AMBROSE LAVENDALE, DIPLOMAT BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM HODDER AND STOUGHTON LIMITED LONDON 1920 _Printed in Great Britain by_ Butler & Tanner, _Frome and London_ CONTENTS CHAPTER I The Man who could have Ended the War CHAPTER II The Lost Formula CHAPTER III A Deal with Niko CHAPTER IV General Matravers Repays CHAPTER V Susceptible Mr. Kessner CHAPTER VI The Machinations of Mr. Courlander CHAPTER VII The Indiscreet Travellers CHAPTER VIII The Undeniable Force CHAPTER IX An Interrupted Review CHAPTER X The Sentence of the Court CHAPTER I THE MAN WHO COULD HAVE ENDED THE WAR It was a few minutes after one o'clock--the busiest hour of the day at the most popular bar in London. The usual little throng of Americans, journalists, men of business and loiterers, were occupying their accustomed chairs in one corner of the long, green-carpeted room. Around the bar, would-be customers were crowded three or four deep--many of them stalwart Canadians in khaki, making the most of their three days' leave, and a thin sprinkling of men about town on their way to lunch in the grill-room adjoining. On the outskirts of the group was a somewhat incongruous figure, a rather under-sized, ill-dressed, bespectacled little man, neither young nor old, colourless, with a stoop which was almost a deformity. His fingers were stained to the tip of his nails as though by chemicals or tobacco juice. He held the glass of vermouth which he had just succeeded in obtaining from the bar, half-way suspended to his lips. He was listening to the conversation around him. 'The most blackguardly trick that has ever been known in civilized warfare!' a Canadian officer declared indignantly. 'It's put the lid on all pretence of conducting this war decently,' another assented. 'What about the Hague Convention?' 'The Hague Convention!' a young journalist from the other side repeated sarcastically. 'I should like to know when Germany has ever shown the slightest regard for the Hague Convention or any other agreement which didn't happen to suit her!' The little man on the outskirts of the group, who had been listening eagerly to the conversation, ventured upon a question. His accent at once betrayed his transatlantic origin. 'Say, is there anything fresh this morning?' he inquired. 'I haven't seen the papers yet.' The Canadian glanced down at the speaker. 'We were talking,' he said, 'about the use of poisonous gases by the Germans. They started pumping them at us yesterday and pretty nearly cleared us out of Ypres.'