Jennie Baxter, Journalist by Robert Barr (i am malala young readers edition .TXT) π
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- Author: Robert Barr
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"That romance in high life which you were investigating with Mr. Cadbury Taylor did not come to anything?"
"No, Mr. Hardwick."
"Then don't you think we might enact a romance in high life in this very room; it is high enough from the street to entitle it to be called a romance in high life," and the editor grinned uneasily, like an unready man who hopes to relieve a dilemma by a poor joke.
Jennie, however, did not laugh and did not look up at him, but continued to scribble shorthand notes on the paper before her.
"Ah, Mr. Hardwick!" she said with a sigh, "I see you have discovered my secret, although I had hoped to conceal it even from your alert eyes. I am, indeed, in the situation of _Ralph Rackstraw_ in 'Pinafore,' 'I love, and love, alas! above my station,' and now that you know half, you may as well know all. It arose out of that unfortunate ball given by the Duchess of Chiselhurst which will haunt me all the rest of my life, I fear," said Jennie, still without looking up. Mr. Hardwick smothered an ejaculation and was glad that the girl's eyes were not upon him. There was a pause of a few moments' duration between them. He took the path which was left open to him, fondly flattering himself that, while he had stumbled inadvertently upon her romance, he had kept his own secret safe.
"I--I have no right to intrude on your confidences, Miss Baxter," he said finally with an effort, "and I hope you will excuse me for--for------"
"Oh! I have been sure for some days you knew it," interrupted the girl, looking up, but not at him. "I have been neglecting my work, I fear, and so you were quite right in speaking."
"No, your work is all right; it wasn't that exactly--but never mind, we won't speak of this any more, for I see it embarrasses you."
"Thank you, Mr. Hardwick," said Jennie, again bending her eyes on the desk before her.
The man saw the colour come and go in her cheeks, and thought he had never beheld anyone so entrancing. He rose quickly, without making further attempt at explanation, and left the room. One or two tear drops stained the paper on which the girl was scribbling. She didn't like giving pain to anyone, but could not hold herself to blame for what had happened. She made up her mind to leave the _Daily Bugle_ and seek employment elsewhere, but next day Mr. Hardwick showed no trace of disappointment, and spoke to her with that curt imperiousness which had heretofore been his custom.
"Miss Baxter," he said, "have you been reading the newspapers with any degree of attention lately?"
"Yes, Mr. Hardwick."
"Have you been watching the drift of foreign politics?"
"Do you refer to that speech by the Prime Minister of Austria a week or two ago?"
"Yes, that is what I have in my mind. As you know, then, it amounted almost to a declaration of war against England--almost, but not quite. It was a case of saying too much or of not saying enough; however, it was not followed up, and the Premier has been as dumb as a graven image ever since. England has many enemies in different parts of the world, but I must confess that this speech by the Austrian Premier came as a surprise. There must have been something hidden, which is not visible from the outside. The Premier is too astute a man not to know exactly what his words meant, and he was under no delusion as to the manner in which England would take them. It is a case, then, of, 'When I was so quickly done for, I wonder what I was begun for'--that is what all Europe is asking."
"Is it not generally supposed, Mr. Hardwick, that his object was to consolidate Austria and Hungary? I understood that local politics were at the bottom of his fiery speech."
"Quite so, but the rousing of the war spirit in Austria and Hungary was useless unless that spirit is given something to do. It needs a war, not a threat of war, to consolidate Austria and Hungary. If the speech had been followed up by hostile action, or by another outburst that would make war inevitable, I could understand it. The tone of the speech indicates that the Prime Minister meant business at the time he gave utterance to it. Something has occurred meanwhile to change the situation, and what that something is, all the newspapers in Europe have been trying to find out. We have had our regular Vienna representative at work ever since the words were uttered, and for the past two weeks he has been assisted by one of the cleverest men I could send him from London; but up to date, both have failed. Now I propose that you go quietly to Vienna; I shall not let either of the men know you are investigating the affair at which they have laboured with such little success; for both are good men, and I do not want to discourage either of them; still, above all things, I wish to have the solution of this mystery. So it occurred to me last night that you might succeed where others had failed. What do you think of it?"
"I am willing to try," said Miss Baxter, as there flashed across her mind an idea that here was a case in which the Princess von Steinheimer could be of the greatest assistance to her.
"It has been thought," went on the editor, "that the Emperor is extremely adverse to having trouble with England or any other country. Still, if that were the case, a new Cabinet would undoubtedly have been formed after this intemperate address of the Premier; but this man still holds his office, and there has been neither explanation nor apology from Court or Cabinet. I am convinced that there is something behind all this, a wheel within a wheel of some sort, because, the day after the speech, there came a rumour from Vienna that an attempt had been made on the life of the Emperor or of the Premier; it was exceedingly vague, but it was alleged that a dynamite explosion had taken place in the palace. This was promptly contradicted, but we all know what official contradictions amount to. There is internal trouble of some kind at the Court of Vienna, and if we could publish the full details, such an article would give us a European reputation. When could you be ready to begin your journey, Miss Baxter?"
"I am ready now."
"Well, in an affair like this it is best to lose no time; you can go to-morrow morning, then?"
"Oh, certainly, but I must leave the office at once, and you should get someone to finish the work I am on."
"I will attend to that," said the editor.
Thus relieved, Jennie betook herself to a telegraph office. She knew that if she wrote a letter to the Princess, who was now in Vienna, she would probably herself reach that city as soon as her note, so she telegraphed that something important was on hand which would take her to Vienna by next day's Orient express, and intimated that it was a matter in which she might need the assistance of the Princess. Then she hastened to her rooms to pack up. That evening there came an answering telegram from Vienna. The Princess asked her to bring her ball dress and all the rest of her finery. The lady added that she herself would be at the railway station, and asked Jennie to telegraph to her, _en route_, the time of her arrival. It was evident that her Highness was quite prepared to engage in whatever scheme there was on hand, and this fact encouraged Jennie to hope that success perhaps awaited her.
CHAPTER XII. JENNIE TOUCHES THE EDGE OF A GOVERNMENT SECRET.
True to her promise, the Princess von Steinheimer was waiting at the immense railway station of Vienna, and she received her friend with gushing effusion. Jennie left the train as neat as when she had entered it, for many women have the faculty of taking long journeys without showing the dishevelled effect which protracted railway travelling seems to have upon the masculine, and probably more careless, portion of humanity.
"Oh, you dear girl!" cried the Princess; "you cannot tell how glad I am to see you. I was just yearning for someone to talk English to. I am so tired of French and German, although they flatter me by saying that I speak those two languages extremely well; yet English is my own tongue, and it is so delightful to talk with one who can understand every blessed word you say, which you can easily see those who pretend to speak English in Vienna do not. What long chats we shall have! And now come this way to the carriage. There is a man here to look after your luggage. You are coming right home with me and are going to stay with me as long as you are in Vienna. Don't say, 'No,' nor make any excuse, nor talk of going to an hotel, for a suite of rooms is all ready for you, and your luggage will be there before we are. Now let us enter the carriage, for I am just pining to hear what it is you have on hand. Some delicious scandal, I hope."
"No," answered Jennie; "it pertains to Government matters."
"Oh, dear!" cried the Princess; "how tiresome! Politics are so dull."
"I don't think this case is dull," said Jennie; "because it has brought Austria and England to the verge of war."
"What a dreadful idea! I hadn't heard anything of it. When did this happen?"
"Less than a month ago," and Jennie related the whole circumstance, giving a synopsis of the Premier's speech.
"But I see nothing in that speech to cause war," protested the Princess. "It is as mild as new milk."
"I don't pretend to understand diplomacy," continued Jennie, blushing slightly as she remembered Lord Donal; and it seemed that the same thought struck the Princess at the same moment, for she looked quizzically at Jennie and burst out into a laugh.
"You may laugh," cried the girl; "but I tell you that this is a serious business. They say it only needed a second 'new milk' speech from the Premier to have England answer most politely in words of honey, and next instant the two countries would have been at each other's throats."
"Suppose we write to Lord Donal in St. Petersburg," suggested the Princess, still laughing, "and ask him to come to Vienna and help us? He understands all about diplomacy. By the way, Jennie, did Lord Donal ever find out whom he met at the ball that night?"
"No, he didn't," answered Miss Baxter shortly.
"Don't you ever intend to let him know? Are you going to leave the romance unfinished, like one of Henry
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