CHAPTER SEVEN

The dinner was nearing its end. Among the little party of five men whom the old count had invited to dine with him at the Political Club, the minister for foreign affairs was obviously the guest of honour. True the table was a round one, chosen specially in order to obviate any question of precedence. Yet it was impossible to avoid the impression that the man tucked away in the corner was really the presiding genius. From his place he could keep his eyes on the remainder of the room. The host occupied the seat on the left of the minister. Since he was of a genial disposition, quite innocuous, and above all was no longer regarded as a possible competitor, the younger aspirants to power were glad of his company, for they ran no risk of being compromised, while at the same time they could flaunt a halo of disinterestedness.

To the left of the host sat a naval commander whose youthful face was surmounted by the bald dome of his head. The effect was all the more ludicrous because the sun and the sea air had tanned the face a deep mahogany, while above the line of his cap the skin was shiny and very white. Furthermore, the man was clean-shaven, so that his head gave the effect of an anatomical specimen. The commander was flanked by Diana's friend the major, whose whole countenance was in vivid contrast to that of his neighbour, the two men thus admirably illustrating in their persons the perennial antagonism between the naval and the military arms.

The fourth guest was a professor of economics whose lively bearing and mischievous doctrinairism showed him to be a man of the old school. With the typical arrogance of the learned, he looked down on the man of war to his right, and devoted himself exclusively to his left-hand neighbour. This was Scherer, whom the old count had invited that he and the minister might become acquainted.

When dessert had been placed on the table, the men pushed back their chairs and sat more comfortably. Scherer and the minister entered into close conversation. Thereupon, the other four instinctively drew together for a talk. Scherer sat quietly listening while his neighbour spoke; occasionally he would pull his short, fair moustache, but he said very little. The minister leaned heavily upon the arm of his chair; he was serious of mien, and gazed inquiringly at his companion. It was obvious that the task in hand was not the capture of the statesman, but, rather, that the financier and publisher was the quarry of the evening.

Yet the statesman did not abate by one jot or tittle the arrogant tone that was habitual to him. He was ten years Scherer's senior, it is true, was engaged in a struggle, and was filled with misgivings in regard to the twofold profession of his interlocutor. All this combined to make his subterranean fires glow the brighter, so that his rather heavy countenance was illuminated and made more vivacious by the fight. His face was swarthy and was framed in grizzled hair; his dark eyes were rendered preternaturally large by the huge convex glasses of his spectacles which gave him an unearthly fixation of gaze. Scherer, on the other hand, wore a pince-nez whose elegant poise merely served to enhance the fine line of his features.

"Do you really trust these orientals?" asked the minister softly and yet with precision, for he was coming to the kernel of the matter under discussion.

"There are as many varieties among the peoples of the East as among us westerners," answered Scherer, his metallic voice, as always, ringing true.

The statesman was somewhat irritated by an answer whose banality revealed a desire on Scherer's part to evade the issue. For a moment or two, he toyed with his fruit knife; then, speaking with deliberation:

"I have in mind the present situation. Should we base the whole of our colonial development on the good will of a nation whose resolves may change at any moment, whose French culture will require more than a generation to efface, and whose geographical position lays it open to the advances of any chance comer? The door over there has been flung wide. Is it right that I should order Turkish coffee to be served me in that room when I am not sure whether before I reach it, another member of this club may not bribe the manager to have the doors shut and may not commandeer all the coffee for his own use?"

"Did I hear the delicious words, Turkish coffee?" put in the professor, hoping thereby to bring both conversations to an end. "How would it be to stretch our legs a trifle after the solemn enjoyment of our repast? Pardon me, Count..."

But already the six chairs had been pushed back, and the men made for the stairs, walking in couples, the professor arm-in-arm with the count, while the statesman and Scherer brought up the rear, halting from time to time in order to emphasize some particular point and thereby holding up the remainder of the party, for the count was loath to get separated from his guests. Scherer, who was better acquainted with the East than was his companion, and who had come to realize that the statesman's ethnological arguments were based upon personal distrust of specific personages, now took up his parable from this side. He put a direct question:

"You feel that the present crisis confirms your outlook--justifies a policy that would aim at breaking all the engagements entered into by persons on the spot?"

The other answered with customary evasiveness:

"I perceive the danger of allowing oneself to place too much trust in..."

"And would, therefore, advise against further investment in the railway shares?"

But the minister was not to be coerced into plain speaking, and answered with studied ambiguity:

"I would seek to gain time and to make a cautious retreat."

The minister's main object tonight was to bring the newspaper magnate to an acceptance of his Balkan policy by giving the financier a hint as to the possible course of affairs. Scherer guessed the import of the manœuvre. He was well aware that the minister opposed the political trend towards expansion in the East, and was, in addition, devoured with a jealous suspicion of the ambassador at the centre of present interest. Cautiously avoiding these essential issues, Scherer gazed down at the points of his patent-leather shoes, and asked unconcernedly:

"Your dispatches bring better news today?"

"Dispatches, indeed," fumed the minister. "There are certain people who are unteachable! Twelve hours before the outbreak of hostilities they will still be assuring you of the love these nations feel towards you."

"It is possible that those who are commissioned to look after our interests on the spot do not enjoy your full confidence?"

"Have you implicit confidence in your correspondents, Herr Scherer?"

Scherer gave a short laugh.

"No! But..."

The moment had come when the minister could no longer postpone the decisive question. He assumed the attitude of a fencer about to thrust, an attitude he invariably adopted when dealing with the Opposition in the Lower House, and asked coldly:

"Do you believe in the unerring judgment of our ambassador out there?"

Scherer looked tranquilly into his companion's owl-like eyes, and drawled:

"Unerring? He seems to me a pleasant person. No one is infallible. Surely you don't expect all our ambassadors to be men of genius?"

There was a challenging note in this question, for the financier could certainly not be ignorant of the antipathy the two men felt for one another. The minister, therefore, broke off the conversation by stepping smartly forward to join the rest of the company, while he said loud enough for all to hear:

"I sincerely trust you are right, Herr Scherer, were it only in the interests of the State."

"Have you brought him to heel, Sir," asked the professor jovially. "A marvellous man, this Scherer," continued he, "puts his money in railways that don't work, publishes newspapers in which the reports are as false as the type is heavy, with it all is a European celebrity, and he himself does not know if he owes his notoriety to his wealth or his wit!"

"You are merry, worthy privy councillor," said Scherer good-humouredly. He towered head and shoulders above the professor and was therefore able to lay his hand condescendingly upon the smaller man's shoulder. Every one realized that he was revenging himself for the professor's sally by addressing him with a title the authorities were never likely to bestow. But the little man did not put himself about to correct the error. He merely exclaimed:

"Call me 'colleague,' then at least for a minute I can rejoice in the illusion of sharing your millions!"

"And I the delight of sharing a professorship," laughed Scherer, turning on his heel.

"What a disagreeable person," muttered the commander, wagging his head, and looking coldly at the offending professor.

"Oh, that's a mere nothing," interposed the major. "I've heard the creature lecture at the Colonial Society. He let drop one insult after the other. And there were a number of foreign diplomats present as guests!"

"Men like that do us a lot of harm abroad," retorted the naval officer. "It's by them that our nation is judged."

The party moved on up the stairs, and presently broke up. Scherer and the two officers walked down the street together.

"Do you know these lands?" asked Scherer, addressing himself to his naval friend for the first time that evening.

"Very little. We seafaring men are restricted to the coasts. There's seldom an opportunity to get away inland."

"Which one of us three knows those countries from the inside? I was recently putting the same question to one of our experts in eastern affairs. Oriental politics were supposed to be his speciality. Three times had he been along the caravan route from Konia to Aleppo, had visited Monastir, had gone to see the temples in the Peloponnesus. Each expedition had lasted three weeks. I'll wager that you know more about those places than he does, Commander," said Scherer with a laugh.

"I really know practically nothing. True, my ship was stationed three years in those waters, but one picks up so little trustworthy information."

Scherer gave him an appreciative look.

"Unfortunately our writers fail to realize that! Do you happen to know our ambassador?"

"Slightly, very slightly."

"Shall I seem indiscreet if I ask whether you think he's the right man for the job?"

"The only man!" exclaimed the commander with an emphasis which in any one else might have seemed exaggerated.

For a while, they walked along in silence, each deep in his own thoughts, the naval officer gazing straight ahead of him, while Scherer's eyes were cast on the pavement.

"He must be an interesting fellow," murmured the major, amid the prevailing silence.

"Very," came deliberately from the commander.

They had reached the street which led to his quarters. He drew himself up, bade good-night, and went on his way.

Scherer and the major continued their stroll. They, too, had hardly had a word with one another. Since the night at the opera, the major had learned of Diana's connexion with the publisher, and had been waiting all the evening for the chance of a talk. They often did not meet for months at a time. Scherer, too, was eager to bring the conversation round to Diana. He wanted his own view of her confirmed by some one whose opinion he respected, and he knew by the major's bearing towards her the other evening, that the soldier was to be trusted. And yet he felt a certain misgiving, for he was a man of the world, and, with such, a lack of confidence in others' integrity is habitual.

"A man of sterling worth, that," said Scherer, nodding his head in the direction of their departing friend. He was inclined, when speaking of men he knew but slightly, to use vaguely pompous expressions of commendation.

"Very pleasant, indeed," replied the major. "Very pleasant, and unassuming. A delightful contrast to most men in his profession."

Scherer smiled.

"You army men always underestimate the navy."

"Pardon me, it's finance that overestimates the navy," corrected the major.

Scherer was delighted with the answer. It seemed to him courageous, penetrating, courteous, and, in addition, perfectly true.

"Would not you like to go away down there?"

"Yes, but how?"

"For instance, as military attaché?"

"Eckersberg is firm in the saddle!"

Scherer calculated that no more than a hundred paces or so remained of their way together. He therefore gave a turn to the conversation, saying:

"Those are certainly very interesting countries, but so few of our people know anything about them. I've a lady at my office, an extraordinarily intelligent woman, who really knows quite a lot."

"Ah," thought the major.

"As a matter of fact you know her, I fancy. Were you not in her company at the opera the other night?"

The major noticed how careful his companion was not to mention her name, and, following suit, he replied:

"Yes, that's right. We met after several years, and she told me she was working for you."

"You knew one another some time ago," said Scherer in so toneless a voice that it would seem he meant the words to hang suspended in the air.

The major thought: "It won't do her any harm if her employer knows that she had good connexions in the past...." Aloud he said:

"She was living at the time..."

"At the 'Bristol,'" put in the other calmly, apparently wishing to spare the major from giving too intimate details. Then suddenly changing his manner: "I hope you won't think me impertinent if I ask you whether in those days she was as extraordinarily gifted, as well-informed..."

The major felt a glow of sympathy for the speaker as these words fell upon the night air. Memories crowded upon him. He remembered the influence she had exercised over his career, and, crushing back the feeling of jealousy which involuntarily rose within him, he thought only of the use he could be in helping Diana forward in her new sphere of life.

"Well-informed? Gifted? Certainly--so far as I could learn during rides and at the parties where I met the young lady." Words failed him. "Yes--she is really the--the most amazing creature I have--I have ever met among women!"

Scherer felt warmly towards his companion, for the embarrassment with which the words were spoken betrayed everything that the speaker wanted to keep secret. The major must in his youth have been a man with a good deal of experience of women! Scherer's surmises were thus doubly confirmed. He was silent for a while. Then:

"Wasn't there a young man of the party, very like her in appearance?..."

"Her brother."

"Ah, I thought as much. Let's sec, what was his name?" The question was put very tentatively.

"I did not quite catch his name. I fancy he must be her stepbrother."

Scherer thought:

"He just says that in order to shield her. He is very much in love with her."

A few hours later, by the time he reached home, his mind was made up. The place was very quiet. He entered his study, a dignified apartment from whose four sides the books looked at him in solemn greeting. Works of art were few in number, and no woman's face smiled down on this man in early middle-age as he took a seat at the writing-table. Great undertakings, far exceeding in scope the newspaper he had inherited from his father, had been planned in this room. Financial schemes with political aims had been thought out between these walls. During the long summer nights, Scherer, thinker though he was, had given free rein to feeling. Never, however, had he permitted a woman's hand to tamper with his work, never had he asked a woman her advice. He had not even consulted his male friends if a difficulty arose. Today, for the first time, he was going to venture the hazard.

He looked up dates in his calendar. The day after tomorrow was free. He addressed an envelope to: "Fräulein Paula Linke, Kleins Hotel." But on the enclosed visiting card he wrote: "... requests the honour of Fräulein Diana de Wassilko's company to dinner on Wednesday at 8 p.m."