"Curse their stenographic memories," said the War Lord. "I hope you were careful to note what Schlauch said," he added in a stern, almost threatening voice.
"I memorised his talk to the dotlets on the i’s," replied the Secret Service man, bowing low. "Quite an easy matter, for His Eminence used words sparingly—
"To conceal his thoughts, of course." This from the War Lord.
Then No. 103 read the "notes" from his mental memorandum pad. The Cardinal, it appears, laid down three rules "for the guidance of his ’dear son’ and all other Catholic princes:
"I. Agreements with heretic sovereigns do not count unless they serve the interests of the Church.
"II. If the proposed Slav Empire would bring about the submission of the orthodox heretics to the Church of Rome, no amount of blood and treasure spent in so laudable a cause may be called extravagant, the sacrifice being for God Almighty.
"III. But if there should be a by-product" (our own term, the Cardinal’s being too circumstantial) "a by-product in the shape of a heretic pope—pardon the blasphemous word—then Franz’s ambition would be a stench in the nostrils of the Almighty, excommunication would be his fate in this world, the deepest abyss of hell in the other."
Count von Wedell, misinterpreting his master, thought "it was to laugh," but a look upon the War Lord’s face caused him to change his attitude.
"Pay No. 103 five thousand marks, half in cash, half in reserve," said Wilhelm, disregarding the one-third clause for a purpose, no doubt. "I have no further commands for him at present."
Count Wedell stepped forward from the inner room, and the portières automatically closed before No. 103 had finished his obeisance.
On Forbidden Ground—A Talk on Brain-Curves—Bertha is Afraid—Shades of Krupp—"Charity Covers ——"—A Dramatic Exit
If Bertha and the chief engineer had been real lovers, and had selected the moon for a place of rendezvous, they could not have been safer from intrusion than in the late Frederick Krupp’s library with the door unlocked, for the "room sacred to His Majesty" was a sort of Bluebeard chamber into which no eye but the War Lord’s and Bertha’s must look.
Bertha had shown her mother a parcel of documents which Uncle Majesty had ordered her to read carefully. "I will go to the library, where I will be undisturbed," she said in her decisive tone, while the butler was serving early strawberries sent from Italy. Strawberries in January in a little Rhenish town! It reminds us that when Charles V., warrior and gourmet-gourmand, sucked an orange in winter-time, his Court was prostrate with astonishment and admiration.