Ambrose Lavendale, DiplomatOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
History
Ambrose Lavendale, Diplomat
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
English fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, English; Spy stories, English
'Somebody will be landed from that steamer,' she said. 'They will come
up here, get into the motor-car and start for London. That some one
will be empowered to put certain propositions before the Russian
Ambassador here, which he in his turn can convey to the Tsar in code.
Those propositions will be for a peace which will exclude my country
and yours, which will give Russia, temporarily defeated, the terms of a
conquering nation.'
He laughed a little contemptuously.
'You don't need to worry, child,' he assured her. 'Russia isn't going
to cave in yet awhile.'
'Not in any ordinary fashion,' she replied, 'but one lives in dread of
some terrible disaster, and then---- These terms, they say, are to be
left over for a month. Think of the temptation--all the fruits of
victory offered in the very blackest moment of despair. Look!'
She pointed to the mouth of the river. The white-sailed boat was
already commencing the passage of the estuary.
'Come,' she exclaimed, 'we must get back.'
They hurried across the marsh, finding their way with more difficulty
now owing to the inward sweep of the tide, filling the narrow places
with the soft swirl of salt-water. When they reached the raised path
by the side of the estuary, the sailing boat was almost by their side.
A man was seated in the stern, muffled up in an overcoat and wearing a
tweed cap.
'There he is,' she murmured.
Lavendale glanced at the man in a puzzled fashion. Just at that moment
the latter turned his head. He was dark, clean-shaven, and slightly
built.
'Something rather familiar about him,' Lavendale muttered. 'You don't
know his name?'
She shook her head.
'Wait,' she begged.
They reached the dock just as the boat was drawing up to the quay-side.
'Get out the car, please,' Suzanne directed, 'and drive slowly up the
street, just past the guardroom. Wait there as though we had been
stopped again.'
Lavendale obeyed. This time, as they drew up, Major Elwell leaned over
the front of the car.
'He is here, I understand, Miss de Freyne,' he said softly. 'Are you
going to stay? There may be a little trouble.'
She laughed derisively.
'This is Mr. Lavendale,' she whispered. 'He will take care of me,
Major Elwell.'
The latter looked keenly at Lavendale and nodded.
'It's a queer piece of business, this,' he observed. 'Maybe our
information is all wrong, after all.'
The other car came gliding up the village street and was brought to a
standstill only a foot behind them. The driver addressed the sergeant
almost angrily.
'I showed you my license a few minutes ago,' he protested. 'What's
that other car doing ahead, blocking up the way?'
Lavendale drew slightly on one side. A soldier, with fixed bayonet,
slipped into the little space between the two cars. Major Elwell
turned towards the passenger.
'Sorry to trouble you, sir,' he said, 'but I must ask you to step
inside the guardroom for a moment.'
'What do you want with me?' was the quick reply.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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