England come in, especially when we have stirred her up such a
devil's brew of Irish civil war, window-breaking Furies, and God knows
what to keep her thoughts at home."

"She must think of her future."

"Ah, that is another matter. I fancy that in the future we have our
own very definite plans about England, and that your information will
be very vital to us. It is to-day or to-morrow with Mr. John Bull. If
he prefers to-day we are perfectly ready. If it is to-morrow we shall
be more ready still. I should think they would be wiser to fight with
allies than without them, but that is their own affair. This week is
their week of destiny. But you were speaking of your papers." He sat
in the armchair with the light shining upon his broad bald head, while
he puffed sedately at his cigar.

The large oak-panelled, book-lined room had a curtain hung in the
future corner. When this was drawn it disclosed a large, brass-bound
safe. Von Bork detached a small key from his watch chain, and after
some considerable manipulation of the lock he swung open the heavy door.

"Look!" said he, standing clear, with a wave of his hand.

The light shone vividly into the opened safe, and the secretary of the
embassy gazed with an absorbed interest at the rows of stuffed
pigeon-holes with which it was furnished. Each pigeon-hole had its
label, and his eyes as he glanced along them read a long series of such
titles as "Fords," "Harbour-defences," "Aeroplanes," "Ireland,",
"Egypt," "Portsmouth forts," "The Channel," "Rosythe," and a score of
others. Each compartment was bristling with papers and plans.

"Colossal!" said the secretary. Putting down his cigar he softly
clapped his fat hands.

"And all in four years, Baron. Not such a bad show for the
hard-drinking, hard-riding country squire. But the gem of my
collection is coming and there is the setting all ready for it." He
pointed to a space over which "Naval Signals" was printed.

"But you have a good dossier there already."

"Out of date and waste paper. The Admiralty in some way got the alarm
and every code has been changed. It was a blow, Baron--the worst
setback in my whole campaign. But thanks to my check-book and the good
Altamont all will be well to-night."

The Baron looked at his watch and gave a guttural exclamation of
disappointment.

"Well, I really can wait no longer. You can imagine that things are
moving at present in Carlton Terrace and that we have