A Splendid Hazard | Page 8

the species

was now extinct, at least so the historian of this particular butterfly
declared. Hybrid? Such a contingency was always possible.
"Suppose it does exist, as I and a few others very well know it does;
what a fine joke it would be to see it fly into Paris! But, no. Idle dream!
Still, I shall wait and watch. And now, suppose we pay a visit to Berlin
and use blunt facts in place of diplomacy? It will surprise them."
Each German chancellor has become, in turn, the repository of such
political secrets as fell under the eyes of his predecessor; and the
chancellor who walked up and down before Monsieur Ferraud,
possessed several which did not rest heavily upon his soul simply
because he was incredulous, or affected that he was.
"The thing is preposterous."
"As your excellency has already declared."
"What has it to do with France?"
"Much or little. It depends upon this side of the Rhine."
"What imagination! But for your credentials, Monsieur Ferraud, I
should not listen to you one moment."
"I have seen some documents."
"Forgeries!" contemptuously.
"Not in the least," suavely. "They are in every part genuine. They are
his own."
The chancellor paused, frowning. "Well, even then?"
Monsieur Ferraud shrugged.
"This fellow, who was forced to resign from the navy because of his
tricks at cards, why I doubt if he could stir up a brawl in a tavern.
Really, if there was a word of truth in the affair, we should have acted

before this. It is all idle newspaper talk that Germany wishes war; far
from it. Still, we lose no point to fortify ourselves against the
possibility of it. Some one has been telling you old-wives' tales."
"Ten thousand marks," almost inaudibly.
"What was that you said?" cried the chancellor, whirling round abruptly,
for the words startled him.
"Pardon me! I was thinking out loud about a sum of money."
"Ah!" And yet the chancellor realized that the other was telling him as
plainly as he dared that the German government had offered such a sum
to forward the very intrigue which he was so emphatically denying.
"Why not turn the matter over to your own ambassador here?"
The secret agent laughed. "Publicity is what neither your government
nor mine desires. Thank you."
"I am sorry not to be of some service to you."
"I can readily believe that, your excellency," not to be outdone in the
matter of duplicity. "I thank you for your time."
"I hadn't the least idea that you were in the service; butterflies and
diplomacy!" with a hearty laugh.
"It is only temporary."
"Your Alpine Butterflies compares favorably with The Life of the Bee."
"That is a very great compliment!"
And with this the interview, extraordinary in all ways, came to an end.
Neither man had fooled the other, neither had made any mistake in his
logical deductions; and, in a way, both were satisfied. The chancellor
resumed his more definite labors, and the secret agent hurried away to
the nearest telegraph office.

"So I am to stand on these two feet?" Monsieur Ferraud ruminated, as
he took the seat by the window in the second-class carriage for Munich.
"All the finer the sport. Ten thousand marks! He forgot himself for a
moment. And I might have gone further and said that ninety thousand
marks would be added to those ten thousand if the bribe was accepted
and the promise fulfilled."
Ah, it would be beautiful to untangle this snarl all alone. It would be
the finest chase that had ever fallen to his lot. No grain of sand,
however small, should escape him. There were fools in Berlin as well
as in Paris; and he knew what he knew. "Never a move shall he make
that I shan't make the same; and in one thing I shall move first. Two
million francs! Handsome! It is I who must find this treasure, this
fulcrum to the lever which is going to upheave France. There will be no
difficulty then in pricking the pretty bubble. In the meantime we shall
proceed to Munich and carefully inquire into the affairs of the grand
opera singer, Hildegarde von Mitter."
He extracted a wallet from an inner pocket and opened it across his
knees. It was full of butterflies.
CHAPTER III
A PLASTER STATUETTE
Fitzgerald's view from his club window afforded the same impersonal
outlook as from a window in a car. It was the two living currents,
moving in opposite directions, each making toward a similar goal, only
in a million different ways, that absorbed him. Subconsciously he was
always counting, counting, now by fives, now by tens, but invariably
found new entertainment ere he reached the respectable three numerals
of an even hundred. Sometimes it was a silk