Chapter Twenty Three. Secret Instructions.

“You did exceedingly well, Stieger. I am much pleased!” declared his Excellency the Minister, when, outside the palace, he caused them both to enter his carriage and was driving them to his own fine house on the opposite side of the capital. “His Majesty is taking a severe revenge,” he laughed. “This Englishman Bourne will certainly regret having met the Queen. Besides, the fact of her having chosen a low-born criminal lover condemns her a thousandfold in the King’s eyes. I, who know him well, know that nothing could cause him such anger as for her to cast her royalty into the mud, as she has done by her friendship with this gaolbird.”

“I am pleased to have earned your Excellency’s approbation,” replied the man. “And I trust that his Majesty’s pleasure will mean advancement for me—at your Excellency’s discretion, of course.”

“To-morrow I shall sign this decree, raising you to the post of functionary of the first class, with increased emoluments. And to you,” he added, turning to the thin-nosed woman, “I shall grant a gratification of five thousand marks. Over an affair of this kind we cannot afford publicity. Therefore say nothing, either of you. Recollect that in this matter you are not only serving the King, but the whole Ministry and Court. The King must obtain a divorce, and we shall all be grateful to you for the collection of the necessary evidence. The latter, as I told you some time ago, need not be based on too firm a foundation, for even if she defends the action the mere fact of her alliance with this good-looking criminal will be sufficient to condemn her in the eyes of a jury of Treysa. Therefore return to England and collect the evidence carefully—facts that have foundation—you understand?”

The spy nodded. He understood his Excellency’s scandalous suggestion. He was to manufacture evidence to be used against the Queen.

“You must show that she has lightly transferred her love from Leitolf to this rascal Bourne. The report you have already made is good, but it is not quite complete enough. It must contain such direct charges that her counsel will be unable to bring evidence to deny,” declared the fat-faced man—the man who really ruled the Kingdom.

The old monarch had been a hard, level-headed if rather eccentric man, who had never allowed Hinckeldeym to fully reach the height of his ambition; yet now, on the accession of his son, inexperienced in government and of a somewhat weak and vacillating disposition, the crafty President of the Council had quickly risen to be a power as great, if not greater than, the King himself.

He was utterly unscrupulous, as shown by his conversation with Stieger. He was Claire’s bitterest enemy, yet so tactful was he that she had once believed him to be her friend, and had actually consulted him as to her impossible position at Court. Like many other men, he had commenced life as a small advocate in an obscure provincial town, but by dint of ingenious scheming and dishonest double-dealing he had wormed himself into the confidence of the old King, who regarded him as a necessity for the government of the country. His policy was self-advancement at any cost. He betrayed both enemies and friends with equal nonchalance, if they were unfortunate enough to stand in his way. Heinrich Hinckeldeym had never married, as he considered a wife an unnecessary burden, both socially and financially, and as far as was known, he was without a single relative.

At his own splendid mansion, in a severely furnished room, he sat with his two spies, giving them further instructions as to how they were to act in England.

“You will return to-morrow by way of Cologne and Ostend,” he said, “and I will at once have the formal requisition for their arrest and extradition made to the British Foreign Office. If this man Bourne is convicted, the prejudice against the Queen will be greater, and she will lose her partisans among the people, who certainly will not uphold her when this latest development becomes known.” And his Excellency’s fat, evil face relaxed into a grim smile.

Presently he dismissed them, urging them to carry out the mission entrusted to them without scruple, and in the most secret manner possible. Then, when they were gone, he crossed the room to the telephone and asked the Ministers Stuhlmann, Meyer, and Hoepfner—who all lived close by—whether they could come at once, as he desired to consult them. All three responded to the President’s call, and in a quarter of an hour they assembled.

Hinckeldeym, having locked the door and drawn the heavy portière, at once gave his friends a résumé of what had taken place that evening, and of the manner in which he had rearoused the King’s anger and jealousy.

“Excellent!” declared Stuhlmann, who held the portfolio of Foreign Affairs. “Then I shall at once give Crispendorf orders to receive Stieger and to apply to the British Foreign Office for the arrest of the pair. What are their names? I did not quite catch them.”

Hinckeldeym crossed to his writing-table and scribbled a memorandum of the names Bourne and Redmayne, and the offences for which they were wanted.

“They will be tried in Berlin, I suppose?” Stuhlmann remarked.

“My dear friend, it does not matter where they are tried, so long as they are convicted. All we desire to establish is the one fact which will strike the public as outrageous—the Queen has a lover who is a criminal. Having done that, we need no longer fear her return here to Treysa.”

“But is not the Leitolf affair quite sufficient?” asked Meyer, a somewhat younger man than the others, who, by favour of Hinckeldeym, now held the office of Minister of Justice.

“The King suspects it is a mere platonic friendship.”

“And it really may be after all,” remarked Meyer. “In my opinion—expressed privately to you here—the Queen has not acted as a guilty woman would act. If the scandal were true she would have been more impatient. Besides, the English nurse, Allen, came to me before she left Treysa, and vowed to me that the reports were utterly without foundation. They were lovers, as children—that is all.”

Hinckeldeym turned upon him furiously.

“We have nothing to do with your private misgivings. Your duty as Minister is to act with us,” he said in a hard, angry voice. “What does it matter if the English nurse is paid by the Queen to whitewash her mistress? You, my dear Meyer, must be the very last person to express disbelief in facts already known. Think of what would happen if this woman returned to Treysa! You and I—and all of us—would be swept out of office and into obscurity. Can we afford to risk that? If you can, I tell you most plainly that I can’t. I intend that the King shall obtain a divorce, and that the woman shall never be permitted to cross our frontier again. The day she does, recollect, will mark our downfall.”

Meyer, thus reproved by the man to whom he owed his present office, pursed his lips and gave his shoulders a slight shrug. He saw that Hinckeldeym had made up his mind, even though he himself had all along doubted whether the Queen was not an innocent victim of her enemies. Allen had sought audience of him, and had fearlessly denounced, in no measured terms, the foul lies circulated by the Countess de Trauttenberg. The Englishwoman had declared that her mistress was the victim of a plot, and that although she was well aware of her friendliness with Count Leitolf, yet it was nothing more than friendship. She had admitted watching them very closely in order to ascertain whether what was whispered was really true. But it was not. The Queen was an ill-treated and misjudged woman, she declared, concluding with a vow that the just judgment of God would, sooner or later, fall upon her enemies. What the Englishwoman had told him had impressed him. And now Hinckeldeym’s demeanour made it plain that what Allen had said had very good foundation.

He, Ludwig Meyer, was Minister of Justice, yet he was compelled to conspire with the others to do to a woman the worst injustice that man’s ambition could possibly conceive. His companion Hoepfner, Minister of Finance, was also one of Hinckeldeym’s creatures, and dared not dissent from his decision.

“You forget, my dear Meyer,” said the old President, turning back to him. “You forget all that the Countess Hupertz discovered, and all that she told us.”

“I recollect everything most distinctly. But I also recollect that she gave us no proof.”

“Ah! You, too, believe in platonic friendship!” sneered the old man. “Only fools believe in that.”

“No,” interposed Stuhlmann quickly. “Do not let us quarrel over this. Our policy is a straightforward and decisive one. The King is to apply for a divorce, and our friend Meyer will see that it is granted. The thing is quite simple.”

“But if she is innocent?” asked the Minister of Justice.

“There is no question of her innocence,” snapped Hinckeldeym. “It is her guilt that concerns you—you understand!”

Then, after some further consultation, during which time Meyer remained silent, the three men rose and, shaking hands with the President, departed.

When they had gone Hinckeldeym paced angrily up and down the room. He was furious that Meyer should express the slightest doubt or compunction. His hands were clenched, his round, prominent eyes wore a fierce, determined expression, and his gross features were drawn and ashen grey.

“We shall see, woman, who will win—you or I!” he muttered to himself. “You told me that when you were Queen you would sweep clean the Augean stable—you would change all the Ministers of State, Chamberlains—every one, from the Chancellor of the Orders down to the Grand Master of the Ceremonies. You said that they should all go—and first of all the dames du palais. Well, we shall see!” he laughed to himself. “If your husband is such a fool as to relent and regard your friendship with Leitolf with leniency, then we must bring forward this newest lover of yours—this man who is to be arrested in your company and condemned as a criminal. The people, after that, will no longer call you ‘their Claire’ and clamour for your return, and in addition, your fool of a husband will be bound to accept the divorce which Meyer will give him. And then, woman,” he growled to himself, “you will perhaps regret having threatened Heinrich Hinckeldeym!”