CHAPTER XXXII. SIR GILBERT HAS A SURPRISE

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_ At half-past ten the next morning, I rang the bell at the door of my cousin's flat and inquired for Sir Gilbert Hardross. It was an excellent testimonial to my altered appearance, that the man who answered the door, and whom I had known all my life, declined promptly to admit me.

"Sir Gilbert is just going out," he said. "He is too busy this morning to see any one."

I kept my foot in the door.

"He told me to come," I declared. "I cannot go away without seeing him."

"Then you can stay where you are," he declared, trying to close the door. "You can see him as he comes out."

I stepped by him quickly. He was a small man, but he seized me pluckily by the collar. Just then we heard a door open, and my cousin stepped out dressed for the street.

"What is the matter, Groves?" he asked sharply.

"This fellow has forced his way in, sir," the man answered. "He says that you told him to come."

My cousin stood drawing on his gloves, and eyed me superciliously.

"I think," he remarked, "that that is a mistake, isn't it? I am quite sure that I have never seen you before in my life!"

I felt inclined to smile, but the man was watching us.

"I have some business with you, sir," I said deferenially. "I am not begging, and I will not keep you longer than two minutes."

My cousin stepped back into the sitting-room. I followed him and took the liberty of closing the door after me. Then I took off my hat, drew myself up to my full height, and dropped the foreign accent which I had been at so much pains to acquire.

"Don't you know me, Gilbert?" I asked.

He started at the sound of my voice, and took a quick step towards me. I held out my hand.

"God in Heaven, it's Hardross!" he exclaimed.

I laughed as our hands met.

"I shall not bother about my disguise any longer," I remarked. "It is evidently better even than I had hoped."

He wrung my hand. I was delighted to see that there was nothing in his face but joy.

"Old chap!" he exclaimed, "I'm delighted. I can't say more. You've knocked me all of a heap. For Heaven's sake talk! I should like to be quite sure that I'm awake."

"You're awake all right," I answered, "as sure as I'm alive! How well you look in black, old man! I suppose it's for me?"

He nodded.

"How on earth," he exclaimed, "could the papers have made such a mistake?"

"They weren't so much to blame. A man was murdered in the Rockies who called himself Hardross Courage, and who was travelling with my traps. Only you see it wasn't I!"

"A man who called himself Hardross Courage," Gilbert repeated, bewildered. "It's an uncommon name."

"The men who killed him," I answered, "thought that they had killed me. It's a long story, Gilbert. I've come here to tell you a little of it, if you can spare the time."

"Time! Of course I can," he declared. "Wait one moment while I go to the telephone."

I checked him on the way to the door.

"Not a word of this to any one, Gilbert," I said. "Not even to Groves there!"

He nodded and hurried out of the room. When he returned, he had taken off his hat and overcoat. He drew up two easy-chairs and produced a box of cigars.

"Now then!" he exclaimed, "for the mysteries! By Jove, I'm glad to see you, Hardross! Light one of those--they're the old sort---and go ahead."

"You're not a nervous person, are you, Gilbert?" I asked quietly.

"I don't think so," he answered. "You've given my nerves a pretty good test just now, I think! Why do you ask?"

"Because I am going to tell you secrets," I answered, "and because there are men in the world, men in London close to us, who, if they knew, would kill us both on sight."

"I am not a coward, if that is what you mean," Gilbert answered. "You ought to know that. Go ahead."

I told him everything. When I had finished he sat staring at me like a man stupefied.

"I suppose," he said at last, looking from his extinct cigar into my face, "that I am not by any chance dreaming? It is you, my cousin Hardross, who has told me this amazing story."

"Every word of which is true," I answered firmly, and I knew at once that he believed me.

"Well," he said, after a short silence, "where do I come in?"

"You fill a most important place," I answered. "I want you to see Polloch for us."

He nodded.

"Am. I to tell him everything?"

"Everything," I answered. "We have our Secret Service, I suppose, the same as other countries. It ought to be easy enough for them to act on our information."

"Have you seen the papers this morning?" he asked suddenly.

"No!" I answered. "Is there any news?"

"Our Channel Squadron," he said, "has received a very courteous invitation to visit Kiel during its forthcoming cruise."

"They will go?" I exclaimed.

"They leave in three weeks' time."

"If they enter German waters," I said, "not one of them will ever return. The bay will be sown with mines. It is part of the Great Plot."

"Yesterday's paper," Gilbert continued, "remarked upon the warm reception of the Prince of Normandy at the Berlin Court!"

"Ah!" I ejaculated.

"And the _Daily Oracle_," Gilbert went on, "had a leading article upon the huge scale of the impending German manoeuvres. Three days ago, the Kaiser made a speech declaring that the white dove of peace was, after all, more glorious than the eagle of war!"

"That settles it," I declared. "Gilbert, can you see the Prime Minister this morning?"

"I can and I will," he answered.

"You must convince him," I declared. "All the proofs I can give you are here. There is an account of the meeting at the summer house of Mrs. Van Reinberg at Lenox, with the names of all who were present and particulars of what transpired. There is a copy of my admission into the Waiters' Union, with some significant notes."

"This is all?" he asked.

"All!" I repeated. "Isn't it sufficient?"

"Polloch is an Englishman," my cousin said slowly, "and you know what that means. He will need some convincing!"

"Then you must convince him," I declared. "I am risking my life over this business, Gilbert, and we can none of us tell which way the pendulum will swing. I know that Polloch is one of the old school of statesmen, and hates Secret Service work. If it were not for that, such a plot as this could never have been developed under his very nose. It is absolutely necessary, Gilbert, that, under some pretext or another, the home fleet is mobilized within the next fortnight."

"It's a large order, Jim!"

"It's got to be," I answered. "You don't know what a relief it is, Gilbert, to sit here and talk to you about these things. Guest and I scarcely ever speak of them. And all the time the minutes slip by, and we get nearer the time. Guest and I are playing a desperate game after all--a single slip and we should be wiped out. And no one else knows."

Gilbert looked up at me quickly, as though a new thing had come into his mind.

"Jim," he said, "have you seen Miss Van Hoyt?"

"Not since I was at Lenox," I answered. "She must still believe that I was the man who was murdered in the Rocky Mountains--and I dare not let her know!"

"She certainly does believe it, Jim," my cousin answered gravely. "She was here last week--she is coming to see me again to-day."

"In England!" I exclaimed. "Adele in England!"

"Not only that," my cousin continued, "but I believe that her coming was on your account."

"Tell me exactly what you mean," I demanded.

Gilbert leaned a little towards me.

"Jim," he said, "has there been anything between you and Miss Van Hoyt?"

"This much," I answered, "that but for these confounded happenings, she would have been my wife. If ever I do marry anybody, it will be she."

Gilbert nodded gravely.

"I thought so," he answered. "Well, I can tell you something that will perhaps surprise you. Miss Van Hoyt is also--"

He broke off in his sentence. We both sprang to our feet. A woman's clear musical voice was distinctly audible in the hall outside.

"It is she," he declared. "Do you want her to find you here, to know that you are alive?"

"Good God! No!" I answered.

He pointed to the curtains which separated the apartment from the dining-room. I stepped through them quickly, just as Groves knocked at the door. _

Read next: CHAPTER XXXIII. A REUNION OF HEARTS

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