Heideck opened the door and summoned two of the Berlin criminal police, who at his request had been ordered to Antwerp on this affair with a large number of policemen.  Certainly he felt sure in advance that they would find nothing, for Eberhard Amelungen would have been very foolish not to have reckoned long ago on the possibility of such a visit, and to have taken precautions accordingly.  The Major, in bringing the police with him, had thought more of the moral impression of the whole procedure.  His knowledge of men told him that it had its effect.

“One thing more, Herr Amelungen,” said he.  “About the same time as the search begins here, another will take place in your private house.  I expect the report of those entrusted with it at any moment.”

Amelungen breathed hard.  He looked nervously at Heideck, as if trying to read his thoughts.  Then, after a brief struggle with himself, he whispered—­

“Send these men out, Herr major!  I should like to speak to you privately.”

When Heideck had complied with his request, Amelungen continued, speaking hastily, and bringing out his words with difficulty:  “In me you see a man who deserves compassion, a man who has been, entirely against his will and inclination, compromised.  If anyone is guilty in this matter, it is my brother-in-law Van Spranekhuizen and a lady correspondent of my wife in Brussels.  Occasionally I have acted as agent, when it was a matter of forwarding letters, or of handing over sums of money to the Countess—­to the lady; but I have never personally taken any part in the matters in question.”

“That statement is not enough for me.  I do not doubt the truth of what you say, but I must be informed of all the details before I can drop further proceedings against you.  Who is the lady you speak of?”

“A former maid of honour to the late Queen.”

“Her name?”

“Countess Clementine Arselaarts.”

“How did you come to know her?”

“She is a friend of my wife, who made her acquaintance last year when staying in Brussels.”

“And your wife is English?”

“Yes; her maiden name was Irwin.”

At the sound of this name a flood of painful recollections rushed over Heideck’s mind.

“Irwin?” he repeated.  “Has the lady by chance any relatives in the British army?”

“I had a brother-in-law, who was a captain in the Indian Lancers.  But, according to the news that has reached us, he was killed at the battle of Lahore.”

The Major found it hard to control his excitement, but as if he had already allowed himself to be too long diverted from his duty, he hastily returned to the real subject of his examination.

“You said that you have handed over certain sums of money to Countess Arselaarts.  By whose order? and on whose account?”

“On account of the English Government and on the order of an English banking house with which I have had business dealings for many years.”