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Updated: June 2, 2025
I say that Freistner has been a prisoner for weeks, and I deny that Fenn has received a single communication from him during that time. Fenn asserts that he has, but has destroyed them. I repeat that he is a liar." "That's plain speaking," Cross declared. "Now, then, Fenn, lad, what have you to say about it?"
"Fenn's practically the corner stone of this affair. It was he who met Freistner in Amsterdam and started these negotiations, and I'm damned if I like Fenn, or trust him. Did you see the way he looked at Stenson out of the corners of his eyes, like a little ferret? Stenson was at his best, too. I never admired the man more." "He certainly kept his head," Furley agreed.
Fenn leaned forward, his face distorted with something which might have been anger, but which seemed more closely to resemble fear. "This is just part of the ratting!" he exclaimed. "I never keep a communication from Freistner. I have told you so before. The preliminary letters I had you all saw, and we deliberated upon them together.
Why, I even heard last night that we were in Ostend. It's all a rig, of course. Stenson wants to gain time." "Who opened these negotiations with Freistner?" Julian asked. "Fenn. He met him at the Geneva Conference, the year before the war. I met him, too, but I didn't see so much of him. He's a fine fellow, Julian as unlike the typical German as any man you ever met." "He's honest, I suppose?"
The Pan-Germans professed a desire to give in to the Socialists. All lies! They encouraged Freistner to continue his negotiations here with Fenn. Freistner was honest enough. I am not so sure about Fenn." Fenn sprang to his feet, a blasphemous exclamation broke from his lips. Julian faced him, unmoved. The atmosphere of the room was now electric.
"You cannot produce, then, any communication from Freistner, except the proposals of peace, written within the last say month?" "What the mischief are you getting at?" Fenn demanded hotly. "And what right have you to stand there and cross-question me?" "The right of being prepared to call you to your face a liar," Julian said gravely.
"Freistner guarantees them, and Freistner is our friend, the friend and champion of Labour throughout the world. To attempt to deceive us would be to cover himself with eternal obloquy." "Yet these terms," Julian pointed out, "differ fundamentally from anything which Germany has yet allowed to be made public." "There are two factors here which may be considered," Miles Furley intervened.
Freistner may be an honest man, but I'll swear that he hasn't the influence or the position that these people have been led to believe. And as for Nicholas Fenn " The Prime Minister paused. Julian waited anxiously. "It is my belief," the former concluded deliberately, "that thirty seconds in the courtyard of the Tower, with his back to the light, would about meet his case."
"I came to you because I have been very worried." He withdrew a little into himself. His eyes narrowed. His manner became more cautious. "Worried?" he repeated. "Well?" "I want to ask you this: have you heard anything from Freistner during the last day or two?" Fenn's face was immovable. He still showed no signs of discomposure his voice only was not altogether natural.
"We have very certain information that Freistner is now imprisoned in a German fortress and will be shot before the week is out." There was a little murmur of consternation, even of disbelief. Fenn himself was speechless. Julian went on eagerly. "My friends," he said, "on paper, on the facts submitted to us, we took the right decision, but we ought to have remembered this.
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