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Von Wetten started as though under a blow; his monocle fell; he made a curious gesture, bringing his right hand across to his left hip as though in search of something; and gathered himself as though about to spring to his feet. The Baron lifted a quiet hand and subdued him. "Yes," he said, in his even, compelling tones. "Make the best of that, Von Wetten."
It was Von Wetten who spoke first. "Thank God!" he said loudly. The old baron, standing near him, hands joined behind his back, had listened to the reading with eyes on the floor. He shook his head now, gently, dissenting rather than contradicting. "Oh, no," he said slowly. "Don't be in a hurry to do that, Von Wetten." "But, Excellency," Von Wetten protested, "I meant, of course."
The Baron made a little gesture of impatience, indulgent and paternal. He leaned a hand on the table and looked over Herr Haase's head to the tall young officer. "We are not limited as to colonels, either," he answered. "We must think ourselves lucky, I suppose, that he went no higher than a colonel. There was a moment when I thought he was going very much higher to the very top, Von Wetten.
The Baron did not smile but mirth was in his face. "That was an afterthought, Von Wetten," he said "the wounded man part of it." He turned to Herr Haase impatiently. "Off with you!" he commanded. "Away, man, and get that message sent! Let me have the replies as they arrive. No, don't wait to bow and say good night; run, will you!"
There was malicious amusement in the eye he turned on Von Wetten. "And we don't want that, do we?" he suggested. Von Wetten shuddered. The siding at which the special train finally came to rest was "outside the station" in the sense that it was a couple of miles short of it, to be reached by a track-side path complicated by piles of sleepers and cinder-heaps.
"Dictate the telegram to the Staff, Von Wetten," he said, over his shoulder. Von Wetten laid his hat and cane on a chair and crossed the room. "I feel as if I were stabbing a fellow-officer in the back," he said, drearily. Then, to Herr Haase: "Take this, you!" "Zu Befehl, Herr Hauptmann," said Herr Haase, and picked up his pen.
For, make no mistake, that young man knows his value." Von Wetten frowned undecidedly. "The top," he repeated. "There is only one top. You can't mean?" The Baron took the word from his mouth. "Yes," he said, "the Emperor. I thought for a while he was going to demand that. And do you know what I should have answered?" Von Wetten threw up his head and his face cleared. "Of course I know," he said.
He died at ten minutes past eleven this morning." His parade voice rang in the room; when it ceased the silence, for a space of moments, was absolute. What broke it was the voice of Von Wetten. "Thank God!" it said, loudly and triumphantly. The Baron swung round to him, but before he could speak Bettermann gathered up the slack of his long limbs and rose from his chair.
"Code is forbidden, your Excellency," replied Herr Haase, in his parade voice. "But we have also a phrase-code, a short phrase for every word of the message which passes. It makes the telegram very long." "Also gut!" approved the Baron. "Now, Von Wetten, first we will wire the Staff. You know how to talk to them; so dictate a clear message to Haase here."
He sat as he spoke, letting himself down upon the low parapet with an elderly deliberation; at his gesture Von Wetten sat likewise, a few yards away; Herr Haase moved a pace, hesitated, and remained standing. "I'll stand," said Bettermann shortly. "And what are the three things that you have got to do?"
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