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Updated: June 4, 2025
Ogilvie, who had often laughed about Dorward's eccentricity, should now that he had an opportunity of enjoying it once more be so cross about his friend's arrival and so ready to hand him over to Mark to be entertained. "Just like Ogilvie," said Dorward confidentially, when he and Mark went for a walk on the afternoon of his arrival. "He wants spiking up.
"Nothing much," Bellamy declared, "except that there are, to my certain knowledge, three high officials of the Secret Police of Austria in the next coupe but one, and at least four or five of their subordinates somewhere on board the train." Dorward withdrew his cigarette from his mouth and looked at his friend keenly. "I guess you're trying to scare me, Bellamy," he remarked.
Bellamy merely shrugged his shoulders. Dorward seemed to find the gesture irritating. "You've got espionage on the brain, my dear friend," he declared dryly. "I suppose it's the result of your profession.
Damn, I knelt on a thistle." "It isn't the Angelus," said Mark quietly. "It's the bell on that cow." But Mr. Dorward had finished his devotion before he answered. "I was half way through before you told me. You should have spoken sooner." "Well, I spoke as soon as I could." "Very cunning of Satan," said Dorward meditatively.
Bellamy regarded his friend in blank and uncomprehending amazement. "What do you mean?" he exclaimed. "You're not going to keep it to yourself? You know what it means to me to England?" "Your old country can look after herself pretty well," Dorward declared. "Anyhow, she'll have to take her chance. I am not here as a philanthropist.
"You will come to me, or telephone," she whispered. "So?" Bellamy opened the door and she passed out, with a farewell pressure of his fingers. Then he closed it firmly and came back. "What's wrong, old man?" Bellamy asked quickly. Dorward from a side table had seized the bottle of whiskey and a siphon, and was mixing himself a drink with trembling fingers. He tossed it off before he spoke a word.
The man was mad on the verge of a collapse and he handed over to Dorward his notes, and a verbatim report of all that passed at the Palace this morning." She looked at him incredulously. "My dear David!" she exclaimed. "It is amazing," he admitted, "but it is the truth. I know it for a fact. The man was absolutely beside himself, he had no idea what he was doing."
If there's any slaughtering about, I guess they'll hesitate before they begin with Arthur Dorward.... Don't be a fool, man!" He took a quick step backward, he was looking into the muzzle of Bellamy's revolver. "Dorward," the latter exclaimed, "I can't help it! Yours is only a personal ambition I stand for my country. Share the knowledge of that packet with me or I shall shoot."
"After I've sent my cable I'm off to Belgrade for a week, at any rate," Dorward answered. "I hear the women are forming rifle clubs all through Servia." Bellamy smiled thoughtfully. "I know one who'll want a place among the leaders," he murmured. "Mademoiselle Idiale, I suppose?" Bellamy assented. "It's a queer position hers, if you like," he said. "All Vienna raves about her.
Dorward is saying Mass," he told her, and poor Miss Hatchett must pretend with a forced smile that her blank look had been caused by the prospect of being deprived of Mass when really. . . . But Mark was not paying any more attention to Miss Hatchett. He was standing under the bell, gazing up at the long rope and wondering what manner of sound he should evoke.
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