Lord Kitchener evidently saw what was in my mind, and immediately exerted all his well-known charm to efface the impression he had created.
"You mustn't think," he said with a smile, "that the policy of the Cabinet is in any way affected by what goes on at 'Chez Nous.' Although Sir Edward Grey and I----"
He broke off suddenly, and, in the light of what has happened since, very suspiciously.
"Have you had any tea?" he asked. His relations with the notorious Grey were evidently not to be disclosed.
I met Lord Kitchener on one other occasion, but it is only since England forced this war upon Europe that I have seen that second meeting in its proper light.
I had been out shopping, and when I came back I found him in the garden playing with the children. We talked for a little on unimportant matters, and then I saw his eye wandering from me to the drawing-room. A soldier had just stepped through the open windows on to the lawn.
"Hallo," said Lord Kitchener, "it's Johnny."
As the latter came up Lord Kitchener smacked him warmly on the back.
"Well," he said, "my martial friend, how many Germans have you killed?" Then seeing that his friend appeared a little awkward he introduced him to me. "Fräulein Schmidt, this is one of our most famous warriors--Sir John French."
I could see that Sir John French was taken aback. He had evidently come down to discuss secretly the plan of campaign against a defenceless and utterly surprised Germany, which their friend and tool, Sir Edward Grey, was to put in motion--and forthwith a German governess had been let into the secret! No wonder he was annoyed! "You silly ass," he muttered, and became very red and confused.
"It's all right," he said; "Fräulein Schmidt is Scotch. You can talk quite freely in front of her."
It was the typical British attitude of contempt for the possible enemy. But General French showed all that stubborn caution which was afterwards to mark his handling of the British mercenaries, and which is about to cost him so dearly.
"Don't be a fool, Horace," he mumbled, and relapsed into an impenetrable silence.
Mr. Brigsworth's mother, who lived with them, was a most interesting old lady. She seemed to be in the secrets of all the Royal Family and other highly placed personages, and told me many interesting things about them. "Ah, my dear," she would say, "they tell us in the papers that King George is shooting at Windsor, but----" and then she would nod her head mysteriously. "He's a _working_ king," she went on after a little. "He doesn't waste his time on _sport_." In the light of after-events it is probable that she was right; and that when His Majesty George the Fifth was supposed to be at Windsor he was in reality in Belgium, looking out for sites for the notorious British siege-guns which have murdered so many of our brave soldiers.