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The Secrets of Potsdam

by William Le Queux · English · Gutenberg #34278 · 345,056 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Secrets of Potsdam

Author: William Le Queux


        
Release date: November 11, 2010 [eBook #34278]

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRETS OF POTSDAM ***




Produced by Moti Ben-Ari and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive)









THE SECRETS OF POTSDAM




_First impression, March, 1917.
Second impression, March, 1917._




THE
Secrets of Potsdam

_A STARTLING EXPOSURE OF THE INNER LIFE
OF THE COURTS OF THE KAISER
AND CROWN-PRINCE_

REVEALED FOR THE FIRST TIME
by
COUNT ERNST VON HELTZENDORFF

_Commander of the Order of the Black Eagle, &c.
Late Personal-Adjutant to the German Crown-Prince_


CHRONICLED BY
WILLIAM LE QUEUX

LONDON:
LONDON MAIL LTD.
39, KING STREET, COVENT GARDEN. W.C.




_Copyright in the United States of America by
William Le Queux, 1917
Translation and Cinema Rights reserved_




_"Veneux Nadon,
"par Moret-sur-Loing
"(Seine-et-Marne).
"February 10th, 1917._


"MY DEAR LE QUEUX,

"_I have just finished reading the proofs of your book describing my
life as an official at the Imperial Court at Potsdam, and the two or
three small errors you made I have duly corrected._

"_The gross scandals and wily intrigues which I have related to you
were, many of them, known to yourself, for, as the intimate friend of
Luisa, the Ex-Crown-Princess of Saxony, you were, before the war,
closely associated with many of those at Court whose names appear in the
pages of this book._

"_The revelations which I have made, and which you have recorded here,
are but a tithe of the disclosures which I could make, and if your
British public desire more, I shall be pleased to furnish you with other
and even more startling details which you may also put into print._

"_My service as personal-adjutant to the German Crown-Prince is,
happily, at an end, and now, with the treachery of Germany against
civilization glaringly revealed, I feel, in my retirement, no
compunction in exposing all I know concerning the secrets of the Kaiser
and his profligate son._

"_With most cordial greetings from_
"_Your sincere friend_,
"ERNST VON HELTZENDORFF."




The Secrets of Potsdam

SECRET NUMBER ONE

THE TRAGEDY OF THE LEUTENBERGS


You will recollect our first meeting on that sunny afternoon when, in
the stuffy, nauseating atmosphere of perspiration and a hundred Parisian
perfumes, we sat next each other at the first roulette table on the
right as you enter the rooms at Monte Carlo?

Ah! how vivid it is still before my eyes, the jingle of gold and the
monotonous cries of the croupiers.

Ah! my dear friend! In those pre-war days the Riviera--that sea-lapped
Paradise, with its clear, open sky and sapphire Mediterranean,
grey-green olives and tall flowering aloes, its gorgeous blossoms, and
its merry, dark-eyed populace who lived with no thought of the
morrow--was, indeed, the playground of Europe.

And, let me whisper it, I think I may venture to declare that few of its
annual habitues enjoyed the life more than your dear old ink-stained
self.

What brought us together, you, an English novelist, and I a--well, how
shall I describe myself? One of your enemies--eh? No, dear old fellow.
Let us sink all our international differences. May I say that I, Count
Ernst von Heltzendorff, of Schloss Heltzendorff, on the Mosel, late
personal-adjutant to His Imperial Highness the Crown-Prince, an official
attached to that precious young scoundrel's immediate person, call you
my dear friend?

True, our nations are, alas! at war--the war which the Kaiser and his
son long sought, but which, as you well know, I have long ago detested.

I have repudiated that set of pirates and assassins of whom I was, alas!
born, and among whom I moved until I learned of the vile plot afoot
against the peace of Europe and the chastity of its female inhabitants.

On August 5th, 1914, I shook the dust of Berlin from my feet, crossed
the French frontier, and have since resided in the comfortable
old-fashioned country house which you assisted me to purchase on the
border of the lovely forest of Fontainebleau.

And now, you have asked me to reveal to you some of the secrets of
Potsdam--secrets known to me by reason of my official position before
the war.

You are persuading me to disclose some facts concerning the public and
private life of the Emperor, of my Imperial master the Crown-Prince,
known in his intimate circle as "Willie," and of the handsome but
long-suffering Cecil Duchess of Mecklenbourg, who married him ten years
ago and became known as "Cilli." Phew! Poor woman! she has experienced
ten years of misery, domestic unhappiness, by which she has become
prematurely aged, deep-eyed, her countenance at times when we talked
wearing an almost tragic look.

No wonder, indeed, that there is a heavy and, alas! broken heart within
the beautiful Marble Palace at Potsdam, that splendid residence where
you once visited me and were afterwards commanded to a reception held by
His Imperial Highness.

I risk much, I know, in taking up my pen to tell the truth and to make
these exposures to you, but I do so because I think it only just that
your British nation should know the true character of the Emperor and
of the unscrupulous and ubiquitous "Willie," the defiant young
Blackguard of Europe, who is the idol of the swaggering German Army, and
upon whom they pin their hopes.

It is true that the Commander of the Death's Head Hussars--the
"Commander" who has since the war sanctioned the cold-blooded murder of
women and children, the shooting of prisoners, rapine, incendiarism, and
every other devil's work that his horde of assassins could commit--once
declared that "the day will come when Social Democrats will come to
Court."

True, he has been known to be present at the golden wedding festivities
of a poor cobbler in Potsdam; that he has picked up in his yellow
ninety-horse-power car--with its black imp as a mascot--a poor tramp and
taken him to the hospital; and that he possesses the charming manner of
his much-worshipped grandfather, the Emperor Frederick. But he is as
clever and cunning as his criminal father, Wilhehm-der-Ploetzliche
(William the Sudden) or Der Einzige (The Only), as the Kaiser is called
by the people of the Palace. He shows with double cunning but one side
of his character to the misguided German people, the Prussian Junker
party, and the Tom-Dick-and-Harry of the Empire who have been made
cannon-fodder and whose bones lie rotting in Flanders and on the Aisne.

Ah, my dear friend, what a strange life was that of the German Court
before the war--a life of mummery, of gay uniforms, tinsel, gilded
decorations, black hearts posing as virtuous, and loose people of both
sexes evilly scandalizing their neighbours and pulling strings which
caused their puppets to dance to the War-Lord's tune.

I once lifted the veil slightly to you when you stayed at the Palast
Hotel in Potsdam and came to us at the Marble Palace, and I suppose it
is for that reason that you ask me to jot down, for the benefit of your
readers in Great Britain and her Dominions, a few facts concerning the
plots of the Kaiser and his son--the idol of Germany, the Kronprinz
"Willie."

What did you think of him when I presented you?

I know how, later on that same night, you remarked upon his height, his
narrow chest, and his corset-waist, and how strangely his animal eyes
set slant-wise in his thin, aquiline face, goggle eyes, which dilate so
strangely when speaking with you, and which yet seem to penetrate your
innermost thoughts.

I agreed with you when you declared that there was nothing outwardly of
the typical Hohenzollern in the Imperial Rake. True, one seeks in vain
for traces of martial virility. Though his face is so often wreathed in
boyish smiles, yet his heart is as hard as that of the true
Hohenzollern, while his pretended love of sport is only a clever ruse in
order to retain the popularity which, by dint of artful pretence, he has
undoubtedly secured. Indeed, it was because of the All-Highest One's
jealousy of his reckless yet crafty son's growing popularity that we
were one day all suddenly packed off to Danzig to be immured for two
long years in that most dreary and provincial of all garrisons.

Of the peccadilloes of the elegant young blackguard of Europe--who
became a fully-fledged colonel in the German Army at the age of
thirty-one--I need say but little. His life has been crammed with
disgraceful incidents, most of them hushed up at the Kaiser's command,
though several of them--especially certain occurrences in the Engadine
in the winter of 1912--reached the ears of the Crown-Princess, who, one
memorable day, unable to stand her husband's callous treatment,
threatened seriously to leave him.

Indeed, it was only by the Kaiser's autocratic order that "Cilli"
remained at the Marmor Palace. She had actually made every preparation
to leave, a fact which I, having learned it, was compelled to report to
the Crown-Prince. We were at the Palace in the Zeughaus-Platz, in
Berlin, at the time, and an hour after I had returned from Potsdam I
chanced to enter the Crown-Prince's study. The door was a self-locking
one, and I had a key. On turning my key I drew back, for His Majesty the
Emperor, a fine figure in the picturesque cavalry uniform of the
Koenigsjaeger--who had just come from a review, and had no doubt heard of
the threatened Royal scandal--was standing astride in the room.

"I compel it!" cried the Emperor, pale with rage, his eyes flashing as
he spoke. "She shall remain! Go to her at once--make your peace with her
in any way you can--and appear to-night with her at the theatre."

"But I fear it is impossible. I----"

"Have you not heard me?" interrupted the Emperor, disregarding his son's
protests. And as I discreetly withdrew I heard the Kaiser add: "Cannot
you, of our House of Hohenzollern, see that we cannot afford to allow
Cilli to leave us? The present state of the public mind is not
encouraging, much as I regret it. Remember Frederick August's position
when that madcap Luisa of Tuscany ran away with the French tutor Giron.
Now return to Marmor without delay and do as I bid."

"I know Cilli. She will not be appeased. Of that I am convinced,"
declared the young man.

"It is my will--the will of the Emperor," were the last words I heard,
spoken in that hard, intense voice I knew so well. "Tell your wife so.
And do not see that black-haired Englishwoman again. I had a full report
from the Engadine a fortnight ago, and this _contretemps_ is only what I
have expected. It is disgraceful! When will you learn reason?"

Ten minutes later I was seated beside the Crown-Prince in the car on our
way to Potsdam.

On the road, driving recklessly as I sat by his side, he laughed lightly
as he turned to me, saying:

"What an infernal worry women really are--aren't they,
Heltzendorff--more especially if one is an Imperial Prince! Even though
one is a Hohenzollern one cannot escape trouble!"

How the conjugal relations were resumed I know not. All I know is that I
attended their Imperial Highnesses to the Lessing Theatre, where, in the
Royal box, the Kaiser--ever eager to stifle the shortcomings of the
Hohenzollerns--sat with us, though according to his engagements he
should have been on his way to Duesseldorf for a great review on the
morrow. But such public display allayed all rumour of his son's domestic
infelicity, and both Emperor and Kronprinz smiled benignly upon the
people.

Early next day the Crown-Prince summoned me, in confidence, and an hour
later I left on a secret mission to a certain lady whom I may call Miss
Lilian Greyford--as it is not fair in certain cases in these exposures
to mention actual names--daughter of an English county gentleman, who
was staying at the "Kulm" at St. Moritz.

Twenty-four hours afterwards I managed to see the winter-sports young
lady alone in the hotel, and gave her a verbal message, together with a
little package from His Imperial Highness, which, when she opened it, I
found contained a souvenir in the shape of an artistic emerald pendant.
With it were some scribbled lines. The girl--she was not much more than
twenty--read them eagerly, and burst into a torrent of tears.

Ah! my dear Le Queux, as you yourself know from your own observations,
there are as many broken hearts beating beneath the corsets of
ladies-in-waiting and maids-of-honour, as there are among that frantic
feminine crowd striving to enter the magic circle of the Royal
entourage or the women of the workaday world who pass up
Unter-den-Linden on a Sunday.

Phew! What a world of fevered artificiality revolves around a throne!

Very soon after this incident--namely, in the early days of 1912--I
found myself, as the personal-adjutant of His Imperial Highness the
Crown-Prince, involved in a very strange, even inexplicable, affair.

How shall I explain it? Well, the drama opened in the Emperor's Palace
in Berlin on New Year's night, 1912, when, as usual, a Grand Court
reception was held.

The scene was one which we who revolve around the throne know so well.
Court gowns, nodding plumes, gay uniforms, and glittering decorations--a
vicious, tinselled, gossip-loving little world which with devilish
intent sows seeds of dark suspicion or struggles for the Kaiser's
favour.

In the famous White Salon, with its ceiling gaudily emblazoned with the
arms of the Hohenzollerns as Burgraves, Electors, Kings, Emperors, and
what-not, its walls of coloured marble and gilded bronze, and its fine
statues of the Prussian rulers, we had all assembled and were waiting
the entrance of the Emperor.

Kiderlen-Waechter--the Foreign Secretary--was standing near me, chatting
with Von Jagow, slim, dark-haired and spruce. The latter, who was
serving as German Ambassador in Rome, happened to be in Berlin on leave,
and the pair were laughing merrily with a handsome black-haired woman
whom I recognized as the Baroness Bertieri, wife of the Italian
Ambassador.

Philip Eulenburg, one of the Emperor's personal friends (by the way,
author, with Von Moltke, of the Kaiser's much-advertised "Song to
AEgir"--a fact not generally known), approached me and began to chat,
recalling a side-splitting incident that had occurred a few days before
at Kiel, whither I had been with the Crown-Prince to open a new bridge.
Oh, those infernal statues and bridges!

Of a sudden the tap of the Chamberlain's stick was heard thrice, the
gold-and-white doors instantly fell open, and the Emperor, his
decorations gleaming beneath the myriad lights, smilingly entered with
his waddling consort, the Crown-Prince, and their brilliant suite.

All of us bowed low in homage, but as we did so I saw the shrewd eyes of
the All-Highest One, which nothing escapes, fixed upon a woman who stood
close to my elbow. As he fixed his fierce gaze upon her I saw, knowing
that glance as I did, that it spoke volumes. Hitherto I had not noticed
the lady, for she was probably one of those unimportant persons who are
commanded to a Grand Court, wives and daughters of military nobodies, of
whom we at the Palace never took the trouble to inquire so long as their
gilt command-cards, issued by the Grand Chamberlain, were in proper
order.

That slight contraction of the Emperor's eyebrows caused me to ponder
deeply, for, knowing him so intimately, I saw that he was intensely
annoyed.

For what reason? I was much mystified.

Naturally I turned to glance at the woman whose presence had so
irritated him. She was fair-haired, blue-eyed, _petite_ and pretty. Her
age was about twenty-five, and she was extremely good-looking. Beside
her stood a big, fair-haired giant in the uniform of a captain of the
First Regiment of the Hussars of the Guard, of which the Crown-Prince
was Colonel-in-Chief.

Within a quarter of an hour I discovered that the officer was Count
Georg von Leutenberg, and that his pretty wife, whom he had married two
years before, was the eldest daughter of an English financier who had
been created a Baron by your rule-of-thumb politicians.

"Pretty woman, eh?" lisped Eulenburg in my ear, for he had noticed her,
and he was assuredly the best judge of a pretty face in all Berlin.

Next day, just before noon, on entering the Crown-Prince's private
cabinet, I found "Willie" in the uniform of the 2nd Grenadiers,
apparently awaiting me in that cosy apartment, which is crammed with
effigies, statuettes, and relics of the great Napoleon, whom he worships
just as the War Lord reveres his famous ancestor Frederick the Great.

"Sit down, Heltzendorff," said his Elegant Highness, waving his white,
well-manicured hand to a chair near by, and puffing at his cigarette.
"It is really pleasant to have an hour's rest!" he laughed, for he
seemed in merry mood that day. "Look here! As you know, after the little
affair with the Crown-Princess I trust to your absolute discretion. Do
you happen to know Count Georg von Leutenberg, of the Hussars of the
Guard?"

"By sight only," was my reply. Mention of that name caused me to wonder.

"He is a very good fellow, I understand. Do you know his wife--a pretty
little Englishwoman?"

"Unfortunately, I have not that pleasure."

"Neither have I, Heltzendorff," laughed the Prince, with a queer look in
those slant-set eyes which appear so strangely goggly sometimes. "But I
soon shall know her, I expect. In that direction I want your
assistance."

"I am yours for your Highness to command," I replied, puzzled to know
what was in progress. After a few seconds of silence the Crown-Prince
suddenly exclaimed:

"So good is the report of Von Leutenberg that has reached the Emperor
that--though he is as yet in ignorance of the fact--he has been promoted
to the rank of major, and ordered upon a foreign mission--as military
attache in London. He will leave Berlin to-night to take up his new
post."

"And the Countess?"

"By a secret report I happen to have here it is shown that they are a
most devoted pair," he said, glancing at a sheet of buff paper upon
which was typed a report, one which I recognized as emanating from the
secret bureau at the Polizei-Prasidium, in Alexander Platz. "They live
in the Lennestrasse, No. 44, facing the Tiergarten. Note the address."

Then his Highness paused, and, rising, crossed to the big writing-table
set in the window, and there examined another report. Afterwards,
glancing at the pretty buhl clock opposite, he suddenly said:

"The Count should call here now. I have sent informing him of the
Emperor's goodwill, and ordering him to report here to take leave of me
as his Colonel-in-Chief."

Scarcely had he spoken when Count von Leutenberg was announced by a
flunkey in pink silk stockings, and a moment later the tall officer
clicked his heels together and saluted smartly on the threshold.

"I thought you would be pleased at your well-merited promotion," said
his Highness in quite a genial tone. "The Emperor wishes you to leave
for London by the ten o'clock express for Flushing to-night, so as to
report to his Excellency the Ambassador before he departs on leave.
Hence the urgency. The Countess, of course, will remain in Berlin. You
will, naturally, wish for time to make your arrangements in London and
dispose of your house here."

"I think she will wish to accompany me, your Imperial Highness," replied
the fond husband. "London is her home."

"Ah! That is absurd!" laughed "Willie." "Why, you who have been married
two whole years are surely not still upon your honeymoon?" and his
close-set eyes glinted strangely. "You will be far too busy on taking up
your new appointment to see much of her. No. Let her remain comfortably
at home in Berlin until you are quite settled. Then I will see that
Kiderlen grants you leave to return to put your house in order."

From the Count's manner I could see that he was very much puzzled at his
sudden promotion.

Indeed, on entering he had stammered out his surprise at being singled
out for such high distinction.

Von Leutenberg's hesitation was the Crown-Prince's opportunity.

"Good!" went on his Highness in his imperious, impetuous way. "You will
leave for London to-night, and the Countess will remain until you have
settled. I congratulate you most heartily upon your well-deserved
advancement, which I consider is an honour conferred by the Emperor upon
my regiment. I know, too, that you will act to the honour of the
Fatherland abroad."

And with those words the major was dismissed.

"A charming man!" remarked the Prince, after the door had closed. "He
has only been brought to my notice quite recently. An enthusiastic
officer, he will be of great use to us at Carlton House Terrace. There
is much yet to be done there, my dear Heltzendorff. Fortunately we have
put our friends the English comfortably to sleep. It has cost us money,
but money talks in London, just as it does in Berlin."

And he drew a long, ecstatic breath at the mere thought of the great
international plot in progress--of the staggering blow to be struck
against France, and the march upon Paris with those men who were his
boon companions--Von Kluck, Von Hindenburg and Von der Goltz.

"Heltzendorff," he exclaimed a few moments later, after he had reflected
deeply between the whiffs of his cigarette. "Heltzendorff, I wish you to
become acquainted with the Countess von Leutenberg, and you must
afterwards introduce me. I have a fixed and distinct reason. I could
obtain the assistance of others, but I trust you only."

"But I do not know the lady," I protested, for I had no desire
whatsoever to become implicated in any double-dealing.

"Hohenstein knows her well. I will see that he introduces you," replied
the Kaiser's son, with that strange look again in his eyes. "She's
uncommonly pretty, so mind you don't fall in love with her!" he laughed,
holding up his finger reprovingly. "I've heard, too, that Count Georg is
a highly jealous person, but, fortunately, he will be very busy writing
secret reports at Carlton House Terrace. So go and see Hohenstein at
once, and get him to introduce you to the pretty little Englishwoman.
But, remember, not a word of this conversation is to be breathed to a
single soul."

What did it all mean? Why had the Emperor singled out for advancement
the husband of that woman, the sight of whom had so greatly annoyed him?
I confess that I became more than ever puzzled over the curious affair.

Within a week, however, thanks to the introduction of that old roue,
Hohenstein, I had dined at Count von Leutenberg's pretty house in the
Lennestrasse in a fine room, the long windows of which commanded a
delightful view over the Tiergarten and the Siegesallee.

The Countess, extremely charming and refined, having the misfortune of
being English, had not been taken up warmly by Berlin society. She was,
I found, a most delightful hostess. The party included Laroque, the
elegant First Secretary of the French Embassy, and his Parisian wife,
together with Baron Hoffmann, the burly, round-faced Minister of the
Interior, and Doctor Paulssen, Under-Secretary at the Colonial Office,
against whom you will remember there were allegations of atrocities
committed upon the natives in German East Africa. Hohenstein was,
however, not there, as he had been suddenly dispatched by the Emperor
upon a mission to Corfu.

At table the talk ran upon Leutenberg's sudden promotion, whereupon the
Minister Hoffmann declared:

"His Majesty only gives reward when it is due. When he discerns talent
he is never mistaken."

A week later the Crown-Prince had returned from a surprise visit the
Kaiser had made to Stettin. The Emperor had played his old game of
rousing the garrison in the middle of the night, and then laughing at
the ludicrous figures cut by his pompous Generals and Colonels rushing
about in their night attire eager to greet their Sovereign.

I was in the Prince's private room arranging the details of a military
programme at Potsdam on the following day when he suddenly entered and
exclaimed:

"Well, Heltzendorff, and how are you proceeding in the Lennestrasse,
eh?" and he looked at me with those crafty eyes of his. "I hear you were
at the house last night."

I started. Was I being watched? It was quite true that I had called on
the previous evening, and, finding the Countess alone, had sat in her
pretty drawing-room enjoying a long and delightful chat with her.

"Yes. I called there," I admitted. "The Count is returning from London
next week to take his wife back with him."

The Crown-Prince smiled mysteriously, and critically examined the
curious snake ring which he always wears upon the little finger of his
left hand.

"We need not anticipate that, I think. Kiderlen will not grant him
leave. He is far better in Carlton House Terrace than in the
Lennestrasse."

"I hardly follow your Highness," I remarked, much mystified at his
words.

"H'm. Probably not, my dear Count," he laughed. "I do not intend that
you should."

And with that mysterious remark he turned to meet Count von Zeppelin,
the round-faced, snow-haired, somewhat florid inventor, who was one of
his Highness's most intimate friends, and who had at that moment entered
unannounced. Zeppelin was a character in Berlin. He sought no friends,
no advertisement, and shunned notoriety.

"Ha, my dear Ferdinand!" cried the Prince, shaking the hand of the man
who so suddenly became world-famous at the age of seventy. "You have
travelled from Stuttgart to see me--unwell as you are! It is an honour.
But the matter is one of greatest urgency, as I have already written to
you. I want to show you the correspondence and seek your advice," and
the Prince invited his white-haired friend to the big, carved arm-chair
beside his writing-table. Then, turning to me, he said: "Will you see
Von Glasenapp for me, and hand him those orders for Posen? He must leave
to-night. The General Court-Martial at Stendal I have fixed for the
25th. I shall be with the Emperor this afternoon. Report here at seven
to-night--understand?"

Thus was I dismissed, while His Imperial Highness and Count Zeppelin sat
together in secret counsel.

At ten minutes to seven that evening I unlocked the Crown-Prince's room
with the key I carried, the other two keys being in the hands of the
Crown-Princess and her husband. I had placed upon the table a bundle of
reports which had just been brought round from the Ministry of War, and
required that scribbly signature, "Wilhelm Kronprinz," when I noticed
three private letters that had evidently been placed aside. The
envelopes were addressed in a thin, angular, female hand, and bore an
English address. I noted it. The name on each was that of a lady
residing in Aylesbury Avenue, Hampstead, London. The letters bore German
stamps. In keen curiosity, I took one and examined it, wondering whether
it could be the correspondence which the Crown-Prince had been so eager
to show Count von Zeppelin in secret.

I drew the letter from the envelope and scanned it rapidly.

What I read caused me to hold my breath. The signature to the letters
was "Enid von Leutenberg."

Those letters of hers had, it was plain, been seized in the post on
their way to London. The Countess either had a traitor in her household
or secret watch was being kept by the Secret Service upon her
correspondence.

All three of those letters I read--letters which opened my eyes and
broadened my mind. Then, taking up my bundle of reports, I crept away
from the room, carefully re-latching the door. I intended that his
Highness should return, discover the letters left there inadvertently,
and put them away ere my arrival, in which case he would never suspect
that I had any knowledge of their contents.

With the papers in my hand I passed along the many carpeted corridors to
the south wing of the Palace, where I found Tresternitz, Marshal of the
Prince's Court, in his room.

The Crown-Prince imitated his father's sharp punctuality, therefore I
knew that he would be there at seven or soon afterwards.

Tresternitz was always full of scandal concerning those who lived in the
higher circles of Berlin, and it was to one of these stories of Court
scandal concerning one of the ladies-in-waiting which I listened while I
smoked one of his excellent Russian cigarettes.

Then, glancing at the clock, I rose suddenly and left him, returning
again to the private room.

I found his Highness there, and as I entered I noticed that he had
hidden those remarkable letters which he had in secret shown to Count
Zeppelin.

A fortnight went past. The Kaiser, with his mad love of constant travel,
had been rushing up and down the Empire--to Krupp's at Essen, to the
trials of a newly-invented howitzer, thence to an inspection at Kassel,
and afterwards to unveil monuments at Cologne and at Erfurt. The
Crown-Prince and Princess had accompanied him, the Kaiserin being
indisposed, and I, of course, had been included in "Willie's" suite.

The week had been a strenuous one of train-travel, luncheons, tiring
dinners, receptions, dancing, and general junketings, and I was glad
enough to get back to my bachelor rooms--those rooms in the
Krausenstrasse that you knew so well before the bursting of the
war-cloud. To dance attendance upon an Imperial Crown-Prince, as well as
upon an autocratic Emperor, becomes after a time a wearisome business,
however gay and cosmopolitan a man may be.

I had only been at home a few hours when a telephone message summoned me
at five o'clock to the Crown-Prince's Palace.

His Imperial Highness, who had, I knew, been lunching with the Emperor
at the Koenigliches Schloss across the bridge, seemed unusually serious
and thoughtful. Perhaps the Emperor had again shown his anger at his
peccadilloes, as he did so frequently.

"Count," he said, after a few seconds of silence, during which I noted
that upon his table lay a private letter from the German Ambassador in
London. "You will recall my conversation regarding the Countess von
Leutenberg--eh?"

"Perfectly," was my reply.

"I told you that I should require you to introduce me," he said. "Well,
I want you to do so this evening. She has taken a box at the Koenigliche
Opera to-night, where they are to play _Falstaff_. I shall be there, and
you will be with me. Then you will introduce me to your pretty friend.
Understand?" And he grinned.

That night, in accordance with my instructions, I sat in the Emperor's
box with the Crown-Prince, Tresternitz, and two personal-adjutants, and,
recognizing the Countess von Leutenberg in a box opposite, accompanied
by an elderly lady, I took the Crown-Prince round, and there presented
her to him, greatly to her surprise and undisguised delight.

The Prince and the Countess chatted together, while I sat with her
elderly companion. Then, when we had withdrawn, my Imperial Master
exclaimed:

"Ah! my dear Heltzendorff. Why, she is one of the prettiest women in all
Berlin! Surely it is unfortunate--most unfortunate."

What was unfortunate? I was further puzzled by that last sentence, yet I
dare not ask any explanation, and we went back to our own box.

After our return to the Palace the Crown-Prince, who was standing in one
of the corridors talking with the slim, fair-haired Baroness von Wedel,
one of his wife's ladies-in-waiting, left her and beckoned me into an
adjoining room.

"I wish you, Heltzendorff, to call upon the Countess von Leutenberg at
nine o'clock to-morrow evening. She will expect you."

I looked at his Highness, much puzzled. How did he know that the pretty
Countess would expect me?

But he gave me no time to reply, merely turning upon his heel, and
striding down the corridor to the private apartments.

Punctually at nine o'clock that wintry evening I called at the
Lennestrasse, but Josef, the elderly manservant, informed me that his
mistress was engaged, adding that His Imperial Highness the Crown-Prince
had paid a surprise call.

"The Crown-Prince here!" I gasped, astounded.

"Yes, Count. And, further, my mistress is in high glee, for my master
returned this morning quite unexpectedly from London. He has been out at
the Ministry for Foreign Affairs all the evening, and I expect him home
at any moment. The Crown-Prince ordered me to ask you to await him
here."

Count von Leutenberg in Berlin! What did it mean? He was absurdly
jealous, I recollected. He might return at any moment and find the
Crown-Prince alone in the Countess's drawing-room. If so, the situation
might certainly be a most unpleasant one.

Hardly had the thought crossed my mind when I heard the Count enter, his
spurs clinking and his sabre rattling as he strode up the stairs.

I crept forth, listening breathlessly.

A few seconds later I heard the Count's voice raised in anger and high,
bitter words. Next moment I sprang up the stairs and, dashing into the
room, found the pretty Countess standing near the window, white and
rigid as a statue, while the two men in uniform faced each other. Von
Leutenberg's countenance was distorted with rage as he abused the
Crown-Prince, and openly charged him with having brought about his exile
to London.

His Highness made no reply, but only smiled sarcastically and shrugged
his narrow shoulders.

So enraged the other became at this latter gesture that, with a sudden
movement, he drew his sword.

The Countess shrieked and swooned as I sprang forward and stayed her
husband's hand.

It was a dramatic moment. The Count instantly realized the enormity of
his crime, and his hand dropped.

"Enough!" cried the Crown-Prince, waving his adversary aside. Then,
turning to me, he said in a calm, hard voice:

"Heltzendorff, you are witness that this man has drawn his sword upon
the heir to the Throne."

And with those haughty words he bowed stiffly and strode out of the
room.

Two hours later I was commanded to the Kaiser's presence, and found him
in counsel with his son.

The Emperor, who wore the uniform of the Guards, looked pale and
troubled, yet in his eyes there was a keen, determined look. As I
passed the sentries and entered the lofty study, with its upholstery and
walls of pale green damask--that room from which the Empire and the
whole world have so often been addressed--the Kaiser broke off short in
his conversation.

Turning to me as he still sat at his littered table, he said in that
quick, impetuous way of his:

"Count Heltzendorff, the Crown-Prince has informed me of what has
occurred this evening in the Lennestrasse. I wish you to convey this at
once to Count von Leutenberg and to give it into his own hand. There is
no reply."

And His Majesty handed me a rather bulky envelope addressed in his own
bold handwriting, and bearing his own private cipher impressed in black
wax.

Thus commanded, I bowed, withdrew, and took a taxicab straight to the
Lennestrasse, being ushered by Josef into the presence of husband and
wife in that same room I had quitted a couple of hours before.

I handed the Count the packet the Emperor had given me, and with
trembling fingers he tore it open.

From within he drew three letters, those same letters which his wife had
written to London, and which had been intercepted by the Secret
Service--the letters which I had read in his Highness's room.

As he scanned the lines which the Emperor had penned his face blanched.
A loud cry of dismay escaped his wife as she recognized her own letters,
and she snatched the note from her husband's hand and also read it.

The light died instantly from her beautiful countenance. Then, turning
to me, she said in a hoarse, hopeless tone:

"Thank you, Count von Heltzendorff. Tell His Majesty the Emperor that
his command shall be--yes, it shall be obeyed."

Those last words she spoke in a deep, hoarse whisper, a strange, wild
look of desperation in her blue eyes.

An hour later I reported again at the Imperial Palace, was granted
audience of the Emperor, and gave him the verbal reply.

His Majesty uttered no word, merely nodding his head slowly in approval.

Next afternoon a painful sensation was caused throughout Berlin when the
_Abendpost_ published the news that Count von Leutenberg, the man so
recently promoted by the Emperor, and his pretty wife had both been
found dead in their room. During the night they had evidently burned
some papers, for the tinder was found in the stove, and having agreed to
die together, they being so much attached during life, they had both
taken prussic acid in some wine, the bottle and half-emptied glasses
being still upon the table.

The romantic affair, the truth of which I here reveal for the first
time, was regarded by all Berlin as an inexplicable tragedy. The public
are still unaware of how those intercepted letters contained serious
warnings to the British Government of the Emperor's hostile intentions
towards Britain, and the probable date of the outbreak of war. Indeed,
they recounted a private conversation which the Countess had overheard
between the Kaiser and Count Zeppelin, repeating certain opprobrious
epithets which the All-Highest had bestowed upon one or two British
statesmen, and she also pointed out the great danger of a pending
rupture between the two Powers, as well as explaining some details
regarding the improved Zeppelins in course of construction secretly on
Lake Constance, and certain scandals regarding the private life of the
Crown-Prince.

It was for the latter reason that the heir, aided by the War-Lord, took
his revenge in a manner so crafty, so subtle, and so typical of the
innate cunning of the Hohenzollerns.

Thus the well-meant warnings of one of your good, honest Englishwomen
never reached the unsuspicious address to which they were sent, and thus
did "Willie"--who, as I afterwards discovered, devised that subtle
vengeance--act as the Emperor's catspaw.




SECRET NUMBER TWO

THE CROWN-PRINCE'S REVENGE


The Trautmann affair was one which caused a wild sensation at Potsdam in
the autumn of 1912.

In the Emperor's immediate entourage there was a great deal of gossip,
most of it ill-natured and cruel, for most ladies-in-waiting possess
serpents' tongues. Their tongues are as sharp as their features, and
though there may be a few pretty maids-of-honour, yet the majority of
women at Court are, as you know, my dear Le Queux, mostly plain and
uninteresting.

I became implicated in the unsavoury Trautmann affair, in a somewhat
curious manner.

A few months after the Leutenberg tragedy I chanced to be lunching at
the "Esplanade" in Berlin, chatting with Laroque, of the French Embassy.
Our hostess was Frau Breitenbach, a wealthy Jewess--a woman who came
from Dortmund--and who was spending money like water in order to wriggle
into Berlin society. As personal-adjutant of the Crown-Prince I was, of
course, one of the principal guests, and I suspected that she was
angling for a card of invitation to the next ball at the Marmor Palace.

Who introduced me to the portly, black-haired, rather handsome woman I
quite forget. Probably it was some nobody who received a commission upon
the introduction--for at the Berlin Court introductions are bought and
sold just as the succulent sausage is sold over the counter.

In the big white-and-gold _salle-a-manger_ of the "Esplanade," which, as
you know, is one of the finest in Europe, Frau Breitenbach was lunching
with sixteen guests at one big round table, her daughter Elise, a very
smartly dressed girl of nineteen, seated opposite to her. It was a merry
party, including as it did some of the most renowned persons in the
Empire, among them being the Imperial Chancellor, Bethmann-Hollweg, of
the long, grave face and pointed beard, and that grand seigneur who was
a favourite at Court, the multi-millionaire Serene Highness Prince
Maximilian Egon zu Fuerstenberg. Of the latter it may be said that no man
rivalled his influence with the Emperor. What he said was law in
Germany.

Fuerstenberg was head of the famous "Prince's Trust," now dissolved, but
at that time, with its capital of a hundred million pounds, it was a
great force in the German commercial world. Indeed, such a boon
companion was he of the Kaiser's that an august but purely decorative
and ceremonial place was actually invented for him as Colonel-Marshal of
the Prussian Court, an excuse to wear a gay uniform and gorgeous
decorations as befitted a man who, possessing twenty millions sterling,
was an important asset to the Emperor in his deep-laid scheme for
world-power.

Another Prince of the "Trust" was fat old Kraft zu Hohenlohe Oehringen,
but as he had only a paltry ten millions he did not rank so high in the
War-Lord's favour.

Fuerstenberg, seated next to the estimable Jewess, was chatting affably
with her. Her husband was in America upon some big steel transaction,
but her pretty daughter Elise sat laughing merrily with a young,
square-headed lieutenant of the Death's Head Hussars.

That merry luncheon party was the prologue of a very curious drama.

I was discussing the occult with a middle-aged lady on my right, a
sister of Herr Alfred Ballin, the shipping king. In society discussions
upon the occult are always illuminating, and as we chatted I noticed
that far across the crowded room, at a table set in a window, there sat
alone a dark-haired, sallow, good-looking young civilian, who,
immaculate in a grey suit, was eating his lunch in a rather bored
manner, yet his eyes were fixed straight upon the handsome, dark-haired
young girl, Elise Breitenbach, as though she exercised over him some
strange fascination.

Half a dozen times I glanced across, and on each occasion saw that the
young man had no eyes for the notables around the table, his gaze being
fixed upon the daughter of the great financier, whose interests,
especially in America, were so widespread and profitable.

Somehow--why I cannot even now decide--I felt a distinct belief that the
young civilian's face was familiar to me. It was not the first time I
had seen him, yet I could not recall the circumstances in which we had
met. I examined my memory, but could not recollect where I had before
seen him, yet I felt convinced that it was in circumstances of a
somewhat mysterious kind.

Two nights later I had dined with the Breitenbachs at their fine house
in the Alsenstrasse. The only guest beside myself was the thin-faced,
loud-speaking old Countess von Bassewitz, and after dinner, served in a
gorgeous dining-room which everywhere betrayed the florid taste of the
parvenu, Frau Breitenbach took the Countess aside to talk, while I
wandered with her daughter into the winter garden, with its high palms
and gorgeous exotics, that overlooked the gardens of the Austrian
Embassy.

When we were seated in cane chairs, and the man had brought us coffee,
the pretty Elise commenced to question me about life at the
Crown-Prince's Court, expressing much curiosity concerning the private
life of His Imperial Highness.

Such questions came often from the lips of young girls in society, and I
knew how to answer them with both humour and politeness.

"How intensely interesting it must be to be personal-adjutant to the
Crown-Prince! Mother is dying to get a command to one of the receptions
at Potsdam," the girl said. "Only to-day she was wondering--well,
whether you could possibly use your influence in that direction?"

In an instant I saw why I had been invited to dinners and luncheons so
often, and why I had been left alone with the sweet-faced, dark-eyed
girl.

I reflected a moment. Then I said:

"I do not think that will be very difficult. I will see what can be
done. But I hope that if I am successful you will accompany your
mother," I added courteously, as I lit a cigarette.

"It is really most kind of you," the girl declared, springing up with
delight, for the mere thought of going to Court seemed to give her
intense pleasure. Yet all women, young and old, are alike in that
respect. The struggle to set foot near the throne is, as you yourself
have seen, always an unseemly one, and, alas! the cause of many
heart-burnings.

When I looked in at Tresternitz's room in the Palace next morning, I
scribbled down the name of mother and daughter for cards.

"Who are they?" grunted the old marshal, removing a big cigar from his
puffy lips.

"People I know--they're all right, and the girl is very good-looking."

"Good. We can do with a little beauty here nowadays. We've had an
infernally ugly lot at the balls lately," declared the man, who was the
greatest gossip at Court, and who thereupon commenced to tell me a
scandalous story regarding one of the ladies-in-waiting to the Kaiserin
who had disappeared from the New Palace, and was believed to be living
in Scotland.

"The Emperor is furious," he added. "But he doesn't know the real truth,
and never will, I expect."

A week later the Crown-Prince and Princess gave a grand ball at the
Marmor Palace at Potsdam, and the Emperor himself attended.

Frau Breitenbach, gorgeously attired, made her bow before the
All-Highest, and her daughter did the same.

That night I saw that the Kaiser was in no good mood. He seldom was at
the Court functions. Indeed, half an hour before his arrival the
Crown-Prince had told me, in confidence, of his father's annoyance at
the failure of some diplomatic negotiations with Britain.

The Emperor, in his brilliant uniform, with the Order of the Black
Eagle, of which he was _chef-souverain_, and the diamond stars of many
foreign Orders, presented a truly Imperial figure, his shrewd,
unrelenting gaze everywhere, his upturned moustache accentuated, his
voice unusually sharp and commanding.

I spoke with Elise, and afterwards, when I danced with her I saw how
impressed she was by the glitter and glamour of the Potsdam Court
circle, and by the fact that she was in the presence of the All-Highest
One, without whose gracious nod nothing could hope to prosper in the
Fatherland, and without whose approval no public work could be
undertaken in Berlin. Those statesmen, admirals and generals present
might plan, but he alone willed. His approval or his frown was as a
decree of Providence, and his autocratic will greater than that of his
"brother," Nicholas of Russia.

I remember how, one day in the Militaer-Kabinett, an old buffer at Court
whom we called "Hans" Hohenlohe--he was one of the hundred and sixty odd
members of the aristocratic family of Hohenlohe which swarm the
Fatherland, mostly penurious, by-the-way, salary-grabbers, all elbowing
each other to secure the Kaiser's favour--made a very true remark which
has ever remained in my memory. It was very soon after Herr von Libenau,
the Imperial Master of Ceremony, had been arrested owing to a scandal at
Court, though perfectly innocent. My friend "Hans" Hohenlohe said in a
low, confidential whisper at a shooting party, after the French
Ambassador had wished us a merry _bon jour_ and passed out:

"My dear friend Heltzendorff, you, like myself, know that war is
inevitable. It must come soon! The reason is to be found in the madness
of the Emperor, which has spread among our military party and among the
people, till most of them are no more sane than himself. Hypnotized by
good fortune, we have become demented with an overweening vanity and a
philosophy which must end in our undoing. The Emperor's incessant
drum-beating, sabre-rattling, and blasphemous appeals to the Almighty
have brought our German nation to that state which, since the world
began, has ever gone before destruction."

No truer words were ever spoken of modern Germany.

They recurred to me as, while waltzing with the pretty daughter of the
Dortmund parvenu, I noticed the Emperor standing aside, chatting with
old Von Zeppelin, who every now and then patted his silvery hair, a
habit of his when in conversation. With the pair stood Ernst Auguste,
the young Duke of Brunswick, who in the following year married the
Emperor's daughter, the rather petulant and go-ahead Victoria Louise.
The Prince, who wore the uniform of the Prussian Guard, was laughing
heartily over some remark of old Zeppelin's as, with my partner, I
passed quite close to them.

The dainty Elise was, I found, quite an entertaining little person. Old
Tresternitz had already whispered his opinion of her.

"Undoubtedly the prettiest girl at Court," he had declared, with a
twinkle in his grey eyes.

From words the pretty Elise let drop that night as she hung upon my arm
I wondered whether she was really as ingenuous as she pretended. And yet
Frau Breitenbach was one of dozens of others who strove to enter the
Court circle, flapping their wings vainly to try and cross the wide gulf
which separated the "high life" in Berlin from "Court life."

The rooms were stifling, therefore I took my pretty dancing partner
along a corridor and through several deserted apartments into the east
wing of the Palace, showing her some of the Crown-Princess's private
rooms, until at length we stepped through a French window on to the long
terrace before the lake, the Heilige-See.

There we were alone. The white moon was reflected upon the waters, and
after the heat of the ball-room the balmy air was delightful.

Against the marble balustrade beside the water I stood chatting with
her. All was silent save for the tramp of soldiers passing near, for the
guard was at that hour changing. As became a courtier, I chaffed and
laughed with her, my intention being to learn more concerning her.

But she was, I found, an extremely discreet and clever little person, a
fact which further increased the mystery.

One night about two months later I had an appointment with Max Reinhardt
at the Deutsches Theater, in Berlin, to arrange a Royal visit there, and
after the performance I went back to the Palace, prior to retiring to my
rooms in the Krausenstrasse. The guards saluted as I crossed the dark
courtyard, and having passed through the corridors to the private
apartments I entered with my key the Crown-Prince's locked study.

To my surprise, I found "Willie" seated there with the Emperor in
earnest discussion.

With apology, I bowed instantly and withdrew, whereupon the Kaiser
exclaimed:

"Come in, Heltzendorff. I want you."

Then he cast a quick, mysterious glance at the young man, who had thrown
himself in lazy attitude into a long cane lounge chair. It was as though
His Majesty was hesitating to speak with me, or asking his son's
permission to do so.

"Tell me, Heltzendorff," exclaimed His Majesty suddenly, "do you know
this person?" and he placed before my astonished gaze a very artistic
cabinet photograph of the pretty Elise.

"Yes," I answered frankly, quite taken aback. "It is Fraeulein
Breitenbach."

"And what do you know of her?" inquired His Majesty sharply. "You
introduced her and her mother to Court, I believe."

I saw that the Emperor had discovered something which annoyed him. What
could it be?

At once I was compelled to admit that I had set down their names for
invitation, and, further, I explained all that I knew about them.

"You are certain you know nothing more?" asked the Emperor, his brows
contracted and his eyes fixed steadily upon mine. "Understand that no
blame attaches to you."

I assured him that I had revealed all that I knew concerning them.

"Hold no further communication with either mother or daughter," His
Majesty said. "Leave for Paris by the eight o'clock train to-morrow
morning, and go to Baron von Steinmetz, the chief of our confidential
service in France."

Then, turning to the Crown-Prince, he said: "You have his address."

"Yes," said the younger man. "He is passing as Monsieur Felix Reumont,
and is living at 114 bis, Avenue de Neuilly, close to the Pont."

I scribbled the name and address upon the back of an envelope, whereupon
His Majesty said:

"Carry my verbal orders to Steinmetz, and tell him to act upon the
orders I sent him by courier yesterday. And you will assist him. He will
explain matters fully when you arrive."

Then, crossing to the Crown-Prince's writing-table, His Majesty took a
large envelope, into which, with the same hand, he dexterously placed
the photograph with several papers, and sealed them with the
Crown-Prince's seal. At the moment the Crown-Princess entered, said some
words to her husband in a low voice, and went out again.

"Give this to Von Steinmetz from me," His Majesty said after she had
gone.

I bowed as I took it from His Majesty's hand, my curiosity now greatly
excited regarding Frau Breitenbach and her pretty daughter. What, I
wondered, was in the wind?

"And, Heltzendorff, please report to me," remarked the Heir, still
lounging lazily in the chair, his white, well-manicured hands clasped
behind his head. "Where shall you stay?"

"At the Hotel Chatham. I always stay there in preference to the larger
hotels."

"And not a bad judge," laughed His Majesty merrily. "I remember when I
used to go to Paris incognito one could dine at the 'Chatham' most
excellently--old-fashioned, but very good. Vian's, across the road, is
also good."

The Kaiser knows Paris well, though he has never visited the French
capital openly.

Bowing, I took leave of my Imperial master, and next morning at eight
o'clock, set out upon my mysterious mission.

I found the Baron von Steinmetz living in a good-sized house in the
leafy Avenue de Neuilly, not far from the bridge. One of the cleverest
and most astute officials that Germany possessed, and a man high in the
Kaiser's favour, he had, in the name of Felix Reumont, purchased, with
Government funds of course, a cinema theatre in the Rue Lafayette, and
ostensibly upon the proceeds of that establishment lived comfortably out
at Neuilly.

At eleven o'clock in the morning his valet, evidently a German, showed
me in.

"I quite understand, my dear Heltzendorff," he said, as in his cosy
little den he took from the Emperor's packet the picture of Fraeulein
Elise and stood gazing at it thoughtfully. "It is quite plain why you
should have been sent by His Majesty."

"Why. I don't understand. But His Majesty told me that you would
explain. The young lady and her mother are friends of mine."

"Exactly. That's just it!" exclaimed the round-faced, rather florid man
whom I had once met before. "You apparently know but little of
them--eh?--or you would not call them your friends!"

Those mysterious words surprised me, but I was the more astounded when
he continued:

"You of course know of those disgraceful anonymous letters which have
been continually arriving at Court--of the Emperor's fury concerning
them."

I replied in the affirmative, for, as a matter of fact, for the past
three months the whole Court had been flooded with most abusive and
disgraceful correspondence concerning the camarilla that had again
sprung up around the Kaiser. The Emperor, the Empress, the Crown-Prince
and Princess, Prince Eitel, Sophie Caroline, Prince Henry of Prussia and
others had received letters, most of them in typewriting, containing the
most intimate details of scandals concerning men and women around the
Emperor.

Fully a dozen of these letters addressed to the Crown-Prince he had
handed to me--letters denouncing in some cases perfectly innocent
people, destroying the reputations of honest men and women, and abusing
the Heir to the Throne in an outrageous manner.

On at least three occasions "Willie" had shown me letters addressed to
the Kaiser himself, and intercepted by the Kaiserin, who, in consequence
of this flood of anonymous epistles that had produced such a terrible
sensation at Potsdam, had ordered that all such letters found in the
Imperial post-bag should be handed at once to her.

The great War-Lord's feelings had been sorely wounded by the vitriolic
shafts, and his vanity much injured by the boldness of the unknown
letter-writer who had dared to speak his mind concerning the Eulenburg
scandals, which Maximilian Harden had some time before exposed in the
_Zukunft_.

All Berlin was gossiping about the scandal of the letters and the
horrible innuendoes contained in them. The _Allerhoechste Person_, though
boiling over with anger, blissfully believed that outside the Palaces
nothing was known of the contents of the correspondence. But the
Emperor, in his vanity, never accurately gauges the mind of his people.

"The identity of the writer is the point that is engaging my attention,"
the Baron said, as, seating himself at his big, carved-oak
writing-table, he opened a drawer and drew forth a bundle of quite a
hundred letters, adding: "All these that you see here have been
addressed either to the Emperor or the Empress," and he handed me one or
two, which on scanning I saw contained some outrageous statements,
allegations which would make the hair of the All-Highest One bristle
with rage.

"Well!" I exclaimed, aghast, looking up at the Baron after I had read
an abusive letter, which in cold, even lines of typewriting commenced
with the words: "You, a withered crook in spectacular uniform better
fitted for the stage of the Metropol Theatre, should, instead of
invoking the aid of Providence, clear out your own Augean stable. Its
smell is nauseous to the nostrils of decent people. Surely you should
blush to have feasted in the castle of Liebenberg with the poet, Prince
Philip, and your degenerate companions, Hohenau, Johannes Lynar, and
your dearly beloved Kuno!"

And the abusive missive proceeded to denounce two of my friends,
ladies-in-waiting at the Neues Palais, and to make some blackguardly
allegations concerning the idol. Von Hindenburg.

"Well," I exclaimed, "that certainly is a very interesting specimen of
anonymous correspondence."

"Yes, it is!" exclaimed the Baron. "In Berlin every inquiry has been
made to trace its author. Schunke, head of the detective police, was
charged by the Emperor to investigate. He did so, and both he and
Klewitz failed utterly. Now it has been given into my hands."

"Have you discovered any clue to the writer?" I asked anxiously, knowing
full well what a storm of indignation those letters had produced in our
own circle.

Presently, when I sat with the Baron at his table, he switched on an
intense electric light, even though it was day-time, and then spread out
some of the letters above a small, square mirror.

"You see they are on various kinds of note-paper, bearing all kinds of
watermarks, of French, English, and German manufacture. Some we have
here are upon English paper, because it is heavy and thick. Again, three
different makes of typewriter have been used--one a newly-invented
importation from America. The written letters are, you will see, mostly
in a man's hand."

"Yes, I see all that," I said. "But what have you discovered concerning
their author? The letter I received bore a French stamp and the postmark
of Angers."

He placed before me quite a dozen envelopes addressed to the Emperor and
Empress, all bearing the postmark of that town in the Maine-et-Loire.
Others had been posted in Leipzig, Wilhelmshaven, Tours, Antwerp,
Berlin-Wilmersdorf, and other places.

"The investigation is exceedingly difficult, I can assure you," he said.
"I have had the assistance of some of the best scientific brains of our
Empire in making comparisons and analyses. Indeed, Professor Harbge is
with me from Berlin."

As he uttered those words the Professor himself, an elderly, spectacled
man in grey tweeds, entered the room. I knew him and greeted him.

"We have been studying the writing-papers," the Professor said
presently, as he turned over the letters, some of which were upon
commercial typewriting paper, some on cheap thin paper from fashionable
"blocks," and others upon various tinted paper of certain mills, as
their watermarks showed. The papers were various, but the scurrilous
hand was the clever and evasive one of some person who certainly knew
the innermost secrets of the German Court.

"Sixteen different varieties of paper have been received at the Neues
and Marmor Palaces," the Baron remarked. "Well, I have worked for two
months, night and day, upon the inquiry, for, as you know, the tentacles
of our Teuton octopus are everywhere. I have discovered that eleven of
these varieties of paper can be purchased at a certain small stationer's
shop, Lancry's, in the Boulevard Haussmann, close to the 'Printemps.'
One paper especially is sold nowhere else in Paris. It is this."

And he held over a mirror a letter upon a small sheet of note-paper
bearing the watermark of a bull's head.

"That paper was made at a mill in the south of Devonshire, in England,
destroyed by fire five years ago. Paper of that make cannot be obtained
anywhere else in France," he declared.

I at once realized how much patience must have been expended upon the
inquiry, and said:

"Then you have actually fixed the shop where the writer purchased his
paper?"

"Yes," he replied. "And we know that the newly-invented typewriter, a
specimen one, was sold by the Maison Audibert, in Marseilles. The
purchaser of the typewriter in Marseilles purchases his paper and
envelopes at Lancry's, in the Boulevard Haussmann."

"Splendid!" I said enthusiastically, for it was clear that the Baron,
with the thousand-and-one secret agents at his beck and call, had been
able, with the Professor's aid, to fix the source of the stationery.
"But," I added, "what is wanted from me?" Why, I wondered, had His
Majesty sent the Baron that photograph of Elise Breitenbach?

"I want you to go with me to the central door of the 'Printemps' at four
o'clock this afternoon, and we will watch Lancry's shop across the way,"
the Baron replied.

This we did, and from four till six o'clock we stood, amid the bustle of
foot passengers, watching the small stationer's on the opposite side of
the boulevard, yet without result.

Next day and the next I accompanied the prosperous cinema proprietor
upon his daily vigil, but in vain, until his reluctance to tell me the
reason why I had been sent to Paris annoyed me considerably.

On the fifth afternoon, just before five o'clock, while we were
strolling together, smoking and chatting, the Baron's eyes being fixed
upon the door of the small single-fronted shop, I saw him suddenly
start, and then make pretence of utter indifference.

"Look!" he whispered beneath his breath.

I glanced across and saw a young man just about to enter the shop.

The figure was unfamiliar, but, catching sight of his face, I held my
breath. I had seen that sallow, deep-eyed countenance before.

It was the young man who, two months previously, had sat eating his
luncheon alone at the "Esplanade," apparently fascinated by the beauty
of little Elise Breitenbach!

"Well," exclaimed the Baron. "I see you recognize him--eh? He is
probably going to buy more paper for his scurrilous screeds."

"Yes. But who is he? What is his name?" I asked anxiously. "I have seen
him before, but have no exact knowledge of him."

The Baron did not reply until we were back again in the cosy room in
Neuilly. Then, opening his cigar-box, he said:

"That young man, the author of the outrageous insults to His Majesty, is
known as Franz Seeliger, but he is the disgraced, ne'er-do-well son of
General von Trautmann, Captain-General of the Palace Guard."

"The son of old Von Trautmann!" I gasped in utter amazement. "Does the
father know?"

The Baron grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

Then after I had related to him the incident at the "Esplanade," he
said:

"That is of greatest interest. Will you return to Berlin and report to
the Emperor what you have seen here? His Majesty has given me that
instruction."

Much mystified, I was also highly excited that the actual writer of
those abominable letters had been traced and identified. The Baron told
me of the long weeks of patient inquiry and careful watching; of how the
young fellow had been followed to Angers and other towns in France where
the letters were posted, and of his frequent visits to Berlin. He had
entered a crack regiment, but had been dismissed the Army for forgery
and undergone two years' imprisonment. Afterwards he had fallen in with
a gang of clever international hotel thieves, and become what is known
as a _rat d'hotel_. Now, because of a personal grievance against the
Emperor, who had ordered his prosecution, he seemed to have by some
secret means ferreted out every bit of scandal at Potsdam, exaggerated
it, invented amazing additions, and in secret sown it broadcast.

His hand would have left no trace if he had not been so indiscreet as to
buy his paper from that one shop close to the Rue de Provence, where he
had rooms.

On the third night following I stood in the Emperor's private room at
Potsdam and made my report, explaining all that I knew and what I had
witnessed in Paris.

"That man knows a very great deal--but how does he know?" snapped the
Emperor, who had just returned from Berlin, and was in civilian attire,
a garb quite unusual to him. He had no doubt been somewhere
incognito--visiting a friend perhaps. "See Schunke early to-morrow," he
ordered, "and tell him to discover the link between this young
blackguard and your friends the Breitenbachs, and report to me."

I was about to protest that the Breitenbachs were not my friends, but
next instant drew my breath, for I saw that the great War-Lord, even
though he wore a blue serge suit, was filled with suppressed anger.

"This mystery must be cleared up!" he declared in a hard voice,
reflecting no doubt upon the terrible abuse which the writer had heaped
upon him, all the allegations, by-the-way, having contained a certain
substratum of truth.

Next morning I sat with the bald-headed and astute Schunke at the
headquarters of the detective police in Berlin, and there discussed the
affair fully, explaining the result of my journey to Paris and what I
had seen, and giving him the order from the Kaiser.

"But, Count, if this woman Breitenbach and her pretty daughter are your
friends you will be able to visit them and glean something," he said.

"I have distinct orders from the Emperor not to visit them while the
inquiry is in process," I replied.

Schunke grunted in dissatisfaction, stroked his iron-grey beard, but
made no further comment.

We walked out together, and I left him at the door of the Etat-major of
the Army in the Koenigsplatz.

Later that same morning I returned to the Marmor Palace to report to the
Crown-Prince, but found that His Highness was absent upon an official
visit of inspection at Stuttgart. The Marshal of the Court, Tresternitz,
having given me the information, laughed, and added:

"Officially, according to to-day's newspapers, His Highness is in
Stuttgart, but unofficially I know that he is at the Palace Hotel, in
Brussels, where there is a short-skirted variety attraction singing at
the Eden Theatre. So, my dear Heltzendorff, you can return to the
Krausenstrasse for a day or two."

I went back to Berlin, the Crown-Princess being away at Wiesbaden, and
from day to day awaited "Willie's" return.

In the meantime I several times saw the great detective, Schunke, and
found that he was in constant communication with Baron Steinmetz in
Paris. The pair were evidently leaving no stone unturned to elucidate
the mystery of those annoying letters, which were still falling as so
many bombs into the centre of the Kaiser's Court.

Suddenly, one Sunday night, all Berlin was electrified at the news that
General von Trautmann, Captain-General of the Palace Guard--whom, truth
to tell, the Crown-Prince had long secretly hated because he had once
dared to utter some word of reproach--had been arrested, and sent to a
fortress at the Emperor's order.

An hour after the arrest His Majesty's personal-adjutant commanded me by
telephone to attend at the Berlin Schloss. When we were alone the Kaiser
turned to me suddenly, and said:

"Count von Heltzendorff, you will say nothing of your recent visit to
Paris, or of the authorship of those anonymous letters--you understand?
You know absolutely nothing."

Then, being summarily dismissed by a wave of the Imperial hand, I
retired, more mystified than ever. Why should my mouth be thus closed? I
dared not call at the Alsenstrasse to make my own inquiries, yet I knew
that the police had made theirs.

When I returned to my rooms that evening Schunke rang me up on the
telephone with the news that my friends the Breitenbachs had closed
their house and left early that morning for Brussels.

"Where is Seeliger?" I inquired in great surprise.

"In Brussels. The Breitenbachs have gone there to join him, now that the
truth is out and his father is under arrest."

The Emperor's fury was that of a lunatic. It knew no bounds. His mind,
poisoned against the poor old General, he had fixed upon him as the
person responsible for that disgraceful correspondence which for so many
weeks had kept the Court in constant turmoil and anxiety. Though His
Majesty was aware of the actual writer of the letters, he would not
listen to reason, and openly declared that he would make an example of
the silver-haired old Captain-General of the Guard, who, after all, was
perfectly innocent of the deeds committed by his vagabond son.

A prosecution was ordered, and three weeks later it took place _in
camera_, the Baron, Schunke and a number of detectives being ordered to
give evidence. So damning, indeed, was their testimony that the Judge
passed the extreme sentence of twenty years' imprisonment.

And I, who knew and held proofs of the truth, dared not protest!

Where was the General's son--the real culprit and author of the letters?
I made inquiry of Schunke, of the Baron, and of others who had, at the
order of the All-Highest, conspired to ruin poor Von Trautmann. All,
however, declared ignorance, and yet, curiously enough, the fine house
in the Alsenstrasse still remained empty.

Later, I discovered that the Crown-Prince had been the prime mover in
the vile conspiracy to send the elderly Captain-General to prison and to
the grave, for of this his words to me one day--a year afterwards--were
sufficient proof:

"It is a good job, Heltzendorff, that the Emperor rid himself at last of
that canting old pest, Von Trautmann. He is now in a living tomb, and
should have been there four years ago!" and he laughed.

I made no response. Instead, I thought of the quiet, innocent old
courtier languishing in prison because he had somehow incurred the
ill-will of the Emperor's son, and I confess that I ground my teeth at
my own inability to expose the disgraceful truth.

About six months after the secret trial of the unfortunate General I had
accompanied the Crown-Prince on a visit to the Quirinal, and one
afternoon while strolling along the Corso, in Rome, suddenly came face
to face with the dainty little figure of Fraeulein Elise Breitenbach.

In delight I took her into Ronzi's, the noted confectioner's at the
corner of the Piazza Colonna, and there, at one of the little tables,
she explained to me how she and her mother, having become acquainted
with Franz Seeliger--not knowing him to be the General's son--they
suddenly fell under the suspicion of the Berlin Secret Police, and,
though much puzzled, did not again come to Court.

Some weeks later mother and daughter chanced to be in Paris, and one day
called at Seeliger's rooms in the Rue de Provence, but he was out. They,
however, were shown into his room to wait, and there saw upon his table
an abusive and scurrilous typewritten letter in German addressed to the
Emperor. Then it suddenly dawned upon them that the affable young man
might be the actual author of those infamous letters. It was this visit
which, no doubt, revealed to the Baron the young man's hiding-place.
Both mother and daughter, however, kept their own counsel, met Seeliger
next day, and watched, subsequently learning, to their surprise, that he
was the son of General von Trautmann, and, further, that he had as a
friend one of the personal valets of the Emperor, from whom, no doubt,
he obtained his inside information about persons at Court.

"When his poor father was sentenced we knew that the young man was
living in Brussels, and at once went there in order to induce him to
come forward, make confession, and so save the General from disgrace,"
said the pretty girl seated before me. "On arrival we saw him alone, and
told him what we had discovered in the Rue de Provence, whereupon he
admitted to us that he had written all the letters, and announced that
he intended to return to Berlin next day and give himself up to the
police in order to secure his father's release."

"And why did he not do so?" I asked eagerly.

"Because next morning he was found dead in his bed in the hotel."

"Ah, suicide."

"No," was her half-whispered reply. "He had been strangled by an unknown
hand--deliberately murdered, as the Brussels police declared. They were,
of course, much mystified, for they did not know, as we know, that
neither the young man's presence nor his confession were desired in
Berlin."

Fearing the Emperor's wrath, the Breitenbachs, like myself, dare not
reveal what they knew--the truth, which is here set down for the first
time--and, alas! poor General von Trautmann died in prison at Mulheim
last year.




SECRET NUMBER THREE

HOW THE KAISER PERSECUTED A PRINCESS


The truth of the dastardly plot which caused the downfall of the
unfortunate and much-maligned Imperial Princess Luisa Antoinette Marie,
Archduchess of Austria, and wife of Friedrich-August, now the reigning
King of Saxony, has never yet been revealed.

I know, my dear Le Queux, that you had a good deal to do with the
"skittish Princess," as she was called, and her affairs after she had
left the Court of Saxony and went to live near you in the Via Benedetto
da Foiano, in Florence. You were her friend, and you were afterwards
present at her secret marriage in London. Therefore, what I here reveal
concerning a disgraceful conspiracy by which a clever, accomplished, and
generous Princess of the blood Royal was hounded out of Germany will, I
think, be of peculiar interest to yourself and to those readers for whom
you are setting down my reminiscences.

As you know, before being appointed to my recent position in the
Crown-Prince "Willie's" household, I was personal-adjutant to His
Majesty the Emperor, and in that capacity accompanied Der Einzige (the
One) on his constant travels. Always hungry for popular applause, the
Emperor was ever on the move with that morbid restlessness of which he
is possessed, and which drove him from city to city, hunting, yachting,
unveiling statues, opening public buildings, paying ceremonial visits,
or, when all excuses for travel became exhausted, he presented new
colours to some regiment in some far-off garrison.

Indeed, within that one year, 1902, I accompanied "William-the-Sudden"
and his host of adjutants, military and civil secretaries, valets,
chasseurs and flunkeys, to twenty-eight different cities in Germany and
Scandinavia, where he stopped and held Court. Some cities we visited
several times, being unwelcome always because of the endless trouble,
anxiety and expense caused to the municipal authorities and military
casinos.

I, of course, knew the charming Imperial Highness the Crown-Princess
Luisa of Saxony, as she often came on visits to the Kaiserin, but I had
never spoken much with her until at Easter the Emperor went to visit
Dresden. He took with him, among other people, one of his untitled boon
companions, Judicial Councillor Loehlein, a stout, flabby-faced
hanger-on, who at the time possessed great influence over him. Indeed,
he was really the Emperor's financial agent. This man had, some time
ago, very fortunately for the Emperor, opened his eyes to the way in
which Kunze had manipulated the amazing Schloss Freiheit Lottery, and
had been able to point out to the All-Highest One what a storm of
ridicule, indignation and defiance must arise in Berlin if he attempted
to carry out his huge reconstruction and building scheme.

I was present in the Emperor's room at Potsdam when old Loehlein, with
whom sat Herr von Wedell, openly declared to the Emperor that if he
prosecuted his pet building scheme great indignation must arise, not
only in the capital, but in Hanover, Wiesbaden, and Kassel.

The Kaiser knitted his brows and listened attentively to both of his
advisers. I well remember how, next day, the Press, in order to allay
the public dissatisfaction, declared that the huge building projects of
the Emperor never existed. They had been purely imaginary ideas put
forward by a syndicate of speculative builders and taken up by the
newspapers.

Without doubt the podgy, fair-haired man in gold-rimmed spectacles, the
Judicial Councillor Loehlein, by crushing the Kaiser's mad scheme gained
considerable popularity in a certain circle. He was, however, a man of
exceptional craft and cunning, and during the eight years or so he
remained the intimate friend of the Emperor he must have, by advising
and looking after the Imperial investments, especially in America,
amassed a great fortune.

On the occasion of our Easter visit to the Saxon Court--a Court which,
to say the least, was a most dull and uninteresting one--we all went, as
is the custom there, to the shoot at the Vogelschiessen, a large wooden
bird made up of pieces which fall out when hit in a vital part. The bird
target is set up at the Easter fair held close to Dresden, and on that
afternoon the whole Court annually go to try their skill at
marksmanship. We were a merry party. The Emperor went with the old King
and Queen of Saxony, being accompanied by the Crown-Prince
Friedrich-August and the Crown-Princess Luisa, merry, laughing, full of
spirits, and unusually good-looking for a Royalty.

The Saxon Royal Family all shot, and, thanks to her father's tuition,
the Crown-Princess knocked a piece out of the bird at the first shot,
which sent the public wild with enthusiasm.

Luisa was the most popular woman in Saxony, and deservedly so, for hers
had been a love match. Her father, Ferdinand IV., Grand Duke of Tuscany,
had, at the suggestion of the Emperor Francis Joseph, endeavoured to
arrange a match between the Princess and the man now known as "foxy"
Ferdinand of Bulgaria. With that object a grand _diner de ceremonie_ was
held one night at the Imperial Castle of Salzburg, and at that dinner
Luisa, suspecting the conspiracy, publicly insulted the Ruler of
Bulgaria, which for ever put an end to the paternal plans.

After her marriage to the Saxon Crown-Prince the Kaiser, in one of his
whimsical moods, became greatly attached to her because of her
frankness, her love of outdoor life, and her high educational
attainments, hence we often had her visiting at Potsdam or at the Berlin
Schloss. She was known to be one of the few feminine Royalties in whom
the Kaiser took the slightest interest.

After our return from the public shooting to the Royal Palace in
Dresden, a banquet was, of course, held in honour of the Emperor in that
great hall where, on the walls, the four estates are represented by
scenes from the history of the Emperor Henry I.

At the grand ball afterwards I found myself chatting with Luisa, who, I
recollect, wore a most charming and artistic gown of sea-green chiffon,
_decollete_, of course, with pink carnations in her hair and a few
diamonds upon her corsage, as well as the Order of St. Elizabeth and her
magnificent rope of matched pearls, which went twice round her neck and
reached to her knees--a historic set which had once belonged to Marie
Antoinette. She looked very charming, and, in her frank way, asked me:

"How do you like my dress, Count? I designed it myself," she added.

I complimented her upon it, but I afterwards heard that the old King of
Saxony had been horrified at the lowness to which the bodice had been
cut, and, further, that every yard of green chiffon in Dresden had been
sold out before noon next day and the dress copied everywhere.

As we stood chatting in a corner of the room, watching the scene of
unusual brilliancy because of the Kaiser's presence, the Princess,
turning to me, said suddenly:

"Do you believe in omens, Count von Heltzendorff?"

"Omens!" I exclaimed, rather surprised at her question. "Really, I'm
afraid I am a little too matter-of-fact to take such things seriously,
your Highness."

"Well, a curious thing happened here about a month ago," she said. "I
was----" At that instant the Emperor, in the uniform of the 2nd Regiment
of Saxon Grenadiers, of which he was chief, and wearing the Order of
Crancelin of the House of Saxony, strode up, and, standing before us
exclaimed:

"Well, Luisa? What is the very interesting topic of conversation, eh?"
He had evidently overheard her words about some curious thing happening,
for, laughing gaily, he asked; "Now, what did happen a month ago?"

Her Imperial Highness hesitated, as though endeavouring to avoid an
explanation, but next second she waved her lace fan quickly and said:

"Well, something remarkable. I will tell your Majesty if you really wish
to hear it."

"By all means, Luisa, by all means," replied His Majesty, placing his
sound hand behind his back and drawing himself up very erect--a habit of
his after asking a question.

"Well, recently Friedrich-August and myself have moved into rooms in the
older wing of the Palace--rooms that have not been occupied for nearly
forty years. They are old-world, charming, and remind me constantly of
Augustus the Strong and the times in which he lived. Just about a month
ago the King and Queen of Roumania were paying us a visit. We were at
dinner, and while we were all laughing and talking, for 'Carmen Sylva'
had been telling us one of her stories, we heard a great clatter of
horses' hoofs and the heavy rumble of wheels, just as though a stage
coach was crossing the Small Courtyard. All of us listened, and in the
silence we heard it receding quite distinctly. I at once sent my
lady-in-waiting to ascertain who had arrived or departed, four-wheeled
coaches being quite unusual nowadays. It seemed just as though the coach
had driven out of the Palace gate. The message brought back from the
guardroom was that no carriage had entered or left. I told this to
those around the table, and the Queen of Roumania, who had taken much
interest in omens and folk-lore, seated opposite me, seemed much
impressed, and even perturbed."

"Then the noise you heard must have been quite an uncanny one, eh?"
asked the Emperor, deeply interested.

"Quite. Two of the women at the table declared that it must have been
thunder, and then the conversation proceeded. I, however, confess to
your Majesty that I was very much puzzled, and the more so because only
two nights ago, while we sat at dinner Friedrich-August and myself _en
famille_, we heard exactly the same sounds again!"

"Really!" laughed the Emperor. "Quite uncanny. I hope, here in Dresden,
you are not believing in spooks, as London society believes in them."

"Not at all," said the Princess earnestly. "I don't believe in omens.
But, curiously enough, the King told me yesterday that his two old
aunts, who formerly lived in our wing of the Palace, had sometimes heard
the clatter of horses' hoofs, the jingle of harness, the grinding of the
brakes, and the rumbling of heavy carriage wheels."

"H'm!" grunted the Emperor. "I've heard that same story before, Luisa.
The departing coach means trouble to the reigning family."

"That is exactly what the King said to me only last evening," answered
Luisa frankly. "Does it mean trouble to me, I wonder?"

"Certainly not," I declared. "Your Imperial Highness need not worry for
one moment over such things. Nobody nowadays regards such phenomena as
presage of evil. There is no doubt some perfectly natural explanation of
the sounds. Every old palace, castle, and even private house, has its
traditions."

"Quite right, Heltzendorff," laughed the Emperor, "especially in England
and Scotland. There they have white ladies, grey ladies, men with heads
like stags, lights in windows, the sound of mysterious bells ringing,
and all sorts of evil omens. Oh, those dear, superstitious English! How
ready they are to take up anything unpractical that may be a pleasant
change to the senses."

"Your Majesty does not believe in omens?" I ventured to remark.

"Omens!" he exclaimed, fixing his gaze upon me. "No; none but cowards
and old women believe in them." Then, turning to the Princess, he
smiled, saying: "If I were you, Luisa, I would give your chief of police
orders to question all the servants. Somebody rattled some dishes,
perhaps. You say it was during dinner."

But the pretty Crown-Princess was serious, for she said:

"Well, all I can say is that not only did I myself hear, but a dozen
others at table also heard the noise of horses, not dishes."

"Ah, Luisa! I see you are a trifle nervous," laughed the Emperor. "Well,
as you know, your Royal House of Saxony has lasted from the days of
Albert the Courageous in the early fifteenth century, and the Dynasty of
the Ravensteins has been prosperous from then until to-day, so don't
trouble yourself further. Why, you are really quite pale and unnerved, I
see," His Majesty added, for nothing escapes those shrewd, wide-open
eyes of his.

Then the Emperor, after acknowledging the salute of Baron Georg von
Metzsch, Controller of the Royal Household--a tall, thin, crafty-eyed
man, with hair tinged with grey, and wearing a dark blue uniform and
many decorations--changed the topic of conversation, and referred to the
Saxon Easter custom which that morning had been carried out.

The Kaiser was in particularly merry mood that night. He had gone to
Dresden against his inclination, for he had long ago arranged an Easter
review on the Tempelhofer Feld, but the visit was, I knew, for the
purpose of a consultation in secret with the King of Saxony. A week
before, in the Berlin Schloss, I had been sent by the Emperor to obtain
a paper from his table in the upstairs study, and in looking for the
document in question--one that he had signed and wished to send over to
the Reichsamt des Innern (Office of the Interior)--I came across a
letter from King George of Saxony, begging the Emperor to visit him, in
order to discuss "that matter which is so seriously threatening the
honour of our House."

Several times I wondered to what His Majesty of Saxony had referred.
That morning Emperor and King had been closeted alone together for fully
three hours, and the outcome of the secret conference seemed to have put
the All-Highest into a most excellent mood.

He left us, accompanied by Baron von Metzsch and Judicial Councillor
Loehlein, and I noticed how both men were talking with the Emperor in an
undertone. To my surprise also I saw how Loehlein cast furtive glances
towards where I still stood with the Crown-Princess.

A few moments later, however, a smart officer of the Prussian Guard,
whom I recognized as Count von Castell Rudenhausen, a well-known figure
in the gay life of Berlin, came forward, and, bowing, invited the
Princess to waltz.

And a moment later Luisa was smiling at me across the shoulder of her
good-looking cavalier.

Suddenly, while waltzing, her magnificent rope of historic matched
pearls accidentally caught in the button of a passing officer, the
string snapped, and many of the pearls fell rattling upon the polished
floor.

In a moment a dozen officers in tight uniforms were groping about to
recover them from the feet of the dancers when, during the commotion, I
heard the voice of Judicial Councillor Loehlein remark quite loudly:

"Ah! now we can all see who are the Crown-Princess' admirers!"

Luisa flushed instantly in anger and annoyance, but said nothing, whilst
her lady-in-waiting in silence took the broken rope of pearls, together
with those recovered from the floor, and a few moments later the
significant incident ended.

The Saxon Crown-Prince and his wife were at that time a most devoted
couple, though all of us knew that the modern ideas Luisa had brought to
Dresden from the Hapsburg Court had much shocked old King George and his
consort. The Saxon Court was unused to a pretty woman with buoyant
spirits rejoicing in life with a capital "L." According to the Court
whisperings, trouble had started a few days after marriage, when the
King, having given his daughter-in-law a tiara of diamonds, a Royal
heirloom, with strict injunctions to wear them just as they were--a
style of the seventeenth century--he one evening at the opera saw her
wearing the stones re-set in that style known as _art nouveau_. The King
became furious, and ordered them to be set again in their original
settings, whereupon Luisa coolly returned the present.

Such was the commencement of the old King's ill-feeling towards her.

The State ball that night was certainly a brilliant one for such a small
Court, and next day we all returned to Potsdam, for the Emperor had
suddenly cancelled a number of engagements and arranged to pay a visit
to Wilhelmshaven, where the Kaiserliche Werft (Imperial Dockyard)
contained certain naval secrets he wished to see.

Before we left Dresden, however, I met the Crown-Princess in one of the
corridors. It was nine o'clock in the morning. She wore her
riding-habit, for, being a splendid horsewoman, she had just come in
from her morning canter.

"Well, Count!" she laughed. "So you are leaving us unexpectedly! I
shall be coming to pay another visit to Potsdam soon. The Emperor
invited me last night. Au revoir!" And after I had bent over her small
white hand she waved it merrily and passed the sentry towards her
private apartments, wherein she had heard the ghostly coach and four.

Her Imperial Highness paid her promised visit to the Empress at the
Neues Palais in July.

At the time of her arrival the Emperor had left suddenly and gone away
to Hubertusstock. When anything unusual upset him he always went there.
I overheard him the day before his departure shouting to Loehlein as I
passed along one of the corridors. The Judicial Councillor seemed to be
trying to pacify him, but apparently entirely without avail, for the
Emperor is a man not easily convinced.

"You are as sly as all the rest!" I heard the Emperor declare in that
shrill, high-pitched tone which always denotes his anger. "I'll hear
none of it--no excuses. I want no fawning, no Jew-juggling."

Then, fearing to be discovered, I slipped on past the door.

The next I heard was that the Kaiser had left for that lonely retreat to
which he went when he wished to be alone in those periods of crazy
impetuosity which periodically seized the Mad Dog of Europe; and,
further, that he had taken with him his crafty crony, Loehlein.

During that mysterious absence--when the tinselled world of Potsdam
seemed at peace--the good-looking Saxon Crown-Princess arrived.

I was on duty on the railway platform to bow over her hand and to
welcome her.

"Ah! Count von Heltzendorff! Well, did I not say that I should not be
very long before I returned to Potsdam, eh?" she exclaimed. Then, in a
whisper, she said with a merry laugh: "Do you remember those clattering
hoofs and my broken rope of pearls? Nothing has happened yet."

"And nothing will," I assured her as, with a courtier's obeisance, I
conducted Her Imperial Highness to the Royal carriage, where the
Crown-Prince "Willie" was awaiting her, chatting with two officers of
the Guard to while away the time.

Three days later an incident occurred which caused me a good deal of
thought, and, truth to tell, mystified me considerably.

That somewhat indiscreet journal, the _Militaer Wochenblatt_, had
published a statement to the effect that Friedrich-August of Saxony and
the handsome Luisa had had a violent quarrel, a fact which caused a
great deal of gossip throughout Court circles.

Old Von Donaustauf, who at that time was master of the ceremonies at the
Emperor's Court, busied himself by spreading strange scandals regarding
the Crown-Princess Luisa. Therefore, in the circumstances, it struck me
as strange that Her Highness should have been invited to the puritanical
and hypocritical circle at Potsdam.

That afternoon, soon after the guard had been changed, I chanced to be
writing in my room, which overlooked the big central courtyard, when I
heard the guard suddenly turn out in great commotion, by which I knew
that His Majesty had suddenly returned from Hubertusstock.

Ten minutes later my telephone rang, and, passing the sentries, I went
by order to His Majesty's study, that chamber of plots and secrets, hung
with its faded pale green silk damask, its furniture covered with the
same material, and its net curtains at the windows threaded with ribbons
of the same shade.

The moment I entered the Emperor's countenance showed me that he was
very angry. His low-bowing crony, Loehlein, always a subtle adviser, had
returned with him, and stood watching the Emperor as the latter
impatiently paced the room.

I saluted, awaiting orders in silence, as was my habit, but so
preoccupied was His Majesty that he did not notice my presence, but
continued his outburst of furious wrath. "Only see what Von Hoensbroech
has reported!" he cried, suddenly halting against one of those big buhl
chests of drawers with grey marble tops--heavy pieces of furniture
veneered with tortoise-shell in which the Emperor keeps his official
papers. "I am being made a laughing-stock--and you know it, Loehlein! It
has been said of us that a woman, a whim, or a word will to-day raise
any person to high rank in our Empire! That blackguard, Harden, has
actually dared to write it in his journal. Well, we shall see. That
woman--she shall----"

As the Kaiser uttered those words he suddenly realized that I was
present, and hesitated. Next second both his tone and his manner
changed.

"Heltzendorff--I--I--wish you to go to Dresden and take a private
letter. It will be ready in half an hour. Say nothing to anyone
concerning your departure, but report to me here at"--and he glanced at
the small bronze clock on the overmantel between two elegant
candelabra--"at four o'clock."

As commanded, I reported, but the Kaiser was with the Empress, who, in
one of her private apartments, was holding _petit cercle_, the Princess
Luisa being present. Indeed, as I entered that semi-circular salon the
Kaiser was standing astride before Luisa's chair laughing gaily with
her. Surely none who saw him at that moment would ever have believed
that not half an hour before his face had been blanched by anger. He
could alter his moods just as he changed his three hundred odd uniforms.

There was something mysterious in the wind--of that I felt absolutely
convinced. The atmosphere of that faded green upstairs room was always
one of confidential conversations, intimate conferences and secret
plots--plots despicable and vile, as has since been proved--against the
peace of the world.

The Emperor, noticing that I had entered the Imperial presence, came
forward, and I followed him back into the softly-carpeted corridor. Then
his action further aroused my curiosity, for he took from the inner
pocket of his tunic an envelope of what you in England call "court"
size--linen-lined, as are all envelopes used by the Emperor for his
private correspondence. I saw it had been sealed in black by his own
hand. Then, as he handed it to me, he said:

"Go to Dresden as quickly as possible and obtain a reply to this."

I clicked my heels together, and, saluting, left upon my secret mission
to the Saxon Court.

The letter was addressed to Baron Georg von Metzsch at Dresden.

Next day, when I presented it to the tall, thin Controller of the
Household, who sat in his small but cosy room in the Royal Palace, I saw
that its contents greatly puzzled him.

He wrote a reply, and as Imperial messenger I returned at once to
Potsdam, handing it to the Emperor as he strode alone from the Shell
Saloon, through which he was passing after dinner.

He took it from my hand without a word. The All-Highest never bestows
thanks upon those who obey his orders. It is, indeed, said to-day that
Hindenburg has never once, during his whole official career, been
verbally thanked by his Imperial Master.

The Emperor, with impatient fingers, tore open the envelope, read its
contents, and then smiled contentedly, after which I went to old Von
Donaustauf's room, and, tired out by the long journey, smoked a good
cigar in his company.

Next day we were all back at the Berlin Schloss--for we never knew from
day to day where we might be--Hamburg, Stuttgart, Duesseldorf or Danzig.

During the morning His Majesty inspected the Berlin garrison in the
Tempelhofer Feld, and the Princess Luisa rode with him. That same
afternoon, while I was busy writing in the long room allotted to me in
the Berlin Schloss, Her Imperial Highness, to my surprise, entered,
closing the door quietly after her.

"Count von Heltzendorff, you have been on a secret mission to that spy,
Von Metzsch, in Dresden, have you not?"

I rose, bowed, and without replying courteously offered her a chair.

"Why do you not admit it?" she asked quickly.

"Princess, if the Emperor gives me orders to preserve secrecy, then it
is my duty to obey," I said.

"I know," she answered, and then I realized how upset and nervous she
seemed. "But Von Metzsch hates me, and has put about all sorts of
scandalous reports concerning me. Ah! Count," she sighed, "you do not
know how very unhappy I am--how I am surrounded by enemies!"

These words caused me much surprise, though I had, of course, heard many
unsavoury rumours regarding her unhappy position at the Saxon Court.

"I much regret to hear that," I said. "But Your Imperial Highness has
also many friends, of whom I hope I may be permitted to number myself."

"Ah! it is extremely good of you to say that--very good. If
you are really my friend, then you can help me. You are in a
position to watch and discover what is in progress--the reason
the Emperor exchanges those constant confidences with Von Metszch,
the man who has twisted my husband around his little finger,
and who has, with my Lady-of-the-Bedchamber, Frau von Fritsch,
already poisoned his mind against me. Ah!" she sighed again,
"you have no idea how much I have suffered!"

She seemed on the verge of a nervous crisis, for I saw that in her fine
eyes stood the light of unshed tears, and I confess I was much puzzled,
for I had certainly believed, up to that moment, that she was on
excellent terms with her husband.

"But surely His Highness the Crown-Prince of Saxony does not believe
any of those wicked reports?" I said.

"Ah! Then you have heard. Of course, you have. Von Metzsch has taken
good care to let the whole world know the lies that he and the Countess
Paule Starhemberg have concocted between them. It is cruel!" she
declared in a paroxysm of grief. "It is wicked!"

"No, no. Calm yourself, Princess!" I urged sympathetically. "I am at
least your friend, and will act as such should occasion arise."

"I thank you," she sighed in relief, and she put out her hand, over
which I bent as I took it in friendship.

"Ah!" she exclaimed in a low voice. "I fear I shall require the
assistance of a friend very soon. Do you recollect my broken pearls?"

And a few moments later she left my room.

Through all that day and the next I wondered what sly, underhand work
could be in progress. I pitied the good-looking, unconventional Imperial
Princess who, because of her somewhat hoydenish high spirits, had
aroused the storm of anger and jealousy in the Saxon Court. But the
Hapsburgs had ever been unfortunate in their loves.

On the day before the Crown-Princess's visit to the Berlin Court was due
to end, at about six o'clock in the evening, I passed the sentries and
ascended to the Emperor's study with some papers I had been going
through regarding the reorganization of the Stettin garrison. I was one
of the very few persons ever admitted to that wing of the Palace.

As I approached the door, treading noiselessly upon the soft carpet, I
heard voices raised excitedly, the door being slightly ajar.

Naturally I halted. In my position I was able to hear a great deal of
Palace intrigue, but never had I listened to a conversation that held me
more breathless than at that moment.

"Woman," cried the Emperor, "do you, then, openly defy my authority?"

"What that crafty sycophant, Von Metzsch, has told you is, I repeat, a
foul and abominable lie," was the reply.

And I knew that the unfortunate Princess was defending her reputation,
which her enemies at the Court of Saxony had torn to shreds.

"No woman ever admits the truth, of course," sneered the Emperor. "I
consider you a disgrace to the Dresden Court."

"So this is the manner in which you openly insult your guests!" was the
Princess's bitter retort. "You, who believe yourself the idol of your
people, now exhibit yourself in your true light as the traducer of a
defenceless woman!"

"How dare you utter those words to me!" cried the All-Highest One, in
fury.

"I dare defend myself--even though you may be Emperor," replied Luisa,
in a cold, hard tone of defiance. "I repeat that your allegations are
untrue, and that you have no right to make them. Surely you can see that
my enemies, headed by the King of Saxony, are all conspiring to effect
my downfall. I know it! I have written proof of it!"

"Bosh! You say that because you know that the statements are true!"

"You lie!" she cried fiercely. "They are not true. You cannot prove
them."

"Very well," answered the Emperor in that tone of cold determination
that I knew too well. "I will prove the charges to my entire
satisfaction."

I was startled at the manner in which the Princess had dared to call the
Emperor a liar. Surely nobody had ever done so before.

I drew a long breath, for as I crept away unseen I recollected the
Kaiser's unrelenting vindictiveness.

Poor Princess! I knew that the red talons of the Hohenzollern eagle
would sooner or later be laid heavily upon her.

She left Berlin two hours later, but half an hour before her departure I
found a hurriedly-scribbled note upon my table explaining that she had
had "a few unpleasant words with the Emperor," and that she was leaving
for Dresden a day earlier than had been arranged.

A fortnight passed. Twice Baron von Metzsch came to Potsdam, and was on
each occasion closely closeted with the Emperor, as well as having
frequent consultations with Judicial Councillor Loehlein. I had strong
suspicion that the vile conspiracy against the lively daughter of the
Hapsburgs was still in progress, for I felt assured that the Kaiser
would never forgive those words of defiance from a woman's lips, and
that his vengeance, slow and subtle, would assuredly fall upon her.

I did not know at the time--not, indeed, until fully three years
later--how the blackguardly actions of Von Metzsch, who was a creature
of the Kaiser, had from the first been instigated by the All-Highest,
who, from the very day of the Prince's marriage, had, notwithstanding
his apparent graciousness towards her, determined that a Hapsburg should
never become Queen of Saxony.

For that reason, namely, because the Emperor in his overweening vanity
believes himself to be the Heaven-sent ruler of the destinies of the
German Empire, was much opposed to an Austrian princess as a potential
queen at Dresden, he set himself the task to ruin the poor woman's life
and love and to arouse such a terrible scandal concerning her that she
could not remain in Saxony with every finger pointing at her in
opprobrium and scorn.

A fresh light, however, was thrown upon what I afterwards realized to be
a dastardly conspiracy by the receipt of a cipher message late one
November night at Potsdam. I was at work alone with the Emperor in the
pale green upstairs room, reading and placing before him a number of
State documents to which he scrawled his scribbly signature, when the
telegram was brought.

"Decipher that, Heltzendorff," he commanded, and went on with the work
of reading and signing the documents, while I sat down with the red
leather-covered personal code book which bore the Imperial coronet and
cipher, and presently found that the message, which was from Dresden,
read:

     "Frau von Fritsch to-day had an interview with Giron, the French
     tutor to the Crown-Princess's children, but unfortunately the
     latter refuses to admit any affection for Luisa. Giron angrily
     declared his intention to leave Dresden, because of Von Fritsch's
     suggestion. This course, I saw, would be unfortunate for our plans,
     therefore I urged the King to induce Luisa to request him to
     remain. She has done so, but to no avail, and Giron left for
     Brussels to-night. May I be permitted to come to discuss with your
     Majesty a further elaboration of the plan?--VON METZSCH."

The Emperor read the secret message twice. Then he paused, with knit
brows, and brushed his moustache with his hand, a habit of his when
perplexed.

"We go to Erfurt to-morrow, do we not?" he said. "Telegraph in cipher to
Von Metzsch to meet us there to-morrow evening at seven. And destroy
that message," he added.

I obeyed his orders, and afterwards continued to deal with the State
papers, much enlightened by the news transmitted by the Emperor's
creature.

The Imperial hand was slowly destroying the conjugal happiness of a pair
who really loved each other, even though they were of the blood royal.
The long arm of the Emperor was outstretched to crush and pulverize the
soul of the woman who had dared to defend herself--who had defied the
imperious will of that man whose hand he had, with awful blasphemy in
addressing his Brandenburgers, declared to be the hand of God.

I confess that I felt the deepest sympathy for the helpless victim. At
the Schloss, high above the old-world town of Erfurt, the sneaking
sycophant Von Metzsch had a long conference with the Emperor but I was
unable to overhear any word of it. All I know is that the Controller of
the Saxon Household left Erfurt for Dresden by special train at
midnight.

A quarter of an hour after the Saxon functionary had departed I was with
the Emperor receiving orders for the following day, and found him in
high spirits, by which, knowing him so intimately, I knew that he was
confident in his ultimate triumph.

Poor, defenceless Luisa! You, my dear Le Queux, to whom the Princess a
few months afterwards flew for advice, know well how sterling, how
womanly and honest she was; how she was one victim of many of the
unholy, unscrupulous intrigues by which the arrogant War-Lord of
Germany, aided by his devil's spawn, has until the present managed to
retain his now tottering throne.

Well, I watched the course of events; watched eagerly and daily. Twice I
had received letters from Her Imperial Highness, short notes in her
firm, bold handwriting.

From Von Metzsch came several cipher messages to the Emperor after we
had returned to Potsdam, but Zorn von Bulach, my colleague, deciphered
all of them, and, as he was not my friend, I did not inquire as to their
purport. I knew, however, that matters in Dresden were fast approaching
a crisis, and that the unfortunate Hapsburg Princess could no longer
sustain the cruel and unjust pressure being put upon her for her
undoing. That a hundred of Germany's spies and _agents-provocateurs_
were busy I realized from the many messages by telephone and telegraph
passing between Berlin and Dresden, and I felt certain that the ruin of
poor Princess Luisa was nigh.

A significant message came to Potsdam late one December night--a message
which, when I deciphered it and handed it to the Emperor, caused him to
smile in triumph.

I bit my lip. The Princess had left Dresden!

Three days later, on December 9th, a further cipher telegram came from
Von Metzsch, the Emperor's sycophant in Dresden, which read: "Luisa has
learnt of the Sonnenstein project, and has left Salsburg for Zurich, her
brother accompanying.--VON METZSCH."

Sonnenstein! That was a private lunatic asylum! I held my breath at the
awful fate which the Emperor had decided should be hers.

In a few moments the Kaiser had summoned, by his private telephone,
Koehler, then chief of the Berlin secret police, and given orders that
the Princess was to be watched in Switzerland. Half an hour later three
police agents were on their way to Zurich to follow and persecute the
poor, distracted woman, even beyond the confines of the Empire.

She was, no doubt, in deadly fear of being sent to a living tomb, so
that her mouth should be closed for ever.

The Emperor, not content with casting her out of Germany, intended to
wreak a terrible and fiendish revenge upon her by closing her lips and
confining her in an asylum. She knew that, and seeing herself surrounded
by enemies and spies on every hand--for even her brother Leopold, with
whom she had travelled to Switzerland, now refused to assist her--she
adopted the only method of further escape that at the moment presented
itself.

Alone and without anyone to advise her, she, as you know, took a
desperate resolve, one, alas! fraught with disastrous consequences.

The iron had indeed entered the poor Princess's soul.


NOTE BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX

_The denouement of this base intrigue of the Emperor's will be best
related in Her Imperial Highness's own words. In one of her letters,
which I have on my table as I write, she says:_

_"I saw before me in those never-to-be-forgotten days all the horrors of
a 'Maison de Sante.' What could I do? I was friendless in a strange
hotel. Even Leopold seemed disinclined to be further troubled by a
runaway sister. I knew Frau von Fritsch, that unscrupulous liar, had
accused me falsely of having secret love affairs, and that the Emperor
had directed the whole plot which was to culminate in my confinement in
an asylum. Suddenly a solution occurred to me. I remembered that
Monsieur Giron, who had already suffered greatly through his friendship
with me. If he joined me, then my flight from Dresden would be
considered as an elopement, and I should escape a living death in a
madhouse! Monsieur Giron was at that moment my only friend, and it was
for that reason that I telegraphed to him at Brussels. Well, he joined
me, and by doing so completed the Emperor's triumph."_

_The subtle, ever-scheming Madman of Europe, warped as he is in soul as
in body, had, with his true Hun craftiness and unscrupulousness, aided
by Judicial Councillor Loehlein and the spy Von Metzsch, succeeded in
hounding down an honest, defenceless woman as high born as his own
diseased self, and casting her in ignominy and shame out of his now
doomed Empire._




SECRET NUMBER FOUR

THE MYSTERIOUS FRAU KLEIST


The clever intrigues of Frau Kleist were unknown to any outside the
Court circle at Potsdam.

She was indeed a queer personage, "only less of a personality than His
Majesty," as that shiftiest of German statesmen, Prince Buelow, declared
to me one day as we sat together in my room in the Berlin Schloss.

Frau Kleist was the Court dancing-mistress, whose fastidious judgment
had to be satisfied by any young debutante or officer before they
presumed to dance before Royalty at the State balls. Before every ball
Frau Kleist held several dance rehearsals in the Weisser-Saal (White
Salon) at the Berlin Schloss, and she was more exacting than any pompous
General on parade. Perhaps she was seventy. Her real age I never knew.
But, friends that we were, she often chatted with me and deplored the
flat-footedness of the coming generation of Teutons, and more than once
I have seen her lift her skirts and, displaying neat silk-stockinged
ankles on the polished floor of the Weisser-Saal, make, for the benefit
of the would-be debutantes, graceful tiptoe turns with a marvellous
grace of movement.

Truly Frau Kleist, with her neat waist and thin, refined face, was a
very striking figure at the Berlin Court. The intricacies of the minuet
and gavotte, as well as those of the old-world dances in which she
delighted, were taught by the old lady to Prince Joachim and Princess
Victoria Luise, both of whom always went in deadly fear of her caustic
tongue and overbearing manner.

The Emperor never permitted any dancing at Court which was not up to a
high standard of excellence, and all who sought to dance were compelled
to pass before the critical eye of the sharp-tongued old lady in her
stiff silken gown.

Once, I remember, certain young people of the smart set of Berlin sought
to introduce irregularities in the Lancers, but they soon discovered
that their cards were cancelled.

Whence she had come or who had been responsible for her appointment
nobody knew. One thing was quite certain, that though at an age when
usually rheumatism prevents agility, yet she was an expert dancer.
Another thing was also certain, that, if a debutante or a young military
elegant were awkward or flat-footed, she would train them privately in
the Terpsichorean art, especially in the old-world dances which are so
popular at Court, and, accepting a little palm-oil, would then pass
them--after squeezing them sufficiently--as fit to receive the Imperial
command to the Court balls.

The old woman, sharp-featured and angular as became her age, with her
complexion powdered and rouged, lived in considerable style in a fine
house close to the Glienicke Bridge at Potsdam, beneath the Babelsberg,
a power to be reckoned with by all who desired to enter the Court
circle.

Regarding her, many strange stories were afloat. One was that she was an
ex-dancer, the mother of the famous Mademoiselle "Clo-Clo" Durand,
_premiere danseuse_ of the Paris Opera, and another was that she had
been mistress of the ballet at the Imperial Opera in Petrograd in the
days of the Emperor Alexander. But so great a mystery were her
antecedents that nobody knew anything for certain, save that, at the age
of nearly seventy, she had access at any hour to the Kaiser's private
cabinet. I have often seen her whisper to His Majesty strange secrets
which she had picked up here and there--secrets that were often
transferred to certain confidential quarters which control the great
Teuton octopus.

Those at Court who secured the benignant smiles of Frau Kleist knew that
their future path in life would be full of sunshine, but woe betide
those upon whom she knit her brows in disapproval. It was all a question
of bribery. Frau Kleist kept her pretty house and her big Mercedes car
upon the secret money payments she received from those who "for value"
begged her favours. With many young officers the payment to Frau Kleist
was to open the back door to the Emperor's favour.

We in the Neues Palais (New Palace) knew it. But surely it did not
concern us, for all of us looked askance at those who strove so
strenuously and eagerly for "commands" to Court functions, and really we
were secretly glad if the parvenus of both sexes were well bled before
they were permitted by Frau Erna to make their obeisance before Royalty.

The palace world at every European Court is a narrow little world of its
own, unknown and unsuspected by the man in the street. There one sees
the worst side of human nature without any leaven of the best or even
nobler side. The salary-grabber, the military adventurer, the pinchbeck
diplomat, the commercial parvenu, and the scientist, together with their
heavy-jowled, jewel-bedecked women-folk, elbow each other in order to
secure the notice of the All-Highest One, who, in that green-upholstered
private room wherein I worked with him, often smiled at the unseemly
bustle while he calmly discriminated among men and women according to
their merits.

It is in that calm discretion that the Emperor excels, possessing almost
uncanny foresight, combined with a most unscrupulous conscience.

"I know! Frau Kleist has told me!" were the words His Majesty used on
many occasions when I had ventured perhaps to express doubt regarding
some scandalous story or serious allegation. Therefore I was confident,
even though a large section of the entourage doubted it, that the
seventy-year-old dancing-mistress, whose past was a complete mystery,
was an important secret agent of the Emperor's.

And what more likely? The Kaiser, as ruler of that complex empire, would
naturally seek to know the truth concerning those who sought his favour
before they were permitted to click their heels or wag their fans and
bow the knee in his Imperial presence. And he had, no doubt, with that
innate cunning, appointed his creature to the position of Court
dancing-mistress.

The most elegant, corsetted Prussian officer, even though he could dance
divinely, was good-looking and perfectly-groomed, would never be
permitted to enter the Court circle unless a substantial number of marks
were placed within the old woman's palm. It was her perquisite, and many
in that ill-paid entourage envied her her means of increasing her
income.

In no Court in Europe are the purse-strings held so tightly as in that
of Potsdam. The Emperor and Empress, though immensely wealthy, practise
the economy of London suburbia. But at every Court bribery is rife in
order to obtain Royal warrants and dozens of other small favours of that
kind, just as open payment is necessary to-day to obtain titles of
nobility. The colour of gold has a fascination which few can resist. If
it were not so there would be no war in progress to-day.

On October 17th, 1908, I had returned with the Emperor and his suite
from Hamburg, where His Majesty had been present at the launching of one
of Herr Ballin's monster American liners, and at three o'clock, after
the Kaiser had eaten a hurried luncheon, I was seated at the side table
in his private room in the Berlin Schloss, taking down certain
confidential instructions which he wished to be sent at once by one of
the Imperial couriers to the commandant of Posen.

Suddenly Von Kahlberg, my colleague, entered with a message that had
been taken by the telegraphist attached to the Palace, and handed it to
His Majesty.

Having read it, the Kaiser at once grew excited, and, turning to me,
said:

"The Crown-Prince sends word from Potsdam that the American, Orville
Wright, is flying on the Bornstedter Feld. We must go at once. Order the
cars. And, Von Kahlberg, inform Her Majesty at once. She will accompany
us, no doubt."

Quickly I placed before His Majesty one of his photographs--knowing that
it would be wanted for presentation to the daring American--and he took
up his pen and scrawled his signature across it. Afterwards I placed it
in the small, green-painted dispatch-box of steel which I always carried
when in attendance upon His Imperial Majesty.

Within a quarter of an hour three of the powerful cars were on their way
to Potsdam, the Emperor with Herr Anton Reitschel--a high German
official at Constantinople--and Professor Vambery, who happened to be at
the Palace at the time, in the first car; the Kaiserin with her
daughter, Victoria Luise, and the latter's _ober-gouvernante_
(governess), with one of the Court ladies, in the next; while in the
third I rode with Major von Scholl, one of the equerries.

Cheers rose from the crowds as we passed through the Berlin streets, and
the Emperor, full of suppressed excitement at the thought of seeing an
aeroplane flight, constantly saluted as we flew along.

On arrival at the Bornstedter Feld it was already growing dusk, and a
great disappointment awaited us. The Crown-Prince rode up to inform us
gravely that the flying was over for the day. At this the Kaiser grew
angry, for he had been out once before upon a wild-goose chase, only to
find that Orville Wright had gone home, declaring the wind to be too
strong.

At his father's anger, however, "Willie" burst out laughing, declaring
that he was only joking, and that all was in readiness. Indeed, as he
spoke the aviator, in his leather jacket, came up, and I presented him
to His Majesty, while from everywhere soldiers and police appeared, in
order to keep back the crowd to the road.

Then, while we stood alone in the centre of the great, sandy plain, Mr.
Orville Wright clambered into his machine and, rising, made many
circuits high above us.

The Emperor stood with Herr Reitschel and the shaggy old Professor,
straining his eyes with keenest interest. It was the first time His
Majesty had seen an aeroplane in flight. Much had been promised of old
Von Zeppelin's invention, yet the German public had, until those
demonstrations by the American aviator, taken but little heed of the
heavier-than-air machine. At that time, indeed, the Emperor had not
taken up Von Zeppelin, and it was only after seeing Orville Wright's
demonstrations that he entered with any enthusiasm into aeronautical
problems.

High above us against the clear evening sky, wherein the stars had
already begun to twinkle, the daring American rose, dipped, and banked,
his machine droning like a huge gad-fly, much to the interest and
astonishment of the Emperor.

"Marvellous!" he exclaimed, as I stood beside him, with the Empress on
his right. "How is it done?"

The crowds went wild with enthusiasm. The sight of a man flying in the
air, manoeuvring his machine at will, rising swiftly, and then planing
down with the engine cut off, was one of the most amazing spectacles the
loyal Potsdamers had ever seen. Even the Emperor, with all his wild
dreams of world-power, could never for a moment have foreseen what a
great factor aeroplanes would be in the war which he was so carefully
plotting.

At last Wright came down in a spiral, banked slightly, steadied himself,
and then came lightly to earth within a few yards of where we stood,
having been the first to exhibit to the great War-Lord how completely
the air had been conquered.

Then, quiet, rather unassuming man that he was, he advanced to receive
the Imperial congratulations, and to be handed the signed photograph
which, at the proper moment, I produced like a conjurer from my
dispatch-box. Afterwards, though it had now grown dark, the Emperor, by
the powerful headlamps of the three cars, thoroughly examined the
American's aeroplane, the aviator explaining every detail.

From that moment for months afterwards the Kaiser was constantly talking
of aviation. He commanded photographs of various types of aeroplanes,
together with all literature on the subject, to be placed before him.
Indeed, he sent over to Britain, in secret, two officers to attend the
aeroplane meetings held at Doncaster and Blackpool, where a large number
of photographs were secretly taken, and duly found their way to his
table.

Indeed, it would greatly surprise your English friends, my dear Le
Queux, if they had only seen the many secret reports and secret
photographs of all kinds regarding Britain's military, naval, and social
life, which I have found upon the Emperor's table.

During my appointment I had through my hands many amazing reports
concerning the financial and social position of well-known English
politicians and officials, reports made with one ulterior motive--that
of attempted bribery. The Emperor meant war, and he knew that before he
could hope for success he must thoroughly "Germanize" Great
Britain--with what result we all now know.

I have recalled the Emperor's first sight of an aeroplane in flight, in
company with Herr Anton Reitschel and Professor Vambery, because of an
incident which occurred that same day. Just before midnight the Emperor,
seated in his room in the Berlin Schloss, was giving me certain
instructions to be sent to Carlton House Terrace, when the door opened
without any knock of permission, and upon the threshold there stood
that arch-intriguer, Frau Kleist, in her stiff black silk gown, and
wearing a gleaming diamond brooch, the glitter of which was cold as her
own steely eyes.

"Have I Your Majesty's permission to enter?" she asked, in her
high-pitched voice.

"Of course, of course," replied the Emperor, turning in his chair. "Come
in and close the door. It has turned quite cold to-night. Well?" he
asked, looking at her inquiringly.

The Emperor is a man of very few words, except when he tells a story.

The Court dancing-mistress hesitated for a second. Their eyes met, and
in that glance I saw complete understanding.

"May I speak in confidence with Your Majesty?" she asked, advancing into
the room, her stiff, wide skirts rustling. Except the Court ladies she
was the only female at Court whom the sentries stationed at the end of
the corridor allowed to pass to His Majesty's private cabinet.

But Frau Kleist had access everywhere. Her eyes were the eyes of the
Emperor. Many a diplomat, financier, military or naval commander has
been raised to position of favourite because he first secured--by
payment, of course, according to his means--the good graces of the
_ex-ballerina_. And, alas! many a good, honest man has been cast out of
the Potsdam circle into oblivion, and even to death, because of the
poisonous declaration of that smiling, bejewelled old hag.

"Of what do you wish to speak?" inquired the Emperor, who, truth to
tell, was very busy upon a most important matter concerning the building
of new submarines, and was perhaps a little annoyed by the intrusion,
though he did not betray it, so clever was he.

"Of the Reitschel affair," was the old woman's low reply.

At her words the Kaiser frowned slightly, and dismissed me. I bowed
myself out, and closed the door upon the Emperor and his clever female
spy.

That she should have at that late hour come from Potsdam--for, looking
down into the courtyard, I saw the lights of her big Mercedes--showed
that some underhand work was in progress.

Only a week before I had been discussing Anton Reitschel and his
position with my intimate friend, old Von Donaustauf, Master of
Ceremonies, who was supposed to control the ex-dancer, but who in
reality was in a subordinate position to her, because she had the ear of
the Emperor at any hour. Petty jealousies, dastardly plots, and constant
intrigues make up the daily life around the Throne. Half the orders
given in the Emperor's name are issued without his knowledge, and many
an order transmitted to the provinces without his authority.

By handling, as I did, hundreds of those secret reports which reached
the Emperor I had learned much concerning Herr Anton Reitschel, and from
old Von Donaustauf I had also been able to obtain certain missing links
concerning the intrigue.

Reitschel, a burly, round-faced, fair-haired Prussian of quite superior
type, held the position of Chief Director of the German-Ottoman Bank in
Constantinople. His duty for the past three years had been to conciliate
the Sultan and to lend German money to any industrial enterprise in
which any grain of merit could possibly be discovered. He had been
singled out, taken from the Dresdner Bank, and sent to Constantinople by
the Kaiser in order to play Germany's secret game in Turkey--especially
that of the Bagdad Railway--and to combat with German gold Great
Britain's diplomacy with Tewfik Pasha and old Abdul Hamid, in view of
"The Day," which the Emperor had long ago determined should soon dawn.
Was he not the War-Lord? And must not a War-Lord make war?

As old Von Donaustauf had put it, between the whiffs of one of those
exquisite cigarettes, a consignment of the Sultan's own which came from
the Yildiz Kiosk to Potsdam weekly:

"Our Emperor intends that, notwithstanding Britain's policy in the Near
East, Germany shall soon rule from Berlin to Bagdad. Herr Reitschel is
in reality charged with the work of "Germanizing" the Ottoman Empire."

That I already knew by the many secret reports of his which arrived so
constantly from Constantinople, reports which showed quite plainly that
though the great German Embassy, with its huge eagles of stone set at
each end, might have been built for the purpose of impressing the Turks,
yet the shrewd, farseeing Herr Anton, as head of that big financial
corporation, held greater sway at that rickety set of offices known to
us as the Sublime Porte than did his Excellency the Ambassador, with all
his beribboned crowd of underlings.

Truly the game which the Emperor was playing in secret against the other
Powers of Europe was a crooked and desperate one. On the one hand the
Kaiser was making pretence of fair dealing with Great Britain and
France, yet on the other his agent, Herr Reitschel, was ever busy
lending money in all directions, and bribing Turkish officials in order
to secure their favour in Germany's interest.

Yet a further game was being played--one that, in addition to the
Imperial Chancellor, I alone knew--namely, that while the Kaiser was
making pretence of being the best friend of the Sultan Abdul Hamid,
visiting Constantinople and Palestine, building fountains, endowing
institutes, and bestowing his Imperial grace in so many ways, yet he was
also secretly supporting the Young Turk party so as to effect the
Sultan's downfall as part of his sly, Machiavellian policy--a plot
which, as you know, ultimately succeeded, for poor old Abdul the Damned
and his harem were eventually packed off, bag and baggage, to Salonika,
notwithstanding His Majesty's wild entreaty to Berlin for protection.

I happened to be with the Emperor on the Imperial yacht at Tromsoe when
he received by telegram the personal appeal addressed to him from his
miserable dupe, and I well recollect how grimly he smiled as he remarked
to me that it needed no response.

Well, at the period of which I am making the present disclosure, Herr
Anton had been paying a number of flying visits to Berlin, and had had
many private audiences of both Kaiser and Sultan, and had on several
occasions been invited informally to the Imperial luncheon table, a mark
of esteem bestowed by the Kaiser upon those who may at the moment be
serving his interests particularly well.

Suddenly all of us were surprised by the announcement that the Kaiser's
favoured civilian in Turkey had married Mademoiselle Julie de Lagarenne,
daughter of Paul de Lagarenne, son of the great French sugar refiner,
and secretary of the French Embassy at Rome. We heard also that, having
married in Italy, he was bringing his wife to Berlin. Indeed, a week
after that news was spread I met them both in Kranzler's in Unter den
Linden, and there he introduced me to a pretty, dark-haired, vivacious
young Frenchwoman, who spoke German well, and who told me that her
husband had already given in her name for presentation at the next
Court.

That was about a month prior to Orville Wright's flight and the midnight
visit of Frau Kleist to the Emperor.

Truth to tell, the old woman's mention of Herr Reitschel's name caused
me considerable misgivings, because three weeks before I had gathered
certain strange facts from a secret report of a spy who in
Constantinople had been set to watch Herr Reitschel's doings. That spy
was Frau Kleist's son.

The Kaiser trusts nobody. Even his favourites and most intimate cronies
are spied upon, and reports upon those familiar blue papers are
furnished regularly. In view of what I had read in that report from Karl
Kleist, I stood amazed when, at the grand Court a week later, I had
witnessed Herr Reitschel's French wife bow before the Emperor and
Empress and noticed how graciously the Kaiser had smiled upon her. Truly
the Emperor is sphinx-like and imperturbable. Outside the privacy of his
own room, that chamber of cunning plots and fierce revenge, he never
allows his sardonic countenance to betray his inner thoughts, and will
grasp the hand of his most hated enemy with the hearty warmth of
friendship, a Satanic _volte-face_ in which danger and evil lurk always,
a trait inherited to its full degree by the Crown-Prince.

The days that followed Frau Kleist's midnight visit were indeed busy,
eventful days. Certain diplomatic negotiations with Washington had been
unsuccessful; Von Holleben, the Ambassador, had been recalled, and given
an extremely bad half-hour by both Kaiser and Chancellor. In addition,
some wily American journalist had fathomed the amazing duplicity of
Prince Henry's visit to the States and Germany's Press Bureau in
America, while the Yellow Press of New York had published a ghastly
array of facts and figures concerning the latter, together with
facsimile documents, all of which had sent His Majesty half-crazy with
anger.

Nearly three months passed.

Herr Reitschel often came from Constantinople, and frequently brought
his handsome young wife with him, for he was _persona grata_ at Court.
To me this was indeed strange in view of the reports of the ex-opera
dancer's son--who, by the way, lived in Constantinople in the
unsuspicious guise of a carpet-dealer, and unknown to the bank director.

The latter had, assisted by his wife's fortune, inherited from her
grandmother, purchased the Schloss Langenberg, the splendid ancestral
castle and estates of the Princes of Langenberg, situate on a rock
between Ilmenau and Zella, in the beautiful Thuringian Forest, and
acknowledged to be one of the most famous shooting estates in the
Empire. It was not, therefore, surprising that the Emperor, to mark his
favour, should express a desire to shoot capercailzie there--a desire
which, of course, delighted Herr Reitschel, who had only a few days
before been decorated with the Order of the Black Eagle.

One afternoon in mid-autumn the Emperor, accompanied by the Crown-Prince
and myself, together with the suite, arrived by the Imperial train at
the little station of Ilmenau, where, of course, Reitschel and his
pretty wife, with the land-rats, head and under foresters, and all sorts
of civil officials in black coats and white ties bowed low as the
All-Highest stepped from his saloon. The Kaiser was most gracious to his
host and hostess, while the schloss, we found, was almost equal in
beauty and extent to that of Prince Max Egon zu Fuerstenberg at
Donau-Eschingen, which place we always visited once, if not twice, each
year.

The Emperor had complained of a slight cold, and in consequence, just
before we left Berlin, I had been instructed to summon by telegraph a
certain Dr. Vollerthun from Augsburg, who was a perfect stranger to us
all, but who had, I supposed, been recommended to the Emperor by
somebody who, for some consideration, wished to advance him in his
profession.

While the Emperor and his host were out shooting, the Crown-Prince and
several of the suite being of the party, I remained alone in a big,
circular, old-world room in one of the towers of the Castle, where the
long, narrow windows overlooked the forest, dealing with a flood of
important State papers which a courier had brought from Berlin two hours
before. Papers followed us daily wherever we might be, even when
yachting at Cowes or in the Norwegian fjords.

About midday Dr. Vollerthun was ushered in to me--a short, stout,
guttural-speaking man of about sixty, rather bald, and wearing big,
round, gold-rimmed spectacles. I quickly handed him over to the
major-domo. He was a stranger, and no doubt one who sought the Emperor's
favour, therefore as such I took but little interest in him.

About three o'clock that same afternoon, however, a light tap came at
the door, and on looking round, I saw my hostess standing upon the
threshold.

She was quietly but elegantly dressed, presenting the true type of the
smart Parisienne, but in an instant I realized that she was very pale
and agitated. Indeed her voice trembled when she asked permission to
enter.

Since her marriage I had many times chatted with her, for she often came
to the Palace when her husband visited Berlin, as he did so frequently.
I had danced with her; I had taken her in to dinner at various houses
where we met, always finding her a bright and very intellectual
companion.

She quietly closed the door, and, crossing the room with uneven steps,
advanced to the table from which I had risen.

"Count von Heltzendorff!" she exclaimed in a low, strained voice. "I--I
have come to seek your aid because--well, because I'm distracted, and I
know that you are my husband's friend," she exclaimed in French.

"And yours also, Madame," I said earnestly, bowing and pulling forward a
chair for her.

"My husband is out with the Emperor!" she gasped in a curious, unnerved
tone. "And I fear; oh, I fear that we are in great peril--deadly peril
every hour--every moment!"

"Really, Madame, I hardly follow you," I said, standing before the
dark-haired, handsome French girl--for she was little more than a
girl--who had inherited the whole fortune of the biggest sugar refinery
in Europe, the great factory out at St. Denis which supplied nearly
one-sixth of the refined sugar of the world.

"My husband, whom I love devotedly, has done his best in the interests
of his Emperor. You, Count, know--for you are in a position to know--the
real aims of the Kaiser in Turkey. These last six months I have watched,
and have learned the truth! I know how, when the Emperor went to
Constantinople five months ago in pretence of friendship towards the
Sultan, with Professor Vambery as interpreter, he practically compelled
Abdul Hamid to give him, in return for certain financial advances, those
wonderful jewels which the Empress Catherine, wife of Peter the Great,
gave in secret to the Grand Vizier to secure the escape of the Russian
Army across the Pruth. I know how the Emperor seized those wonderful
emeralds, and, carrying them back to Potsdam, has given them to the
Empress. I know, too, how he laughed with my husband at the cleverness
by which he is fooling the too trustful Turks. I----"

"Pardon, Madame," I said, interrupting her, and speaking in French, "but
is it really wise to speak thus of the Emperor's secrets? Your husband
is, I fear, guilty of great indiscretion in mentioning such matters."

"I am his wife, Count, and he conceals little, if anything, from me."

I looked the pretty young woman straight in the face in fear and regret.

Possession of those ancient jewels which, with reluctance, Abdul Hamid
had brought out from his treasury, was one of the Kaiser's greatest
secrets, a secret of Potsdam known to no more than three people,
including myself. The Emperor had specially imposed silence upon me,
because he did not wish the Powers to suspect his true Eastern policy of
bribery and double-dealing, blackmail and plunder.

And yet she, the daughter of a French diplomat, knew the truth!

Instantly I realized the serious danger of the secret being betrayed to
France.

"Madame," I said, leaning against the writing-table as I spoke in
deepest earnestness. "If I may be permitted, I would urge that the
Emperor's diplomacy neither concerns your husband, as an official, nor
yourself. It is his own private affair, and should neither be discussed
nor betrayed."

"I know," she said. "That is just why I have ventured to come here to
consult you, M'sieur! You have been my good friend as well as my
husband's, and here to-day, while the Emperor is our guest beneath our
roof, I feel that I am in greatest peril!"

"Why?" I asked with considerable surprise.

"The Emperor has already learnt that I know the truth regarding his
secret," was her slow reply. "By what means His Majesty has discovered
it, I, alas! know not. But I do know from a confidential quarter that I
have incurred the Emperor's gravest displeasure and hatred."

"Who is your informant?" I inquired sternly, eager to further
investigate the great intrigue.

"A certain person who must be nameless."

"Have you spoken to anybody of the Emperor's secret plans in Turkey, or
of his possession of the Empress Catherine's jewels?"

"I have not uttered a word to a single soul except my husband. I swear
it."

"Your husband was extremely indiscreet in revealing anything," I
declared again quite frankly.

"I fully admit that. But what can I do? How shall I act?" she asked in a
low, tense voice. "Advise me, do."

For some moments I remained silent. The situation, with a pretty woman
seeking my aid in such circumstances, was difficult.

"Well, Madame," I replied after reflection, "if you are really ready to
promise the strictest secrecy and leave the matter to me, I will
endeavour to find a way out of the difficulty--providing you--good
German that you are by marriage--will take, before the Emperor himself,
an oath of complete secrecy?"

"I am ready to do anything--anything for my dear husband's sake," the
handsome young woman assured me, tears welling in her fine dark eyes.

"In that case, then, please leave the matter entirely in my hands," I
said. And later on she left.

That same night, about ten o'clock, the Emperor, in the dark-green
uniform which he always wears at dinner after hunting or shooting,
entered the room to which I had just returned to work.

"Send Frau Kleist to me," he snapped. "And I will summon you later when
I want you, Heltzendorff."

Frau Kleist! I had no idea the woman had arrived at the castle. But I
dispatched one of the servants to search for her, and afterwards heard
her high-pitched voice as she ascended the stairs to hold secret and, no
doubt, evil counsel with His Majesty.

Below I found the fat, fair-haired little doctor from Augsburg, who was
still an enigma, but eager to see his Imperial patient, and with him I
smoked a cigarette to while away the time. I was anxious to return to
His Majesty, and, as became my duty as his adjutant, to explain what I
had learnt from the lips of our French hostess.

Suddenly one of the Imperial flunkeys bowed at the door, commanding the
doctor to the Royal presence, and he left me, hot and flurried, as all
become who are unused to the Court atmosphere, its rigid etiquette, and
its constant bows.

Had the Emperor called the unknown doctor into consultation with Frau
Kleist?

Inquiries I had made concerning the doctor from Augsburg showed that he
was quite a well-known specialist on mental diseases, and he had also
written a text-book upon bacteriology and the brain. Why had the Kaiser
summoned him? He required no brain specialist.

"We leave to-morrow at noon," the Emperor exclaimed brusquely when, an
hour later, I was summoned to his room. This amazed me, for our
arrangements were to remain three days longer. I recollected Madame
Reitschel's words.

"I do not feel at all well," His Majesty added, "and this Dr. Vollerthun
orders me rest at Potsdam."

In silence I bowed, and then ventured to refer to what was uppermost in
my mind.

"May I be permitted to speak to your Majesty upon a certain confidential
subject?" I begged, standing against the table whereat I had been
writing the greater part of that day.

"What subject?" snapped the All-Highest.

"Your Majesty's negotiations with the Sultan of Turkey. Frau Reitschel
has learnt of them, but she is eager to come before you and take oath of
entire secrecy."

The Kaiser's eyes narrowed and glowed in sudden anger.

"A woman's oath!" he cried. "Bah! Never have I believed in silence
imposed upon any woman's tongue--more especially that of a born enemy! I
appreciate your loyalty and acumen, Von Heltzendorff, but I have,
fortunately, known this for some little time, and in strictest secrecy
have taken certain measures to combat it. Remember that these words have
never been uttered to you! Remember that! You are adjutant, and I am
Emperor. Understand! I fully appreciate and note your loyal report, but
it is not woman's sphere to enter our diplomacy, except as a secret
agent of our Fatherland. Let us say no more."

Ten minutes later, being dismissed, I wandered back through the great,
silent, echoing corridors of the ancient castle to my own room. A great
human drama, greater than any ever placed upon the stage, was now being
enacted. Throwing his loaded dice, the Emperor, with all his craft,
cunning, and criminal unscrupulousness behind his mask of Christianity,
and aided by his unprincipled son, the Crown-Prince, was actually
plotting the downfall of the Turkish Empire and the overthrow of Islam
in Europe. Between the All-Highest One and the realization of those
dastardly plans for world-power so carefully and cleverly thought out in
every detail night after night in the silence of that dull, faded green
room upstairs at Potsdam, stood one frail little Parisienne, the
vivacious, well-meaning Madame Reitschel!

Next day we left the Schloss Langenberg, but before doing so we heard
with regret that our charming little hostess had been suddenly taken ill
during the night, and the Kaiser, as a mark of favour, had ordered his
doctor, Vollerthun, to remain behind to attend her. That Herr Reitschel
was in great distress I saw from his face as he stood taking leave of
his Imperial guest on the little platform at Ilmenau.

Back in Berlin, I wondered what was in progress in that far-off Schloss
in Thuringia, but a week later the truth became vividly apparent when I
read in the _Staats-Anzeiger_ an announcement which disclosed to me the
terrible truth.

I held my breath as my eyes followed the printed lines.

Frau Reitschel, the young wife of the famous Anton Reitschel of
Constantinople, had, the journal reported, been seized by a sudden and
somewhat mysterious illness on the night prior to the Emperor's
departure from the Schloss Langenberg, and though His Majesty had
graciously left his own physician behind to attend her, the unfortunate
lady had developed insanity to such a hopeless degree that it had been
necessary to confine her in the Rosenau private asylum at Coburg.

In a second I realized how the dancing-mistress and the mental
specialist from Augsburg had been the tools of the Emperor. That
"mysterious illness," developing into madness, was surely not the result
of any natural cause, but had been deliberately planned and executed by
means of a hypodermic syringe, in order that the woman who had learnt
the secret of the Emperor's double cunning in the Near East should be
for ever immured in a madhouse.

Outside the trio responsible for the cruel and dastardly act, I alone
knew the truth how, by the Emperor's drastic action, he had prevented
the secret of his chicanery leaking out to the Powers.

Poor Madame Reitschel! She died early in 1913, a raving lunatic. Her
devoted husband, having served the Emperor's purpose, had been recalled
to Berlin, where, bereft of the Kaiser's favour, he predeceased her by
about six months, broken-hearted, but in utter ignorance of that foul
plot carried out under his very nose and in his own castle.




SECRET NUMBER FIVE

THE GIRL WHO KNEW THE CROWN-PRINCE'S SECRET


Late on the night of November 18th, 1912, I was busily at work in the
Crown-Prince's room--that cosy apartment of which I possessed the
key--at the Marble Palace at Potsdam.

I, as His Imperial Highness's personal-adjutant, had been travelling all
day with him from Cologne to Berlin. We had done a tour of military
inspections in Westphalia, and, as usual, "Willie's" conduct, as became
the heir-apparent of the psalm-singing All-Highest One, had not been
exactly exemplary.

With his slant eyes and sarcastic grin he openly defied the Emperor, and
frequently referred to him to his intimates as "a hoary old
hypocrite"--the truth of which recent events have surely proved.

On the night in question, however, much had happened. The Emperor had, a
month before, returned from a visit to England, where he had been
engaged by speeches and hand-shakes, public and private, blowing a
narcotic dust into the nostrils of your dear but, alas! too confiding
nation.

You British were all dazzled--you dear English drank the Imperial
sleeping-draught, prepared so cunningly for you and your Cabinet
Ministers in what we in Berlin sometimes called "the Downing-Strasse."
You lapped up the cream of German good-fellowship as a cat laps milk,
even while agents of our Imperial War Staff had held Staff-rides in
various parts of your island. All of you were blind, save those whom
your own people denounced as scaremongers when they lifted their voices
in warning.

We at Potsdam smiled daily at what seemed to us to be the slow but sure
decline of your great nation from its military, naval, and commercial
supremacy. The Kaiser had plotted for fourteen years, and now he was
being actively aided by his eldest son, that shrewd, active agnostic
with a criminal kink.

"Heltzendorff!" exclaimed the Crown-Prince, as he suddenly entered the
room where I was busy attending to a pile of papers which had
accumulated during our absence in Westphalia, and which had been sorted
into three heaps by my assistant during our absence. "Do get through all
those letters and things. Burn them all if you can. What do they
matter?"

"Many of them are matters of grave importance. Here, for instance, is a
report from the Chief of Military Intelligence in Washington."

"Oh, old Friesch! Tear it up! He is but an old fossil at best. And yet,
Heltzendorff, he is designed to be of considerable use," he added. "His
Majesty told me to-night that after his visit to England he has
conceived the idea to establish an official movement for the improvement
of better relations between Britain and Germany. The dear British are
always ready to receive such movements with open arms. At Carlton House
Terrace they strongly endorse the Emperor's ideas, and he tells me that
the movement should first arise in commercial and shipping circles. Herr
Ballin will generate the idea in his offices in London and the various
British ports, while His Majesty has Von Gessler, the ex-Ambassador at
Washington, in view as the man to bring forth the suggestion publicly.
Indeed, to-night from the Wilhelmstrasse there has been sent a message
to his schloss on the Mosel commanding him to consult with His Majesty.
Von Bernstorff took his place at Washington a few months ago."

"But Von Gessler is an inveterate enemy of Britain," I exclaimed in
surprise, still seated at my table.

"The world does not know that. The whole scheme is based upon Britain's
ignorance of our intentions. We bring Von Gessler forward as the dear,
good, Anglophile friend with his hand outstretched from the
Wilhelmstrasse. Oh, Heltzendorff!" he laughed. "It is really intensely
amusing, is it not?"

I was silent. I knew that the deeply-laid plot against Great Britain was
proceeding apace, for had I not seen those many secret reports, and did
I not possess inside knowledge of the evil intentions of the Emperor and
his son.

"Get through all that--to-night if you can, Heltzendorff," the
Crown-Prince urged. "The Crown-Princess leaves for Treseburg, in the
Harz, to-morrow, and in the evening we go to Nice."

"To Nice!" I exclaimed, though not at all disinclined to spend a week or
so on the Riviera.

"Yes," he said. "I have a friend there. The Riviera is only pleasant
before the season, or after. One cannot go with the crowd in January or
February. I have already given orders for the saloon to leave at eleven
to-morrow night. That will give us ample time."

A friend there! I reflected. I, knowing his partiality to the eternal
petticoat, could only suppose that the attraction in Nice was of the
feminine gender.

"Then the lady is in Nice!" I remarked, for sometimes I was permitted,
on account of my long service with the Emperor, to speak familiarly.

"Lady, no!" he retorted. "It is a man. And I want to get to Nice at the
earliest moment. So get through those infernal documents. Burn them all.
They are better out of the way," he laughed.

And, taking a cigarette from the golden box--a present to him from
"Tino" of Greece--he lit it, and wishing me good night, strode out.

Just before eleven o'clock on the following night we left the Marmor
Palace. His Imperial Highness travelled incognito as he always did when
visiting France, assuming the name of Count von Gruenau. With us was his
personal valet, Schuler, the military secretary, Major Lentze, and
Eckardt, the Commissioner of Secret Police for His Highness's personal
protection, who travelled with us wherever we went. In addition, there
was an under-valet, and Knof, the Crown-Prince's favourite chauffeur.
When abroad cars were either bought and afterwards re-sold, or else
hired, but Knof, who was a celebrated racing motorist and had driven in
Prince Henry's tour of exploration through England, and who had gained
many prizes on the various circuits, was always taken as "driver."

After a restless night--for there were many stoppages--I spent next day
with the Crown-Prince in long and tiring discussions on military affairs
as we travelled due south in the beautifully-fitted Imperial car,
replete with its smoking saloon with wicker chairs, its four bathrooms,
and other luxuries. I endeavoured to obtain from him some reason why we
were proceeding to Nice, but to all my inquiries he was smilingly dumb.
He noticed my eagerness, and I saw that he was amused by it.

Yet somehow, as we travelled towards the Italian frontier--for our road
lay through Austria down to Milan, and thence by way of Genoa--he seemed
to become unduly thoughtful and anxious.

Only a fortnight before he had had one of those ever-recurring and
unseemly quarrels with his long-suffering wife.

"Cilli is a fool!" he had declared openly to me, after she had left the
room in anger.

We had been busy arranging a programme of official visits in Eastern
Germany, when suddenly the Crown-Princess entered, pale with anger, and
disregarding my presence--for I suppose I was regarded as one who knew
all the happenings of the palace, and whose discretion could be relied
upon--began to demand fiercely an explanation of a certain anonymous
letter which she held in her hand.

"Kindly read that!" she said haughtily, "and explain what it means!"

The Crown-Prince grinned idiotically, that cold, sinister expression
overspreading his countenance, a look which is such a marked
characteristic of his.

Then, almost snatching the letter from his young wife's fingers, he read
it through, and with a sudden movement tore it up and flung it upon the
carpet, saying:

"I refuse to discuss any unsigned letter! Really, if we were to notice
every letter written by the common scum we should, indeed, have
sufficient to do."

His wife's arched brows narrowed. Her pale, delicate face, in which the
lines of care had appeared too prematurely, already betrayed fiercest
anger.

"I happen to have inquired, and I now know that those allegations are
correct!" she cried. "This dark-haired singer-woman, Irene Speroni, has
attained great success on the variety stage in Italy. She is the star of
the Sala Margherita in Rome."

"Well?" he asked in defiance. "And what of it, pray?"

"That letter you have destroyed tells me the truth. I received it a few
days ago, and sent an agent to Italy in order to learn the truth. He has
returned to-night. See!" And suddenly she produced a crannied snapshot
photograph, of postcard size, of the Crown-Prince in his polo-playing
garb, and with him a smartly-dressed young woman, whose features were in
the shadow. I caught sight of that picture, because when he tossed it
from him angrily without glancing at it, I picked it up and handed it
back to the Crown-Princess.

"Yes," she cried bitterly, "You refuse, of course, to look upon this
piece of evidence! I now know why you went to Wiesbaden. The woman was
singing there, and you gave her a pair of emerald and diamond earrings
which you purchased from Vollgold in Unter den Linden. See! Here is the
bill for them!"

And again she produced a slip of paper.

At this the Crown-Prince grew instantly furious, and, pale to the lips,
he roundly abused his long-suffering wife, telling her quite frankly
that, notwithstanding the fact that she might spy upon his movements, he
should act exactly as his impulses dictated.

That scene was, indeed, a disgraceful one, ending in the poor woman, in
a frantic paroxysm of despair, tearing off the splendid necklet of
diamonds at her throat--his present to her on their marriage--and
casting it full into his face.

Then, realizing that the scene had become too tragic, I took her small
hand, and, with a word of sympathy, led her out of the room and along
the corridor.

As I left her she burst into a sudden torrent of tears; yet when I
returned again to the Crown-Prince I found his manner had entirely
changed. He treated his wife's natural resentment and indignation as a
huge joke, and it was then that His Imperial Highness declared to me:

"Cilli is a fool!"

That sunny afternoon the Crown-Prince had sprawled himself on the plush
lounge of the smoking car as the train travelled upon that picturesque
line between Genoa and the French frontier at Ventimiglia, the line
which follows the coast for six hours. With the tideless sapphire
Mediterranean lapping the yellow beach on the one side and high brown
rocks upon the other, we went through Savona, Albenga, the old-world
Porto Maurizio to the glaring modern town of San Remo and palm-embowered
Bordighera, that beautiful Italian Riviera that you and I know so well.

"Listen, Heltzendorff," his Highness exclaimed suddenly between the
whiffs of his cigarette. "In Nice I may disappear for a day or two. I
may be missing. But if I am, please don't raise a fuss about it. I'm
incognito, and nobody will know. I may be absent for seven days. If I am
not back by that time then you may make inquiry."

"But the Commissary of Police Eckardt! He will surely know?" I remarked
in surprise.

"No. He won't know. I shall evade him as I've so often done before,"
replied His Imperial Highness. "I tell you of my intentions so that you
may curb the activities of our most estimable friend. Tell him not to
worry, and he will be paid a thousand marks on the day Count von Gruenau
reappears."

I smiled, for I saw the influence of the eternal feminine.

"No, Heltzendorff. You are quite mistaken," he said, reading my
thoughts, and putting down his cigarette end. "There is no lady in this
case. I am out here for secret purposes of my own. For that reason I
take you into my confidence rather than that unnecessary inquiry should
be made and some of those infernal journalists get hold of the fact that
the Count von Gruenau and the Crown-Prince are one and the same person. I
was a fool to take this saloon. I ought to have travelled as an ordinary
passenger, I know, but," he laughed, "this is really comfortable and,
after all, what do we care what the world thinks--eh? Surely we can
afford to laugh at it when all the honours of the game are already in
our hands."

And at that moment we ran into the pretty, flower-decked station of San
Remo, the place freshly painted for the attraction of the winter
visitors who annually went south for sunshine.

His words mystified me, but I became even more mystified by his actions
a few days later.

I was in ignorance that a fortnight before Hermann Hardt, one of His
Highness's couriers, had left Potsdam and on arrival at Nice had rented
for three months the fine Villa Lilas--the winter residence of the
American millionaire leather merchant, James G. Jamieson, of Boston, who
had gone yachting to Japan.

You know Nice, my dear Le Queux--you know it as well as I do, therefore
you know the Villa Lilas, that big white mansion which faces the sea on
Montboron, the hill road between the port of Nice and Villefranche. Half
hidden among the mimosa, the palms, and grey-green olives, it is after
the style of Mr. Gordon Bennett's villa at Beaulieu, with a big glass
front and pretty verandas, with climbing geraniums flowering upon the
terraces.

We soon settled there, for the household staff had arrived three days
before, and on the evening of our arrival I accompanied the Crown-Prince
down into the town to the Jetee promenade, the pier-pavilion where the
gay cosmopolitan world disports itself to chatter, drink and gamble.

It was a glorious moonlit night, and "Willie," after strolling through
the great gilded saloons, in one of which was a second-rate variety
entertainment--the season not having yet commenced--went outside. We sat
at the end of the pier smoking.

"Nice is dull as yet, is it not?" he remarked, for each year he always
spent a month there incognito, the German newspapers announcing that he
was away shooting. But "Willie," leading the gay life of the Imperial
butterfly, much preferred the lively existence of the Cote d'Azur to the
remote schloss in Thuringia or elsewhere.

I agreed with him that Nice had not yet put on the tinsel and pasteboard
of her Carnival attractions. As you know, Carnival in Nice is gay
enough, but, after all, it is a forced gaiety got up for the profit of
the shops and hotels, combined with the "Cercle des Bains" of
Monaco--the polite title of the Prince's gilded gambling hell.

We smoked together and chatted, as we often did when His Imperial
Highness became bored. I was still mystified why we had come to the
Riviera so early in the season, because the white and pale green paint
of the hotels was not yet dry, and half of them not yet open.

Yet our coming had, no doubt, been privately signalled, because within
half an hour of our arrival at the Villa Lilas a short, stout old
Frenchman, with white, bristly hair--whom I afterwards found out was
Monsieur Paul Bavouzet, the newly-appointed Prefect of the Department of
Alpes-Maritimes--called to leave his card upon the Count von Gruenau.

The Imperial incognito only means that the public are to be deluded.
Officialdom never is. They know the ruse, and support it all the world
over. His Highness the Crown-Prince was paying his annual visit to Nice,
and the President had sent his compliments through his representative,
the bristly-haired little Prefect.

Soon after eleven that night the Crown-Prince, after chatting affably
with me, strolled back to the Promenade des Anglais, where Knof, the
chauffeur, awaited us with a big open car, in which we were whizzed
around the port and up to Montboron in a few minutes.

As I parted from the Crown-Prince, who yawned and declared that he was
tired, he said:

"Ah! Heltzendorff. How good it is to get a breath of soft air from the
Mediterranean! We shall have a port on this pleasant sea one day--if we
live as long--eh?"

That remark showed the trend of events. It showed how, hand in hand with
the Emperor, he was urging preparations for war--a war that had for its
primary object the destruction of the Powers which, when the volcano
erupted, united as allies.

The bright autumn days passed quite uneventfully, and frequently I went
pleasant motor runs into the mountains with His Highness, up to the
frontier at the Col di Tenda, to La Vesubie, Puget-Theniers, and other
places. Yet I was still mystified at the reason of our sojourn there.

After we had been at the Villa Lilas about ten days I was one afternoon
seated outside the popular Cafe de l'Opera, in the Place Massena, when a
lady, dressed in deep mourning and wearing the heavy veil in French
style, passed along the pavement, glanced at me, and then, hesitating,
she turned, and, coming back, advanced to the little table in the corner
whereat I was sitting.

"May I be permitted to have a word with you, Monsieur?" she asked in
French, in a low, refined voice.

"Certainly," was my reply, and, not without some surprise, I rose and
drew a chair for her.

She glanced round quickly, as though to satisfy herself that she would
not be overheard, but, as a matter of fact, at that hour the chairs on
the terraces of the cafe were practically deserted. At the same moment,
viewing her closely, I saw that she was about twenty-four, handsome,
dark-haired, with well-cut features.

"I know, Monsieur, that I am a complete stranger to you," she exclaimed
with a smile, "but to me you are quite familiar by sight. I have passed
you many times in Berlin and in Potsdam, and I know that you are Count
von Heltzendorff, personal-adjutant to His Highness the
Crown-Prince--or Count von Gruenau, as he is known here in France."

"You know that!" I exclaimed.

She smiled mysteriously, replying:

"Yes. I--well, I happen to be a friend of His Highness."

I held my breath. So this pretty young Frenchwoman was one of my young
Imperial master's friends!

"The fact is, Count," she went on, "I have travelled a considerable
distance to see you. I said that I was one of the Crown-Prince's
friends. Please do not misunderstand me. I know that he has a good many
lady friends, but, as far as I am concerned, I have never been
introduced to him, and he does not know me. I am his friend because of a
certain friendliness towards him."

"Really, Madame, I don't quite understand," I said.

"Of course not," she answered, and then, glancing round, she added:
"This place is a little too public. Cannot we go across to the garden
yonder?"

At her suggestion I rose and walked with her to a quiet spot in the
gardens, where we sat down, and I listened with interest to her.

She told me that her name was Julie de Rouville, but she would give no
account of where she lived, though I took it that she was a young widow.

"I have ventured to approach you, Count, because I cannot approach the
Crown-Prince," she said presently. "You probably do not know the true
reason of his visit here to Nice?"

"No," I said. "I admit that I do not. Why is he here?"

"It is a secret of his own. But, curiously enough, I am aware of the
reason, and that is why I have sought you. Would it surprise you if I
told you that in a certain quarter in France it will, in a few days, be
known that the German Emperor is establishing a movement for an
_entente_ between Germany and Britain, and that the whole affair is
based upon a fraud? The Emperor wants no _entente_, but only war with
France and with Britain. The whole plot will be exposed in a few days!"

"From what source have you derived this knowledge?" I asked, looking at
her in amazement that she should know one of the greatest State secrets
of Germany.

But she again smiled mysteriously, and said:

"I merely tell you this in order to prove to you that I am in possession
of certain facts known to but few people."

"You evidently are," I said. "But who intends to betray the truth to
France?"

"I regret, Count, that I cannot answer your question."

"If you are, as you say, the Crown-Prince's friend, it would surely be a
friendly act to let us know the truth, so that steps may be taken,
perhaps, to avoid the secret of Germany's diplomacy from leaking out to
her enemies."

"All I can tell you, Count, is that the matter is one of gravest
importance."

"But will you not speak openly, and give us the actual facts?"

"I will--but to His Imperial Highness alone," was her answer.

"You wish to meet him, then?" I asked, rather suspicious that it might
after all be only a woman's ruse. And yet what she had said showed that
she knew the Emperor's secret, for she had actually mentioned Von
Gessler's name in connection with the pretended Anglo-German _entente_.

"If His Highness will honour me with an interview, then I will reveal
all I know, and, further, will suggest a means of preventing the truth
from leaking out."

"But you are French," I said.

"I have told you so," she laughed. "But probably His Highness will
refuse to see Julie de Rouville, therefore I think it best if you show
him this."

From her little gold chain-purse she produced a small, unmounted
photograph of herself, and handed it to me.

"When he recognizes who wishes to see him he will fully understand," she
said, in a quiet, refined voice. "A letter addressed to Julie de
Rouville at the Post Restante at Marseilles will quickly find me."

"At Marseilles?" I echoed.

"Yes. I do not wish the letter to be sent to me here. From Marseilles I
shall duly receive it."

I was silent for a few moments.

"I confess," I exclaimed at last. "I confess I do not exactly see the
necessity for an interview with His Highness, when whatever you tell
me--as his personal-adjutant--will be regarded as strictly in
confidence."

Truth to tell, I was extremely suspicious of her. She might be desirous
of meeting the Prince with some evil intent.

"I have already said, Count Heltzendorff, that I am His Highness's
friend, and wish to approach him with motives of friendship."

"You wish for no payment for this information, eh?" I asked
suspiciously, half believing that she might be a secret agent of France.

"Payment--of course not!" she answered, half indignantly. "Show that
photograph to the Crown-Prince, and tell him that I apply for an
interview."

Then, rather abruptly, she rose, and, thanking me, wished me good
afternoon, and walked away, leaving me with her photograph in my hand.

The Crown-Prince was out motoring, and did not get back to the Villa
until after seven o'clock.

As soon as I heard of his return I went to his room, and recounted my
strange adventure with the dark-haired young woman in black. He became
keenly interested, and the more so when I told him of her secret
knowledge of the Kaiser's intended establishment of a bogus _entente_
with Great Britain.

"She wishes to see you," I said. "And she told me to give you her
photograph."

I handed it to him.

At sight of it his face instantly changed. He held his breath, and then
examined the photograph beneath the light. Afterwards I noticed a
strange, hard look at the corners of his mouth, while his teeth set
themselves firmly.

Next second, however, he had recovered his self-possession, and with a
low laugh said:

"Yes. Of course, I know her. She wants me to write to Julie de Rouville
at the Post Restante at Marseilles, eh? H'm--I'll think it over."

And I could see that sight of the photograph had not only displeased
him, but it also caused him very considerable uneasiness.

Late in the afternoon, two days later, His Highness, who had been
walking alone, and who had apparently evaded the vigilance of the
ever-watchful Eckardt, returned to the Villa with a stranger, a tall,
rather thin, fair-haired man, undoubtedly a German, and the pair were
closeted together, holding counsel evidently for a considerable time.
Where His Highness met him I knew not, but when later on I entered the
room I saw that the pair were on quite friendly terms.

His Highness addressed him as Herr Schaefer, and when he had left he told
me that he was from the Wilhelmstrasse, and had been attached to the
Embassy at Washington, and afterwards in London, "for affairs of the
Press"--which meant that he was conductor of the German Press
propaganda.

It seemed curious that the young man Schaefer should be in such high
favour with the Crown-Prince.

I watched closely. Whatever was in progress was a strict secret between
the pair. The more I saw of Hans Schaefer the more I disliked him. He
had cruel eyes and heavy, sensuous lips--a coarse countenance which was
the reverse of prepossessing, though I could see that he was a very
clever and cunning person.

For a full fortnight the Crown-Prince and the man Schaefer were almost
inseparable. Was it for the purpose of meeting Schaefer that we had gone
to Nice? The man had been back from London about two months, and had, I
learnt, been lately living in Paris.

One evening while strolling in the sunset by the sea along the
tree-lined Promenade des Anglais, I suddenly encountered Julie de
Rouville, dressed in mourning, a quiet, pathetic figure, just as we had
last met.

I instantly recollected that since the evening when I had given her
photograph to the Crown-Prince he had never mentioned her, and I could
only believe that for some mysterious reason sight of the picture had
recalled some distasteful memory.

"Ah, Count!" she cried, as I halted and raised my hat. "This is, indeed,
a welcome meeting! I have been looking out for you for the past two
days."

"I've been staying over at Cannes," was my reply. "Well?"

She indicated a seat, and upon it we sat together.

"I have to thank you for giving my photograph and message to His
Highness," she said in that sweet, refined voice that I so well
remembered.

"I trust that the Crown-Prince has written to you--eh?"

She smiled, a trifle sadly I thought.

"Well, no----" was her rather vague reply.

"Then how are you aware that I gave your message?"

She shook her head and again smiled.

"I had my own means of discovery. By certain signs I knew that you had
carried out your promise," she said. "But as I have heard nothing, I
wish you, if you will, to deliver another message--a very urgent one.
Tell him I must see him, for I dread daily lest the truth of the
Kaiser's real intentions be known at the Quai d'Orsay."

"Certainly," was my polite reply. "I will deliver your message this
evening."

"Tell him that my sole desire is to act in the interests of the Emperor
and himself," she urged.

"But, forgive me," I said, "I cannot see why you should interest
yourself in the Crown-Prince if he declines to communicate with you."

"I have my reasons, Count von Heltzendorff," was her rather haughty
reply. "Please tell him that the matter will not brook further delay."

I had seen in the London newspapers during the past week how eagerly the
English journalists, with the dust cast into their eyes, were blindly
advocating that the British public should welcome the great German
national movement, headed by Baron von Gessler, supported by Ballin,
Delbrueck, and Von Wedel, with the hearty co-operation of the Emperor and
the Imperial Chancellor--the movement to establish better relations with
Great Britain.

I knew that the secret should at all hazards be kept, and that night I
told the Crown-Prince of my second meeting with the pretty woman in
black and her urgent request.

He laughed, but made no remark. Yet I knew by his tone that he was not
so easy in his mind as he desired me to believe.

It also seemed strange why, if the young Frenchwoman was so desirous of
meeting him, she did not call at the Villa.

About a week later it suddenly occurred to me to endeavour to discover
the real identity of the lady in black, but as I was not certain whether
she actually lived in Nice it was rather difficult. Nevertheless, by
invoking the aid of my friend Belabre, inspector of the Surete of Nice,
and after waiting a few days I made an astounding discovery, namely,
that the lady who called herself De Rouville was an Italian cafe concert
singer named Irene Speroni--the woman who had aroused the jealousy of
the Crown-Princess! And she knew that important State secret of Germany!

The situation was, I saw, a most serious one. Indeed, I felt it my duty
to mention my discovery to His Highness, when, to my surprise, he was
not in the least angry. He merely said:

"It is true, Heltzendorff--true what the Crown-Princess declared--that I
went to Wiesbaden and that I gave the woman a pair of emerald earrings
which I ordered from old Vollgold. But there was no reason for jealousy.
I saw the woman, and gave her the present in the hope of closing her
lips."

In a moment I understood. The pretty variety artiste was endeavouring to
levy blackmail. But how could she, in her position, have learnt the
secret of the Emperor's intentions?

She was, I found, living as Signorina Speroni, with her maid, at the
Hotel Bristol over at Beaulieu, just across the blue bay of
Villefranche, and as the days went on I realized the imminent danger of
exposure, and wondered if the Kaiser knew of it.

I made a remark to that effect to His Highness one morning, whereupon he
replied:

"Don't disturb yourself, my dear Heltzendorff! I have not overlooked the
matter, for it is one that closely concerns both the Emperor and myself.
The woman obtained the secret by opening the dispatch-box of one who
believed her to be his friend, and then she attempted to use her
knowledge in order to drag me into her net. But I do not think I am very
likely to be caught--eh?"

At that moment Herr Schaefer entered the room, therefore further
discussion was out of the question.

From inquiries I made later on I found that the concert singer had
suddenly left the hotel, therefore I went over to Beaulieu and had an
instructive chat with the hall porter, a German of course. From him I
learnt that the Signorina had been staying there ever since the date
when we had arrived at Nice, and, further, that two gentleman had been
frequently in the habit of calling upon her. One was a smart young
Frenchman who came in a motor-car, and the other was a German. From the
description of the latter I at once came to the conclusion that it was
none other than Herr Schaefer!

"The one gentleman did not know of the other's visits," said the bearded
porter, with a laugh. "The Signorina always impressed silence upon me,
because she thought one would be jealous of the other. The German
gentleman seemed very deeply in love with her, and she called him Hans.
He accompanied her when she left here for San Remo."

I reported this to His Highness, but he made no remark. That some
devilish plot was being carried out I suspected. The Hohenzollerns are
ready to go to any length to prevent their black secrets from leaking
out.

My surmise proved correct, for, a week later, some fishermen found upon
the brown rocks near Capo Verde, beyond San Remo, the body of a woman,
fully dressed, afterwards identified as that of Irene Speroni, the
singer so popular in Rome.

It was proved that on the previous night she had been seen by two
peasants walking along the sea road near San Lorenzo, accompanied by a
tall, thin man, who seemed greatly excited, and was talking in German.
It was believed by the Italian police that the unknown German, in a fit
of jealousy, threw her into the sea.

From facts I gathered some months later I realized that the whole plot
had been most cunningly conceived by the Crown-Prince. Schaefer, after
his return from America, had met the woman Speroni, who was performing
in London, and she had, unknown to him, opened his dispatch-box, and
from some secret correspondence had learned the real truth regarding the
proposed _entente_ which the Emperor contemplated.

Schaefer, alarmed at the woman's knowledge, and yet fascinated by her
charms, had gone to the Crown-Prince, and he, in turn, had seen the
woman in Wiesbaden. Finding her so dangerous to the Emperor's plans, His
Highness then conceived a fiendish plot. He first introduced her to a
young French Marquis, de Vienne by name, who pestered her with his
attentions, and followed her to Beaulieu. Having so far succeeded, the
Crown-Prince went to Nice, and cleverly played upon Schaefer's love for
the woman, pointing out that she was playing a double game, and urging
him to watch.

He did so, and discovered the truth. Then there occurred the tragedy of
jealousy, exactly as the police believed.

Herr Schaefer, the tool of His Imperial Highness, had, however, escaped
to Germany, and the police of San Remo are still in ignorance of his
identity.




SECRET NUMBER SIX

THE AFFAIR OF THE HUNCHBACKED COUNTESS


I suppose that none of your British friends have ever heard the name of
Thyra Adelheid von Kienitz.

She was a funny little deformed person, aged, perhaps, seventy, widow of
the great General von Kienitz, who had served in the Franco-German
campaign, and who, before his death, had been acknowledged to be as
great a strategist as your own Lord Roberts, whom every good German--I
did not write Prussian--salutes in reverence.

Countess von Kienitz was the daughter of a certain Countess von Borcke,
and after living for many years in retirement in her picturesque old
schloss perched on a rock not far from the famous wine district of
Berncastel, on the winding Mosel river, became suddenly seized with an
idea to re-enter Berlin society.

With this view she rented a fine house not far from the Liechtenstein
Bridge, and early in 1911 commenced a series of wildly-extravagant
entertainments--luncheons, dinners, and supper concerts, at which were
artistes to whom three-thousand-mark fees were often paid--with a view,
as it seemed to me, to attract the more modern and go-ahead section of
Berlin society.

At first the smarter set looked askance at the ugly, deformed,
painted-up old woman with the squeaky voice, and they strenuously
declined invitations to her splendid, newly-furnished mansion in the
Stulerstrasse. Indeed, the name of the Countess von Kienitz became
synonymous for all that was grotesque, and her painted, doll-like
countenance and yellow wig were the laughing-stock of both the upper and
middle classes.

Nevertheless she strenuously endeavoured to surround herself with young
society of both sexes, and many smart dances were given at the
Stulerstrasse during the season--dances at which the swaggering Prussian
officer was seen at his gorgeous best.

One afternoon, seated by the Crown-Prince as he drove recklessly his
great Mercedes car along the Bismarckallee in the direction of Potsdam,
we passed an overdressed old woman, very artificial, with yellow hair,
and short of stature.

"Look, Heltzendorff! Is she not like that old crow, Von Kienitz?"

"Yes, her figure is very similar," I admitted.

"Ah! The old woman was introduced to me the other night at
Bismarck-Bohlen's house. _Himmel!_ What a freak! Have you seen her
wig?"

I replied that I had visited once or twice at the Stulerstrasse, and
that the company I had met there were certainly amusing. I mentioned
some of their names, among them that of young Von Ratibor, Major
Gersdorff, of the Death's Head Hussars, Von Heynitz, of the Koenigsjaeger,
a well-known man about town, his friend Winterfeld, together with a
number of ladies of the very ultra go-ahead set. At this His Highness
seemed highly interested.

"She certainly seems a very curious old person," he laughed. "Fancies
that she's but twenty-five, and actually had the audacity to dance at
Bismarck-Bohlen's. Somebody was cruel enough to ask her to sing a French
_chansonnette_!"

"Did she?" I inquired.

"Of course. She put herself into a martial attitude, and sang something
about 'Le drapeau' of 'Jacques Bonhomme,' as though we wished to know
anything about it. The man who suggested the song was sorry."

I laughed heartily. Sometimes the Crown-Prince could be humorous, and it
certainly must have been distinctly quaint when, as a result of the joke
played upon the old Countess, she so completely turned the tables upon
the party by singing a song full of French sentiment.

That circumstance told me that she must be a very clever old lady, even
though she wore that tow-coloured wig which sometimes on nights of
merriment got a trifle askew.

Judge my great surprise, however, when, about six weeks later, Frau von
Alvensleben, the pretty _Grande Maitresse_ of the Court of the
Crown-Princess, stopped me in one of the corridors of the Marmor Palace
and, drawing me aside, whispered:

"I have news for you, my dear Count. We have a new arrival at
Court--Frau Yellow-Wig."

I looked at her, for the moment puzzled. She saw that I did not follow
her.

"Countess von Kienitz--a friend of yours, I believe."

"Friend of mine!" I echoed. "I've only been to her house three or four
times, just in a crowd, and out of curiosity."

"_Oh, la la!_ Well, she has told the Crown-Princess that you are her
friend, and, in brief, has entirely fascinated Her Imperial Highness."

I gasped. At what a pass we had arrived when the Crown-Princess was
receiving that old woman whose reputation was of the gayest and most
scandalous!

What the _Grande Maitresse_ had told me was perfectly correct, for
three days later a dance was held, and as I entered the room I saw
amid that gay assemblage the yellow-haired old widow of the
long-forgotten military hero wagging her lace fan and talking quite
familiarly with Her Imperial Highness. To my utter amazement also,
His Majesty the Emperor, in the gay uniform of the 3rd Regiment of
Uhlans of Saxony--of whom he was chief, among a hundred-and-one other
high military distinctions--advanced and smiled graciously upon her as
she bowed as low as rheumatism and old age allowed.

The fascination which the ugly, shrill-voiced old woman exercised over
"Cilli" was quickly remarked, and, of course, gossip became more rife
than ever, especially when, a week later, it was announced that she had
actually been appointed a lady-in-waiting.

The Crown-Prince, too, soon became on friendly terms with her, and many
times I saw them chatting together as though exchanging confidences.
Why?

His Highness, usually so utterly piggish towards ladies, given to
snubbing even the highest-born in the Empire, was always smiling and
gracious towards her.

"I can't make it out," declared Von Behr, the Chamberlain _du service_,
to me one day two months later, while I was smoking with him in his
room. "The old woman has the most complete control over Her Highness.
Because she was averse to the journey, we are not going to Norway this
year. Besides, since her appointment she has succeeded in plotting the
dismissal of both Countess von Scheet-Plessen and Countess von
Brockdorff."

"I know," I replied. I had been discussing it only a few hours before
with Major von Amsberg, aide-de-camp of the Prince Eitel Frederic, and
he, too, had expressed himself both mystified and disgusted with the
mysterious power exercised by the old woman in the yellow wig. "It seems
so extraordinary," I went on, "that the Court should so utterly
disregard the woman's reputation."

"Bah, my dear Heltzendorff!" laughed the Chamberlain. "When a woman
arrives at seventy she has outlived all the peccadilloes of youth. And,
after all, the reputations of most of us here are tarnished--more or
less--eh?"

His remarks were indeed true. Nevertheless, it did not lessen the
mystery of the appointment of the little old Countess as a
lady-in-waiting, nor did it account for the strange influence which she
held over the Imperial pair.

One evening I went to the Countess's house in the Stulerstrasse to a
dinner-party, at which there were present the Crown-Prince, Admiral von
Spee from Kiel, and Von Ilberg, the Emperor's doctor, together with the
old Duke von Trachenberg, who held the honorary and out-of-date office
of grand cupbearer to the Emperor, and the eternal "Uncle" Zeppelin.
With us were a number of ladies, including their Serene Highnesses the
Princess von Radolin and the Duchess von Ratibor, both ladies of the
Court of the Kaiserin, and several others of the ultra-smart set.

After the meal there was a small dance, and about midnight, after
waltzing with a pretty girl, the daughter of the Baron von
Heintze-Weissenrode, we strolled together into the fine winter garden
with its high palms, its plashing fountains, and its cunningly-secreted
electric lights.

I was seated with her, chatting gaily, for we had met in July at
Stubbenkammer, on the island of Ruegen. She had been staying with her
father at Eichstadt's, in Nipmerow, and we had all three been on some
pleasant excursions along the Baltic coast, with its picturesque beech
woods, white cliffs, and blue bays.

We were recalling a delightful excursion up to the Herthaburg, on the
road to Sassnitz, that "altar of sacrifice" which tradition connects
with the mysterious rites of the beautiful goddess Hertha, mentioned by
Tacitus, when suddenly we overheard voices.

Two persons were approaching somewhere behind us, conversing in
Italian--a man and a woman.

"Hush!" I whispered mischievously. "Listen! Do you know Italian?"

"Alas! no," was her reply. "Do you?"

I did not answer, for I had already recognized the voices as those of
our hostess and the Crown-Prince.

Next moment, however, my companion's quick ears caught that unmistakable
squeaky voice.

"Why, it's the Countess!" she exclaimed.

I made no reply, but continued to recall that glorious summer's day
beside the blue Baltic, while His Highness and the little old
lady-in-waiting seated themselves out of sight a short distance away,
and continued a very confidential discussion in an undertone in the
language in which, after German, I happened perhaps to be most
proficient.

The pair were discussing somebody named Karl Krahl, and the curious
discussion was undoubtedly regarding some evil intent.

"I saw the Emperor to-day," declared the old woman in her sibilant
Italian, so that no one should understand, for Italian is seldom spoken
in Germany. "His Majesty shares my views now, though he did not do so
at first. Indeed, I was very near being dismissed in disgrace when I
first broached the affair. But, fortunately, he now knows the truth and
sees the advantage of--well, you know, eh?"

"_Certo, Contessa_," replied the Crown-Prince, who speaks Italian
extremely well, though not with half the fluency of his hostess. "I
quite foresee the peril and the force of your argument."

"How shall we act?" asked the old woman. "It remains for you to devise a
plan. At any moment matters may approach a crisis. One can never account
for the confidences exchanged by those who love each other. And,
remember, Krahl is in love."

The Crown-Prince grunted, but as several couples entered at that moment
the pair suddenly broke off their confidential chat, and, rising, went
out together.

Who was this Karl Krahl against whom some deep-laid plot was levelled?

I searched various directories, lists of persons engaged in the
Government offices in the Wilhelmstrasse, the Leipzigerstrasse, and
Unter den Linden; I consulted the Director of Berlin Police, Von Jagow;
the well-known Detective Schunke, and Heinrich Wesener,
Assistant-Director of the Secret Service of the General Staff; but
nobody knew Karl Krahl. There seemed to be no record of him anywhere.

In October I went with the Crown-Prince and the Emperor upon a round of
ceremonial military inspections to the garrisons in Silesia--namely,
Breslau, Leignitz, and Oppeln--and afterwards to Luebeck, where we
presented new colours to two regiments. Thence, while the Emperor and
his Staff returned direct to Berlin, I accompanied His Imperial Highness
to Ballenstedt, the beautiful schloss in the Harz Mountains. Here once
or twice each season the Crown-Prince's habit was to invite a few of his
most intimate chums to shoot in the forests of Stecklenberg and the
Lauenberg, and along that curious sandstone ridge known as the
Teufelsmauer, or "Devil's Wall."

The sport was always excellent, especially about the romantic district
of Neue Schenke, near Suderode.

The guns consisted of five well-known officers from Berlin, together
with Dr. Zeising, the Master-General of Forests, and Lieut.-General von
Oertzen, the fat old Inspector-General of Cavalry. As usual, we all had
a most enjoyable time.

On the third day, after a champagne luncheon taken at the forester's
little house at Neue Schenke, we were about to resume our sport. Indeed,
all the guests had gone outside, preparing to go to their allotted
stations, when the head forester, a stalwart man in green livery,
entered, and, addressing the Crown-Prince, said:

"There is a man to see Your Imperial Highness, and refuses to leave. He
gives his name as Karl Krahl."

In an instant I pricked up my ears.

His Highness's brows narrowed for a second, which showed his annoyance,
then, smiling affably, so clever was he, like his Imperial father, in
the concealment of his real feelings--he replied:

"Oh, yes--Krahl! I recollect. Yes, I will see him here."

Next moment the person whom I had heard discussed so strangely in the
little old woman's beautiful winter garden was ushered in.

He was dark-haired, aged about twenty-eight, I judged, with small,
shrewd black eyes, dressed in a well-cut suit of grey country tweeds,
and but for his German name I should have taken him for an English
tourist, one of those familiar objects of the Harz in peace time. His
appearance instantly interested me, the more so owing to the fact that
he had come to that remote spot and at that hour to pay a visit to the
Emperor's son.

"Come in, Karl!" exclaimed the Crown-Prince affably, as he grasped his
visitor's hand. His Highness did not often offer his manicured hand to
others, and at this I was, I admit, greatly surprised. "The forester did
not know you, of course. Well, I am very pleased to see you. Have you
come straight here?"

"Yes, your Highness. I went first to Berlin, and learning that you were
here I thought I had better lose no time."

"Quite right," laughed his Highness who, turning to me, said:
"Heltzendorff, will you tell the others to go on--that I am detained for
an hour on State business, and--and that I will join them as soon as
possible. I will find you in the woods, on the left of the Quedlinburg
Road, before one comes to the Wurmtal. Apologize for me, but the delay
is inevitable. I have a conference with Herr Krahl."

While His Highness remained behind at the forester's house to chat alone
with the mysterious Karl Krahl, we went out among the birds and had some
excellent sport. Yet the sight of that ferret-eyed young man, whom I had
long endeavoured in vain to trace, caused me considerable wonderment.
Who was that young fellow in whom the little old Countess seemed to take
such deep and peculiar interest? What was his offence that she, with the
Crown-Prince, should concoct, as it seemed to me, such a plot as that I
had partly overheard?

That there was a woman in the case I felt assured, but her name had not
been mentioned, and I had no suspicion of whom it could be. I realized,
however, that something important must be in progress, otherwise His
Highness, devoted to sport as he was, would never have given up the best
afternoon to consult with that stranger in grey tweeds.

The forester and beaters had come with us, as the Crown-Prince had, at
his own request, been left alone with his mysterious visitor.

After a couple of short beats we arrived at the spot on the forest road
to Quedlinburg, a most romantic and picturesque gorge, where His
Highness had arranged to meet us, and there we sat down and waited. Both
Von Oertzen and Dr. Zeising, being unduly stout, had been puffed in
coming up the steep mountain side, and as we sat we gossiped, though
impatient to set forth again.

A full half-hour had passed, yet the head forester, who was keeping a
look-out along the road, did not signal His Highness's approach.

"I wonder what can have detained him?" remarked the Inspector-General of
Cavalry.

I explained that a strange young man had come to the forester's house.

"Well," laughed a smart young lieutenant of Uhlans, "I could have
understood the delay if it had been a lady!"

An hour went past. The light would soon fade, and we, knowing "Willie's"
utter disregard for his appointments, at last decided to continue the
shoot, leaving one of the foresters to tell His Highness the direction
we had taken.

The Crown-Prince did not, however, join us, and darkness had fallen ere
we returned to the forester's house. Of His Highness there was no sign,
a fact which much surprised us. In the room wherein I had left him his
gun and green Tyrolese hat were lying upon a chair, and the fact that
all the cars were still ranged outside showed that he had not driven
back to the castle.

The Crown-Prince had disappeared!

Knof, His Highness's chauffeur, who had been walking with us, was sent
back post-haste to the schloss to ascertain whether he had been seen
there, for His Highness's movements were often most erratic. We knew
that if the whim took him he would perhaps go off in an opposite
direction, or trudge back to the castle with utter disregard of our
natural anxiety.

Lights were lit, and we enjoyed cigars awaiting Knof's return. In an
hour he was back with the news that nothing had been heard of His
Highness. Soon after we had left that morning, however, a young man in a
grey suit had called and seen the major-domo, who had directed him where
His Highness might be found.

Upon Eckardt--the commissary of police responsible for His Highness's
safety--the onus rested. Yet, had he not been sent out with the party,
as His Highness had expressed to me a wish to be left alone with the
stranger, whose name I alone knew.

While we were discussing the most judicious mode of action--for I
scented much mystery in this visit of Karl Krahl--one of the party
suddenly discovered, lying upon the ledge of the window, a lady's small
and rather elegant handbag of black _moire_ silk.

"Hulloa!" I cried when he held it up for inspection. "This reveals to us
one fact--a woman has been here!"

I opened the bag, and within found a small lawn handkerchief with a
coronet embroidered in its corner, a tiny tortoise-shell mirror, and
four one-hundred-mark notes, but no clue whatever as to its owner.

The mystery was increasing hourly, but the gay party, knowing "Willie's"
susceptibility where the fair sex were concerned, only laughed and
declared that His Highness would assuredly turn up before the evening
was over.

Truth to tell, I did not like the situation. His Highness's
disappearance was now known to fifty or so persons, beaters, and others,
and I feared lest it might get into the Berlin papers. With that object
I called them together and impressed upon them that most complete
silence must be maintained regarding the affair.

Then Knof drove me alone back to the schloss. I wondered if His
Highness, wishing to get away unobserved, returning in secret there,
had left me a written message in his room. He had done that on one
occasion before.

I dashed up to the small, old-world room which by day overlooked the
romantic and picturesque valley, but upon the table whereat I had been
writing early that morning there was nothing.

As I turned to leave I heard a footstep, and next instant saw the little
deformed old Countess facing me.

Her appearance quite startled me. Apparently she had just arrived, for
she was in a dark blue bonnet and warm travelling coat.

"Ah! Count von Heltzendorff!" she cried in that squeaky, high-pitched
voice of hers. "Is His Imperial Highness here? I must see him
immediately."

"No, Countess. His Imperial Highness is not here," was my reply. "This
afternoon he mysteriously disappeared from the forester's lodge at Neue
Schenke, and we are unable to trace him."

"Disappeared!" gasped the old lady, instantly pale and agitated.

"Yes," I said, looking her straight in the face.

"Do you know whether he had a visitor to-day--a young, dark-haired man?"

"He had, Countess. A man called, and saw him. At His Highness's request
I left him alone with his visitor at the forester's house. The man's
name was Karl Krahl."

"How did you know his name?" she asked, staring at me with an expression
of distinct suspicion.

"Because--well, because I happen to have learnt it some time ago," I
said. "And, further, on returning to the house we found this little bag
in the room wherein I had left the Crown-Prince."

"Why!--a lady's bag!" she exclaimed as I held it out for inspection.

"Yes," I said in a somewhat hard tone. "Do you happen to recognize it?"

"Me? Why?" asked the old woman.

"Well, because I think it is your own property," I said with a sarcastic
smile. "I have some recollection of having seen it in your hand!"

She took it, examined it well, and then, with a hollow, artificial
laugh, declared:

"It certainly is not mine. I once had a bag very similar, but mine was
not of such good quality."

"Are you really quite certain, Countess?" I demanded in a low,
persuasive voice.

"Quite," she declared, though I knew that she was lying to me. "But why
trouble

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