Chapter Thirteen. His Majesty’s Secret.

“The problem we have before us is as follows,” His Majesty began, bending towards Waldron from his chair, and speaking in a low, earnest, intense tone. “Some plans of important defences now being constructed upon our Austrian frontier have mysteriously disappeared from the Ministry of War. The theft was discovered at once, but up to the present it is known only to myself, to Ghelardi, our Chief of Secret Police; to General Cataldi, Minister of War, who reported to me this evening, and to three other persons, all of whom have been sworn to absolute secrecy.”

“In what circumstances have they disappeared?” inquired the diplomat.

“I will tell you,” was the King’s reply. “A year ago it was decided in secret by the Council of Defence to construct a chain of hidden fortresses from Feltre along the northern frontier to the Lago di Garda—eight of them, with quick-firing disappearing guns. Six have been constructed, commanding a wide sweep of our neighbour’s territory, and armed with our new long-range artillery, while two others are still in course of construction, the work being carried out in strictest secrecy. For many years the Council of Defence have felt that this portion of our frontier was the most vulnerable of all, but according to our unfortunate treaty with Austria, no strengthening of the defences on either side is permitted.”

“And now the secret is probably out to Austria,” Waldron remarked. “Ah! I follow Your Majesty. The construction of these forts will be construed by Austria into a menace—even into an act of war!”

“Precisely. I see that you at once perceive the extreme gravity of the situation. Italy has been betrayed into the hands of her hereditary enemy, Austria. Ever since the recent riots in Trieste our relations have been greatly strained, and I am informed on the best authority that Austria-Hungary is only waiting an excuse to pick a quarrel and attack us, although her attitude is so diplomatically correct.”

“Then the situation is certainly most grave. There is, I fear, a distinct and imminent peril, Your Majesty.”

“Ah! You agree with me—eh?”

“Entirely,” was Waldron’s answer as he sat, his chin resting upon his hand, deep in thought. “But may I not know more precisely the exact circumstances of this theft?”

“Certainly, every fact within my knowledge is entirely at your disposal, for I am seeking your assistance, I have heard of your successes as a keen investigator of diplomatic secrets, and I appeal to you, Waldron, to assist me in what is a very serious difficulty and a distinct peril to my nation.”

“I am Your Majesty’s obedient servant to command,” was the other’s prompt reply.

“Yes, yes, I greatly appreciate your words,” the monarch said. “Now let me proceed further. The plans were produced at a meeting of the Council of Defence held at the Ministry of War yesterday at twelve o’clock. There had been suggested some strengthening of the fort overlooking the Lago di Garda at Gardone, also the one commanding the Austrian town of Riva, at the farther end of the lake. It was to discuss the details—the addition of guns of greater calibre and further range—that the plans were laid upon the table and examined by the Ministers of War and of Marine as well as the eight other high officers composing the Council. The proceedings were entirely private, of course, even the secretary of the Council being excluded from the council chamber, as he always is when purely confidential business affecting the nation’s secret defences is in progress. On his re-entry the plans in question were handed back to him by the hand of General Cataldi, the Minister of War, but a few minutes later they seem to have been mysteriously spirited away, the secretary of the Council, Lambarini, declaring that he had passed them on to Pironti, private secretary of the Minister.”

“And Lambarini?” queried Waldron. “Is he trustworthy—entirely trustworthy?”

“Entirely. Colonel Lambarini has occupied his position for the past fifteen years, and is thoroughly loyal and patriotic.”

Hubert Waldron drew a deep, long breath. His estimate of the Italian functionary, of whatever grade, was but a low one. He had never yet known any Government official in Italy—be he a humble clerk or a Cabinet Minister—who could not be bought with a price. Alas! that corruption in Italy was a matter of world-wide knowledge.

The King instantly noticed his visitor’s hesitation, and his brows contracted.

“Ah, I see! You suspect Lambarini. But there you are quite wrong, Waldron—quite wrong, I assure you! Too well I know the lack of personal honour at Monte Citorio and in our Government offices. But I know Lambarini. For me that is all-sufficient. When I know a man I trust him.”

“Then I at once withdraw my suspicion,” the diplomat exclaimed quickly. “Your Majesty can read men far better than I can. If you actually know this secretary, Lambarini, then no further word need be said.”

“It is not my desire to prejudice your views in any way, my dear Waldron,” the King assured him with a smile. “I want you to approach this affair with a perfectly open mind. Please understand that to you I am looking for assistance. I am powerless as monarch. I am hoping that you—the friend of my youth—may be able to solve the very serious and critical problem.”

“Of course I will do my best in Your Majesty’s interests,” declared Waldron. “But do please tell me more. What happened after the documents were placed in Lambarini’s hands?”

“He put them at once in the safe in His Excellency’s room.”

“Then he has a key to the safe?”

“It is a safe used for confidential documents when they are taken from the strong-room in the basement up to the Ministry, in order to be inspected. The safe is actually in General Cataldi’s private cabinet.”

“How many keys are there?”

“Three. The General has one,” replied His Majesty. “There is a system of keeping confidential documents, for if one is removed for any purpose, a slip of paper is left in its place bearing the signature of one or other of the three persons who have the key.”

“And has no one access to this safe except the persons Your Majesty has mentioned?”

“No one,” was the King’s reply.

“There must be a false key.”

“Even if one existed that would be useless, for a sentry is on duty outside the Minister’s private cabinet day and night.”

“And has this sentry been questioned?”

“I believe so.”

“By Ghelardi, most probably?”

“I think so.”

“Is Your Majesty aware of the views held by your Chief of Secret Police?”

“He simply declared the whole affair to be a mystery. His suspicion first fell upon Lambarini, just as yours has done. But he afterwards agreed with me that the official named is no traitor.”

“Well—there must be clever espionage at work somewhere,” said Waldron. “A substantial sum must have been paid for those documents, that’s certain. If we could trace money, we could place our hands at once upon the culprit.”

“Agreed,” exclaimed His Majesty, a dark cloud upon his brow. “But I hate to think that any Italian should sell his country’s secrets for foreign gold.”

“Alas! Your Majesty, in every country there are to be found black sheep. Even in our patriotic England we have them, as recent prosecutions have revealed.”

“Ah, yes, I know! But, Waldron, we must find this traitor who has no doubt stirred up against us once more the bitter enmity of Vienna. Three years ago our Secret Service reported a cunning and crafty move by Austria—an intention on her part to encroach into Venetia. There was a deep conspiracy afoot against us just as there was last year against Servia in the Balkans. Had we not discovered it we might have awakened to find Venice and Milan in the enemies’ hands. As it was, Ghelardi—though then in the German Service, but still a patriotic Italian—gave us a timely warning, and we were able to turn the tables upon our enemy. After this discovery the Council of War decided to strengthen our frontier defences in secret—the secret which is now, unfortunately, betrayed to those who wish to crush us.”

“And does Your Majesty desire me to make inquiries independently of the Commendatore Ghelardi—or in association with him?” inquired Waldron thinking deeply, for the problem was a complex one.

“Just as you deem best, Waldron. Act as your own discretion directs you,” the King replied, taking from the table a slip of yellow official paper whereon was scribbled some memoranda.

“I presume that I shall have no difficulty in obtaining the name of the sentry who was on duty outside His Excellency’s door?” the diplomat remarked after a brief silence.

“I have it here,” responded His Majesty. “It is Corporal Tonini, of the 19th Regiment of Bersiglieri—a loyal soldier.”

Hubert took the little gold pencil attached to his watch-chain and scribbled the name on the cuff of his dress-shirt, together with that of the secretaries of Minister of War and that of the Council of Defence.

“I will order Ghelardi to give you every assistance and information, as I desire, Waldron, that you will inquire into this matter upon my own personal behalf. I ask you to do this as a favour—as one who will be very grateful to you for your services. You are independent, and a foreigner, and you have no axe to grind as, alas! they all seem to have who surround me. A king is always the centre of human avarice, of base unscrupulousness, of jealousies, and of the fierce struggle for undeserved honours and emoluments.” Then with a sigh he added: “When one is a Sovereign there is, unfortunately, revealed all the worst side of human nature.”

“Is there any suspicion of a spy of Austria being at present in Rome?” Waldron inquired after a silence broken only by the tramp of the soldiers returning to their quarters on the opposite side of the great paved courtyard.

“Austrian agents are, of course, always among us. A dozen or so are known as residing in the north. But Ghelardi and his staff are ever watchful. You know him, I suppose?”

“I have met him,” replied Hubert vaguely. He dare not tell His Majesty the curious story of their acquaintance, or the circumstances in which he had met his madcap niece.

“Ah! then you will want no introduction. You will find him at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. But perhaps I had better give him instructions,” he added, and turning to his table he scribbled a hasty note, which he enclosed in an envelope and addressed. “If you wish to consult him or others that will prove an open sesame,” smiled His Majesty.

Waldron took the royal mandate with a word of thanks, and placed it securely in his inner pocket.

“Remember,” His Majesty urged very seriously, “in this affair, I beg of you, Waldron, to spare no effort. We must save the situation at all hazards, and though Ghelardi and his agents may make their own inquiries, I rely upon you alone to tell me the truth. Go to your Chief and ask him to relieve you of your present duties for a short time. Tell him that you are carrying out a personal mission for myself, the friend of your youth, and I feel sure he will raise no objection. Great Britain is ever the firm and true friend of myself, and of my beloved nation. But please keep the secret of our loss entirely to yourself.”

“I respect Your Majesty’s confidence as fully and entirely as though it were that of my own Sovereign,” was Waldron’s earnest response.

“I know that I can trust you implicitly,” declared the monarch upon whose countenance the diplomat noted a dark cloud of apprehension. The situation was indeed one of extreme gravity, for the relations between Austria and Italy—never very cordial—had for the past year been much overstrained.

Whatever was the truth concerning the theft of those confidential plans, Waldron suspected from the very outset that one or other of the higher officials had had a hand in it. The onus might be placed upon secretaries, clerks, or sentries, but with the recollection of the many and constantly recurring political scandals in Rome he was inclined to a distinct belief that even one or other of the members of the Council of Defence might be the guilty person who had basely betrayed his country for Austrian gold.

“Then Your Majesty can give me no further details regarding this mysterious disappearance?” Hubert remarked after a pause, during which the King had been toying pensively with his fountain pen, his dark, deep eyes fixed upon the pile of documents awaiting his signature before he retired to rest.

“No. What I have told you comprises the whole facts as reported to me to-day. I have not sought to go further into any detail, for I considered that a shrewd, active man like yourself—and I have heard what your past record in elucidating diplomatic mysteries has been—would have greater chance of getting at the truth if allowed to make inquiries quite independently.”

“And Ghelardi?”

“I have not told him that I intended to consult you.”

“But he may resent it—most naturally he will.”

“Probably. But surely you, as my personal and private agent, will take no heed. Remember that you are working on my behalf alone.”

“But I fear, sir, that he may endeavour to place obstacles in my way,” Waldron remarked.

“And if he does then report instantly to me. I will warn him at once that you are to be given every assistance. Indeed, if you require his services, he shall himself act under your instructions, for am I not Sovereign—and I tell you I intend at all hazards to know the truth regarding this dastardly theft!” cried His Majesty with some warmth.

“I will promise to do my very utmost towards that end,” was Hubert’s reply. “Your Majesty trusts me, and I will in return carry out the mission to the very best of my ability.”

“Those words of yours are all-sufficient for me,” replied the King, rising and gripping his visitor’s hand. “Do your best. Leave no stone unturned, Waldron, and spare no expense on my behalf. Report to me frequently, as I shall be full of anxiety until this matter is cleared up. Count del Grillo will admit you to private audience at any hour. I will give him instructions. Go,” the monarch added. “Do your best on my behalf, and may every good fortune attend you. Upon your efforts will mean the averting of a long and disastrous war. Addio!”

And he again pressed the diplomat’s hand.

The latter bowed low, and with a repeated promise backed out of the royal presence, closing the door after him.

And carrying with him the secret of Italy’s peril, he descended the great marble staircase, where at the foot stood the two gorgeous flunkeys in the royal livery who bowed low as he passed out.