At exactly a quarter past nine the following morning, Lord Rockstone with military precision rose from his desk.
“I fear that my time is up, Mr. Edestone,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I have enjoyed this opportunity of meeting you and listening to your presentation of your theory. Your drawings are most interesting; your photographs convincing, if—” he paused, his lip curling slightly under his long tawny moustache,—“if one did not know of the remarkable optical illusions capable of being produced in photography. Our friends, the Germans, have become particularly expert in the art of double exposure.”
Then, as if he thought he might have said too much, he added less crisply:
“Please do not understand that I doubt either your sincerity, or that of the Government at Washington in this matter; you may have both perhaps been deceived. I hope that your stay in England may be pleasant, and I regret that this war will prevent you from receiving the attention to which your letters and your accomplishments would entitle you.”
With an expression on his face that said plainer than words: “This is the last minute of my most valuable time that I intend to give to this nonsense,” he bowed formally, and reseating himself at his desk, took up papers.
Then without looking up, “Good morning, Mr. Edestone.”
The American did not allow himself to show the slightest trace of annoyance at the brusque dismissal.
“You will at least permit me to thank you for your kind intentions, sir,” he said; and standing perfectly still until he had forced Lord Rockstone to look up, he added with a smile, “We may meet again, perhaps.”
There was something about his perfect ease of manner as he stood waiting which showed that although he would not condescend to notice it, he was both conscious of the War Minister’s unpardonable rudeness and intended to make him acknowledge it.
Rockstone hesitated a moment; then with a belated show of courtesy came from behind his desk, and stiffly extended his hand.
“You Americans are the most extraordinary people,” he said; “I must admit, I never quite understand you.”
“Then you must grant us a slight advantage,” rejoined Edestone evenly; “because we believe we do understand you Englishmen. If there had been the same clear understanding on your side in the present instance it would have been more to your interest, I am satisfied; for then instead of merely disturbing you I should have aroused you.”
“It is not a question of arousing me as you call it. You are dealing with the Government of the Empire, and, as you know, England moves slowly. The suggestion that I invite His Majesty to see a lot of moving pictures of an impossible machine, if you will pardon me, is preposterous. If you really wish to sell something to the War Department, although I understand you to state that you do not, nothing is simpler. Ship one of your machines to England, give a demonstration, and whereas I cannot speak with authority, I am confident that England will pay all that any other Government will pay. As to our friends, the enemy, our ships will attend to it that nothing goes to them that can be used against us.” His jaws snapped, and his cold greenish-grey eyes flashed, as he gave another curt bow of dismissal.
Edestone had no alternative but to leave; but as he turned to rejoin Colonel Wyatt, who had stood stiffly at attention throughout the entire interview, he could not resist one parting shot.
“Do not forget, Lord Rockstone,” he said, “that England six months ago spoke lightly of submarines.”
The War Minister pretended not to hear; but no sooner had the door closed upon his offensive visitor than he caught up the telephone. “Get me the Admiralty, and present my compliments to Mr. Underhill,” he directed sharply. “Tell him I would like to speak to him at once.”
He turned back to a tray of letters left upon his desk to sign, but halted, his pen held arrested in air.
“Suppose,” he muttered, “the fellow should actually have—? But, pshaw! It’s simply a mammoth Yankee bluff. That Foreign Department at Washington is just silly enough to believe that it can frighten us with its manufactured photographs. They are so anxious over there to stop the war, that they would resort to any expedient—anything but fight.”
The telephone tinkled.
“Ah! Are you there Underhill? Yes, this is Rockstone. I called you up to warn you against a madman who is now on his way to see you. You can’t well refuse to give him an audience, for he has such strong letters from the American Government that one might imagine he was a special envoy sent to offer armed intervention and to end the war. But in my opinion he is merely a crank or an impostor, who has succeeded in obtaining the support and endorsement of their State Department.
“What is that? Oh yes; he’s an American. His name? How should I remember! I wasn’t interested either in him, or what he had to say. He pretends to have discovered some new agency or force, don’t you know, and tries to prove by a lot of double-exposed photographs that he has broken down the fundamental laws of physics, neutralizing the force of gravity, or annihilating space by the polarization of light, or some such rot.
“Do not kick him out. He has letters not only from his Government, but from some of its most prominent men whom it would be unwise to offend at this time. Just listen to his twaddle about universal peace and that sort of thing, and then pass him on to Graves with a quiet warning such as I have given you.”
Meanwhile Edestone, having taken leave of Colonel Wyatt, was making his way out of the building, when he found himself accosted in the dimly lighted corridor by a man in civilian clothes whom he recognized as a New York acquaintance of several years’ standing.
“Well, look who’s here!” he greeted Edestone lustily as he extended his hand. “What brings you into the very den of the lion? Is it that, like myself, you are helping dear old England get arms and ammunition with which to lick the barbarians on the Rhine?”
Glancing around cautiously he lowered his voice. “Make her pay well for them, my boy; she would not hesitate to turn them on us, if we got in her way.”
Edestone laughingly disclaimed any interest in army contracts, but at the same time avoided divulging the actual mission upon which he was engaged.
There was something in his companion’s manner that put him rather on his guard; he remembered smoking after dinner not more than three or four months before in the house of one of the most prominent German bankers in New York, and listening to this man, who had expressed himself in a way that might have suggested somewhat pro-German sympathies. Edestone had at the time attributed this to a consideration for their host and to the fact that the German Ambassador was present; but he recalled that, although the speaker was most violent in his protestations of neutrality, someone had suggested at the time that he was of a German family, his father having been born in Hesse-Darmstadt. He was a man of wealth, with establishments in New York and Newport, at both of which places Edestone had been entertained. His loud and hearty manner stamped him as a typical American, but his large frame, handsome face, and military bearing showed his Teutonic origin.
“You surprise me Rebener.” Edestone’s eyes twinkled slightly at these recollections. “I should have supposed, if you had anything of the kind to sell, that it would be to your friend, Count Bernstoff. However,” he laid his hand on the other’s arm, “it’s an agreeable surprise to run across a fellow-countryman, no matter what the cause. Are you going my way?”
“No,” Rebener told him, he had an appointment on hand with one of the bureau chiefs in the Ordnance Department.
“Well then suppose you dine with me tonight,” suggested Edestone. “I am stopping at Claridge’s and shall be awfully glad if you can come. I am entirely alone in London, you see; my cronies, I find, are all dead or at the front.”
“Delighted, my boy. But listen! Don’t have any of your English swells. Let’s make this a quiet little American dinner just to ourselves, and forget for once this ghastly war.”
“At eight o’clock, then,” Edestone nodded.
“And a strict neutrality dinner, remember. That is the only safe kind for us Americans to eat in London.”
“All right, Rebener, as neutral as you please. A bientôt.” And with a wave of the hand he passed on down the corridor and out of the building. His appointment with Underhill, Chief of the Admiralty, was not until 11:30, so he put in the time by sauntering rather slowly along the Thames Embankment.
He regretted now that, in talking with Lord Rockstone, he had not made a little more show of force, for had he assumed a more dictatorial manner he would have at least aroused the fighting spirit in his stern antagonist, who might then have taken some interest in crushing him under his heel; whereas now he saw plainly that Rockstone considered him beneath his notice, and thereby much valuable time had been lost. Yet he did not wish to make any show of force until he knew positively that his men were all at their stations, and that the Little Peace Maker was near at hand. He must be in a position to use force before playing his last card, and he had not as yet heard from “Specs.” Although he knew that their instruments were perfectly attuned, he had not, up to twelve o’clock of the day before, received a single vibration.
At this point he was interrupted by encountering another American who also insisted upon stopping and shaking hands. This was a young architect from New York, who had from time to time done work for his father’s estate and who had also made some alterations at the Little Place in the Country for Edestone himself. He was a tall, lank young man of about twenty-seven, with little rat-like eyes, placed so close to his hawk-like nose that one felt Nature would have been kinder to him had she given him only one eye and frankly placed it in the middle of his receding forehead. His small blonde moustache did not cover his rabbit mouth, which was so filled with teeth that he could with difficulty close his lips.
“What has brought you to London, Schmidt? Aren’t you afraid that these Englishmen will capture you and shoot you as a spy?”
“Sh! Not quite so loud please, Mr. Edestone; these English are such fools. They think that because a man has a German name he must be a fighting German, when you know that I am a perfectly good naturalized American citizen. My passport is made out in the name of Schmidt, and that’s my name all right, but I call myself Smith over here to keep from rubbing these fellows the wrong way.”
“Well, Mr. ‘Smith,’ you have not told me what you are doing in London.”
“I have been sent over by a New York architectural paper to make a report upon the condition of the cathedral at Rheims. I stopped over in London to get my papers viséd by the Royal Institute of Architects.” Then, lowering his voice, and keeping his eyes on a policeman who was apparently watching them with interest: “I am sorry to see you here, Mr. Edestone. This is no place for us Americans, and my advice to you is to get out of here as soon as you can, and don’t come back again until the war is over.”
Edestone felt that he would have said more but they were interrupted by the policeman who said: “Excuse me, gentlemen, but these be war times, and me ordhers are to keep the Imbankment moving.”
After leaving the War Offices, Rebener went directly to the nearest public telephone.
“Hello, Karlbeck,” he called, after satisfying himself by mumbling a jumble of unintelligible words and numbers that he had the man he wanted on the wire. “Is Smith there? What? Thames Embankment? What did you say is the number of that officer? Oh, my old butler, Pat! That’s all right. Now listen; if I should miss Smith and he comes in, tell him to call me at my hotel at once. I have made an engagement for dinner with our man for eight o’clock tonight, but you and H. R. H. need not be at my rooms until half-past eight. You understand, eh? Good-bye.”
He strolled out, following Edestone’s course with the air of a man wishing to enjoy this beautiful spring morning, and approaching the officer who had interrupted the interview between Edestone and Smith, he said, with a little twinkle in his eye: “Will you tell me which of these bridges is called the London Bridge?”
The blue-coated Pat, with Hibernian readiness, caught the humour of the situation. “Shure, I would gladly, but ‘tis a strhanger I am here mesilf,” he grinned as he smothered the entire lower part of his face with his huge paw of a hand, and significantly closed one eye.
“Pat, your fondness for joking will get you into trouble yet. Did Smith turn Edestone over to you?”
“He did, and I mesilf took him up to the Admiralty where he is now. 4782, I think they called him, takes him up from there, and will keep him until he hears from either you or Smith.”
“Where has Smith gone?”
“Shure he’s up at Claridge’s, bein’ shaved by Count von Hottenroth.”
“Now, now, Pat, if you don’t stop that joking of yours I’ll certainly report you to the Wilhelmstrasse.”
“And they said I was to be the first King of dear old Ireland!” as with a broad grin on his face he raised his hand as if drinking. “Der Tag!” he cried, thereby causing several passers-by to laugh at the idea of a London bobby giving the sacred German toast.
Rebener, leaving him, went directly to his rooms at The Britz where he was received with the greatest consideration by everybody about the place. He was shown to the royal suite by the proprietor himself, who after he had carefully closed the door upon them stood as if waiting for orders.
“Call Claridge’s on the ‘phone, and tell Smith who is being shaved,” he smiled at the recollection of Pat’s jest, “to meet me here at once. I do not want him seen in the hotel, so tell him to come in by the servants’ entrance, and you bring him up on the service elevator and in here through my pantry and dining-room.”
The proprietor retired to attend to this, but was soon back, and Rebener continued his instructions.
“Luckily Edestone invited me to dine with him tonight before I had a chance to invite him,” he said, “but I will persuade him to come here and dine with me.”
“So, Mr. Bombiadi,” he turned to the proprietor, “I shall want dinner here for four at 8:30. See to it yourself, will you, that my guests are brought through my private entrance, and one especially—you know who—who will be incognito, must not be recognized. Not that there could be any objection to these men dining with me here—a common rich American, who loves to spend his money on princes and things—but by tonight this man Edestone will be watched by at least twenty men from Scotland Yard, and they suspect anyone of being a German spy, be he prince or pauper.”
Their conversation was interrupted at this point by the arrival of Smith, who came in very much excited. Sniffling and rubbing his nose with the back of his forefinger, like a nervous cocaine fiend, he broke out agitatedly:
“Mr. Rebener, I’m getting sick of this job. When I undertook to find out for you what was going on at the Little Place in the Country, I was working for Germany as against the world, and anything that I can do for her I am glad and proud to do, but that Hottenroth talks like a damn fool. Excuse me, Mr. Rebener, but he don’t want to stop at anything. He says that if he pulls off this thing the Emperor, when he gets to London, will make him Duke of Westminster, or something, and six months from now he will appoint me Governor-General of North America. I tell you, Mr. Rebener, that fellow is plumb nutty.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Rebener,” interposed the proprietor, “it is true that Hottenroth is excitable, but he is faithful to the Fatherland and an humble servant to His Imperial Majesty. He has been in charge of a fixed post in London for fifteen years. He was one of the very first to be sent here, and he was in Paris before that. He would die willingly for the Fatherland, as would I, and if this Schmidt, I mean Smith, thinks there is any sin too great to be committed for the Fatherland, he is not worthy of a place among us, and the sooner we get rid of him the better.” And he looked at the unfortunate Smith in a way that showed he was willing to do this at any moment.
But Rebener, who had lived all his life in America, and like Smith did not thoroughly agree with the philosophy of German militarism—before which everything must bow—hurriedly raised his hand.
“Come, come, you are both getting unnecessarily excited. Don’t let us try to cross our bridges until we get to them. What did von Hottenroth have to report?”
“It was not very satisfactory, to tell you the truth, Mr. Rebener,” said Smith; “they searched through all of his things and they found nothing but a drawing of a Zeppelin of our 29-M type, with some slight changes, which Hottenroth said don’t amount to anything, and some photographs of Mr. Edestone himself, doing some juggling tricks with heavy dumb-bells and weights, but we learned afterwards from the porter that an expressman had left two large and heavy trunks marked, ‘A. M. Black and P. S. Stanton,’ at No. 4141 Grosvenor Square East.”
“Well what is the report,” demanded Bombiadi, “on No. 4141 Grosvenor Square?”
Smith read from a memorandum book: “Lord Lindenberry, who is a widower, lives there with his mother, the Dowager. The old lady is now up at their country place, in Yorkshire, and the Marquis went on to Aldershot last night after having dined with Edestone at Brooks’s and dropping him at Claridge’s at 12:15 A.M. The house is only partially opened; there are only a few of the old servants there.”
“And do you think these trunks contain the instrument which you reported to us from America was always kept in the safe at the Little Place in the Country?” snapped the hotel proprietor.
“I don’t know,” whined Smith. “Mr. Edestone probably has it with him.”
“Well, we must get hold of it before he shows it to Underhill,” frowned the proprietor, “that is, if it has not been shown already, and in that case we must get hold of Edestone himself.”
“Now that is exactly what is troubling me,” Smith’s voice rose hysterically. “I’m not going to stand for any of that rough stuff, Mr. Rebener. Mr. Edestone and his father have both been mighty good to me, and if anything happens to him I’ll blow on the whole lot of you.”
“So?” The proprietor’s pale fat face was convulsed with a look of hatred and contempt. “Then we are to understand, Smith, that if we find it necessary to do away with Edestone you wish to go first? You dirty little half-breed,” he growled in an undertone. “Your mother must have been an English woman.”
“Here, here, you two fools!” Rebener broke in with sharp authority, “there is no question of ‘doing away’ with Edestone, as you call it. What we’re after is the invention and not the man himself, and we’ll not get it by ‘doing away’ with him. I am, like Smith here, opposed to murder, even for the Fatherland.”
“But it is not murder, Mr. Rebener,” interrupted the proprietor, “if thereby we are instrumental in saving thousands of the sons of the Fatherland.”
“That would not only not save the sons of the Fatherland, but would put an end to our usefulness, both here in London and in America, especially if Edestone has already turned the whole thing over to England. The very first thing for us to do is to find out how the matter stands. If the Ministry knows nothing, we must work to get him to Berlin, and then even you fire-eaters may safely trust it to the Wilhelmstrasse. If it should happen, however, that the British Government has the invention, His Royal Highness tonight will try to get enough out of Edestone to enlighten Berlin, and in that way we shall at least get an even break. That is, always provided that Edestone has not a lot of the completed articles, whatever they may be, at the Little Place in the Country. That would put us in bad again, and it will be up to Count Bernstoff to attend to it from the New York end.”
“Of course, Mr. Rebener,” said the proprietor, “we can do nothing until we hear from His Royal Highness, but I am satisfied that he will say Edestone must not be allowed to go to Downing Street tomorrow to continue his negotiations, unless in some way we can get hold of this secret tonight.”
“Well, I’ll be damned if I’ll—!” started Rebener angrily, when he was interrupted by the proprietor, who holding his finger to his lip, said:
“Please, Mr. Rebener, please! Always remember that the service on which we are engaged has no soul and a very long arm.” Then dropping into the persuasive and servile tone of the maître d’hôtel: “I propose, Mr. Rebener, that you allow me to send you up a nice little lunch, some melon, say, a salmon mayonnaise or a filet du sole au vin blanc and a noisette d’agneau and a nice little sweet, and you must try a bottle of our Steinberger Auslese ‘84.
“And Smith,” he turned to the humbler agent, “you had better get in touch with 4782, who is reporting to His Royal Highness every hour. His last message was that Edestone is still with Underhill, so you get down to the Admiralty and report to me here as often as you can. Edestone will probably lunch quietly alone somewhere, as I know that all of his friends are at the front, but don’t lose him until you turn him over to Mr. Rebener tonight at 8 o’clock.” His eyes narrowed as they followed the skulking figure of the architect out of the room.
“That fellow needs watching,” he muttered to Rebener. “He has lost his nerve. He is not a true German anyhow. But if he makes a false step, 4782 knows what to do and you can depend upon him to do it. We do not know who he is, but he is a gentleman, if not a nobleman, and he will kill or die for his Emperor.”
Smith, in the meantime, had gone down the service stairs and out at the rear of the hotel. He was thoughtful, and when he was settled in his taxi, after having directed the chauffeur where to drive, he said to himself:
“They are going to kill him tonight unless they get that machine, or else can fix it so that Rockstone doesn’t get it tomorrow, that is if Underhill hasn’t got it already. I wish I’d never started this business; I never thought it would go so far, and what do I get out of it? A German decoration which I can’t wear in America, and God knows I don’t want to live in Germany, and seventeen dollars a week. I’m not going to stand for it, and that’s settled.”
Arriving in front of a little restaurant he entered and sat down at a table near a window looking out on Whitehall Place. The proprietor, who was another German, came over to him, and while ostensibly arranging the cloth spoke to him in an undertone in his own language.
“Edestone is still with Underhill,” he said. “The taxi driver on the stand opposite, the one who looks as if he were asleep, is 4782. In that way he keeps the head of the line, you see, and when Edestone comes out, if he doesn’t take that cab, 4782 can follow him until he alights again, and then he is to telephone His Royal Highness. So you sit here and have lunch, where you can see what is going on.”
Then, turning to a group of his regular customers at another table, the jovial host in a loud voice and in perfect English took a violent pro-Ally part in the war discussion that was going on.
Edestone had met the Honorable Herbert Underhill before, both in America and in the country houses of England. The two were about the same age, and as Underhill’s mother was an American, Edestone had hoped that he would not have quite so much trouble in getting him to look at the matter from an American point of view.
Underhill, however, was just on that account a little bit more formal with the cousins from across the sea than were most of the men of high position in Europe. He was undoubtedly taken aback and thrown off his guard when he found that Edestone was the dangerous American lunatic of whom he had been warned. In the first place, he knew that there was not the slightest chance of his being an impostor, and he also knew exactly how much of a lunatic he was. He knew, in fact, that he was a hard-riding, clear-thinking, high-minded Anglo-Saxon of the very best type to be found A Rusty Old Cannon-Ball anywhere, and he smiled as he thought of Rockstone’s advice not to kick him out of the Admiralty.
With considerable show of cordiality, he invited his visitor into a small room adjoining his large office, and sat him down at the opposite side of a wide table.
“Lord Rockstone told me you were coming, but did not mention your name. He is quite a chap, that Rockstone. Not what you Americans would call a very chatty party, however. Now what can I do for you? Lord Rockstone tells me that you have some new invention, or something of the sort, that will help us to finish up this little scrimmage without the loss of a single Tommy. Well, that is exactly what we are looking for, and you American chaps are clever at thinking out new ideas. He tells me, however, that you do not wish to sell it. Now I can understand better than he why that part would be of no especial interest to you; but can’t we deal with a Syndicate, or a Board of Underwriters, a Holding Company, or some of those wonderful business combinations that you Americans devise in order to do business without going to jail? Is the poor starving inventor some billionaire like yourself, who works only for honour and glory? In that case we might get an Iron Cross for him. In fact, we might get one blessed by the Emperor himself, by Jove!”
Edestone laughed. “Well, Mr. Underhill, you cannot deny inheriting a certain amount of American wit. I have so often heard the older members of the Union Club tell stories of Billy Travers’s witty sayings. He must have gone the pace that kills. One of the old servants used to tell that whenever Travers and Larry Jerome and that set came in for supper, they expected the waiters to drink every fifth bottle; it made things more cheerful-like—but revenons à nos moutons. Lord Rockstone is right, I do not want to sell my discovery, for mine it is. I am the penniless inventor. I only want an opportunity of showing it to the heads of the Powers that are now at war, and of demonstrating to them the stupendous and overwhelming force that is now practically in the hands of the greatest of the neutral governments, and thus try, if possible, to convince them of the uselessness of continuing this loss of life and treasure.
“If I could demonstrate to you, Mr. Underhill, that I could, sitting here in your office, give an order that would set London on fire and send every ship in the English navy to the bottom in the course of a few weeks, would you not advocate opening negotiations for peace? And were I to show the Emperor of Germany that his great army could be destroyed in even less time, would he not be more receptive than we now understand him to be?”
“Why, Mr. Edestone, I most certainly should,” the First Lord of the Admiralty granted with a smile, “and I think that perhaps the German Emperor would be amenable under the circumstances, but as they say in your great country, ‘I am from Missouri, you must show me.’”
He changed his position and glanced at Edestone as if he were beginning to think that possibly Rockstone might be right in his estimate after all.
“Very well, Mr. Underhill; it is now five minutes to noon, and I think that I will be able to show you in exactly five minutes.”
He took from his pocket a leather case, such as a woodsman might use to carry a large pocket compass, and removing the cover set out upon the table an instrument that was entirely enclosed in vulcanized rubber. On the top, under glass, was a dial, with a little needle which vibrated violently, but came to a standstill soon after being placed on the table. Two small platinum wires, about twelve inches long and carefully insulated, issued from opposite sides of the hard rubber casing.
Underhill’s face at first bore only an expression of mild amusement, but as Edestone evidenced such a deadly earnestness, he showed more interest and said with a rather nervous laugh: “Look here, old chap, don’t blow the entire English navy out of the water while you’re closeted here with me. I must have some witness to prove that I didn’t do it or I might have to explain to the House of Commons.”
Edestone, a hard and drawn look about his mouth, paid no heed, but taking his watch out of his pocket fixed his eye on the little needle of the instrument and waited as the last few seconds of the hour ticked off. As the second hand made its last round, and the minute hand swung into position exactly at twelve, he leaned over the table as if trying by mental suggestion to make the instrument respond to his will. But it remained perfectly quiescent, and with a half sigh and a tightening of the lines about his mouth, he closed his watch. Could it be possible, he thought, that “Specs” had forgotten his instructions always to use Greenwich time?
He was about to replace the instrument in its case, when he was startled by a clock on the mantel, which began to strike the hour of twelve. Involuntarily he counted the strokes as they chimed slowly, and as the vibrations of the last stroke faded away the little needle swung an entire circuit of the dial, returning to its original position. This was repeated three times.
Underhill, although still interested in what was going on, seemed a bit relieved when nothing more startling happened.
“Oh, I say, you know, you gave me quite a start,” he jested. “I thought that you were going to set London on fire, and you simply seem to be taking your blood-pressure.”
Edestone still paid not the slightest attention to him, but after glancing about the room walked over to the mantelpiece where he picked up an old twelve-inch cannon-ball, which with considerable difficulty he brought back and placed on the table by the side of his instrument. His eyes once more roved about the room as if he were seeking something, and stepping deliberately to a passe-partout photograph of King George V., he ripped off the binding with his pocket-knife and tore from it the glass.
“Oh, I say, now, Mr. Edestone, those cow-boy methods don’t go here in London, and if you cannot behave a bit more like a gentleman, I’ll have you shown to the street.”
“We have more important matters on our hands just now, Mr. Underhill, than whether or not I am a gentleman,” snapped the American, his face set and serious as he with nervous fingers laid the glass on the table.
Rolling the cannon-ball to him, he lifted it very gently on to the glass plate, and then taking a key from his pocket he appeared to wind up on the inside of the instrument some mechanism which gave off a buzzing sound. Next he drew on a pair of rubber gloves with vulcanized rubber finger tips, and moistening with his lips the ends of the two platinum wires, pressed them to either side of the ball, first the one and then the other. A spark was given off when the second contact was made, and the room was filled with a pungent odour as of overheated metal which caused both men to cough violently.
Following this, with great care, and using only the tips of his fingers, he lifted the glass plate with the ball on it. When he had raised it his arm’s length above the table, like a plum pudding on a platter, he took the glass away, leaving the ball hanging unsupported in the air.
He sat down and smiled across the table into the astonished, almost incredulous, face of his companion.
“And now, Mr. Underhill, I hope you will pardon my rudeness,” he apologized lightly; “but I get so interested in these little tricks of mine that sometimes I forget myself. If you will permit me, I shall, when I go to Paris, order from Cartiers’s a more befitting frame for His Majesty, and shall beg you to accept it from me as a little souvenir of our meeting today.”
Underhill made no reply. His whole attention was riveted on that amazing ball, and Edestone, a trifle mischievously, added: “If you have a perfectly good heart, and think you can stand a bit of a shock, touch that ball lightly with your finger.”
“My heart’s all right, and I am prepared for anything,” Underhill surrendered, as he reached up and touched the innocent looking rusty old cannon-ball, whose only peculiarity seemed to be its willingness to remain where it was without any visible means of support.
The room was suddenly filled with a greenish light, as if someone had just taken a flash-light photograph. Underhill was thrown violently back into his chair, and the ball crashed down on the table, splitting it from end to end.
Without moving a muscle of his face, and taking no notice of the gestures of pain made by Underhill as he sat rubbing his arm and shoulder, Edestone resumed:
“Mr. Underhill, I will not take any more of your valuable time to show you my drawings and photographs, but I beg you to say to Sir Egbert Graves that you do not think with Lord Rockstone that the American Secretary of State has been deceived, and that you hope he will, when he sees me tomorrow, try to forget for a while that he is an Englishman and be a little bit human. You know, Underhill, confidence and pigheadedness are not even connected by marriage; much less are they blood relations. By Jove,” he grinned, “you can tell him I’ll stick him up against the ceiling if he insists upon handling me with the ice tongs and leave him there until you take him down; that is, if you care to take another little shock.”
Underhill, although he might have thought at another time that it was his duty to resent such light and frivolous reference to the heads of His Majesty’s Government, was now, however, occupied with more serious reflections, and overlooked the offence.
“I am sure,” he said, rousing himself, “that if Sir Egbert is convinced that you are working for the sake of humanity he will be most happy to make use of your talents.”
“That is exactly what I want him to do,” returned Edestone, “but not in the way in which you mean. I wish to be given authority to open negotiations for peace with the Emperor of Germany. Now, Mr. Underhill, do we understand one another?”
He rose to leave with this, but Underhill, stepping quickly forward, laid a hand upon his arm.
“You don’t suppose for a moment, Mr. Edestone, that we will allow you to leave England and go to Germany to sell them your invention and have it used against us?”
“You have my word, Mr. Underhill, and that of the American Secretary of State, that it is not my intention to sell to any government. With that assurance, unless your Ministry wishes to risk the chances of war with the United States, I think it will allow me to leave England and go anywhere I please. Good-morning, Mr. Underhill. I am sorry to have taken up so much of your valuable time, even more sorry to have broken His Majesty’s beautiful old oak table.”
Underhill, left alone, sat for some moments looking from the broken table to the cannonball and then back again. Finally he picked up a fragment of glass, for the Royal face protector had likewise been broken, when the good old English oak had met its defeat at the hands of this Hun of the world of science, and with it, very gingerly, he tapped the iron ball—this rusty old barbarian which had set at naught the force of gravity, had violated all the established laws of nature, and had like the Germans in Belgium smashed through.
Finding that nothing happened, he hesitated for a moment, and, then, bracing himself against the shock, he touched his finger gently to this rude old paradox. There was no shock, and, reassured, he leaned across the table and tried with both hands to lift the cannon-ball.
“That part is genuine there is no doubt,” he granted. “That old cannon-ball must have been here since—?” He gave a start as his eyes caught the inscription pasted upon it, which was:
“How extraordinary!” he exclaimed. “These Americans are popping up at every turn.”
He passed out into the large outer office, and, glancing at his watch, summoned an undersecretary.
“It is now just a quarter after twelve,” he said, “and the Cabinet lunches at Buckingham Palace at two. Present my compliments to Lord Rockstone and Sir Egbert Graves, and say that I should like to see them both here for a few minutes on a matter of the greatest importance, and that much as I regret to trouble them it is absolutely necessary that this meeting be held in my office and before they go on to the Palace.”
To another attendant who, moved by curiosity, was going in the direction of the smaller room, he said: “Place a sentry at that door when I leave. No one is to be allowed to enter that room until I give further orders.”
A telephone orderly came in a few minutes later to say that his message had found Lord Rockstone and Sir Egbert Graves together, and that they both would be with him within the half-hour.
Underhill was now fully convinced that Edestone possessed some wonderful invention or discovery which the United States intended to use as a final argument for peace, and, with the aid of this discovery, render untenable any position in opposition to its will taken by England or any of the other Powers. Had he dreamed that the United States was as ignorant as to the nature of this invention as he himself was, the history of the world might have been changed.
When Graves and Rockstone arrived, he greeted them with serious face and at once drew them into private conference.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I am sorry to have to trouble you to come to me, but I am confident that you will forgive me when you understand my reasons for insisting upon a meeting here.” Keeping both men still standing he continued: “I have a strange story to tell, so strange in fact, that you gentlemen would be justified in doubting not only my word but my sanity, had I nothing to show you in corroboration.”
Both men stood like graven images; one like a soldier at attention; the other, his hat and cane in his right hand and the tips of his two first fingers resting lightly on the table behind which Underhill was standing, his thin, clean-shaven, mask-like face as expressionless as if it belonged to a head that had been stuck on the end of a pike and shoved out across the table for Underhill to look at, instead of to one well placed on his broad athletic shoulders. They both knew that Underhill was young and had inherited from his beautiful American mother a nervous and temperamental disposition. They also knew that this was tempered by the crafty cleverness of the blood of the hero of Blenheim. They had come prepared for one of his excitable outbursts, although they knew he would not have been so insistent had there not been good cause.
“Will you be so kind as to walk into this room with me?” He pointed toward the door of the small room.
Still with that show of utter imperturbability the two complied, continuing to gaze stolidly as their associate, closing the door behind them, called their attention to the cannon-ball and broken table.
“Exhibits A and B”; he waved his hand toward the two objects. “I wanted you to see these in order to convince you that I have neither been dreaming, nor am I the victim of an aberration.”
Then with great care and endeavouring to maintain a semblance of self-possession, he described his recent experience, omitting no single detail that he could recall. He showed them exactly where and how he had been sitting, and followed every movement made by Edestone, even to the ripping of the glass from the portrait of the King, until finally, as if overcome by the strain that he had put upon himself to appear perfectly calm, he ended with a nervous little laugh.
“Will you look at the inscription on that blooming old cannon-ball? It really seems quite spooky.”
Graves moved forward and thoughtfully examined the split table and the rusty old relic of Valley Forge, but Rockstone did not offer to stir. With what was almost a sneer on his face he met the challenging glance of his younger confrère.
“I would not have believed, Underhill,” he said impatiently, “that you with your experience with the fakirs of India could have been taken in by so old a trick.” He half-closed his eyes as if to indicate that for him at least the incident was closed.
Underhill frowned. “You are wrong, Rockstone,” he exclaimed impulsively. “This man is no faker, nor am I so easily imposed upon as you seem to think. I tell you that we are called upon to deal with a new agency that can neither be disputed nor sneered away, and unless we can contrive some way to oppose it, the United States will step in and force a peace upon us—a peace that will leave Europe exactly where it was before the war—and keep it so, while she herself can go ahead unchecked and take possession of the whole Western Hemisphere. Don’t you see the scheme?”
“Where is this extraordinary individual?” inquired the Foreign Minister, completing his inspection of the table. “What has become of him?” His thin voice was as evenly modulated as if he were asking where he had put his other glove.
“Oh, probably at Boodle’s or Brookes’s lunching with some of his friends,” Underhill answered indifferently. “He left here only a short time ago. And you need not be afraid, Sir Egbert,” with a significant glance. “A very careful eye is being kept upon his movements. We can get him at any moment if we want him.”
Graves nodded, and then went on meditatively.
“It is of course entirely irregular,” he said, “but from what both of you gentlemen tell me as to the nature of his credentials, there can be little doubt that the man is here with the approval of his Government, if not as an authorized representative. The sole question, therefore, is whether or not he does possess such an invention or discovery as he claims——”
“But can you doubt that?” demanded Underhill hotly.
“And whether,” proceeded Sir Egbert without change of tone, “granting that the contrivance is of value, the United States will permit its purchase for use in the present war.
“On the first proposition, I can only say that if he has this invention, as my young friend of the Navy stands so firmly convinced, it is tantamount to admitting that the United States has a new and terrible instrument of war, in which case it would be most unwise to offend her. If he has not, there certainly can be no objection to allowing him the opportunity of offering to our enemies something that is of no value. Therefore, that seems to settle the question as to the advisability of detaining him, as has been suggested. I should strongly favour letting him go when and where he pleases.
“Assuming that he has in his possession facts or mechanisms that would give to one nation such stupendous advantages over the others as he claims, we must not forget that the United States has had these facts and mechanisms for some time. Therefore, it would be ill-advised to detain him forcibly, for the United States’ answer to this would be a declaration of war in which the superiority of her position would be overwhelming.
“I’m inclined to believe that the reason he does not wish to sell his discovery is because he has not obtained permission from his Government to do so. They intend to dispose of it to the country with whom they can make the most favourable bargain. I think indeed that under all circumstances the best policy for this Government is to treat this man with the greatest possible consideration. If he has the power to do us harm, we must put him in such a position that he will not wish to do it; and if he has not, our treatment of him will have a tendency to draw the United States nearer to us than she is at present. We must, at least, pretend to take the American Secretary of State at his word. Whereas I do not think that there is any doubt that America is influenced entirely by selfish motives, she is now our friend, and as long as this war goes on it is to the interest of Great Britain to keep her so.”
“A very good idea, Sir Egbert,” agreed Underhill. “That is absolutely the only way to deal with this man. He says that he is almost a pure Anglo-Saxon, you know, and he is as proud of it as if he were an Englishman. He is the ninth in direct line from the original old chap, or rather young chap, who went from England to Virginia in 1642. Think of it! Say what you may, blood is thicker than water. That fellow is at heart an Englishman; he has been away from home nearly three hundred years.”
Graves gave a little bow of comprehension. “When Mr. Edestone calls on me tomorrow,” he said, “I shall not even touch on the question of the purchasing of this alleged invention, but shall offer to facilitate in every way his mission as peacemaker. I shall take him at his word that he does not intend to sell to any one, and try to persuade him that, if he is bent on coercing any people, the English are not the ones that require this, as they are in perfect accord with him, and that he would accomplish his purpose much more quickly if he would bring force to bear upon the German Emperor.”
“But, Sir Egbert,” broke in Underhill excitedly, “he says that he wants us to authorize him to open peace negotiations with the Kaiser, and I think he rather intimated that if we should refuse he would use force, which of course means the United States.”
“Well upon my word!” Rockstone’s eyes flashed, and an indignant expression took the place of the rather bored look with which he had been listening. “That is pretty strong language to use to His Imperial Majesty’s Government, and for my part I think that this young gentleman and his little trick box should be shipped back home with a very polite but emphatic note to the effect that when England wishes the good offices of the United States in bringing this war to a close, she will call for them. As to the young man himself, I should say to him that if he were caught trying to get into Germany he would be looked upon as a spy endeavouring to render assistance to the enemy, and would be treated accordingly.”
“But wait a moment, Rockstone,” said Sir Egbert. “You are forgetting that this Mr. Edestone is in some measure at least the representative of his country. We cannot afford to offend the United States of America, even though his manners are bad.”
“To the contrary,” muttered Underhill, “his manners are surprisingly good.”
Sir Egbert slightly inclined his head in acknowledgment of the correction. “There is the point too,” he went on, “as to whether or not he is an impostor. If he is, why should we allow the American comic papers to put us in the same category with their own Secretary of State, at whom they have been poking fun for years, when they discover that this exceedingly clever young man has taken us in also?
“No, no, to me the matter seems very simple. Uncle Sam has got something he wants to sell. Good or bad it makes no difference; he wants to sell, and sell it he will to the highest bidder. Why refuse to consider his offer on the one hand, or why appear to be too anxious to close with him on the other? Let him offer it to the enemy; he will certainly come back for our bid before closing with them.”
“Do you know, Sir Egbert,” Lord Rockstone somewhat reluctantly allowed himself to be won over, “since you put it that way I think that perhaps you are right. Diplomacy is probably the strongest weapon with which to deal with this young man. He did not impress me as one to be easily bluffed by show of force.”
“Nor should I be bluffed, even by you, Rockstone,” said Underhill somewhat ruefully, rubbing his arm, “if I had the power that this chap has locked up in that little rubber box and stored away in that long head of his.”
“Well, let us make a decision: does His Majesty go to Washington or shall the Chautauqua lecturer extend his professional tours to include London?” Graves gave his sly secretive laugh. Then as if ashamed of his momentary levity, and changing his entire manner, he said: “Well, gentlemen, what do you propose?”
“I rather think we are unanimous,” said Underhill, “in considering that Mr. Edestone should be given a fair hearing. The final answer to his proposition can be given, of course, only after it has been discussed in full cabinet.”
“That would perhaps be the best way to leave the matter,” approved Rockstone.
“We are agreed then, it seems,” said Graves, and they left together for Buckingham Palace.