disappearance of his three so eminent colleagues. As he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113" href="#Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +remarked, this would not do. Some evil forces were at work, assaulting +the very life of the League, for it must now be apparent that these +disappearances were not coincidences, but links in a connected chain +of crime. What and whose was the unseen hand behind these dastardly +deeds? What secret enemies of the League were so cunningly and +assiduously at work? Was murder their object, or merely abduction? +Whose turn would it be next? (At this last inquiry a shudder rippled +over the already agitated assembly.) But MM. les Délégués might rest +assured that what could be done was being done, both for the discovery +of their eminent colleagues, the detection of the assaulters, and the +aversion of such disasters in future.</p> + +<p>At this point the delegate for Greece leapt to his feet.</p> + +<p>“<em>What</em>,” he demanded, “is being done with this last object? What +provision is being made for the safety of our persons?”</p> + +<p>His question was vigorously applauded, while the English interpreter, +quite unheard, explained it to those in the hall who lacked adequate +knowledge of the French language.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114" href="#Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p><p>The Deputy-President was understood to reply that it was uncertain as +yet what effective steps could be taken, but that all the forces of +law and order in Geneva had been invoked, and that MM. les Délégués +were hereby warned not to go about alone by night, or, indeed, much by +day, and not to venture into obscure streets or doubtful-looking +shops.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle the delegate from Roumania demanded the word. +Mademoiselle the delegate for Roumania was a large and buxom lady with +a soft, mellifluous voice that cooed like a turtle-dove's when she +spoke eloquently from platforms of the wrongs of unhappy women and +poor children. This delegate was female indeed. Not hers the +blue-stocking sexlessness of the Scandinavian lady delegates, with +their university degrees, their benign, bumpy foreheads, and their +committee manners. She had been a mistress of kings; she was a very +woman, full of the <i>élan</i> of sex. When she swam on to the platform and +turned her eyes to the ceiling, it was seen that they brimmed with +tears.</p> + +<p>“Mon Dieu, M. le Vice-Président,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115" href="#Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> she ejaculated. “Mon Dieu!” And +proceeded in her rich, voluptuous voice to dwell on the iniquities of +the traffic in women and children all over the world. The nets of +these traffickers were spread even in Geneva—that city of good +works—and who would more greatly desire to make away with the good +men of the League of Nations than these wicked traffickers? How well +it was known among them that Lord Burnley, Dr. Svensen, and Dr. Chang +held strong opinions on this subject....</p> + +<p>At this point a French delegate leaped to his feet and made strong and +rapid objection to these accusations. No one more strongly than his +pure and humane nation disliked this iniquitous traffic in flesh and +blood, but the devil should have his due, and there was no proof that +the traffickers were guilty of the crimes now under discussion. Much +might be allowed a lady speaker in the height of her womanly +indignation, which did credit to her heart and sex, but scarcely so +much as that.</p> + +<p>For a moment it looked like a general squabble, for other delegates +sprang to their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116" href="#Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> feet and called out, and the interpreters, dashing +round the hall with notebooks, could scarcely keep pace, and every one +was excited except the Japanese, who sat solemnly in rows and watched. +For the hold, usually so firm, exercised by the chair over the +Assembly, had given way under the stress of these strange events, and +in vain did the Deputy-President knock on the table with his hammer +and cry “Messieurs! Messieurs! La parole est à Mademoiselle la +Déléguée de la Roumanie!”</p> + +<p>But he could not repress those who called out vehemently that “Il ne +s'agit pas à present de la traite des femmes; il s'agit seulement de +la disparition de Messieurs les Délégués!” And something unconsidered +was added about those states more recently admitted to the League, +which had to be hastily suppressed.</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle la Déléguée on the platform continued meanwhile to coo to +heaven her indignation at the iniquitous traffic in these unhappy +women, until the Deputy-President, in his courteous and charming +manner, suggested in her ear that she should, for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117" href="#Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> sake of peace, +desist, whereupon she smiled and bowed and swept down into the hall, +to be surrounded by congratulating friends shaking her by the hand.</p> + +<p>“M. Menavitch demande la parole,” announced the Deputy-President, who +should have known better. The delegate for the Serb-Croat-Slovene +state stood up in his place (it was scarcely worth while to ascend the +platform for his brief comments) and remarked spitefully that he had +just (as so often) had a telegram from Belgrade to the effect that a +thousand marauding Albanians had crossed their frontier and were +invading Serbia, and that, to his personal knowledge, there was a gang +of these marauders in Geneva, and, in his view, the responsibility for +any ruffianly crime committed in this city was not far to seek. He +then sat down, amid loud applause from the Greeks and cries of “shame” +from the English-speaking delegates. A placid Albanian bishop rose +calmly to reply. He, too, it seemed, had had a telegram from the seat +of his government, and his was about the Serbs, but before he had time +to state its contents the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118" href="#Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> Deputy-President stayed the proceedings. +“The session,” he said, “cannot be allowed to degenerate into an +exchange of international personalities.”</p> + +<p>“And <a name="tnpg118" id="tnpg118" class="tn" title="hwy">why</a> not?” inquired the Belfast voice of the delegate from Ulster. +“I'd say the Pope of Rome had some knowledge of this. I wouldn't put +it past him to have plotted the whole thing.”</p> + +<p>“Ask the Black and Tans,” his Free State colleague was naturally moved +to retort.</p> + +<p>“My God,” whispered the Secretary-General to the Deputy-President. “If +the Irish are off.... We must stop this.”</p> + +<p>Fortunately, here the delegates for Paraguay eased the situation by +proposing that the question of the disappearance of delegates should +be referred to a committee to be elected for that purpose, and that +the voting for that committee should begin forthwith. (The South +American delegates always welcomed the appointment of committees, for +they always hoped to be on them.) Lord John Lester, one of the +delegates from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119" href="#Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> Central Africa, who was less addicted to committees, +thinking that their methods lacked expedition, rose to protest, but +was overruled. The Assembly as a whole would obviously feel happier +about this affair if it were in committee hands, so the elections were +proceeded with at once. The delegate for Central Africa resigned +himself, only remarking that he hoped at least that the sessions of +the committee would be public, for as he had often said, publicity was +the life blood of the League.</p> + +<p>Journalists in the Press Gallery breathed a sigh of disappointment. +“In another minute,” said the <i>Times</i> to Henry, “we should have had +the Poles accusing the Lithuanians, the Greeks the Turks, the Turks +the Armenians, and every one the Germans. Already the French are +running round with a tale about the Germans having done it out of +revenge for the Silesian decision. Probably it's quite true. Only I +back the Bolshevik refugees to have had a hand in it somewhere too. +Well, I shall go lobbying, and hear the latest.”</p> + +<p>Henry too went lobbying.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120" href="#Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p><p>In the lobby something of a fracas was proceeding between a member of +the Russian delegation and a Bolshevik refugee. It seemed that the +latter was accusing the former of having been responsible for the +disappearance of Dr. Svensen, who had always had such a kind heart for +starving Russians, and who had irritated the Whites in old days by +sending money to the Bolshevik government for their relief. The +accusing refugee, who looked a hairy ruffian indeed, was supported by +applause from a claque of Finns, Ruthenians, Lithuanians, Esthonians, +Latvians, and others who had a dislike for the Russian Empire. M. +Kratzky's well-earned nickname, “Butcher of Odessa,” was freely hurled +at him, and the Slavs present were all in an uproar, as Slavs will be +if you excite them.</p> + +<p>Gravely, from a little way off, a group of Japanese looked on.</p> + +<p>“Obviously,” the <i>Times</i> murmured discreetly, “the Bolshies think +attack the best form of self-defence. I'm much mistaken if they don't +know something of this business.” For it was well known that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121" href="#Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +exiled Bolsheviks were vexed at the admission of monarchist Russia to +the League, and might take almost any means (Russians, whether White +or Red, being like that) of showing it.</p> + +<p>“An enemy hath done this thing,” murmured the gentle voice of Dr. +Silvio Franchi to Lord John Lester, who had walked impatiently out of +the Assembly Hall when the voting began, because he did not believe +that a committee was going to be of the least use in finding his +friends. He turned courteously towards the ex-cardinal, whom he +greatly liked.</p> + +<p>“What discord, where all was harmony and brotherhood!” continued Dr. +Franchi sadly.</p> + +<p>“Not quite all. Never quite all, even before,” corrected Lord John, +who, though an idealist, faced <a name="tnpg121" id="tnpg121" class="tn" title="facts. There">facts. “There</a> were always elements of +... But we were on the way; we were progressing. And now—this.”</p> + +<p>He waved his hand impatiently at the vociferous Slavs, and then at the +door of the Assembly Hall. “All at one another's throats; all hurling +accusations; all getting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122" href="#Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> telegrams from home about each other; all +playing the fool. And there are some people who say there is no need +for a League of Nations in such a world!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap23" id="chap23">23</a></h2> + +<p>Impatiently Lord John Lester pushed his way through the chattering +crowds in the lobby, and out into the street. He wanted to breathe, +and to get away from the people who regarded the recent disasters +mainly as an excitement, a news story, or a justification for their +international distastes. To him they were pure horror and grief. They +were his friends who had disappeared; it was his League which was +threatened.</p> + +<p>Moodily he walked along the paths of the Jardin Anglais; broodingly he +seated himself upon a bench and stared frowning at the <i>jet d'eau</i>, +and suspected, against his will, the Spanish and Portuguese Americans.</p> + +<p>A large lady in purple, walking on high-heeled shoes as on stilts, and +panting a little from the effort, stopped opposite him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123" href="#Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> +<p>“Such a favour!” she murmured. “I told my husband it was too much to +ask. But no, he would have it. He made me come and speak to you. I've +left him over there by the fountain.” She creaked and sat down on the +bench, and Lord John, who had risen as she addressed him, sat down +too, wondering how most quickly to get away.</p> + +<p>“The Union,” said the lady; and at that word Lord John bent towards +her more attentively. “Lakeside branches. We're starting them, my +husband and I, in all the lake villages. So important; so necessary. +These villages are terribly behind the times. They simply <em>live</em> in +the past. And what a past! Picturesque if you will—but not +progressive—oh, no! So some of us have decided that there <em>must</em> be a +branch of the Union in every lake village. We have brought a little +band of organisers over to Geneva to-day, to attend the Assembly. But +the Assembly is occupied this morning in electing committees. +Necessary, of course; but no mention of the broader principles on +which the League rests can be made until the voting is over. So we are +having a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124" href="#Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> business meeting in an office off the Rue Croix d'Or. +And when my husband and I caught sight of you he said to me, ‘If only +we could get Lord John to come right away now and address a few words +to our little gathering—oh, but really quite a few—its dead bones +would <a name="tnpg124a" id="tnpg124a" class="tn" title="live! Now,">live!’ Now,</a> do I ask too much, Lord John?”</p> + +<p>“My dear lady,” said Lord John, “I'm really sorry, but I simply +haven't the time, I wish you all the luck in the world, but——”</p> + +<p>The purple lady profoundly sighed.</p> + +<p>“I <em>told</em> my husband so. It was too much to ask. He's a colonel, you +know—an Anglo-Indian—and always goes straight for what he wants, +never hesitating. He <em>would</em> make me ask you; ... but at least we have +your good wishes, Lord John, haven't we?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, yes.”</p> + +<p>“The motto of our little village branches,” she added as she <a name="tnpg124b" id="tnpg124b" class="tn" title="rose, is">rose, “is</a> +<i>Si vis pacem, para bellum</i>. Or, in some villages, <i>Si vis bellum, +para pacem</i>. Both so true, aren't they? Now which do you think is the +best?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125" href="#Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p><p>Lord John Lester looked down at her in silence, momentarily at a loss +for an answer.</p> + +<p>“Really, my dear lady, ... I'm afraid I don't like either at all. In +fact, neither in any way expresses the ideals or principles of the +League.”</p> + +<p>She looked disappointed.</p> + +<p>“Now, you <em>don't</em> say so! But those are the lines we're founding our +branches on. One has to be so careful, don't you think, or a branch +may get on the wrong lines, with all these peace cranks about. And +every branch has its influence. They're ignorant in these lake +villages, but they do mean well, and they're only anxious to learn. If +only you would come and tell our little organising band how we <em>ought</em> +to start them!”</p> + +<p>Lord John, having taken the lady in, from her topmost purple feathers +to her pin-like heels, decided that, in all probability, she had not +got a League mind. And she and the Anglo-Indian colonel (who probably +had not got this type of mind either, for Anglo-Indian colonels so +exceedingly often have another) were going to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126" href="#Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> start branches of the +League of Nations Union all up the lake, to be so many centres of +noxious, watered-down, meaningless League velleity, of the type which +he, Lord John, found peculiarly repugnant. Perhaps, after all, it +might be his duty to go and say a few wholesome words to the little +organising band assembled in the office off the Rue Croix d'Or. Yes; +it was obviously his duty, and not to be shirked. With a sigh he +looked at his watch. It need not take him more than half an hour, all +told.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” he said. “If you would find a very few words of any +use——”</p> + +<p>She gave a joyful pant.</p> + +<p>“You're <em>too</em> good, Lord John! <em>How</em> grateful we shall all be! You +shall tell us <em>all</em> about how we ought to do it, and give us some +really <em>good</em> mottoes!... I remember helping with branches of the +National Service League before the war, and they had such a nice +motto—‘The path of duty is the way to safety.’ ... <em>That</em> would be a +good Union motto, don't you think? Or ‘<i>Festina lente</i>’—for we +mustn't be impatient, must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127" href="#Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> we? Or, ‘Hands across the sea!’ For +<em>nothing</em> is so important as keeping our <i>entente</i> with France intact, +is it.... The people of this country will not stand any weakening ... +<em>you</em> know.... My husband reads me that out of the paper at +breakfast.... There he is ... Frederick, isn't this good of Lord +John....”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap24" id="chap24">24</a></h2> + +<p>Professor Arnold Inglis, that most gentle, high-minded and engaging of +scholars, who most unfittingly represented part of a wild, hot, +uncultured, tropical continent on the League, strolled out after lunch +before the meeting of Committee 9 to see the flowers and fruit in the +market-place. He was sad, because, like his fellow-delegate and +friend, Lord John Lester, he hated this sort of disturbance. Like Lord +John, he resented this violence which was assaulting the calm and +useful progress of the Assembly, and was torn with anxiety for the +fate of the three delegates. He wished he had Lord John<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128" href="#Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> with him this +afternoon, that they might discuss the situation, but he had not seen +him since he had left the Assembly that morning, so characteristically +impatient at the prospect of the appointment of Committee 9.</p> + +<p>Professor Inglis stood by a fruit-stall and looked down absently at +the lovely mass of brilliant fruit and vegetables that lay on it.</p> + +<p>Presently he became aware that some one at his side was pouring forth +a stream of not unbeautiful language in a low, frightened voice. +Looking round, he saw a small, ugly, malaria-yellow woman, gazing at +him with frightened black eyes and clasped hands, and talking rapidly +in a curious blend of ancient and modern Greek. What she appeared to +be saying was:—</p> + +<p>“I am persecuted by Turks; I beg you to succour me!”</p> + +<p>“But what,” said Professor Inglis, also speaking in a blend, but with +more of the ancient tongue in it that had hers, for he was more at +home in classical than in modern Greek, “can I do? Can you not appeal +to the police?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129" href="#Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p><p>“I dare not,” she replied. “I am in a minority in my house; I am an +unprotected serving-woman, and there are three Turks in the same house +who leave me no peace. Even now one of them is waiting for me with a +stick because I had a misfortune and broke his hookah.”</p> + +<p>“It is certainly,” said the Professor, “a case for the police. If you +do not like to inform them, I will do so myself. Tell me where you +live.”</p> + +<p>“Just round the corner here, in a house in that passage,” she said. +“Come with me and see for yourself, sir, if you doubt my word as to my +sufferings.”</p> + +<p>Professor Inglis hesitated for a moment, not wishing to be drawn into +city brawls, but when she added, “I appealed to you, sir, because I +have been told how you are always on the side of the unprotected, and +also love the Greeks,” his heart melted in him, and he forgot that, +though he did indeed love the ancient Greeks, he did not very much +care for the moderns of that race (such, for example, as M. Lapoulis, +the Greek delegate), and only remembered that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130" href="#Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> here did indeed seem to +be a very Unprotected Minority (towards which persons his heart was +always soft), and that the Minority was a woman, poor, ill-favoured, +and malarial, talking a Greek more ancient than was customary with her +race, and persecuted by Turks, which nation Professor Inglis, in spite +of his League mind, could not induce himself to like. All these things +he recollected as he stood hesitating by the fruit stall, and he +reflected also that, until he had in some degree verified the woman's +tale, he would not care to trouble the already much burdened police +with it; so, with a little sigh, he turned to the poor woman and told +her he would come with her to her house and see for himself, and would +then assist her to take steps to protect herself. She thanked him +profusely, and led the way to the passage which she had mentioned.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap25" id="chap25">25</a></h2> + +<p>Chivalry, pity for the unprotected, love of the Greek tongue, dislike +of Turks—by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131" href="#Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> all these quite creditable emotions was Professor Inglis +betrayed, as you may imagine, to his fate.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap26" id="chap26">26</a></h2> + +<p>Henry Beechtree, when he left the Assembly Hall, had, for his part, +fish to fry in the Secretariat, and thither he made his rapid way. He +had arranged to meet Miss Doris Wembley, the secretary of Charles +Wilbraham, that morning in her chief's room, and then to lunch with +her.</p> + +<p>Henry was getting to know Miss Wembley very well. It seemed to him as +if he had always known her, as, indeed, he had. He knew the things she +would say before she said them. He knew which were the subjects she +would expand on, and which would land her, puzzled and uninterested, +in inward non-comprehension and verbal assent. She was a nice girl, a +jolly girl, an efficient girl, and a very pretty girl. She liked +Henry, whom she thought amusing, shabby, and queer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132" href="#Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>They began, of course, by talking of the fresh disappearances.</p> + +<p>“We've got bets in the Secretariat on who will be the next,” she told +him. “I've put my money on Branting. I don't know why, but I somehow +feel he'll go soon. But some people say it'll be the S.G. himself.... +Isn't it too awful for their wives, poor things? Poor little Madame +Chang! They say she's being simply wonderful.”</p> + +<p>“Wonderful,” repeated Henry. “That's what widows are, isn't it? But is +it, I wonder, enough to make one wonderful that one's husband should +disappear alive? You see, they may not be dead, these poor delegates; +they may exist, hidden away somewhere.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear, yes, I hope so. Isn't it all too weird? Have you <em>any</em> +theories, Mr. Beechtree?”</p> + +<p>Henry looked non-committal and said that doubtless every one in Geneva +had their private suspicions (often, for that matter, made public), +and that he was no exception. He then turned the conversation on to +Wilbraham's father-in-law, who was staying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133" href="#Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> so privately in Geneva, +and they had much fruitful talk on this and other subjects.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap27" id="chap27">27</a></h2> + +<p>The Assembly, having elected the committee, and listened to a long +speech from a Persian prince about the horrors of modern warfare, and +a poem of praise from an eminent Italian Swiss on the beauties of the +poet Dante, whose birthday was approaching, broke up for lunch.</p> + +<p>The committee (which was to be called Committee 9) was to meet at the +Secretariat that afternoon and consider what steps should next be +taken. It was a rather large committee, because nearly every one had +been anxious to be on it. It consisted of delegates from France, Great +Britain, Italy, Norway, Central Africa, Sweden, Belgium, Holland, +Spain, Albania, Serbia, Brazil, Chili, Bolivia, Panama, Paraguay, +Uruguay, Costa Rica, Guatemala, Greece, Poland, Lithuania, and Haiti. +Its sessions were to be in private, in spite of the strongly expressed +contrary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134" href="#Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> desire of Lord John Lester. The chairman was the delegate +for Paraguay. It was expected that he would carefully and skilfully +guide the lines on which the committee should work so that the +regrettable suspicions which had accidentally fallen on certain Latin +Americans should be diverted into other and more deserving channels.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap28" id="chap28">28</a></h2> + +<p>The proceedings of the first meeting of Committee No. 9 can be best +reported in the words of the Assembly Journal for the following day. +This journal, with its terse and yet detailed accounts of current +happenings, its polite yet lucid style, and its red-hot topicality +(for it is truly a journal), makes admirable reading for those who +like their literature up-to-date. Those who attend the meetings of the +Assembly are, as a matter of fact, excellently well-provided by the +enterprise of the Secretariat with literature. A delegated or a +journalist's pigeon-hole is far better than a circulating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135" href="#Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> library. +New every morning is the supply, and those who, in their spare hours, +like a nice lie down and a nice read (all in two languages) shall have +for their entertainment the Assembly Journal for the day, the Verbatim +Record of the last meetings of the Assembly and Committees, selected +press opinions of the affair (these are often very entertaining, and +journalists approach them with the additional interest engendered by +the hope that the comments they themselves have sent home to their +papers may have been selected for quotation: in passing it may be +observed that Henry Beechtree had, in this matter, no luck), and all +kinds of documents dealing with every kind of matter—the Traffic in +Women, Children, and Opium, the admission of a new State to the +League, international disputes, disagreeable telegrams from one +country about another, the cost of living in Geneva, the organisation +of International Statistics, International Health, or International +Education, the Economic Weapon of the League, the status or the +frontiers of a Central European state, the desirability of a greater +or a less great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136" href="#Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> publicity, messages from the Esperanto Congress, and +so on and so forth; every kind of taste is, in fact, catered for.</p> + +<p>To quote, then, the Journal for the day after the first meeting of the +Committee for Dealing with the Disappearance of Delegates:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>“Committee No. IX. met yesterday, Wednesday, Sept. 8th, at +3.30 p.m., under the chairmanship of M. Croza (Paraguay).</p> + +<p>“The Chairman pointed out that the agenda before the Committee +fell under several heads:—</p> + +<ul> + <li>“1. Deprecation of baseless suspicions and malicious +aspersions.</li> + + <li>“2. Investigation into possible or probable motives for the +assaults.</li> + + <li>“3. Consideration of the adoption of precautionary measures to +safeguard in future the persons of delegates.</li> + + <li>“4. Organisation of complete house to house search of the city +of Geneva by police.</li> + + <li>“5. Consideration of various suspicions based on reason and +common sense.</li> +</ul> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137" href="#Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p><p>“In order to carry on these lines of inquiry, five sub-committees were +appointed, each of which would report to the plenary committee day by +day.</p> + +<p>“All the sittings of the sub-committees would be in private, as the +publicity which had been demanded by one of the delegates from Central +Africa would vitiate, in this case, the effectiveness of the inquiry.</p> + +<p>“Before the sub-committees separated, several members addressed the +committee. M. Gomez (Panama) proposed that special attention should be +given to the fact that Geneva at all times, but particularly during +the sessions of the Assembly, was a centre of pestilential societies, +among whom were to be found in large numbers Socialists, Bolshevists, +Freemasons, and Jews. In his opinion, the headquarters of all these +societies should be raided. Above all, it should be remembered that +the delegates were all brothers in friendship, and as such were above +the suspicion of any but the basest minds.</p> + +<p>“M. Chapelle (France) said this was indeed true of the delegates, but +that it would be a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138" href="#Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> mistake if the committee should not keep its mind +open to all possibilities, and it must be remembered that some of the +nations most recently admitted to the League had bands of their +fellow-countrymen in Geneva, who were undoubtedly sore in spirit over +recent economic and political decisions, and might (without, well +understood, the sanction of their delegates) have been guilty of this +attack on the personnel of the League by way of revenge.</p> + +<p>“Signor Nelli (Italy) strongly deprecated the suggestion of M. +Chapelle as unworthy of the spirit of fraternity between nations which +should animate members of the League.</p> + +<p>“After some further discussion of Item 5 of the agenda, it was agreed +to leave it to the sub-committee appointed to consider it, and the +committee then broke up into five sub-committees.”</p></blockquote> + +<p>The Journal, always discreet, sheltered under the words “further +discussion of Item 5” a good deal of consideration of various +suspicions based on reason and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139" href="#Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> common sense. Most members of the +committee, in fact, had their suggestions to make; in committee people +always felt they could speak more freely than in the Assembly, and did +so. Bolshevist refugees, bands of marauding Poles disbanded from +General Zeligowski's army, Sinn Feiners, Orangemen, Albanians, Turks, +unprotected Armenians, Jugo-Slavs, women-traffickers, opium merchants, +Greeks, Zionists, emissaries from Frau Krupp, Mormons, Americans, +Indians, and hired assassins from <i>l'Intransigeant</i> and the <i>Morning +Post</i>—all these had their accusers. Finally Mr. Macdermott (Ulster) +said he would like to point out what might not be generally known, +that there was a very widespread Catholic society of dubious morals +and indomitable fanaticism, which undoubtedly had established a branch +in Geneva for the Assembly, and much might be attributable to this.</p> + +<p>It was this suggestion which finally caused the chairman to break +the committee hastily up into its sub-committees. And, as has +been said, none of this discussion found its way into the very +well-edited Journal,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140" href="#Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> though it would appear after some days in the +<i>procès-verbaux</i>.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap29" id="chap29">29</a></h2> + +<p>After the committee broke up, Fergus Macdermott from Belfast, who was +not on one of the sub-committees, walked briskly away from the +Secretariat, and had tea in company with the young man who represented +the <i>Morning Post</i>, and who was an old school-fellow of his. Excited +by his own utterances on the subject of Catholics, Fergus Macdermott +suddenly remembered, while drinking his tea, what day it was.</p> + +<p>“My God,” he remarked, profoundly moved, to Mr. Garth of the <i>Morning +Post</i>, “it's the 8th of September.”</p> + +<p>“What then?” inquired Mr. Garth, who was an Englishman and knew not +days, except those on which university matches were to be played or +races run or armistices celebrated. “What's the 8th?”</p> + +<p>The blue eyes of Mr. Macdermott gazed at him with a kind of kindling +Orange stare.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141" href="#Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p><p>“The 8th,” he replied, “is a day we keep in Ulster.”</p> + +<p>“Do you? How?”</p> + +<p>“By throwing stones,” said Mr. Macdermott, simply and fervently. “At +processions, you know. It's a great Catholic day—like August 15th—I +forget why. Some Catholic foolery. The birthday of the Virgin Mary, I +fancy. Anyhow we throw stones.... I wonder will there be any +processions here?”</p> + +<p>“You can't throw stones if there are,” his more discreet friend +admonished him. “Pull yourself together, Fergus, and don't look so +fell. These things simply aren't done outside your maniac country, you +know. Remember where and what you are.”</p> + +<p>The wild blue fire still leapt in Mr. Macdermott's Celtic eyes. His +mind obviously still hovered round processions.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” he explained, “one couldn't throw stones. Not abroad. But +one might go and look on....”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not. Not if I can prevent you. You'll disgrace the League +by shouting: ‘To hell with the Pope.’ I know you.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142" href="#Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> If a procession is +anywhere in the offing, it will make you feel so at home that you'll +lose your head entirely. Go and find O'Shane and punch his head if you +want to let off steam. He'll be game, particularly as it's one of his +home festivals too. You're neither of you safe to have loose on the +Nativity of the B.V.M., if that's what it is.”</p> + +<p>Macdermott gazed at the lake with eyes that dreamed of home.</p> + +<p>“It'd be a queer thing,” he murmured, “if there wouldn't be a +procession somewhere to-day, even in this godly Protestant city....”</p> + +<p>“Well, in case there should, and to keep you safe, you'd better come +and dine with me at eight at my inn. Don't dress. I must go and send +off my stuff now. See you later, then.”</p> + +<p>Fergus Macdermott, left alone, strolled along towards his own hotel, +but when he was half-way to it a clashing of bells struck on his ear, +and reminded him that the Catholic Church of Notre Dame was only a few +streets away. No harm to walk that way, and see if anything was doing. +He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143" href="#Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> did so. On the door of the church a notice announced that the +procession in honour of the Nativity of Our Lady would leave the +church at eight o'clock and pursue a route, which was given in detail.</p> + +<p>“Well, I can't see it,” said Fergus Macdermott. “I shall be having +dinner.” He went back to his hotel and typed out a manifesto, or +petition, as he called it, for presentation to the Assembly when +quieter times should supervene and make the consideration of general +problems possible again. The manifesto was on the subject of the +tyranny exercised over Ulster by the Southern Free State Government. +At the same moment, in his room at the same hotel, Denis O'Shane, the +Free State delegate, was typing <em>his</em> manifesto, which was about the +tyranny exercised over South Ireland by Ulster.</p> + +<p>At 7.45 Macdermott finished his document, read it through with +satisfaction and remembered that he had to go and dine with Garth. He +left his hotel with this intention, and could not have said at what +point his more profound, his indeed innate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144" href="#Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> intention, which was to go +to the Church of Notre Dame, asserted itself. Anyhow, at eight +o'clock, there he was in the Place Cornavin, arriving at the outskirts +of the crowd which was watching the white-robed crucifer and acolytes +leading the procession out of the open church doors and down the +steps.</p> + +<p>Macdermott, blocked by the crowd, could hardly see. He felt in an +inferior position towards this procession, barred from it by a kindly +and reverent crowd of onlookers. In his native city things were +different. He had here no moral support for his just contempt of +Popish flummery. He did not want to do anything to the procession, +merely to stare it down with the disgust it deserved, but this was +difficult when he could only see it above bared heads.</p> + +<p>A voice just above him said, in French: “Monsieur cannot see. He would +get a better view from this window here. I beg of you to come in, +monsieur.”</p> + +<p>Looking up, Macdermott saw the face of a kindly old woman looking down +at him from the first-floor window of the high<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145" href="#Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> house behind him. +Certainly, he admitted, he could not see, and he would rather like to. +He entered the hospitable open door, which led into a shop, and +ascended a flight of stone steps.</p> + +<p>On the top step, in the darkness of a narrow passage, a chloroformed +towel was flung and held tight over his head and face, and he was +borne to the ground.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap30" id="chap30">30</a></h2> + +<p>Thus this young Irishman's strong religious convictions, which did him +credit, betrayed him to his doom. But, incomprehensibly, doom in the +sense (whatever sense that was) in which it had overtaken his +fellow-delegates, was after all averted. He did not disappear into +silence as they had. On the contrary, the kindly old woman who had +rushed from the front window and bent over him as he lay unconscious +on the stair-head, saw him presently open his eyes and stir, and heard +the faint, bewildered murmur of “to hell with the Pope,” which is +what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146" href="#Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> Orangemen say mechanically when they come to, as others may say, +“Where am I?”</p> + +<p>Very soon he sat up, dizzily.</p> + +<p>“I was chloroformed,” he said, “by some damned Republican. Where is +the chap? Don't let him make off.”</p> + +<p>But he was informed that this person had already disappeared. When the +old lady of the house, hearing him fall, had come out and found him, +there had been no trace of either his assaulter or of the chloroformed +towel. The kindly old lady was almost inclined to think that monsieur +must have fainted, and fancied the Republican, the chloroform, and the +attack.</p> + +<p>Fergus Macdermott, who never either fainted or fancied, assured her +that this was by no means the case.</p> + +<p>“It's part, no doubt,” he said, “of this Sinn Fein plot against +delegates. Why they didn't put it through in my case I can't say. I +suppose they heard you coming.... But what on earth did they <em>mean</em> to +do with me? Now, madame, we must promptly descend and make inquiries +as to who was seen to leave your front door<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147" href="#Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> just now. There is no +time to be lost.... Only I feel so infernally giddy....”</p> + +<p>The inquiries he made resulted in little. Some standers-by had seen +two men leave the house a few minutes since, but had observed nothing, +neither what they were like nor where they went. No, it had not been +observed that they were of South Irish aspect.</p> + +<p>It seemed hopeless to track them. The old lady said that she lived +there alone with her husband, above the shop; but that, of course, any +scoundrel might stray into it while the door stood open, and lurk in +ambush.</p> + +<p>“How did they guess that the old lady was going to invite me in?” +Macdermott wondered. “If they did guess, that is, and if it was really +part of the anti-delegate campaign. Of course, if not, they may merely +have guessed she should ask some one (it may be her habit), and hidden +in ambush to rob whoever it might be. But they didn't rob me.... It +could be that this good old lady was in the plot herself, no less, for +all she speaks so civil. But who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148" href="#Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> is to prove that, I ask you? It's +queer and strange....”</p> + +<p>Thus pondering, Fergus Macdermott took a cab and drove to the hotel +where he was to dine with Garth, the representative of the <i>Morning +Post</i>. He would be doing Garth a good turn to let him get in with the +tale before the other papers; he would be able to wire it home +straight away. The <i>Morning Post</i> deserved that: a sound paper it was, +and at times the only one in England that got hold of and stated the +Truth. This attack on Macdermott proved conclusively to his mind, what +he and the <i>Morning Post</i> had from the first suspected and said, that +the Irish Republicans were at the back of the whole business, helped, +as usual, by German and Bolshevik money.</p> + +<p>“Ah, this proves it,” said Macdermott, his blue eyes very bright in +his white face as he drove along.</p> + +<p>As to the procession, he had forgotten all about it.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149" href="#Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="chap31" id="chap31">31</a></h2> + +<p>Mademoiselle Bjornsen, substitute delegate for one of the Scandinavian +countries, a doctor of medicine, and a woman of high purpose and +degree, of the type which used to be called, in the old days when it +flourished in Great Britain, <em>feminist</em>, often walked out in the +evening for a purpose which did her great credit. She was of those +good and disinterested women who care greatly for the troubles of +their less fortunate, less well-educated and less well-principled +sisters, and who often patrol streets in whatever city they happen to +find themselves, with a view to extending the hand of succour to those +of their sex who appear to be in error or in need.</p> + +<p>On this evening of the 8th of September, Mlle. Bjornsen was starting +out, after her dinner at the Hôtel Richemond, on her nightly patrol, +when she was joined by Mlle. Binesco from Roumania, a lady whose rich +and exuberant personality was not, perhaps, wholly in accord with her +own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150" href="#Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> more austere temperament, but whom she acknowledged to abound in +good intentions and sisterly pity for the unfortunate of her sex. For +her part, Mlle. Binesco did not regard Mlle. Bjornsen as a very +womanly woman, but respected her integrity and business-like methods, +and felt her to be, perhaps, an effective foil to herself. It may be +observed that there are in this world mental females, mental males, +and mental neutrals. You may know them by their conversation. The +mental females, or womanly women, are apt to talk about clothes, +children, domestics, the prices of household commodities, love +affairs, or personal gossip. Theirs is rather a difficult type of +conversation to join in, as it is above one's head. Mental males, or +manly men, talk about sport, finance, business, animals, crops, or how +things are made. Theirs is also a difficult type of conversation to +join in, being also above one's head. Male men as a rule, like female +women, and vice versa; they do not converse, but each supplies the +other with something they lack, so they gravitate together and make +happy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151" href="#Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> marriages. In between these is the No-Man's Land, filled with +mental neutrals of both sexes. They talk about all the other things, +such as books, jokes, politics, love (as distinct from love affairs), +people, places, religion (in which, though they talk more about it, +they do not, as a rule, believe so unquestioningly as do the males and +the females, who have never thought about it and are rather shocked if +it is mentioned), plays, music, current fads and scandals, public +persons and events, newspapers, life, and anything else which turns +up. Their conversation is easy to join in, as it is not above one's +head. They gravitate together, and often marry each other, and are +very happy. If one of them makes a mistake and marries a mental male +or a mental female, the marriage is not happy, for they demand +conversation and interest in things in general, and are answered only +by sex; they tell what they think is a funny story, and meet the +absent eye and mechanical smile of one who is thinking how to turn a +heel or a wheel, how to sew a frock or a field, how most cheaply to +buy shoes or shares. And they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152" href="#Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> themselves are thought tiresome, queer, +unsympathetic, unwomanly or unmanly, by the more fully sexed partner +they have been betrayed by love's blindness into taking unto +themselves.</p> + +<p>This is one of life's more frequent tragedies, but had not affected +either Mlle. Binesco, who was womanly, and had always married (so to +speak) manly men, or Mlle. Bjornsen, who was neutral, and had not +married any one, having been much too busy.</p> + +<p>Anyhow, these two ladies were at one in their quest to-night. Both, +whatever their minds might be like, had warm feminine hearts. Geneva, +that godly Calvinist city, was a poor hunting-ground on the whole for +them. But they turned their steps to the old <i>cité</i>, rightly believing +that among those ancient and narrow streets vice might, if anywhere, +flit by night.</p> + +<p>“These wicked traffickers in human flesh and blood,” observed Mlle. +Binesco sighing (for she was rather stout), as they ascended the Rue +de la Cité; “do not tell me they are not somehow behind the mysterious +assaults on our unhappy comrades of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153" href="#Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> League. Never tell me so, for +I will not believe it.”</p> + +<p>“I will not tell you so,” Mlle. Bjornsen, an accurate person, replied, +“for I know nothing at all about it, nor does any one else. But to me +it seems improbable, I sometimes think, mademoiselle, that there is +some danger that the preoccupation which women like ourselves +naturally feel with the suppression of this cruel trade and the rescue +of its victims, may at times lead us into obsession or exaggeration. I +try to guard myself against that. Moderation and exactitude are +important.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, there speaks the north. For me, mademoiselle, I cannot be +moderate; it is a quality alien to my perhaps over-impetuous +temperament. I have never been cautious—neither in love, hate, nor in +the taking of risks. You will realise, Mademoiselle, that the risk you +and I are taking to-night is considerable. Have we not been warned not +to penetrate into the more squalid parts of the city by night? And we +are not only delegates, but women. At any moment we might be attacked +and carried off to some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154" href="#Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> dwelling of infamy, there to wait deportation +to another land.”</p> + +<p>“I do not expect it,” replied the Scandinavian lady, who had a sense +of humour.</p> + +<p>A shrill giggle broke on their ears from a side street. Glancing down +it, they saw a young girl, wearing like flags the paint and manner of +her profession, and uttering at intervals its peculiar cry—that +shrill, harsh laugh which had drawn the ladies' attention.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” a coo of satisfaction came from Mlle. Binesco. “<i>Voilà une +pauvre petite!</i>”</p> + +<p>As the girl saw them, she darted away from them down the alley, +obviously suspicious of their intentions. Quickly they followed; here, +obviously, was a case for assistance and rescue.</p> + +<p>The kind mouth of Mlle. Bjornsen set in determination; her intelligent +eyes beamed behind their glasses.</p> + +<p>The girl fluttered in front of them, still uttering the peculiar cry +of her species, which to the good ladies was a desperate appeal for +help, till she suddenly bolted beneath a low, dark archway.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155" href="#Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p><p>The ladies hesitated. Then, “I must follow her, poor girl,” Mlle. +Bjornsen remarked simply, for the courage of a thousand Scandinavian +heroes beat in her blood.</p> + +<p>“And where you adventure, my dear friend,” cried Mlle. Binesco, “I, a +Roumanian woman and a friend of kings, will not be behind! We advance, +then, in the name of humanity and of our unhappy sex!”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap32" id="chap32">32</a></h2> + +<p>Humanity, compassion, womanly sympathy, and devotion to the cause of +virtue—by these noble qualities these two poor ladies were lured to +their fate. For it should be by now superfluous to say that, though +they entered that archway, they did not emerge from it.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156" href="#Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="chap33" id="chap33">33</a></h2> + +<p>There also disappeared that night the good Albanian bishop, +betrayed by who knew what of episcopal charity and response to +appeals for succour from his fellow-countrymen, the helpless +sheep of his flock, threatened by the wolfish atrocities of the +ineffable Serb-Croat-Slovenes.</p> + +<p>It did indeed seem that this unseen hand was taking the highest +types of delegate for its purposes so mysterious and presumably +so fell.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap34" id="chap34">34</a></h2> + +<p>Every one turned next morning with interest to the day's issue of +“Press Opinions” to discover what the world's newspapers were saying +of the tragic and extraordinary state of affairs in Geneva. They were +saying, it seemed, on the whole, very much what might be expected of +them. The American press, for instance, observed that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157" href="#Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> the League, +without the support of the United States, was obviously falling into +the state of disruption and disintegration which had long since been +prophesied. What was to be expected, when the Monroe Doctrine was +being threatened continually by the bringing before the League of +disputes between the South and Central American republics, disputes +which, being purely American, could not possibly be settled by +European intervention in any shape or form? On this question of the +Monroe Doctrine, the security and utility of the whole League +rested.... It was rumoured that it was the shaky attitude of the +League on this point that was responsible for its present collapse....</p> + +<p>(“Seems very like saying that America is behind the whole game,” +commented many readers.)</p> + +<p>The French press commented on the fact that no one had yet dared to +lay a hand on the French delegates. “Whatever,” it said, “may be +thought of the other delegates, the whole world has agreed to see in +France a nation so strong, so beneficent, and so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158" href="#Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> humane, that it +merits the confidence of humanity at large. Without it, no affairs +could flourish. The tribute to the prestige of France evinced by this +notable omission of assault cannot but be gratifying to all who love +France. With the tragic disappearance of several English-speaking +delegates, it might perhaps be natural to dispense with the tedious +use of two languages where only one is necessary. No one listens to +the interpretations into English of French speakers; the general +chatter of voices and movement which immediately starts when the +English interpreter begins, is surely sign enough of the general +feeling on this point....”</p> + +<p>The more nationalist section of the Italian press—the <i>Popolo +d'Italia</i>, for instance—prophesied, with tragic accuracy, that the +Albanian delegate would very soon be among the victims of this +criminal plot, in which it was not, surely, malicious to detect +Yugo-Slav agency. It also spoke with admiration of the poet Dante.</p> + +<p>The Swiss press, in much distress, urged the clearing up of this +tragic mystery,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159" href="#Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> which so foully stained the records of the noble city +of Geneva, so beautiful in structure, so chaste in habits, so +idealistic in outlook, the centre of the intellectual thought of +Europe, and, above all, so cheap to live in. For their part (so said +<i>La Suisse</i>), they attributed these outrages to criminal agents from +the hotels and shops of Brussels, Vienna, and other cities which might +be mentioned, who had been sent to discredit Geneva as a safe and +suitable home for the League. Fortunately, however, such discrediting +was impossible: on the contrary, the cities discredited were the +above-mentioned, which had hatched and put into execution such a +wicked plot.</p> + +<p>The extracts selected from the British press spoke with various +voices. The <i>Morning Post</i> commented, without much distress, on the +obvious disintegration and collapse of the League, which had always +had within itself the seeds of ruin and now was meeting its expected +Nemesis. Such preposterous houses of cards, said the <i>Morning Post</i>, +cannot expect to last long in a world which is, in the main, a +sensible place. It did not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160" href="#Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> now seem probable that, as some said, +Bolshevists were behind these outrages; on further consideration it +was not even likely to be Irish traitors; for these sections of the +public would doubtless approve the League, typical as it was of the +folly which so strongly actuated themselves. Far more likely was it +that their assaults were the work, misguided but surely excusable, of +the Plain Man, irritated at last to execute judgment on these frenzied +and incompetent efforts after that unprofitable dream of the +visionary, a world peace. It was well known that the question of +disarmament was imminent....</p> + +<p>The <i>British Bolshevist</i> (its leader, not its correspondent, who +seldom got quoted by the <i>Press Bulletin</i>) agreed with the <i>Morning +Post</i> that the house of cards was collapsing because of its inherent +vices, but was inclined to think that the special vice for which it +was suffering retribution was its failure to deal faithfully with +Article 18 of the Covenant, which concerned the publicity of treaties. +The <i>British Bolshevist</i> always had Article 18 a good deal on its +mind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161" href="#Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p><p>The <i>Times</i> said that these strange happenings showed the importance +of keeping on frank and friendly terms (the <i>Times</i> often used these +two incompatible adjectives as if they were synonymous) with France. +They served to emphasise and confirm that <i>entente</i> of which the +British people were resolved to suffer no infringement.</p> + +<p>The <i>Daily News</i> thought that the enemies of disarmament and of the +various humanitarian efforts of the League were responsible for these +assaults.</p> + +<p>The <i>Manchester Guardian</i> correspondent said that at last the +Assembly, formerly a little dull, had taken on all the interest of a +blood and thunder melodrama....</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap35" id="chap35">35</a></h2> + +<p>The days went by, and the nights. Why dwell on them, or, in detail, on +the strange—or rather the now familiar, but none the less +sinister—events which marked each? One could tell of the +disappearance, one after another, of the prominent members of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162" href="#Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> the +Council—of the decoy of Signor Nelli, the chief Italian delegate, by +messengers as from Fiume with strange rumours of Jugo-Slav misdeeds; +of the sudden disappearance of Latin Americans from the Casino, +whither they had gone to chat, to drink, and to play; of the silent +stealing away of rows upon rows of Japanese, none knew how or why; of +how Kristna, the distinguished Indian, was lured to meet a supposed +revealer of a Ghandi anti-League plot.</p> + +<p>As full-juiced apples, waxing over-mellow, drop in a silent autumn +night, so dropped these unhappy persons, delegate by delegate, to +their unguessed at doom. And it would indeed appear as if there were +some carefully deliberated design against the welfare of the League, +for gradually it appeared that those taken had, on the whole, this +welfare more at heart than those left; their ideals were more pacific, +their hearts more single, their minds more League.</p> + +<p>The Turkish delegation, for example, did not disappear. Nor the +Russian, nor the German, nor the Greek, nor the Serb-Croat-Slovene.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163" href="#Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p><p>In the hands of those left, the Assembly and its committees were less +dangerous to the wars of the world than they had been before. The +best, from a League stand-point, were gone. What, for instance, would +happen to the disarmament question should it be brought up, with the +most ardent members of the disarmament committee thus removed from the +scene? But, indeed, how could that or any other question be brought +up, in the present state of agitation, when all minds were set on the +one problem, on how to solve this appalling mystery that spread its +tentacles further every day? The only committee which sat, or +attempted any business, was Committee 9, on the Disappearance of +Delegates—and that was signally impotent to do more than meet, pass +resolutions, and report on unavailing measures taken.</p> + +<p>The other committees, on humanitarian questions, on intellectual, +financial, economic, political, and transit questions, were struck +helpless. Not a frontier dispute, not an epidemic, not a drug, not so +much as a White Slave, could be discussed. Truly the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164" href="#Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> very League +itself seemed struck to the heart. All the Assembly could do was meet, +vote, pass resolutions, and make speeches about the horrors of the +next war and the necessity of thwarting the foul plot against the +wellbeing of the League.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Central Europe rumbled, as usual, indeed as always, with +disputes that might at any moment become blows. Affairs in +Jugo-Slavia, in Hungary, in Greece, in Albania, in Czecho-Slovakia, in +Poland, and in Russia, were not quiet. Greece and Turkey were +hideously at war. Nor were the South and Central American republics +free from unrest. Russia was reaching out its evil White hands to +grasp and weld again into a vast unhappy whole its former constituent +republics of Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia, Esthonia, Tauride, and White +Russia. There seemed every chance that it would shortly succeed in +doing so. The nations growled everywhere like sullen dogs on fragile +chains. Never had the League of Nations, in all its brief career, been +more necessary, never less available. Not a grievance could be given +that public airing from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165" href="#Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> what is called a world platform, which is so +beneficial to the airers, so apt at promoting fraternal feeling, so +harmless to all concerned. Instead, grievances festered and went bad, +and blood-poisoning was rapidly setting in. Not a voice could be +raised, as many voices would have been raised, from that +world-platform, to urge contending parties to refer their differences +to the Court of International Justice, so ready and eager to +adjudicate, to apply international conventions, whether general or +particular, international custom as evidence for a general practice +accepted as law, and teachings of the most highly qualified publicists +as subsidiary means for the determination of rules of law. For all +this is what these aged and wise judges sitting at the Hague were +equipped and ready to do, if only the nations would ask them to do it. +But it was not to be expected that the nations should make use of such +a strange procedure for themselves, unless prompted and even urged +thereto by the weight of opinion in the Assembly.</p> + +<p>Yes, Europe, and indeed the world, was,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166" href="#Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> as always, in a parlous +state, rushing on ruin with no hand raised to give it pause, even as +in the evil old days before the conception and foundation of the +League. The journalists were as busy as, and more profoundly happy +than, they would have been had the Assembly been running its appointed +course. They ran about picking up clues, Marconi-graphing messages to +their papers about the latest disappearances, the latest theories, the +newest rumours. Each became a private detective, pursuing a lone +trail. Other journalists flocked to the scene; where they had come in +their tens, they now came in their hundreds, for here was News. The +Assembly of the League of Nations is not News, until it stumbles on +mystery and disaster, becoming material for a shocker. The meeting +together of organisations for the betterment of the world is not News, +in the sense that their failure is. Deeply Henry, going about his +secret and private business, intent and absorbed, pondered this +question of News, what it is and what it is not. Crime is News; +divorce is News; girl mothers are News; fabric gloves and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167" href="#Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> dolls' eyes +are, for some unaccountable reason, News; centenaries of famous men +are, for some still stranger reason, News; railway accidents are News; +the wrong-doing of clergymen is News; strangest of all, women are, +inherently and with no activities on their part, News, in a way that +men are not. Henry had often thought this very singular. He had read +in accounts of public gatherings (such as criminal trials, tennis +tournaments, boxing matches, etc.), such statements as “There were +many well-dressed women present.” These women had done nothing to +deserve their fame; they were merely present, just as men were. But +never had Henry read, “There were many well-dressed men present,” for +men were not News. To be News in oneself, without taking any +preliminary action—that was very exciting for women. A further +question arose: were women News to their own sex, or only to men? And +were men perhaps News to women? “There were many well-dressed men +present.” ... Ah, that would be exciting reading for women, and +perhaps a woman reporter would thrill<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168" href="#Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> to it and set it down. But men +do not care how many men were present, or how well they were dressed, +or what colour their hats and suits were. All sorts of articles and +letters appear in the papers about women. Profound questions are +raised concerning them. Should they smoke? Should they work? Vote? +Take Orders? Marry? Exist? Are not their skirts too short, or their +sleeves? Have they a sense of humour, of honour, of direction? Are +spinsters superfluous? But how seldom similar inquiries are propounded +about men. How few persons discuss superfluous bachelors, or whether +the male arm or leg is an immodest sight, or whether men should vote. +For men are not <a name="tnpg168" id="tnpg168" class="tn" title="news.">News.</a></p> + +<p>Anyhow, thought Henry, anyhow delegates became News the moment they +disappeared. If you do wrong you are News, and if you have a bad +accident, you are News, but if you mysteriously disappear, you are +doubly and trebly News. To be News once in one's life—that is +something for a man. Though sometimes it comes too late to be +enjoyed.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169" href="#Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="chap36" id="chap36">36</a></h2> + +<p>In and out of the maze of ancient streets that are Old Geneva, to and +fro along the alleys that lead through balconied, leaning houses, up +and down obscure and sudden flights of stone steps, Henry wandered +under the September moon. All day he had, with the help of Charles +Wilbraham's unwitting secretary, tracked Charles Wilbraham. He knew +how Charles had begun the morning by dictating proud and ponderous +documents in his proud and ponderous voice, and talking to people who +came in and out of his room; how he had then gone to the Assembly Hall +and chatted in the lobby to every one of sufficient importance to be +worth his while, including ex-Cardinal Franchi, who had of late been +making friends with him, and with whom he had dined last night at the +Château Léman; how then Charles had lunched with two Russians, a +Greek, and a Pole, and Sir John Levis, his father-in-law, at the Café +du Nord, hatching Henry did not know what (for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170" href="#Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> the Nord was much too +expensive for him) of anti-League mischief and crime; how after lunch +Charles had attended the meetings of the sub-committees on the +Disappearance of Delegates, going from one to another looking +business-like and smug and as if he were at strictly private meetings, +as indeed he was. Then up to his room for his tea (Charles never +missed this meal) and down again to see how Sub-Committee 5 +(“Consideration of Various Suspicions based on Reason and Common +Sense”) was getting on, and then up again to do some more work. (For +there was this about Charles, as even Henry had to admit—he worked +hard. Ambition, the last infirmity of noble minds, offensive and +irritating quality as it is, has at least this one good fruit.) Then +Charles had been to a large dinner given by the Canadian delegation to +members of the Secretariat, and had made a facetious speech; and now, +at eleven-thirty, he was walking about the old city, followed at some +distance by Henry Beechtree.</p> + +<p>Charles was not alone. He had with him M. Kratzky from Russia, Sir +John Levis,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171" href="#Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> and a small, quiet Calvinist minister, whom Henry had +lately seen about Geneva.</p> + +<p>The four gentlemen turned out of the Rue du Perron down the narrow, +ancient and curious Passage de Monnetier, and out of that into a deep +arched alley running through a house into another street. Henry, +watching from the corner of the Passage de Monnetier, did not dare to +follow nearer for some moments. When he had given them a little time, +he softly tiptoed to the mouth of the alley. It was one of those deep +cobbled passages that run through many houses in the old quarter. It +was profoundly dark; Henry could only faintly discern the three +figures half-way down it. They seemed to have stopped, and to be +bending down as if looking for something on the ground. The spark of +an electric torch gleamed suddenly, directed by the little clergyman; +its faint disc of light swam over the dirty floor of the passage, till +it came to rest on an iron ring that lay flat to the ground. The +clergyman seized this ring and jerked at it; after a moment it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172" href="#Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> left +the ground in his hand, and with it the flap of a trap-door.</p> + +<p>Whispers inaudible to Henry passed between the members of the party; +then, one by one, the three figures descended through the open trap +into the bowels of the earth, and the lid closed upon them.</p> + +<p>Henry tiptoed forward; should he follow? On the whole—no. On the +whole he would wait until Wilbraham, his father-in-law, M. Kratzky, +and the clergyman emerged. What, after all, would be the use of +finding oneself underground with desperate, detected criminals, whose +habit it apparently was to stick at nothing? What, after all, could he +do?</p> + +<p>Henry was shivering, less from fear than excitement. Here, indeed, was +a clue. Were they kept immured underground, these unfortunate captive +delegates? And did Wilbraham and his criminal associates visit them +from time to time with food and drink? Or without? With nothing, +perhaps, but taunts? And how many more in Geneva knew of this +trap-door and its secret? There were, every one knew, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173" href="#Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> number of +these old <i>trappons</i> in the city, leading usually to disused cellars; +their presence excited no suspicion. Probably no one ever used the +obscure and hidden trap in this dark alley.</p> + +<p>It was queer, how sure Henry felt that this curious nocturnal +expedition on the part of Charles, his father-in-law, M. Kratzky and +the Calvinist pastor had to do with the mystery of the delegates. He +knew it beyond a doubt. Nor was he surprised. It came as a +consummation of his suspicion and his hopes. Of Charles Wilbraham's +villainy he had long been all but sure; of the villainy of M. Kratzky +all the world knew; of the villainy of an ammunitions knight and a +Calvinist pastor there needed little to convince Henry. But he knew +that he must make sure. He must not go to the police, or to the +committee, with an unproved tale. He must wait and investigate and +prove.</p> + +<p>He waited, in the dark archway beneath the crazy jumble of houses, +with the sudden voices and footfalls of the midnight city echoing from +time to time in the dark streets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174" href="#Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> beyond. He waited and waited and +waited. Now and then a dog or a cat rushed by him, startling him. +Then, after twenty minutes or so, he wearied of waiting. Weariness and +curiosity defeated caution; he pulled up the trap-door by its ring and +peered down into blackness. Blackness, stillness, emptiness, and a +queer, mouldy smell. Henry sat on the hole's edge for a full minute, +dangling his legs. Then, catching his breath a little (it may or may +not have been mentioned that Henry was not very brave), he swung +himself down on to a hard, earthy floor.</p> + +<p>It was a tunnel he was in; a passage about six feet high and four feet +wide. How many feet or yards long was a more difficult and a much more +interesting question. Feet? Yards? It might be miles. Henry's +imagination bored through the impenetrable dark in front of the little +moon thrown by his electric torch; through and along, through and +along, towards what? The horrid four who had preceded him—where were +they? Did they lurk, planning some evil, farther along the tunnel, +just out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175" href="#Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> of earshot? Or had they emerged by some other exit? Or were +they even now returning, to meet Henry in a moment face to face, to +brush by him as he pressed against the damp brick wall, to turn on him +suddenly that swimming moon of light ... and then what?</p> + +<p>Charles Wilbraham was no taker of human life, Henry felt assured. He +was too prudent, too respectable, too much the civil servant. M. +Kratzky, on the other hand, <em>was</em> a taker of human life—he did it as +naturally as others would slay midges; while he breathed he slew. If +Henry should be discovered spying, M. Kratzky's counsels would be all +for making forthwith an end of Henry. Sir John Levis was an armament +knight: members of the staff of the <i>British Bolshevist</i> needed not to +know more of him than that: the Calvinist minister was either a +Calvinist minister, and that was bad, or a master-criminal of the +underworld disguised as a Calvinist minister, and that was worse. Or +both of these. Four master-criminals of the underworld—these +intriguing, appalling creatures, so common in the best fiction, so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176" href="#Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +rare even in the worst life—if one were to meet four of them together +in a subterranean passage.... Could human flesh and nerves endure it?</p> + +<p>Henry, with his shuddering dislike of seeing even a goldfish injured +or slain, shrank far more shudderingly from being injured or slain +himself. The horrid wrench that physical assault was—and then, +perhaps, the sharp break with life, the plunge into a blank +unknown—and never to see again on this earth the person whom one very +greatly loved....</p> + +<p>As has been said, Henry was not brave. But he was, after all, a +journalist on the scent of a story, and that takes one far; he was +also a hunter in pursuit of a hated quarry, and that takes one +farther.</p> + +<p>Henry crossed himself, muttered a prayer and advanced down the +passage, his torch a lantern before his feet, his nerves shivering +like telegraph wires in a winter wind, but fortunately not making the +same sound.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177" href="#Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="chap37" id="chap37">37</a></h2> + +<p>On and on and on. It was cold down there, like death, and bitter like +death, and dark. Rats scuffled and leaped. Once Henry trod on one of +them; it squeaked and fled, leaving him sick and cold. His imagination +was held and haunted by the small quiet pastor; he seemed, on the +whole, the worst of the four miscreants. A sinister air of deadly +badness there had been about him.... Lines ran in and out of Henry's +memory like cold mice. Something about “a grim Genevan minister walked +by with anxious scowl.” ... Horrid.... It made you sweat to think of +him. Then on the passage there opened another passage, running sharply +into it from the right. That was odd. Which should be followed?</p> + +<p>Henry swung his flashlight up each in turn, and both seemed the same +narrow blackness. He advanced a few steps, and on his left yet another +turning struck out from the main tunnel.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178" href="#Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p><p>“My God,” Henry reflected, “the place is a regular catacomb.”</p> + +<p>If one should lose oneself therein, one might wander for days, as one +did in catacombs.... Having no tallow candle, but only an electric +torch, one might eat one's boots ... the very rats....</p> + +<p>Not repressing a shudder, Henry stood hesitating at the cross-roads, +looking this way and that, his ears strained to listen for sounds.</p> + +<p>And presently, turning a corner, he perceived that there were +sounds—footsteps and low voices, advancing down the left-hand passage +towards him. Quickly shutting his light, he stepped back till he came +to the right-hand turning, and went a little way up it, to where it +sharply bent. Just round the corner he stopped, and stood hidden. He +was gambling on the chance that whoever was coming would advance, back +or forward, along the main tunnel when they struck into it. If, on the +other hand, they crossed this and turned up his passage, he could +hastily recede before them until perhaps another turning came, or +possibly some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179" href="#Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> exit, or until they turned on him that horrid moon of +light and caught him....</p> + +<p>Well, life is a gamble at all times, and more particularly to those +who play the spy.</p> + +<p>Henry listened. The steps came nearer. They had a queer, hollow sound +on the earthy floor. Low voices murmured.</p> + +<p>It came to Henry suddenly that these were not the voices of Charles +Wilbraham, of Sir John Levis, of M. Kratzky, or, presumably then, of +the little pastor. These were voices more human, less deadly.</p> + +<p>The footsteps reached the main passage, and then halted.</p> + +<p>“Here's a puzzle,” said a voice. “Which way, then? Will we divide, or +take the one road?”</p> + +<p>And then Henry, though he loved not Ulster, thanked God and came +forward.</p> + +<p>At the sound of his advance a flashlight was swung upon him, and the +Ulster voice said, “Put them up!”</p> + +<p>Henry put them up.</p> + +<p>“It's all right, man. It's only Beechtree,” said another voice, after +a moment's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180" href="#Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> inspection, and Henry, though he loved not the <i>Morning +Post</i>, blessed its correspondent.</p> + +<p>“Good Lord, you're right.... What are you doing here, Beechtree? Is +your paper in this damned Republican plot, as well as Sinn Fein, +Bolsheviks, Germans, and the Pope? I wouldn't put it past the <i>British +Bolshevist</i> to have a finger in it——”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, no,” said Henry. “You are quite mistaken, Macdermott. This +plot is being run by armament profiteers, White Russia, and Protestant +ministers. They're all down here doing it now. I am tracking them. And +His Holiness, you remember, sent an encouraging message to the +Assembly——”</p> + +<p>“The sort of flummery he <em>would</em> encourage.... I beg your pardon, +Beechtree. We will not discuss religion: not to-night. Time is short. +How did <em>you</em> get into this rat-trap? And whom, precisely, are you +tracking?”</p> + +<p>“Through a <i>trappon</i> in an archway off the Passage de Monnetier. And I +am tracking Wilbraham, Sir John Levis, M. Kratzky, and a Protestant +clergyman, who all preceded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181" href="#Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> me through it. But I don't know in the +least where they have got to. There are so many ramifications in this +affair. I took it for a single tunnel, but it seems to be a regular +system.”</p> + +<p>“It is,” said Garth. “It extends on the other side of the water too. +We got into it this evening through that house in the Place Cornavin +where Macdermott was bilked by a Sinn Feiner.”</p> + +<p>“We had our suspicions of that house ever since,” Macdermott went on; +“so we went exploring this evening, and by the luck of God they'd gone +out and left the door on the latch, so we slipped in and searched +around, and found a trap-door in a cupboard—where they'd have shoved +me down if they hadn't given up the idea half-way. It lets you down +into a passage just like this, that runs down to the water and comes +out in the courtyard of one of those tumble-down old pigeon-cotes by +the Quai du Seujet. We came out there, and then tried over this side, +through a trap by the Molard jetty I'd noticed before, and it led us +here. There are dozens of these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182" href="#Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> <i>trappons</i> on both sides. Lots of +them are inside houses. I always thought they led only to cellars.... +As to your four chaps, wherever they've got to, no doubt they're +exploring too. Wilbraham in a plot! Likely.”</p> + +<p>“It is,” said Henry. “Very likely indeed. There are plenty of facts +about Wilbraham you don't know. I've been finding them out for several +years. I shall lay them before Committee 9 to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>The other two looked at him with the good-natured pity due to the +correspondent of the <i>British Bolshevist</i>.</p> + +<p>“Your lunatic paper has turned your brain, my son,” Garth said.</p> + +<p>“Well, let's be getting on,” Macdermott impatiently urged. “Which way +did your plotters take, Beechtree? We may as well be getting after +them, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“I don't know. I've lost them. I didn't follow at once, you see; I +waited, thinking they would come out presently. When they didn't, I +came down too. But by that time they'd got a long start. And, as there +are other exits, they may have got out anywhere.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183" href="#Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p><p>“Well, let's come along and look. We'll each take a different passage; +we'll explore every avenue, like Cabinet Ministers. I'll go straight +ahead; one of you two take that right-hand road, and the other the +next turning, whenever it comes. We'll each get out where and how we +can. Come on.”</p> + +<p>Garth turned up to the right. Henry went on with Macdermott for some +way, till another turning branched off, running left.</p> + +<p>“Ah, there's yours,” said the Ulster delegate. “I shall keep straight +on, whatever alluring avenues open on either side to tempt me. +To-morrow (if we get out of this) we'll bring a gang of police down +and do the thing thoroughly. Good luck, Beechtree. Don't scrag honest +civil servants or good clergymen on sight. And don't let old Kratzky +scrag you. Politically he's on the right side (that's why he'd want to +scrag you, and quite right, too), but personally he's what you might +call a trifle unprincipled, and that's why he'd do it as soon as look +at you.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184" href="#Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="chap38" id="chap38">38</a></h2> + +<p>Henry walked alone again. The passage oozed water. The silence was +chilly and deep. Against it and far above it, occasional sounds beat, +as the world's sounds beat downwards into graves.</p> + +<p>Geneva was amazing. How many people knew that it was under-run by this +so intricate tunnel system? Did the town authorities know? Surely yes. +And, knowing, had they not thought, when the recent troubles began, to +explore these avenues? (How that horrid phrase always stuck in one's +mind; one could not get away from it, as many a statesman, many an +orator daily proved.) But possibly they had explored them with no +result. Possibly Sub-section 4 (Organisation of Search) of Committee 9 +knew all about them. What that sub-section did not yet know was that +Charles Wilbraham, hand in glove with autocrat Russia, armament kings, +and the Calvinist church, lurked and plotted in the avenues by night, +like the spider in her web waiting for flies.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185" href="#Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>There were turnings here and there, to one side or the other, but +Henry kept a straight course.</p> + +<p>At last he was brought up sharp, nearly running his face into a rough +clay wall, and above him he saw a trap-door. Here, then, was his exit. +The door was only just above his head; he pushed at it with his hands; +it gave not at all.</p> + +<p>After all, one would expect a trap-door to be bolted. He wondered if +it would be of any use to knock. Did it give on to a street, a +courtyard, or a house?</p> + +<p>He rapped on it with the end of his electric torch, softly and then +loudly. He went on rapping, and knew the fear that assails the +assaulter of impregnable, unyielding silence, the panic of him who +calls aloud in an empty house and is answered only by the tiny sounds +of creaking, scuffling, and whispering that cause the skin to creep, +the blood to curdle, the marrow to freeze, the heart to stop, and the +spirit to be poured out like water. Strange and horrid symptoms! +Curdled blood, frozen marrow, unbeating heart ... who first discovered +that this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186" href="#Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> is what occurs to these organs when fear assaults the +brain? Have physiologists said so, or is it a mere amateur guess at +truth, another of the foolish things “they” say?</p> + +<p>In these speculations Henry's mind engaged while he stood in the black +bowels of the earth and beat for entry at the world's closed door.</p> + +<p>At last he heard sounds as of advancing steps. Bolts were drawn +heavily back; the trap-door was raised, and a face peered down; a +brownish face with a small black moustache and a smooth skin stretched +tightly over fat. A glimmer of light struggled with the darkness. “Chi +c'è?” said a harsh voice, whispering.</p> + +<p>“Sst! son'io.” Henry thought this the best answer. His nerves had +relaxed on hearing the Italian language, a tongue not spoken +habitually by Wilbraham, M. Kratzky, Sir John Levis, or Calvinist +pastors. It is a reassuring tongue; one feels, but how erroneously, +that those speaking it cannot be very far out of the path of human +goodness. And to Henry it was partly native. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187" href="#Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> very sight of the +plump, smooth, Italian face made him feel at ease.</p> + +<p>The face peered down into the darkness, and a stump of candle burning +in a saucer threw a wavering beam on to Henry's face looking up.</p> + +<p>“Già,” the voice assented to Henry's rather obvious statement. “Voul +scendere, forse?”</p> + +<p>Henry said he did, and a stool was handed down to him. In another +minute he stood on the stone floor of a largish cellar, almost +completely blocked with casks and wood stacks. From it steps ran up to +another floor.</p> + +<p>The owner of the plump Italian face had a small plump figure clad in +shirt, trousers, and slippers. His bright dark eyes stared at his +visitor, heavy with sleep. He had obviously been roused from bed. +Surprise, however, he did not show; probably he was used to it.</p> + +<p>He talked to Henry in Italian.</p> + +<p>“You roused me from sleep. You have a message, perhaps? You wish +something done?”</p> + +<p>Henry, not knowing whether this Italian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188" href="#Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> Swiss knew more than he ought +to know, or whether he was merely assisting the police investigations, +answered warily, “No message. But I have been down there on the +business, and had to return this way. I must now go as quickly as +possible in to the town.”</p> + +<p>He added, at a venture, glancing sideways at the other, “Signor +Wilbraham was down there with his colleagues.”</p> + +<p>The man started, and the saucer wavered in his hand. Signor Wilbraham +was obviously either to him a suspect name, or else his master and +leader in intrigue. He was frightened of Wilbraham.</p> + +<p>“Where is he now?” he asked. “Will he come here?”</p> + +<p>“I think not. Be at ease. He has disappeared in another direction. +Have the kindness to show me the way out.”</p> + +<p>The man led the way to the steps and up them, into a tiny ground-floor +bedroom, and through that into a passage. As he unbolted a side door, +Henry said to him, “You know something about Signor Wilbraham, then?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189" href="#Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p><p>The plump little figure shrugged.</p> + +<p>“A good deal too much, certainly.”</p> + +<p>“Good,” said Henry. “Later you shall tell what you know. Don't be +afraid. He can't hurt you.”</p> + +<p>As to that the raised eyebrows showed doubt. Wilbraham, it was +apparent, inspired a deep mistrust. The fat little man was shivering, +either from fear or cold or thwarted sleep, as he opened the door for +Henry to pass out.</p> + +<p>“The will of God will be done,” was what he regretfully said, “unless +his dear Mother can by any means avert it. For me, I escape, if +necessary, where they cannot find me. Good-night, Signore.”</p> + +<p>He shut the door softly behind Henry, who found himself outside a +block of old houses at the lake end of the Rue Muzy, under a setting +moon, as the city clocks struck two. The night, which had seemed to +Henry already so long, was yet, as nights of action go, young.</p> + +<p>Henry, as he walked homewards by the lake's edge, wondered where and +in what manner Macdermott and Garth had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190" href="#Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> emerged, or would emerge, to +the earth's face.</p> + +<p>The earth's face! Never, on any of the lovely nights in that most +lovely place, had it seemed to Henry fairer than it seemed this night, +as he walked along the Quai des Eaux Vives, the clean, cool air +filling his lungs and gently fanning his damp forehead, the dark and +shining water lapping softly against its stone bounds. How far better +was the earth's face than its inside!</p> + +<p>Henry, tired and chilled, had now no thought but sleep. To-morrow +early he would go to the President of Committee 9 with his report. +Also he would wire the story early to his paper. As he lay in bed, too +much excited, after all, to sleep (for Henry suffered from nervous +excitement in excess) he composed his press story. Anti-disarmament, +anti-peace fiends, plotting with Russian Monarchists to wreck the +League ... all this had the <i>British Bolshevist</i> many a time +suggested, but now it could speak with no uncertain voice. Names might +even be given.... Then, in the evening, when the police had explored +the avenues,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191" href="#Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> investigated the mystery, and proved the facts, a second +telegram, more detailed, could be despatched. What a scoop! After all, +thought Henry, tossing wakeful and wide-eyed in the warm dawn, after +all he was proving himself a good journalist. No one could say after +this that he was not a good journalist.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap39" id="chap39">39</a></h2> + +<p>M. Fernandez Croza, delegate from Paraguay, and President of the +Committee on the Disappearance of Delegates, sat after breakfast with +his private secretary and his stenographer in his sitting-room at the +Hotel des Bergues, dictating a speech he meant to deliver at that +morning's session of the Assembly on the beauties of a world peace. It +was a very creditable and noble speech, and he meant to deliver it in +Spanish, as a protest, though his English and French were faultless.</p> + +<p>M. Croza was a graceful person, young for a delegate, slightly built, +aquiline, brown skinned, black haired, shaved clean in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192" href="#Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> English +and American manner, which Latins seldom use, and which he had picked +up, among other things, in the course of an Oxford education. The +private secretary and the stenographer were a swarthy young man and +woman with full lips and small moustaches.</p> + +<p>M. Croza was clever, determined, and patriotic; he believed firmly in +the future of the Latin American republics, and particularly in that +of Paraguay; in the necessity of imbuing into the staff of the League +of Nations more Latin American blood, and in the desirability of +making Spanish a third official language in the Assembly. He disliked +the Secretariat as at present constituted, thinking it European, +narrow, and conceited, and he could, when orating on topics less noble +and more imminent than a world peace, make a very relevant and acute +speech.</p> + +<p>To him, already thus busy at ten o'clock in the morning, entered a +hotel messenger with a card bearing the name of the correspondent of +the <i>British Bolshevist</i>, and the words “Urgent and private +business.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193" href="#Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p><p>“I suppose he wants a statement on the Paraguay attitude towards +Argentine meat,” M. Croza commented. “I had better see him.”</p> + +<p>He turned to his stenographer, and said (in Spanish, in which tongue, +it may be observed, it sounded even better than in the English +rendering): “And so the gentle doves of peace comma pursued down +stormy skies by the hawks of war comma shall find at length ... shall +find at length.... Alvarez, please finish that sentence later on. That +will do for the present, señorita.... Admit Mr. Beechtree, messenger.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Beechtree was admitted. The slim, pale, shabby and yet somehow +elegant young man, with his monocle, so useless, so foppish, dangling +on its black ribbon, pleased, on the whole, M. Croza's fastidious +taste.</p> + +<p>After introductions, courtesies, apologies, and seatings, Mr. +Beechtree got to business.</p> + +<p>“I have,” he began, in his soft, light, tired voice, “a curious story +to tell. I am in a position, after much search, to throw a good deal +of light on the recent mysterious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194" href="#Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> disappearances. I have evidence of +a very serious nature indeed....”</p> + +<p>M. Croza, in his capacity of President of Committee 9, had become used +to such evidence of late. But he always welcomed it, and did so now, +with an encouraging nod.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the nod, though encouraging, had an air of habit, for Mr. +Beechtree added quickly, “What I have to tell you is most unusual. It +implicates persons not usually implicated. Indeed, never before. I am +not here to hurl random accusations against persons for whom I happen +to feel a distaste. I am here with solid, documentary evidence. I have +it in this case.” He opened his shabby dispatch case, and showed it +full of papers.</p> + +<p>“It implicates,” he continued, “an individual who holds a +distinguished position on the staff of the Secretariat.”</p> + +<p>M. Croza leant forward, interested, stimulated, not displeased.</p> + +<p>“You amaze me,” he said. “Take a note, Alvarez, if you please.”</p> + +<p>“Some years ago,” said Henry, gratified<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195" href="#Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> by the delegate's attention +and the secretary's poised pencil, “before the League of Nations, +so-called——”</p> + +<p>“It <em>is</em> the League of Nations,” said the delegate, with a little +frown.</p> + +<p>“To be sure it is,” Henry recollected himself. He had merely used +“so-called” as a term indicative of contempt, like “sic,” forgetting +that he was not addressing the readers of the <i>British Bolshevist</i>. +“Well, before the League of Nations existed—to be exact, in the year +1919—I had occasion, by chance, to discover some things about this +individual. I learnt that his wife was the daughter of an armaments +knight, and that he himself had a great deal of money in the business. +There was no great harm in this, from his point of view; he never, in +those days, professed to be a pacifist, for, though he wielded +throughout the war a pen in preference to a sword, he truly believed +it to be mightier; he was, in fact, in the Ministry of Information. He +was not inconsistent in those days, though he was, I imagine, never +easy in his mind about this money he had, and held his shares under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196" href="#Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +his wife's name only. But when the League Secretariat was formed, he +was one of the first to receive an appointment on it. It was not +generally known where he got his income from, and he found himself in +a prominent position on the staff of a League, one of whose objects, +if only one among many, is to end war. So there he was, his fortune +dependent on the continuation of the very thing he was officially +working to suppress. It wasn't to be expected that he should be +pleased at the prospect of the disarmament question coming up before +the Assembly; or at the prospect of the various disputes going on now +in the world being discussed in the Assembly and referred to judicial +arbitration. Much better for him if the rumours and threats of war +should continue.”</p> + +<p>“Continue,” stated the delegate, “they always will. That, Mr. +Beechtree, we may take as certain, in this imperfect world. Yes.... +He's an Englishman, I assume, this friend of yours?”</p> + +<p>“An Englishman, yes. Intensely an Englishman.” Henry paused a moment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197" href="#Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +“I had better tell you at once; he is Charles Wilbraham.”</p> + +<p>“Wilbraham!” M. Croza was startled. He felt no love for Wilbraham, +who, for his part, felt and showed little for the Latin American +republics. M. Croza bitterly remembered various sneers which had been +repeated to him.... Besides, it was Wilbraham who had cast suspicion +on Paraguay. Further, he had been at Oxford with Wilbraham, and had +disliked him there.</p> + +<p>“Go on, sir,” he said gravely and yet ardently.</p> + +<p>“So,” said Henry, “Wilbraham hatches a scheme. Or, possibly it is +hatched by his father-in-law, Sir John Levis (he's one of the +directors of Pottle & Kett's, the great armament firm), and Wilbraham +is persuaded to carry it out; it doesn't matter which. Levis has been +in Geneva now for some days. He has lain rather low and has not been +staying at Wilbraham's house, but I've evidence from his secretary +that they have been constantly together. They cast around to find +convenient colleagues, unscrupulous enough to do desperate things, and +with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198" href="#Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> their own reasons for wishing to nullify the work of the League +and to hold up discussion of international affairs while disturbances +come to a head.”</p> + +<p>“Such colleagues,” mused M. Croza, “would not be hard to find.”</p> + +<p>“Whom do they pitch on? There are a number of possibly suitable +helpers, and I can't say how many of them are involved. But what I +have evidence of is that they brought in the Russian delegate to their +councils—Kratzky, who is a byword even among Russians for sticking at +nothing. If Kratzky could stave off discussion of European politics +and paralyse the Assembly until Russia should be ready and able to +pounce on and hold by force the new Russian republics—well, naturally +monarchist Russia would be pleased. I have evidence that Wilbraham and +Levis have been continually meeting and conferring with Kratzky since +the Assembly began. Kratzky, that bloody butcher....”</p> + +<p>M. Croza, whose sympathy was all with small republics against major +powers, agreed about Kratzky.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199" href="#Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p><p>“You haven't,” he suggested, “notes of what has actually passed +between Wilbraham and Kratzky on the subject?”</p> + +<p>“I regret that I have not. I could never get near enough.... But I +have evidence of continual meetings, continual lunches and +conferences. This I have obtained from Wilbraham's secretary. She has +to keep his engagements for him. I have obtained possession of the +little pocket-book in which she notes them. I have it here. See: +‘Saturday, Lunch, Café du Nord, Kratzky and Sir John. Sunday, Up +Salève, with Kratzky. Monday, 8 a.m., Bathe, <a name="tnpg199" id="tnpg199" class="tn" title="Kra——” No,">Kra——’ No,</a> that can't +be Kratzky; he wouldn't bathe; that must be some one else. And so on, +and so on. Now, I ask you, what would one talk about to Kratzky all +that time except some iniquitous intrigue? It's all Kratzky knows +about. So, you see, when I began to suspect all this, I took to +tracking Wilbraham, following him about. It's been, I can tell you, a +most tiring job. Wilbraham is such a very tedious man. A most +frightful bore. His very voice makes me sick.... But I followed him. I +tracked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200" href="#Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> him. All over the shop I tracked him. And last night he +trapesed round the town with Levis and Kratzky and a horrid little +Calvinist clergyman who must be in it too. I hate Calvinists, don't +you?”</p> + +<p>“Intolerable persons,” agreed the delegate from Paraguay.</p> + +<p>“Well, at last they hared down a trap-door in an archway into the +bowels of the earth. I saw them into it. After some time I went down +too. I couldn't find them, but I found an extraordinary system of +tunnelling—a regular catacomb. You get in and out of it all over the +town, through <i>trappons</i>, mostly in old houses, I think. I didn't +discover where half the tunnels ended. But obviously Wilbraham and his +friends know all about it. And that's what they've done with the +delegates. Either hidden them somewhere alive down there, or killed +them. When Kratzky's in an affair, the people up against him don't, as +a rule, come out alive.... I don't know how much the police know about +this tunnel business, but they must make a complete investigation, of +course.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201" href="#Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p><p>“Obviously, without delay.... A singular story, Mr. Beechtree; very +singular.”</p> + +<p>“Life is singular,” said Henry.</p> + +<p>“There you are very right.” ... But M. Croza, used to the political +life of South American republics, found no stories of plots and +intrigues really singular. “You have reason,” he added, “to think +badly of Mr. Wilbraham, I infer?”</p> + +<p>“Grave reasons. I know him for a very ugly character. It is high time +he was exposed.”</p> + +<p>M. Croza thought so too. As has been said, he did not care for Charles +Wilbraham. And what a counter-charge to Wilbraham's accusations again +the residents at the Hotel des Bergues!</p> + +<p>“One of these Catholic converts,” he reflectively commented. “I do not +like them. To be born a Catholic, that is one thing, and who can help +it? After all, it is the true faith. To become a Catholic—that is +quite another thing, and seems to us in Paraguay to denote either +feebleness of intellect or a dishonest mind. In a man, that is. Women, +of course, are different,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202" href="#Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> not having intellect, and being naturally +<i>dévotes</i>. So, anyhow, we believe in Paraguay. But perhaps one is +unfair.”</p> + +<p>“It is difficult not to be unfair to these,” Henry agreed. “But it is +more than difficult, it is impossible, to be unfair to Wilbraham. +Nothing we think or say of him can be in excess of the truth. Such is +Wilbraham. He always has been.... Now, if you will, sir, I will show +you the documents I have with me which corroborate my story.”</p> + +<p>The delegate beckoned to his secretary.</p> + +<p>“Go through Mr. Beechtree's papers, Alvarez. I must be getting to the +Assembly. It is past the hour.... At this afternoon's meeting of +Committee 9, Mr. Beechtree, I will lay these suggestions of yours +before my colleagues, and we will consider what action shall be taken. +You will be present. Meanwhile, Alvarez, have orders taken to the +police to explore the subterranean passages. Mr. Beechtree, you will +be able to direct them to the means of entry, will you not.”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn't wonder,” said Henry, “if they are being explored. +Macdermott, from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203" href="#Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> Ulster, and Garth of the <i>Morning Post</i>, were down +there last night. I don't know if they ever got out or not, but if +they did they'll be doing something about it this morning. They take a +different view from mine, I may say. Macdermott suspects Sinn Feiners +(Ulster has only one idea, you know), and Garth agrees with him, but +adds Bolsheviks and Germans. Neither of them would suspect either +Wilbraham or Kratzky without absolute proof. They do not like +Wilbraham. No one does. But they are obsessed with their pet ideas.”</p> + +<p>“To every man his own scapegoat; it's the law of life. Now, Mr. +Beechtree, I must leave you. We meet again at three o'clock. Here is a +card of entry to the committee meeting. Till then I shall say nothing +to any one. I will lay your story before the committee for what it is +worth, but I do not, you must remember, commit myself to it. It is +merely a basis for inquiry, and the committee shall undoubtedly have +the facts before them. But care and discretion are advisable.... Your +paper, I think, is not celebrated for its love either for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204" href="#Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> League +of Nations and its Secretariat, or of monarchist Russia, or of +armament princes? We must be prepared for the imputation to you of +prejudice.”</p> + +<p>“It would be,” Henry admitted, “not unjustified. My paper is +prejudiced. So am I. To be prejudiced is the privilege of the thinking +human being. After all, we are not animals, to judge everything by its +smell and taste as it comes before us, irrespective of preconceived +theories. The open mind is the empty mind. The pre-judgment is often +the deliberate and considered judgment, based on reason, whereas the +post-judgment is a hasty makeshift affair, based on the impressions of +the moment. Fortunately, however, the two are apt, in the same mind, +to concur——”</p> + +<p>“Quite so, quite so.” M. Croza, who was in a hurry, nodded affably but +decidedly, and Henry, who was apt, in the interests of discussion, to +forget himself, left him.</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205" href="#Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="chap40" id="chap40">40</a></h2> + +<p>Henry despatched straightway a long message to the <i>British +Bolshevist</i>, guarded in language but sinister in implication, and +hinting that further developments and more definite revelations were +imminent. In the journalists' lobby he encountered Garth, who had also +been sending a message.</p> + +<p>“Oh, hallo,” said Garth, “so you got out all right. So did Macdermott. +I had the devil of a time. I tried one exit that didn't work; must +have been bolted on the outside, I suppose. Anyhow, I hammered away +and nothing happened. Then I struck another avenue and came to another +trap which gave after mighty efforts on my part, and I came up into +that book-shop which Burnley disappeared into, and which told the +police so firmly that he left again in a few minutes. The trap was +hidden away under the counter. I didn't stop; I thought it probably +wasn't healthy, so I unbolted the front door and crept off home to +bed. First thing this morning I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206" href="#Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> put the police on the track, and +they're getting busy now asking the bookseller questions and sending +gangs to work the catacombs. One thing I've discovered; that book-shop +is a meeting-place for Bolshie refugees and German anarchists. They +meet in the old chap's back parlour and do their plotting there and +send gold to the trade-unions.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know?” Henry asked, interested.</p> + +<p>“Well, it's quite obvious. Too busy to go into the evidence now. I +must look in at the Assembly and see what's doing....”</p> + +<p>Henry perceived that the correspondent of the <i>Morning Post</i> was +actuated, in the matter of Bolshevists, Germans, trade-unions, and +gold, rather by a deliberate and considered pre-judgment than by the +hasty and makeshift impressions of the moment, or, anyhow, that the +two had in his mind concurred. He asked after Macdermott.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Macdermott found Sinn Fein plots all over the place. He had a +hair-raising time. He went miles and miles, he says,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207" href="#Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> and came up at +last against a wall. There was no trap-door: it was merely a +cul-de-sac. So he retraced his steps and took a by-path, and emerged +finally in a brothel close to the cathedral. Of course, the advantage +of a brothel is that it's alive and humming even at dead of night; +anyhow it was morning by that time, so he had no difficulty in making +himself heard. He couldn't get anything out of the people; they were +German Swiss, and pretended to be merely stupid. But they're being +sorted by the police this morning.”</p> + +<p>“And where do the Sinn Feiners come in?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don't know. They meet there to plot, Macdermott said. Together +with Germans. Probably they've a bomb-cache in the tunnels too. He +told O'Shane about it, and O'Shane said republicans would never make +use of a disorderly house, not even for the best patriotic purposes. +He's rather sick that he wasn't on to this catacombs business too; +he'd have found Orange plots down there. I left them at it.... What's +going on within, Jefferson?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208" href="#Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p><p>“That damned little Greek holding forth on the importance of disarming +Turkey. We've just had Paraguay on the beauties of a world peace and +the peaceful influence of the South American republics.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Garth, “I shall go in and hear the Greek. He always makes +things hum.”</p> + +<p>Henry, too, went in and heard the Greek, whose manner of oratory he +enjoyed.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap41" id="chap41">41</a></h2> + +<p>Committee 9 met at three o'clock in the spacious and sunny saloon +known as Committee Room C. The only portion of the public admitted was +the correspondent of the <i>British Bolshevist</i>, who sat behind the +President's chair with a portfolio full of papers, looking pale, +shabby, and tired, but exalted, like one whose great moment is at +hand.</p> + +<p>After the minutes of the last meeting had been read, the President +rose to address the committee, in French. He had, he said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209" href="#Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> some fresh +and important facts to communicate. A quite new line of inquiry had +that day been suggested to him by one who had for some time been +secretly pursuing investigations. The facts revealed were so +startling, so amazing, that very substantial evidence would be +necessary to persuade committee members of their truth. It could at +present be only a tentative theory that was set before the committee; +but let the committee remember that <i>magna est veritas et prevalebit</i>; +that they were there to fulfil a great duty, and not to be deterred by +any fears, any reluctances, any personal friendships, any dread of +scandal, from seeking to draw out truth from her well. He asked his +colleagues to listen while he told them a strange story.</p> + +<p>The story, as he told it, gained from his more important presence, his +more eloquent and yet more impartial manner, a plausibility which +Henry's had lacked. His very air, of one making a painful and +tentative revelation, was better than Henry's rather shrill eagerness. +Every now and then he paused and waved his hand at Henry sitting +behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210" href="#Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> him, and said, “My friend Mr. Beechtree here has documentary +evidence of this, which I will lay before the committee shortly.” +When, after long working up to it, he gave the suspected member of the +Secretariat the name of Wilbraham, it fell on the tense attention of +the whole table. Henry, looking up to watch its reception, saw +surprise on many faces, incredulity on several, pleasure on more, +amusement on a few. He met also the blue eyes of Mr. Macdermott fixed +on him with a smile of cynical admiration. Macdermott would doubtless +have something to say when the President had done. But what he was now +thinking was that the correspondent of the <i>British Bolshevist</i> had +more journalistic gifts than one would have given him credit for.</p> + +<p>“Where, you may demand of me,” proceeded the President, “is M. +Wilbraham now? That I cannot tell you. He entered this system of +secret passages last night in company with those who are suspected by +Mr. Beechtree of being his fellow conspirators, and he has not been +seen since. Have they, possibly, escaped, their evil work<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211" href="#Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> done? +Whither have they gone? Who was that Protestant pastor? What doings, +gentlemen, engage the attentions of M. Kratzky of Russia, that enemy +of small republics, Sir John Levis of Pottle and Kett, that enemy of +peace, a <i>soi-disant</i> Protestant pastor, the presumed enemy of true +religion, and M. Wilbraham of the Secretariat? Mind, gentlemen, I +impute nothing. I merely inquire.”</p> + +<p>A murmur of applause broke from the Latin Americans. As it died down, +Henry, looking up, saw standing by the door Charles Wilbraham, cool, +immaculate, attentive, and unperturbed, and the <i>soi-disant</i> +Protestant pastor at his elbow.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap42" id="chap42">42</a></h2> + +<p>Henry allowed himself a smile. Here, then, arrived after all the years +of waiting, was the hour. The hour of reckoning; the hour in which he, +brought face to face with Charles Wilbraham, should expose him before +men for what he was. The hour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212" href="#Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> when Charles Wilbraham should face him, +reduced at last to impotent silence, deflated to limp nothingness like +a gas balloon, and find no word of defence. Shamed and dishonoured, he +would slink away, at long last in the wrong. In the wrong himself, +after all these years of putting others there. Truly, Henry's hour had +arrived.</p> + +<p>The President, too, had seen the new-comers now. He paused in his +speaking; he was for a moment at a loss. Then, “Gentlemen, excuse me, +but this is a strictly private session,” he said clearly across the +large room, in his faultless Oxford English.</p> + +<p>Charles Wilbraham bowed slightly and advanced.</p> + +<p>“Forgive me, sir, but I have a card of admittance. Also for my friend +here, Signor Angelo Cristofero.”</p> + +<p>“Angelo Cristofero”—the name seemed to ripple over a section of the +committee like a wind on waters.</p> + +<p>“Who is he?” asked Henry, of an Italian Swiss, and the answer came +pat.</p> + +<p>“The greatest detective at present alive. An Italian, but at home in +all countries, all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213" href="#Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> languages, and all disguises. Really a marvellous +genius. Nothing balks him.”</p> + +<p>“We have, you see,” continued Wilbraham, in his disagreeable, sneering +voice, “some rather important information to communicate to the +committee, if you will pardon the interruption. Presently I will ask +Signor Cristofero to communicate it. But for the moment might I be +allowed to ask for a little personal explanation? Since I entered the +room I heard a remark or two relating to myself and various friends of +mine which struck me as somewhat strange....”</p> + +<p>M. Croza courteously bowed to him, with hostile eyes.</p> + +<p>“You have a right to an explanation, sir. As you have entered at what +I can but call such a very inopportune moment, you heard what I was +saying—words uttered, need I say, in no malicious spirit, but in a +sincere and public-spirited desire to discover the truth. I was +accusing and do accuse, no one; I was merely laying before the +committee information communicated to me this morning by Mr. Henry +Beechtree.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Henry Beechtree?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214" href="#Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p><p>Charles Wilbraham turned on this gentleman the indifferent and +contemptuous regard with which one might look at and dismiss some +small and irrelevant insect.</p> + +<p>“And who, if I may ask, is <a name="tnpg214" id="tnpg214" class="tn" title="Mr Henry">Mr. Henry</a> Beechtree?”</p> + +<p>“The correspondent, sir, of one of the newspapers of your country—the +<i>British Bolshevist</i>.”</p> + +<p>Charles laughed. “Indeed? Hardly, perhaps, an organ which commands +much influence. However, by all means let me hear Mr. Beechtree's +information. I am, I infer, from what I overheard, engaged in some +kind of conspiracy, together with my friends M. Kratzky, Sir John +Levis, and this gentleman here. May I know further details, or are +they for the private edification of the committee only?”</p> + +<p>Charles heavily sarcastic, ponderously ironic—how well Henry +remembered it.</p> + +<p>“Are we,” he went on, “supposed to have spirited away, or even +murdered, the missing delegates, may I ask?”</p> + +<p>“That,” said M. Croza politely, “was Mr. Beechtree's suggestion—only, +of course,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215" href="#Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> a suggestion, based on various facts which had come to his +knowledge. You can, doubtless, disprove these facts, sir, or account +for them in some other way. No one will be more delighted than the +committee over which I preside.”</p> + +<p>“Might I hear these sinister facts?” Charles was getting smoother, +more unctuous, more happy, all the time. It was the little curl of his +lip, so hateful, so familiar, with which he said these words, which +seemed to snap something in Henry's brain. He pushed back his chair +and sprang to his feet, breathless and dizzy and hot. He regarded not +the cries of “Order,” from the chair and the table; order or not, he +must speak now to Charles.</p> + +<p>“You shall hear them, sir,” he said, and his voice rang shrilly up and +up to a high and quivering note. “There is one, at least which you +will not be able to deny. That is that you have shares, large and +numerous, in the armaments firm of Pottle and Kett, of which Sir John +Levis, your father-in-law, is chief director.”</p> + +<p>Charles fixed on him a surprised stare.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216" href="#Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> He put on his pince-nez, the +better to look.</p> + +<p>“I do not think,” he said, in his calm, smooth voice, “that I am +called upon to discuss with you the sources of my income. In fact, I'm +afraid I don't quite see how you come into this affair at all—er—Mr. +Beechtree. But, since your statement has been made in public, perhaps +I may inform the committee that it is wholly erroneous. I had once +such shares as this—er—gentleman mentioned. It ought to be +unnecessary to inform this committee that I sold them all on my +appointment to the Secretariat of the League, since to hold them +would, I thought, be obviously inconsistent with League principles. If +it interests the committee to know, such money that I possess is now +mostly in beer. Mr.—er—Beechtree's information, Mr. President, is +just a little behind the times. Such a stirring organ as the <i>British +Bolshevist</i> should, perhaps, have a more up-to-date correspondent. +Will you, Mr. President, request Mr. Beechtree to be seated? I fear I +find myself unable to discuss my affairs with—er—him personally.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217" href="#Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<p>Charles's eyes, staring at Henry through his pince-nez, became like +blue glass. For a moment silence held the room. Henry flushed, paled, +wilted, wavered as he stood. Thrusting desperately his monocle into +his eye, he strove to return stare for stare. After a moment Charles's +high complacent laugh sounded disagreeably. He had made quite sure.</p> + +<p>“How do you do, Miss Montana? We haven't, I think, met since January, +1919.” He turned to the puzzled committee. “Miss Montana, a former +lady secretary of mine in the Ministry of Information, Mr. President. +Dismissed by me for incompetence. What she is doing here in this +disguise I do not know; that is between her and the newspaper which, +so she says, employs her. May Signor Cristofero now be permitted to +lay his rather important information before the committee? We waste +time, and time is precious at this juncture.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218" href="#Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="chap43" id="chap43">43</a></h2> + +<p>The situation was of an unprecedented unusualness. The President of +Committee 9 hardly knew how to deal with it. All eyes gazed at Henry, +who said quietly, “That is a damned lie,” felt giddy, and sat down, +leaning back in his chair and turning paler. The monocle dropped from +his eye and hung limply from its ribbon. Henry literally could not, +after his tiring night, his exhausting day, the emotional strain of +the last hour, stand up to Charles Wilbraham any more. If he could +have a dose of sal volatile—a cocktail—anything ... as it was, he +wilted, all but crumpled up; all he was able for was to sit, as +composed as might be, under a deadly fire of eyes.</p> + +<p>The pause was ended by Fergus Macdermott, who heaved largely from his +chair and remarked, “I would like to second Mr. Wilbraham's suggestion +that we will hear Mr. Cristofero's communication. May I also suggest +that the income of Mr. Wilbraham is between himself and his bankers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219" href="#Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +and the sex of Mr. Beechtree between him and his God, and that both +are irrelevant to the business before this committee and need not be +discussed.” The committee applauded this, though they felt a keen +interest in both the irrelevant topics. The President called on Signor +Cristofero to address the committee, and beckoned Mr. Wilbraham to a +chair.</p> + +<p>The little <i>soi-disant</i> pastor stepped forward. He was a spare, small, +elderly man, with a white face and gentian-blue eyes and a mouth that +could make up as anything. During the last few days it had been a prim +and rather smug button. Now it had relaxed in shrewder, wider lines. +He showed to Committee 9 the face not of the Calvinist pastor but of +the great detective. He spoke the Italian of the Lombardy Alps, the +French of Marseilles, the English of New York, the German of Alsace, +the Russian of Odessa, the Yiddish of the Roman Ghetto, the Serbian of +Dalmatia, the Turkish of the Levant, the Greek of the Dodacenese, and +many other of the world's useful tongues. He addressed the committee +in French,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220" href="#Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> speaking rapidly and clearly, illustrating his story with +those gestures of the hands which in reality (though it is not +commonly admitted) make nothing clearer, but are merely a luxury +indulged in by speakers, who thus elucidate and emphasise their +meaning to themselves and to no one else. However, Signor Cristofero's +words were so admirably clear that his confusing gestures did not +matter.</p> + +<p>He had, so he said, been sent for three weeks ago from New York, where +he had been engaged on a piece of work which he had just concluded, by +Mr. Charles Wilbraham, who had requested him to come immediately to +Geneva and investigate this strange matter of the disappearing +delegates. He had not known Mr. Wilbraham, but he had recognised the +importance of this matter. He had arrived incognito, assumed the +costume in which they now saw him, which is one the least calculated +to arouse suspicion in Geneva, and set to work. After careful secret +inquiries and investigations, he had found that the suspicions he had +had from the outset were confirmed. He had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221" href="#Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> long known of a secret +society which was at work to wreck the League of Nations. Its +activities were so multifarious, so skilful, so obscure, and often so +entirely legitimate, that it was impossible to check them. The society +had its agents all over the world, in all countries. Some were paid, +others worked out of good will. This society objected to the League +partly because it was afraid of the decrease of armaments, and +ultimately of wars. Unlikely as this prospect sounded, the society was +taking no chances. Among its members were the directors of armament +firms, inventors, professional soldiers of high rank, War Office +officials, those who hoped to get some advantage for themselves or +their countries out of wars, and those who genuinely thought the +League a dangerous and foolish thing calculated to upset the peace of +the world. Many of its members also objected to the League on all +kinds of other grounds, disliking its humanitarian enterprises, its +interference with nefarious traffickings, such as those in women, +opium, and cocaine. Powerful patent medicine manufacturers were +exasperated by its anti-epidemic efforts;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222" href="#Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> many great financiers +objected to the way it spent its money; some great powers thought they +would be freer in their dealings with smaller powers without it. And +so on and so forth. All over the world, in every department of life, +there were to be found those who, for one reason or another, rightly +or wrongly, reasonably or unreasonably, objected to the League. And so +this society had been formed. It collected its agents as it could, and +employed them as occasion served. It was considered by the society +specially important to prevent the success of this present session of +the Assembly, which had a large and varied agenda before it, including +the renewed discussion of the reduction of armaments, which was, it +was believed, to be pressed with great earnestness by certain +delegates, so that some issue could scarcely be evaded. Besides which, +the society had come to the conclusion that to make, once, a complete +fool of the League Assembly and Council before the world, so that its +constitution would be disintegrated and its achievements would be as +dust before the wind, would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223" href="#Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> deal the prestige of the League such a +heavy blow as permanently to discredit it. To this end, after much +cogitation, the society had got hold of a very brilliant and +accomplished agent indeed; an agent who cared not what he did nor for +what side he fought, so long as he was largely enough paid. To him, to +this unscrupulous and able man, the society had said, “Hold up and +discredit the coming Assembly somehow. The method we leave to you. You +have <i>carte blanche</i> in the matter of money, and you shall be paid an +immense sum for success.”</p> + +<p>“This man,” said Signor Cristofero, “undertook the mission. With +unparalleled skill, scheming and ingenuity, he decoyed and entrapped +member after member of the Assembly, luring each one by some suitable +bait to some spot where there was a trap-door giving on to the system +of underground passages which runs, as is well known to the +authorities, beneath part of Geneva. What the authorities did <em>not</em> +know, is the number of trap-door entries to these passages, and where +they ultimately lead. I have been exploring them now for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224" href="#Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> some days. +Last night I conducted Mr. Wilbraham through them, together with his +friends M. Kratzky and Sir John Levis. At a certain point in one of +the tunnels one appears to come up against an earth wall; it seems to +be a cul-de-sac. I made the discovery that it is not a cul-de-sac. The +earth wall is a skilful disguise; it swings back, and the passage +continues. It continues, gentlemen, on and on, far outside the city, +running beside the lake, till it ends at last in a cellar. What +cellar, you demand? Gentlemen, it is the cellar of a château two miles +up the lake. A large and ancient château, inhabited by a former +cardinal of the church. He was retired from this office some years +ago; he said and says it was for heretical opinions expressed in +books. In reality it was less for this (though this too had its +influence in the decision of the Church) than for a plethora of wives. +The wives without the heresies might have been winked at, for the +Church has a wise blind side and knows that its children are but dust; +even (though this is less probable) the heresies without the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225" href="#Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> wives +might have been ignored; but the combination was excessive. The +cardinal had to go. Since then he has been living in this château, +writing vast and abstruse works on theology and enjoying the +loveliness of the scenery, the beauty of his house and garden, the +amenities of such witty and scholarly society as he could collect +around him, and the companionship of a lady whom he inaccurately calls +his niece. His name—gentlemen, <a name="tnpg225" id="tnpg225" class="tn" title="you many of you">many of you</a> know it and him—is +Franchi, Dr. Silvio Franchi. Here, indeed, was a sharp tool ready to +the hands of our society. They send for him; he accepts the +commission; he conceives the ingenious scheme of secretly extending +the underground tunnels to his château and adding trap-door entries to +them in houses and courtyards where he could command the services of +the owners, who were generously paid. One by one he lures the +delegates into these houses, these alleys. Lord Burnley he decoys with +the display of a book of his own, strangely inscribed; that we know. +The baits offered to the other gentlemen and ladies we do not yet know +fully of,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226" href="#Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> though a few have come to my knowledge. We shall doubtless +eventually have the story of each. Anyhow, one after another, and each +in his appropriate manner, the delegates disappear underground. They +are then conveyed by Dr. Franchi's employees either underground all +the way to the château or to an exit close to the lake, whence they +can be secretly embarked by covered boat. By whatever means, they +arrive at the château, and are there accommodated in what is known as +the Keep Wing, which has the appearance of a large, commodious and +many-roomed guest house, but which is as strongly guarded as a prison. +They are not ill-treated; they are made comfortable; often they dine +in company with Dr. Franchi, who enjoys their society and keeps them +well amused. I learnt this yesterday from Dr. Franchi's trusted +servant, a scoundrel of a Roumanian Baptist, who was moved at last by +the persecution of his co-religionists and relatives in Roumania, +touchingly set before him by Mademoiselle the Roumanian delegate, to +give the League a chance. After many years' faithful service this +ruffian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227" href="#Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> betrayed his master and is assisting me to arrest him. The +human heart is truly a strange mixture.</p> + +<p>“I have myself, last night, together with the three gentlemen I +mentioned, been along the tunnel as far as the château cellar. We +could not, of course, then enter it, and we returned the way we came. +Dr. Franchi does not know that his secret has been discovered. I have +arranged to call on him, with a detachment of police, to-day, in order +to inform him of it, arrest him, and release the prisoners. That is +all I have to tell you, gentlemen.”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap44" id="chap44">44</a></h2> + +<p>Murmurs indicative of the utmost interest broke out round the table +directly Signor Cristofero stopped speaking. Interest mingled here and +there with a little disappointment, for many a cherished theory had to +be abandoned or modified. Mr. Macdermott, for instance, had not yet +found a place for Sinn Fein in the plot as at present<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228" href="#Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> revealed, nor +Mr. O'Shane for Ulster. The Lithuanian delegate was, to say the least +of it, surprised that the affair was not more largely due to disbanded +Polish soldiers of Zeligowski's army, and the delegates of more than +one nation found it strange that the Germans appeared to be out of +this thing. But, after all, Dr. Franchi had been only the agent; he +might be backed by any one in the world, and doubtless was. Also, he +must have had many ruffians in his employ to do the executive work. So +no doubt really and in the main things were pretty much as each member +of the committee had suspected. The members who looked most gratified +were the Latin Americans, from whom suspicion was now honourably +lifted (though they regretted that Charles Wilbraham was no longer a +suspect), and the Serb-Croat-Slovene delegate, who stared at his +Italian colleague with a rather malicious smile. Had he not always +said that Italians (unless it were Albanians) had done this thing?</p> + +<p>The President, after thanking Signor Cristofero much for his highly +interesting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229" href="#Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> and important information, asked if any other gentleman +would like to say anything. The delegate from Bolivia begged to +propose that the committee should accompany Signor Cristofero and the +police on the visit to the château, as they certainly ought to be +present on the occasion. This suggestion was received with universal +acclamation, and it was decided that a steamer should take them all up +to Monet at six-thirty.</p> + +<p>A subdued voice from beside the President's chair inquired whether the +press would also be permitted on the expedition. In the excitement, +astonishment, and disappointment of Signor Cristofero's story and the +prospect of such a stimulating lake trip, the correspondent of the +<i>British Bolshevist</i> had temporarily forgotten his (or her, as the +case might be) own troubles.</p> + +<p>The inquiry focused the attention of the committee again on Mr. +Beechtree, that dubious, if irrelevant, problem. A smile ran round the +room.</p> + +<p>The President said that undoubtedly correspondents would be permitted +to accompany the expedition, for reports of the day's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230" href="#Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> discoveries and +events must as soon as possible be communicated to the press.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap45" id="chap45">45</a></h2> + +<p>Mr. Beechtree, feeling uncomfortable under the general interest and in +the intolerable presence of Mr. Wilbraham, slipped away. He wanted +privacy to think, to hide from the fire of eyes. More, he wanted +coffee. And perhaps a raspberry ice-cream soda with it. There was one +place he knew of.... Dashing down to the Paquis, he just caught a +<i>mouette</i> for the Eaux Vives jetty. From there to the ice-cream café +was but a short way. He hurried to it, and soon was enjoying the +comfort of coffee, a raspberry ice-cream soda, and meringues. After +all, there was always that, however bitter a defeat one might suffer +at the hands of life. He also had a cocktail.</p> + +<p>He drank, ate, and imbibed through straw, to give himself a little +courage and cheerfulness in the black bitterness of defeat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231" href="#Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> Black +bitterness it was, for his long-laid scheme of revenge had toppled, +crashing on the top of him, and Charles Wilbraham, eyeing the ruins, +hatefully and superciliously smiled, for ever and always in the +right....</p> + +<p>Charles Wilbraham towered, with his hateful rightness, before Henry's +drowsy eyes (how long it was since he had slept!), and he slipped for +a moment into a dream, the straw falling from his mouth.</p> + +<p>He woke with a start, hastily ate a meringue, called for his bill, and +looked at his watch. It was nearly six o'clock. In half an hour the +steamer would start for Monet. Well, that at least would be +interesting. Henry was all for getting what joy he could out of this +uneven life.</p> + +<p>He walked across the Jardin Anglais, and saw at the pier the party of +pleasure crowding on to a pleasant-looking white steamer called <i>Jean +<a name="tnpg231" id="tnpg231" class="tn" title="Jaques">Jacques</a></i>. Pulling his soft hat over his eyes, Henry slipped in among +the throng, and embarked on what might well prove to be his last +official lake trip. He felt rather shy, for he had become, though in a +minor way, News. Women were News; and women<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232" href="#Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> disguised as men were +doubly and trebly News (and Henry felt sure that Charles Wilbraham +would be believed on this point rather than he, who had said it was a +damned lie).</p> + +<p>He slipped through the crowd and took up a nonchalant attitude in the +bows, smoking cigarettes and looking at the view.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap46" id="chap46">46</a></h2> + +<p>They were a happy and expectant party. The decks hummed with happy and +excited talk. All feuds seemed to be healed by the common interest. +The committee seemed truly a League of Brothers. This is the value of +parties of pleasure. The only people who looked sullen were the group +of policemen, for Swiss policemen habitually wear this air.</p> + +<p>From group to group, with M. Kratzky at his elbow, moved Charles +Wilbraham, complacent, proud, triumphant, like a conjurer who has done +a successful trick. “Here is the rabbit, gentlemen,” he seemed to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233" href="#Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +saying. His colleagues on the Secretariat watched him cynically. +Wilbraham had put this job through very well, but how bad it had been +for him! Emphatically they did not like Wilbraham.</p> + +<p>“And the man who really did the trick has forgotten all about it, and +is talking to every one in their own language about the affairs of +their own countries,” as Vaga the Spaniard remarked. He had a peculiar +distaste for Charles.</p> + +<p>Grattan came up grinning to Henry.</p> + +<p>“Hallo, Beechtree. You seem to have provided one of the sensations of +the day. I didn't know you had it in you. I'm sorry your sporting +effort to upset our friend Wilbraham failed.”</p> + +<p>“So am I,” Henry gloomily returned. “He deserves to be upset. And I'm +not even now sure he hadn't a hand in it all.... But of course it's no +use saying so. No one will ever believe it of him now that I've mucked +it so. They'll believe nothing I say.... Did you hear what he said +about me at the committee meeting? I suppose every one has.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234" href="#Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p><p>“Well, I imagine it's got about more or less. Is it true, by the way?”</p> + +<p>“On the contrary, a complete and idiotic lie.”</p> + +<p>The expressionless detachment of Henry's voice and face moved Grattan +to mirth.</p> + +<p>“That's all right, then; I'll put it about. You keep on smiling, old +bean. No one's going to worry, even if it wasn't a lie, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Wilbraham will worry. He will, no doubt, take steps to have me +excluded from the Press Gallery as a disreputable character. I don't +particularly mind. What I do mind is that <a name="tnpg234" id="tnpg234" class="tn" title="if">it</a> isn't Wilbraham who's +going to get run in for this business, but poor old Franchi. I <em>like</em> +Franchi. He's delightful, however many delegates he's kidnapped.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, the more the better. A jolly old sportsman. My word, what a +brain! Talk of master criminals, ... and to think that I once thought +the Assembly scarcely worth coming for. Live and learn. I shall never +miss another.” He called to Garth, who was passing.</p> + +<p>“I say, Garth, Beechtree says he's not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235" href="#Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> a lady and that Wilbraham's a +liar. Spread it about, there's a good chap.”</p> + +<p>Garth nodded. He, like Grattan, believed Wilbraham on this point and +not Henry, but it was more comfortable to take Henry at his own +valuation. After all, if the chap <em>was</em> a woman, whose concern was it +but his own? Rather a caddish trick on Wilbraham's part to have +publicly accused him. Though, to be sure, he had just been by him +publicly accused, so perhaps they were quits. But, poor girl (if she +was a girl), she must be feeling up a tree now. She seemed a nice +enough person, too; a bit of a fool, of course, but then any one who'd +write for the <i>British Bolshevist</i>, that pestilential rag, would need +to be either a fool or a knave, or both.</p> + +<p>So, on the whole, Henry was not acutely uncomfortable among his +colleagues of the press.</p> + +<p>Once Wilbraham passed close to him talking to the second British +delegate, and fixed him with a glassy stare. Henry, refusing to be +embarrassed, put up his monocle and stared back, as if surprised at +the ill-breeding of this person.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236" href="#Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>So they came to the Monet pier, as the village church clock chimed +seven.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap47" id="chap47">47</a></h2> + +<p>The scheme of action had been carefully planned and organised by +Signor Cristofero, with the help of the perfidious Roumanian Baptist +at the château, who now, terrified at his own treachery, only longed +for his master to be removed from the scene. The ex-cardinal, this +Baptist had said, meant to dine that night, as he often did when he +had not company, with his prisoners in the Keep Wing. He would be +there when the detective, the police, the committee, and the press +arrived at the château, and the party would be conducted there at +once, to surprise the host and his guests at meat.</p> + +<p>The delegate from Costa Rica had asked the detective if they should +all bring weapons, but Signor Cristofero had said no.</p> + +<p>“Quite unnecessary. Franchi does not go armed. He does not go in for +bloodshed, except for some necessary purpose. When he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237" href="#Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> sees he is +trapped, he will throw down his hand with resignation. After all, the +penalty for the abduction without injury, even of many delegates, is +not very heavy. A term of imprisonment, then he will be free again. He +intended, of course, to make his escape from the neighbourhood when he +released his prisoners, and so be beyond reach of capture when the +truth came out. He will be mortified at the failure of his plan—in so +far as it has failed—but for himself he will not very greatly care. I +know Dr. Franchi of old.”</p> + +<p>So revolvers were only taken by delegates and journalists of those +nations which regard these weapons as a natural part of the human +equipment for facing society.</p> + +<p>As they trailed up from the Monet pier through the village, the party +had the innocuous, cheerful, plebeian, only-man-is-vile air of all +large parties of pleasure in beautiful country.</p> + +<p>They approached the château by its public drive, which turned off the +road beyond the village. Signor Cristofero knocked on the front door, +which was opened by a villainous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238" href="#Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> looking young man whom the party +presumed to be the repentant Roumanian Baptist, and whom Signor +Cristofero addressed fluently in a tongue even stranger than are most +tongues. The young man replied in the same.</p> + +<p>“Dr. Franchi is in the Keep Wing, dining with the delegates,” Signor +Cristofero informed his companions. “This man will conduct us there +and admit us. He has the pass keys.”</p> + +<p>The party, led by the scowling Baptist, trooped into the château like +a party of eager tourists ciceroned by a sulky guide.</p> + +<p>They passed through the hall, through the company of dogs who seemed +to like everybody except Henry and the delegate from Haiti, and thence +along a sunny, airy corridor which led up to a nail-studded, +triple-locked oak door, behind an ecclesiastical leather curtain. The +Roumanian produced three keys, unlocked the door, and led the way +along a further passage, this time only lighted by high, small +windows. Here began the Keep Wing. At the farther end of this corridor +was another oak door,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239" href="#Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> this time only once locked. From beyond it came +the sound of cheerful voices raised in talk and laughter. The +Roumanian hung back. He obviously did not desire to lead the way any +farther. After a short, low-toned conversation with Signor Cristofero, +he went back through the triple-locked door.</p> + +<p>“He fears his master,” the detective remarked, with a shrug. “He is +going to make his escape from the château, lest the other servants +execute vengeance on him. No matter. We are now arrived.”</p> + +<p>Having with a gesture summoned round him the police, he opened the +door and led the way into the room beyond.</p> + +<p>It was a large refectory, with a long table down the middle. At the +near end of it sat Dr. Franchi, with lifted glass; down the sides were +ranged the lost delegates. One of them—perhaps Lord Burnley, who sat +on his host's right—seemed to have been telling an amusing story, for +all at the near end of the table were laughing. Or rather, nearly all: +for, resolute in its gravity, its air of protest, the face of Lord +John Lester,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240" href="#Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> the mainstay of the League, was bent sadly over a dish +of salted almonds.</p> + +<p>The ex-cardinal had barely time to look round at the noise of entry +before three policemen seized him firmly and snapped handcuffs on his +wrists.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap48" id="chap48">48</a></h2> + +<p>It was a scene the like of which, it is safe to say, had never before +been seen among all the strange scenes which had been enacted along +the shores of that most lovely lake. A strange scene, and a strange +company.</p> + +<p>The faces of some thirty delegates, interrupted in their meal, were +turned, with varying expressions, upon the new-comers. Lord John +Lester sprang to his feet, with an impatient cry of “At last!” which +was, however, drowned by the ecstatic croon of Mademoiselle the +delegate for Roumania, “Ah! mon Dieu! Nous sommes sauvés! Un jour de +plus, et nous serions deportées,” and a loud cry from Miss Gina +Longfellow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241" href="#Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> who sprang from her seat at the other end of the table.</p> + +<p>“Dio mio! We sure are copped!”</p> + +<p>“Arrest the lady also, as an accomplice,” remarked Signor Cristofero +quietly.</p> + +<p>Dr. Franchi suddenly began to struggle violently, thus engaging the +attention of the police. As suddenly, he ceased to struggle, and said +calmly, “Ebbene. E scappata,” and it was apparent that Miss Longfellow +had vanished.</p> + +<p>“You will not find her now,” said her uncle. “She knows where to hide. +Besides, what has she done, the innocent?”</p> + +<p>“The passages are guarded,” Signor Cristofero remarked.</p> + +<p>“Not, I think, my dear Angelo,” said Dr. Franchi, looking at him for +the first time, “the passage she will take.... So, Angelo, this is +your work. I might have guessed. Gentlemen, my only and distinguished +brother.”</p> + +<p>With a bow he introduced Signor Cristofero to his guests.</p> + +<p>The detective smiled grimly at him, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242" href="#Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> addressed him in the Italian +of the Lombardy Alps.</p> + +<p>“This point is mine, I think, Silvio. It is a long war between us, in +which you often score, but this point is mine.”</p> + +<p>“I grant it you, my dear Angelo, without rancour. Your abilities have +always been so near the level of my own that I can take defeat at your +hands without mortification. You will at least pay me the tribute of +acknowledging the ingenuity and partial success of my scheme.”</p> + +<p>“That tribute I always pay you, Silvio. But, as has occasionally +happened before, your ingenuity broke down at one point. You yielded +to a whimsical impulse, and sent to the officials of the League a +certain telegram couched in the words of the English version of a +Hebrew psalm. When I heard this, I, remembering your addiction to the +English translation of the psalms, identified you at once.... But this +is no time for conversation. Later, a statement will be demanded of +you. At present my business is to deliver you over to the law, and to +give these gentlemen their liberty.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243" href="#Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p><p>“You will find no difficulty in either, my dear brother.... This, +then, gentlemen and ladies, is good-bye. I must apologise for any +inconvenience that may have been caused by your detention, either to +yourselves or to the society which you represent, and I must thank you +for the great pleasure you have afforded me by your company. I think +that, at least, you will be able to report that you have suffered no +great discomforts while my guests.”</p> + +<p>“We have been most excellently entertained,” Lord Burnley replied, and +a murmur of assent ran round the table.</p> + +<p>The Albanian Bishop rose to his feet, lifting his glass.</p> + +<p>“Your health, sir,” he said, and the other delegates drank the toast. +(All except Lord John Lester, who impatiently muttered “Pshaw!”)</p> + +<p>“Indeed,” said Mlle. Binesco, “Dr. Franchi has been more than kind. +Another few days, and we might have fallen into the hands of the +iniquitous traffickers behind him and been deported overseas—but he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244" href="#Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +personally has been most good to us. <em>All</em> we could want....”</p> + +<p>Fergus Macdermott had pushed to the front of the interested onlookers.</p> + +<p>“I'd like to ask you one question, sir. Why didn't your people finish +the job they began on myself—if it was your people, and not, as I +suspect, some Sinn Fein scoundrels?”</p> + +<p>The ex-cardinal gave his kindly smile.</p> + +<p>“It was certainly my people, Mr. Macdermott. But, in attacking you, +they made a mistake. When they perceived who you were, they desisted. +They had, you see, orders not to remove certain delegates, of whom you +and your colleague from South Ireland were two, from the scene. It was +considered that the Irish delegates would serve the cause I have the +honour to represent better by their presence at the Assembly than by +their absence from it.”</p> + +<p>“Enough talk,” Signor Cristofero put in. “It is time we went.”</p> + +<p>“Brief and to the point as ever, dear brother. Good-bye, then, +gentlemen and ladies. I regret, Lord Burnley, not to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245" href="#Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> had time in +which to finish the interesting conversation we began last night on +the subject of my present book. It will have to keep for happier days. +Meanwhile, I hope to have a quiet little time in which to meditate on +and complete the book.”</p> + +<p>As he passed Henry Beechtree on his way to the door, he stopped.</p> + +<p>“Ah, my dear young man. Luck did not favour our little plan, did it?”</p> + +<p>“That person,” said the disagreeable voice of Charles Wilbraham, “is, +if I may be allowed to mention it, a young woman, Dr. Franchi.”</p> + +<p>The ex-cardinal turned to him a cold face.</p> + +<p>“I have known that, Mr. Wilbraham, a good deal longer than you have.” +He smiled sweetly at Henry.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my young friend. There was an incident, you may recollect, of a +goldfish.... I have several—er—nephews and nieces—and have watched +them grow up. Never yet have I seen the boys disturbed by such +episodes. Masculine nerves are, as a rule, more robust. You should +remember this in future.... You will pardon my having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246" href="#Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> noticed the +incident. I would never have referred to it had not the subject been +raised. Some day you shall dine with me again, if you will.... But my +good brother grows impatient. Good-bye again, my friends. A +rivederci.”</p> + +<p>He was led away. He would be taken to Geneva in a police launch, with +the detective, the police, and the arrested servants. The delegates +and press were to follow in the steamer.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap49" id="chap49">49</a></h2> + +<p>The return journey of the rescuers and the rescued was a happy one +indeed. If fraternity had prevailed on the outward voyage, now far +more were all (or most) hearts knit together. What happy greetings +were exchanged, what stories related, what mysteries made clear! The +happy press were told the tale of each captured delegate; they learnt +of the pursuit after vice of the two public-spirited ladies, and their +consequent entrapment, of the decoy of Lord<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247" href="#Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> John Lester through his +devotion to the Union of the League, of how Professor Inglis had been +betrayed through his pity for the poor Greek woman, of how Dr. Chang, +leaving the Bergues hotel at midnight, had taken a walk through the +Saint Gervais quarter, and been led by the smell of opium to +investigate a mysterious opium den whose floor had failed beneath his +feet and dropped him into an underground passage, along which he had +been conducted to an exit close to the Seujet Wharf, hustled into a +covered boat, and carried up the lake. Many such strange tales the +released captives told, and the journalists took down breathlessly on +their writing-pads. Geneva, one perceived, must be full of the paid +agents of the ex-cardinal and the society which employed him. Not that +Dr. Franchi had told his captives anything of this society; he had +merely said that he was anxious for good company, and had therefore +taken the liberty of capturing the pick of the eminent persons present +at Geneva and entertaining them as his guests.</p> + +<p>“If you knew, gentlemen,” he had said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248" href="#Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> “how one wearies for a little +intelligence, a little wit, a little <i>bonhomie</i>, in this dour +country!”</p> + +<p>Naturally, they had not believed him, but some of them had been, all +the same, a little flattered at their own selection.</p> + +<p>They had had, it seemed, a delightful time. Books, newspapers, +delicate food and wines, games, conversation, everything except +liberty, had been provided for their delectation.</p> + +<p>“One can't help, in some ways, being even a little sorry it is at an +end,” Lord Burnley murmured, as he watched the lights of the château +recede, and thought of the dusty days of labour which were to follow.</p> + +<p>“If only it's not too late—if only irretrievable damage has not been +done,” muttered Lord John Lester, frowning at the same lights, +thinking of the vast agenda for the session, and of the growling +nations of the world.</p> + +<p>“I think,” the voice of Charles Wilbraham came, high and conceited, to +Henry Beechtree as he lurked disgraced in a corner and listened and +watched, “I think we may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249" href="#Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> say we have put a spoke in the wheel of +these scoundrels this time. Yes; <em>I</em> think we may say that....”</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap50" id="chap50">50</a></h2> + +<p>Henry that night packed his things. He was leaving next day. He was +not going to wait to be dismissed by his paper. He knew that, if he +did not go, he would with ignominy be removed.</p> + +<p>So he packed, in his small hot room after dinner, with the cats and +dogs uttering their cries in the courtyard below, and beyond them the +small whispering cry of water beating and shuffling against the wharf.</p> + +<p>His adventure was over. In fact, Henry must now be called Miss +Montana, for such was, in truth, her name, and such, as Charles +Wilbraham had truly said, her sex.</p> + +<p>How superciliously had he said it, how superciliously staring her down +the while. As, long ago, he had superciliously stared her down when he +had said to his secretary, “This cannot go on, Miss Montana.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250" href="#Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> I must +make another arrangement. Particularly in view of Paris....”</p> + +<p>Particularly in view of Paris. Ah, yes, that was the sting. Who would +have wanted to go on being Charles Wilbraham's secretary but for +Paris? For to that heaven of secretaries, the Paris Peace Conference, +Charles had been called, and was going that month, January, 1919. She +had been going with him. What delight! What a world of joy had opened +before her when she heard it! What a peace! It would make up for all +the weary years of war, all the desolating months of servitude to +Charles Wilbraham. And now, within a fortnight of starting, Charles +said he must make another arrangement. For his secretary had shown +gross carelessness, hopeless incompetence: she had done a frightful +thing. She had put a Foreign Office letter into an envelope addressed +to the Archbishop of Westminster, and vice versa, and so despatched +them. It was the climax, so Charles told her, of a long series of +misdeeds. Also, she was slow on the typewriter, spelt Parliament with +a small p, and used the eraser<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251" href="#Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> too frequently, and you could, said +Charles, see the smudge made by that a mile off. So—in fine, Charles +must make another arrangement and must in fact, in point of fact, he +unctuously told her, ask her forthwith to take a minute to the +establishment, bidding them obtain for him another secretary. The +bitterness of that moment swept back to Henry now across the years. +She remembered how, wordless, sullen, and fighting that dizziness that +attacked her in moments of stress, she had stood before him, loathing +his smooth voice, his lofty choice of words, his whole arrogant, +pompous presence. Then he had dictated the minute.</p> + +<blockquote><p>“<i>From</i> Mr. Wilbraham.</p> + +<p>“<i>To</i> the Establishment Branch.</p> + +<p>“I find I have to make other arrangements about a secretary. I +shall be glad if you will transfer Miss Montana to other work, +and send some one to me more thoroughly efficient. It would be +well if I could have a selection up for interview and make a +choice, preferably after a preliminary trial. The work will be +responsible, as I am <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252" href="#Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>going out to the Peace Conference in a +fortnight.</p> + +<p>“8.1.1919.”</p></blockquote> + +<p>“Kindly see,” Charles had ordered her, “that that is typed and goes +down immediately. I shall be glad to have it for initialing in not +more than five minutes from now.”</p> + +<p>That had been the way Charles had always addressed his secretaries; +Charles was like that. Courtesy to a subordinate was, in his view, +wholly wasted. He kept all he had of it for his superiors. “The only +really rude man in the Ministry,” Henry had heard him called by the +typists, and typists always know.</p> + +<p>Miss Montana had been subsequently transferred to the Establishment +Branch, where she had spent her time typing chits about other people's +salaries and appointments. Finally, when the staff was reduced, she +was the first to be dismissed. She had never been to Paris; never seen +the Peace Conference. Charles, with first one bullied secretary, now +another, had moved on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253" href="#Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> triumphant way from conference to +conference, a tour unbroken by his appointment to the staff of the +League of Nations Secretariat. Miss Montana had never been to a +conference in her life.</p> + +<p>In her loafing, idle and poor, about London, with her idle and poor +brother and her Irish journalist lover, bitterness had grown more +bitter. No money, no prospects, no career. Only chance bits of +freelance journalism, not enough to pay the rent of decent rooms. She +had vowed to be revenged on Charles, but no way presented itself. She +had prayed God to send her to some bright continental place with a +sunny climate and if possible with some sort of conference going on, +but no ladder thereto reared itself for her climbing. Her lover, a +young man from Dublin, who wrote for, among other papers, the <i>British +Bolshevist</i>, went out to represent this journal at the League Assembly +at Geneva one year. He fell foul there of Charles Wilbraham, who +objected to his messages, which, indeed, were not in the best of +taste; but, as he said, if you write for vulgar papers you must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254" href="#Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> send +vulgar messages sometimes or they won't print you. Charles had him +boycotted from public dinners, and otherwise annoyed. Hearing of it, +Miss Montana consecrated afresh her vow to be revenged on Charles. The +next year this journalist was to have gone to Geneva again, but +instead he encountered an Orange bullet while reporting a riot in +Belfast on August 15th, and was still laid up with the effects at the +beginning of September. Then Miss Montana had conceived her brilliant +idea. She would take his place. She would get back on Charles. She +would disguise herself so that he would not know her if they met, and +somehow she would be avenged. Incidentally, she would have a +conference, in a bright continental climate, and earn some money.</p> + +<p>Eventually she had persuaded the young man to write to the +<i>Bolshevist</i> telling them that he had a journalist friend already in +Geneva, one Henry Beechtree, who might safely be entrusted with the +not onerous job of reporting the proceedings of the Assembly for them. +The <i>Bolshevist</i> did not really<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255" href="#Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> much care who did this job, or how it +was done, so they accepted the services of this Mr. Beechtree.</p> + +<p>Thus, for Miss Montana, opened out at once an entertaining adventure, +a temporary and scanty means of livelihood, and a chance of revenge. +Surely now, knowing what she knew of Charles (for she had worked hard +to collect injurious facts), she could somehow bring him to indignity +and disgrace. How she had worked for this end! How patiently she had +schemed, waited, watched, prayed, made friends with a dull girl, +followed Charles about.... Let him wait, she had said; only let +Charles wait. And now had come her hour, and it had, after all, turned +on her and proved to be, as always, the hour not of herself, but of +Charles. Charles was in the right; she was in the wrong. Charles (she +might have known it) had done nothing so unseemly as to retain +armament shares while entering the staff of the League; Charles had +transferred his money to beer. Charles had not conspired against the +League. Rather had Charles conceived the clever idea of engaging a +famous detective to solve the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256" href="#Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> mystery, and triumphantly he had had it +solved. Charles emerged from this business, as always from every +business, with credit; Charles was triumphantly in the right.</p> + +<p>It came to Miss Montana afresh, what she had really always known, that +the Charleses of this world always are in the right. You cannot put +them in the wrong. They put you in the wrong, for ever and ever. They +may be all wrong, within and without, but they cannot be in the wrong. +The wrong is in them, not they in it. However false, selfish, +complacent, arrogant, and abominable a life Charles might have led, +one would know that at the Judgment Day he would somehow be in the +right.... Right with God, Charles would be, and contemptuously and +without surprise he would watch his neighbours' condemnation. Had he +not joined the True Church to make sure of this ultimate rightness, +and because it was fashionable just now? Much Charles cared for +religion! If Catholics were once more to be persecuted instead of +admired, how soon would Charles leave them! Yes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257" href="#Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> Charles would always +be in the right with the best people....</p> + +<p>The heart and soul of Miss Montana went out passionately across land +and sea to her wild journalist lover in Dublin, that poor and reckless +failure, with whom nothing went right, who had scarcely a shilling to +his name nor an ounce of health in his body. He was more than all the +Charles Wilbrahams of the world together; infinitely more brilliant, +more valuable, more alive; but never did he succeed, for life was not +on his side. And now he would lose his job on the <i>British Bolshevist</i> +(not that that mattered much), and be further discredited, for +perpetrating this fraud which had been so unfortunately exposed. He +would go under, deeper and deeper under, and so would she. The +underworld, that vague and fearful place, would receive them. His +generous and trusting love for her had joined with his love of a joke +to sink him. Together they would sink, and over their bodies Charles +Wilbraham would climb, as on stepping-stones, to higher things. Higher +and higher, plumping with prosperity like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258" href="#Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> a filbert in the sun, while +his eyes dropped fatness, and his corn and wine and oil increased....</p> + +<p>Thus bitterly mused Miss Montana, sitting in her grimy room by her +shabby gladstone bag, throwing therein her pyjamas, her socks, her +collars, her safety razor, her passport (the passport was about Denis +O'Neill, but it had served Henry Beechtree well enough; there is one +advantage about passports: the nonsensical story on them is seldom +read, nor the foolish portrait glanced at).</p> + +<p>To-morrow she would walk once more about the romantic, clean, and +noble city, look her last on the most lovely lake, visit the ice-cream +café and perhaps go up Salève, which she had not yet had time to do. +Or up the lake to Nyons. She would not visit the Assembly Hall or the +Secretariat, for by those she encountered there she would be looked at +askance. She had made a fool of herself and been made a fool of, and +she had, it would be supposed, tried to make a fool of Committee 9 in +order to spite Charles Wilbraham. She would be thought no gentleman, +even no lady. And yet, did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259" href="#Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> they but know it, she had accused Charles +in good faith, though with such rancour as they would be amazed to +know of, such rancour as Serb-Croat-Slovenes scarce feel against +Albanians, or Bolsheviks against Bourgeoisie.</p> + +<p>Miss Montana, past laughter, past tears, past sleep, and even now past +hate, considered for a while where comfort could best be sought, then +crept down the crazy winding staircase of her lodgings and so to the +lake's edge. She would take a boat and have a last moonlight row.</p> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><a name="chap51" id="chap51">51</a></h2> + +<p>The September days went by, and once again, on the shores of that most +lovely lake, the nations assembled and talked.</p> + +<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"> + +<hr class="boxhr theend" /> + +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<p class="center">GLASGOW: W. COLLINS SONS AND CO. LTD.</p> + +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<hr class="boxhr" /> + +<h1 class="ads2"> + + <span class="figright"> + <img src="images/logo.png" width="76" height="75" alt="logo" title="logo" /> + </span> + + Messrs.<br /> + + <span class="ads1">COLLINS'</span><br /> + + Latest Novels +</h1> + +<hr class="boxhr" /> + +<p class="larger negindent"><i>Messrs. COLLINS will always be glad to send their book lists +regularly to readers who will send name and address.</i></p> + +<hr class="boxhr" /> + +<h2 class="adtitle">PIRACY</h2> + +<p class="adauthor">Michael Arlen</p> + +<p>This is the story of Ivor Pelham Marlay between the ages of 18 and 32, +and the period is London, 1910–1922. It is the history of England, two +loves, and an ideal. Mr. Arlen deals with all the types of London +Society, and he likes to bring out the queer and unexpected sides of +his characters. No one who read Mr. Arlen's first book, <i>A London +Venture</i>, or his delightful short stories, <i>A Romantic Lady</i>, needs to +be told that he writes wittily and well.</p> + +<h2 class="adtitle">TYLER OF BARNET</h2> + +<p class="adauthor">Bernard Gilbert</p> + +<p class="center">Author of <i>Old England</i></p> + +<p>This long, powerful novel shows the dilemma of a middle-aged man with +an invalid wife and grown-up children, who falls passionately in love +for the first time. As he is a man of iron self-control he represses +his passion till it bursts all bounds, with a tragic result. No one +now writing knows so well or describes so vividly life in the English +countryside as does Bernard Gilbert.</p> + +<h2 class="adtitle">THE PIT-PROP SYNDICATE</h2> + +<p class="adauthor">Freeman Wills Crofts</p> + +<p>Another brilliantly ingenious detective story by the author of <i>The +Ponson Case</i>. The mystery of the real business of the syndicate +utterly baffled the clever young “amateurs” who tried to solve it, and +it took all the experience and perseverance of the “professionals” to +break up the dangerous and murderous gang.</p> + +<h2 class="adtitle">THE BEAUTIFUL AND DAMNED</h2> + +<p class="adauthor">F. Scott Fitzgerald</p> + +<p>This book has caused an even greater sensation in America than <i>This +Side of Paradise</i>. It is a long, searching, and absolutely convincing +study of degeneration, that degeneration which ruins so many of the +rich, young, idle people. The “smart set” of New York is hurled into +the limelight and mercilessly revealed. A witty, pungent, and entirely +original book.</p> + +<h2 class="adtitle">DANDELION DAYS</h2> + +<p class="adauthor">Henry Williamson</p> + +<p>This is the tale of a boy's last terms at a public school, a very +sensitive, unusual boy, and it is in a sense a sequel to <i>The +Beautiful Years</i>. It is the work of a very clever young writer whose +nature essays have attracted the widest attention here and in America, +and is utterly unlike the usual “school story.” It is a subtle and +beautifully written study of character.</p> + +<h2 class="adtitle">BEANSTALK</h2> + +<p class="adauthor">Mrs. Henry Dudeney</p> + +<p>A charmingly told novel of Sussex. The theme is Motherhood, and all +the emotional subtleties of the desire for children.</p> + +<h2 class="adtitle">PENDER AMONG THE RESIDENTS</h2> + +<p class="adauthor">Forrest Reid</p> + +<p>This is an episode in the life of Rex Pender, who inherited and came +to live at Ballycastle. It is the story of the curious spiritual +experience which came to him there. It is in a sense a “ghost story,” +but it is told by an artist and a stylist. “The Residents,” moreover, +are admirably contrasted, and in some cases deliciously humorously +drawn. A charming, enigmatic, “different” book.</p> + +<h2 class="adtitle">THE DEAVES AFFAIR</h2> + +<p class="adauthor">Hulbert Footner</p> + +<p>This is a story of Evan Weir's wooing, and a very strenuous and +original pursuit it proved. In fact the lady of his choice so far +dissembled her love, as frequently to threaten his further existence. +At the time, Evan was acting as secretary to old Simeon Deaves, famed +as the possessor of the “tightest wad” in New York.</p> + +<p>Now certain individuals had designs upon old Simeon and his hoard, and +amongst them was the forcible and beautiful object of Evan's +affections.</p> + +<p>Like <i>The Owl Taxi</i>, it goes with a splendid snap, and is packed with +exciting and humorous incidents.</p> + +<h2 class="adtitle">ROSEANNE</h2> + +<p class="adauthor">Madame Albanesi</p> + +<p>The author calls this an “old-fashioned story.” It does not concern +itself with sex or any other problems, but is just a lively, well-told +life of a very fascinating heroine who has plenty of adventures +sentimental and otherwise.</p> + +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<hr class="boxhr" /> + +<h1 class="ads3">Collins' ‘First Novel’ Library + +<span class="smcap smallest">Autumn Titles</span></h1> +<hr class="boxhr" /> + +<h2 class="adtitle">EXPERIENCE</h2> + +<p class="adauthor">Catherine Cotton</p> + +<p>This charming chronicle has no “plot.” It is an attempt to present a +happy, witty, simple-minded woman who attracted love because she gave +it out. This is a very difficult type of book to write. The attention +of the reader must be aroused and held by the sheer merit of the +writing, and the publishers believe they have found in Catherine +Cotton a writer with just the right gifts of wit, sympathy, and +understanding.</p> + +<h2 class="adtitle">DOMENICO</h2> + +<p class="adauthor">H. M. Anderson</p> + +<p>This is the story of a Cardinal of Rome, a member of one of the great +noble families. In his youth something had happened which had thrown a +shadow over his life. There are three great crises in his life, one of +them due to this shadow, one to the contrast between his conscience +and his ambition, and the third when, an exile in England, he falls in +love. Miss Anderson shows much skill in drawing the character of this +great and tragic figure.</p> +</div> + +<div id="endtnote" class="transNote"> + <p>Transcriber's Notes and Amendments:</p> + <p><a name="inconsistencies">In</a> addition to the listed inconsistencies in hyphenation or + spelling, nationalities in general are inconsistently hyphenated + and were left as printed.</p> + <ul> + <li>Hotel / Hôtel</li> + <li>lake-side / lakeside</li> + <li>world-platform / world platform</li> + <li>Costa Rica / Costa-Rica</li> + <li>Spanish American / Spanish-American(s)</li> + <li>deputy-President / Deputy President / Deputy-President</li> + <li>bookshop / book-shop / book shop</li> + <li>motor launch / motor-launch</li> + <li>gold-fish / goldfish</li> + <li>Zeligowski / Zeligowsky</li> + <li>Jugo-Slav / Yugo-Slav</li> + <li>master criminals / master-criminals</li> + </ul> + + <p><a name="corrections">The</a> following is a list of corrections made to the original.</p> + <ul> + <li><a href="#tnpg29">Ch. 4, p. 29</a>,‘télégramme là’ to ‘télégramme-là’.<br /> + (“Ce télégramme-là, celui qui dit ‘j'ai traversé par là,)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg44">Ch. 9, p. 44</a>, added close double quote after ‘ten-thirty’.<br /> + (ten-thirty.”)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg56a">Ch. 11, p. 56</a>, ‘If’ to ‘if’.<br /> + (“if we're both going out to)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg56b">Ch. 11, p. 56</a>, ‘Wembly’ to ‘Wembley’.<br /> + (Miss Doris Wembley looked at Beechtree)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg65">Ch. 14, p. 65</a>, added close double quote after ‘everything’.<br /> + (scarf—that is everything.”)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg75">Ch. 15, p. 75</a>, added period after ‘moment’.<br /> + (moment. He was not fit)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg78">Ch. 15, p. 78</a>,‘Beech-tree’ to ‘Beechtree’.<br /> + (“You don't drink this toast, Mr. Beechtree?”)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg94">Ch. 17, p. 94</a>, changed nested double quotes to single quotes.<br /> + (‘those damned Red Indians.’)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg118">Ch. 22, p. 118</a>, changed ‘hwy’ to ‘why’.<br /> + (“And why not?” inquired the Belfast voice)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg121">Ch. 22, p. 121</a>, added open double quote before ‘There’.<br /> + (“There were always elements of)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg124a">Ch. 23, p. 124</a>, added close single quote after ‘live!’.<br /> + (would live!’ Now, do I ask too much)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg124b">Ch. 23, p. 124</a>, added open double quote before ‘is’.<br /> + (she added as she rose, “is)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg168">Ch. 35, p. 168</a>, changed ‘news’ to ‘News’.<br /> + (For men are not News.)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg199">Ch. 39, p. 199</a>, changed double quote to single quote.<br /> + (Monday, 8 a.m., Bathe, Kra——’)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg214">Ch. 42, p. 214</a>, added period after ‘Mr’.<br /> + (“And who, if I may ask, is Mr. Henry Beechtree?”)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg225">Ch. 43, p. 225</a>, removed extra ‘you’ in ‘you many of you’.<br /> + (many of you know it and him)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg231">Ch. 45, p. 231</a>, changed ‘<i>Jaques</i>’ to ‘<i>Jacques</i>’.<br /> + (<i>Jacques</i>. Pulling his soft hat over his eyes)</li> + + <li><a href="#tnpg234">Ch. 46, p. 234</a>, changed ‘if’ to ‘it’.<br /> + (What I do mind is that it isn't Wilbraham)</li> + </ul> + + <p>The following Italian errors have been retained:</p> + <ul> + <li>Ch. 15, p. 78, retained ‘Nel zuppo’.<br /> + (In the soup, sure thing. Nel zuppo!)</li> + + <li>Ch. 17, p. 97, retained ‘chretiani’.<br /> + (non son chretiani loro!”)</li> + + <li>Ch. 38, p. 187, retained ‘Voul’.<br /> + (“Voul scendere, forse?”)</li> + </ul> + +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mystery at Geneva, by Rose Macaulay + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MYSTERY AT GENEVA *** + +***** This file should be named 30647-h.htm or 30647-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/6/4/30647/ + +Produced by Sharon Joiner, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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