The weeks passed. At last, by dint of much hard work, I became sufficiently expert in my studies to satisfy my tutor. I was taken back to the house in the Wilhelmstrasse, where the roundfaced man again inspected me. He talked with me at length in French, made me walk before him and asked me innumerable questions about the family history of the house I had been studying. Finally he drew a photograph from his pocket the same, I fancy, which had figured in our previous interview.
"Do you recognise this face?" he inquired, offering me the picture.
I started. It might have been my own likeness. But no! That uniform was never mine. Then in a moment I realised the truth and with the realisation the whole mystery of the last few weeks began to be clear to me. The photograph was a portrait of the young Prince Z, my double, whom I had served at the banquet.
"It is a very remarkable likeness," said the round-faced man. "And it will be of good service to the Fatherland."
He eyed me for a moment impressively before continuing.
"You are to go to Russia," he told me. "Prince Z has been invited to visit his family in St. Petersburg, and he has accepted the invitation. But unfortunately Prince Z has discovered that he cannot go. You will, therefore, become the Prince for the time being. You will visit your family, note everything that is said to you and report to your tutor, Herr, who will accompany you and give you further instructions.
"This is an important mission," he added solemnly, "but I have no doubt that you will comport yourself satisfactorily. You have been taught everything that is necessary; and you have already shown yourself a young man of spirit and some discretion. We rely upon both of these qualities." He bowed in dismissal of us, but as we turned to go he spoke again.
"Remember," he was saying, "from this day you are no longer a cadet. You are a prince. Act accordingly."
That was all. We were out of the door and half way to our hotel before I realised to the full the great adventure I had embarked upon. Embarked? Shanghaied would be the better term. I had had no choice whatsoever in the matter. I had not even uttered a word during the interview.
At any rate, that night I left for Petrograd still St. Petersburg at that time accompanied by my tutor and two newly engaged valets, who did not know tht .eal Prince. Of what was ahead I had no idea, but as my tutor had no doubts of the success of our mission, I wasted little time in speculating upon the future.
.What the real prince's motive was in agreeing to the masquerade, and where he spent his time while I was in Russia, I have never been able to discover. From what followed, I surmise that he was strongly pro-German in his sympathies, but distrusted his ability to carry through the task in Land.
In St. Petersburg I discovered that my "relatives" whom I had known to be very exalted personages were inclined to be more than hospitable to this young kinsman whom they had not seen for a long time. I found myself petted and spoiled to a delightful degree; indeed I had a truly princely time. The only drawback was that, as the constant admonitions of my tutor reminded me, I could spend my princely, wealth only; in such ways as my shall I say, prototype? would have done. He, alas, was apparently a graver youth than I.
So two weeks passed, while I was beginning to wish that the masquerade would continue indefinitely, when one day my tutor sent for me.
"So," he said, "we have had play enough, is it not so? Now we shall have work."
In a few words he explained the situation to me. Russia, it seemed, was about to enter into an agreement with England regarding spheres of influence in Persia. Already a certain Baron B (let me call him) was preparing to leave St. Petersburg with instructions to find out in what circumstances the British Government would enter into pourparlers on the subject. Berlin, whose interests in the Near East would be menaced by such an agreement, needed information and delay. I was to secure both. It was the old trick of using a little instrument to clog the mechanism of a great machine.
Let me explain here a feature of the drawing up of international treaties and agreements which, I think, is not generally understood. Most of us who read in the newspapers that such and such a treaty is being arranged between the representatives of two countries, believe that the terms are even then being decided upon. As a matter of fact these terms have long since been determined by other representatives of the two countries concerned, and the present meeting is merely for the formal and public ratification of a treaty already secretly made. The usual stages in the making of a treaty are three: First, an unofficial inquiry by one Government into the willingness or unwillingness of the other Government to enter into a discussion of the question at issue. This is usually done by a man who has no official standing as a diplomat at the moment, but whose relations with officials in the second country have given him an influence there which will stand his Government in good stead. After a willingness has been expressed by both sides to enter into discussions, official pourparlers are held in which the terms of the agreement are discussed and decided upon. Finally, the treaty is formally ratified by the Foreign Ministers or special envoys of the countries involved. Secrecy in the first two stages is necessitated by the fear of meddling on the part of other Governments, and also by a desire on the part of any country making overtures to avoid a possible rebuff from the other; and it explains why negotiations which are publicly entered into never fail.
But to return to my adventures. My Government had learned of the impending pourparlers between Britain and Russia; it knew that Baron B's instructions would contain the conditions which Russia considered desirable. What was necessary was to secure these instructions.
Now, my tutor had, long before this, seen to it that I should be on friendly terms with various members of the Baron's household; and he had been especially insistent that I should pay a good deal of attention to the young daughter of the house, whom I shall call Nevshka. I had wondered at the time why he should do this; but I obeyed his instructions with alacrity. Nevshka was charming.
Soon I saw the purpose of this carefully fostered friendship.
"The Baron will spend this evening at the club," I was informed. "He will return, according to his habit, promptly at twelve. You will visit his house this evening, paying a call upon Nevshka. You will contrive to set back the clock so that his home-coming will be in the nature of a surprise to her. The hour will be so late that she, knowing her father's strictness, will contrive to get you out of the house without his seeing you. That is your opportunity! You must slip from the salon into the rear hall but do not leave the house. And if, young man, with such an opportunity, you cannot discover where these papers are hidden and secure them, you are unworthy of the trust that your Government has placed in you."
I nodded my comprehension. In other words I was to take advantage of Nevshka's friendship in order to steal from her father I was to perform an act from which no gentleman could help shrinking. And I was going to do it with no more qualms of conscience than, in time of war, I should have felt about stealing from an enemy general the plan of an attack.
For countries are always at war diplomatically. There is always a conflict between the foreign ambitions of Governments; always an attempt on the part of each country to gain its own ends by fair means or foul. Every man engaged in diplomatic work knows this to be true. And he will serve his Government without scruple, for well he knows that some seemingly dishonourable act of his may be the means of averting that actual warfare which is only the forlorn hope that Governments resort to when diplomatic means of mastery have failed.
So I undertook my mission with no hesitation, rather with a thrill of eagerness. I pretended to be violently interested in Nevshka (no difficult task, that) and time sped by so merrily that even had I not turned back the hands of the clock, I doubt whether the lateness of the hour would have seriously concerned either of us. Oh, yes, my tutor who, as you of course have guessed by now, was no mere tutor had analysed the situation correctly.
As the Baron was heard at the door, I drew out my watch.
"Nevshka, your clock is slow. It is already midnight."