before. The Austrian government had been his—what do you call it?—his sucker. He had actually approached Vienna, whispering that Great Britain was readier to talk peace than any one knew on the outside. The British government, he said, would discuss tentative terms, but it would have to be done informally and secretly. He was the man to arrange matters, to put the thing through—for a consideration.
“Vienna, to all appearances, actually took that bait. Money was no object. If the swindler would bring the British representative to a neutral country they would send commissioners to confer with him.
"It became necessary for the swindler to find the British plenipotentiary he had agreed to produce. You know how he got him. Poor little chap! He kept his word. He did come to England for further instructions, and he received them—to go back to his desk and forget all about it. I daresay he's there now, bending over figures in a bad light, thinking that a diplomatic career has its drawbacks after all. Meantime the aristocratic commissioners—doubtless they are still waiting."
I knew of two secluded rooms in London about which this business of intelligence centred, and of
