On entering the room, when he returned, Edestone, although he was aware that the King had been notified and the attendants been given orders to admit him, did not advance, but took his stand near the door, looking neither to the right nor to the left. He permitted the young Prince, his escort, who had discovered that they had many friends in common, and whose sister it was that had been his fellow-passenger on the Ivernia, to inform His Majesty that everything was in readiness for the exhibition of the moving pictures.
The King immediately beckoned the inventor forward and, picking up the little instrument from the table, thrust it into Edestone’s hands, almost with an air of relief.
“We appreciate the compliment you have paid us in believing that we still play fair.” There was in both his tone and action a touch of the bluff heartiness of the naval officer, which was natural to him, and showed that he had thrown off all restraint. “But do not, I beg of you, do this again, even in England. These are desperate times; and nations, like men, when fighting for their very existence, are quite apt to forget their finer scruples.
“My cousin in Berlin, I am convinced,” and there was perhaps a hint of warning in his smile, “would give the souls of half his people to know what that little box contains; and, in his realm, it is the religion of some of his benighted subjects to give him what he wants.”
Bowing slightly, Edestone took the little case, and, without even looking at it, slipped it carelessly into the inside pocket of his coat.
“I knew that Your Majesty would understand me,” he said in a tone intended for the Royal ear alone, and with more emotion than he had yet displayed. As he spoke, too, he lifted his hand in obedience to an involuntary and apparently irresistible impulse.
The King met him more than half-way. Reaching out, he grasped the extended hand in his own, and standing thus the two men looked straight into each other’s eyes.
The suppressed excitement which the scene created was so intense that some of the spectators seemed to be suffering actual pain; and when, after a fraction of a moment which seemed an age, the King released the American’s hand and spoke, there was an audible sigh of relief that pervaded the entire room.
“We will now look at the pictures,” said His Majesty simply, and, leading the way, he set out in the direction of the Green Drawing Room.
Edestone fell back and bowed respectfully in acknowledgment of the pleasant glances which were thrown in his direction, as the Lords, Generals, Admirals, and Ministers of State took their places in line, clinging with an almost frantic tenacity, in response to the teachings of the Catechism of the English Church, to their position “in that state of life unto which it had pleased God to call” them.
Thoroughly amused at the situation which compelled him to bring up the rear of the procession like the piano-tuner or the gas-man, Edestone marched along at the side of an attendant in livery, who evidently looked upon him as a clever vaudeville artist that had been brought in to entertain the company. He told the visitor, with a broad grin, that he had frightened the other flunkey almost out of his wits with his magic tricks. Edestone, his sense of humour aroused, thereupon gravely offered to give a show in the servants’ hall at two shillings a head, half the receipts to be donated to the Red Cross, provided he was given a guarantee of ten pounds; and when the fellow promised to consider the proposal, pretended carefully to take down his name.
The King, who, in the meantime, seemed to be in a sort of brown-study, passed down the corridor with the long file of dignitaries following him in order of precedence. But when His Majesty reached the Green Drawing Room and, looking around, saw nothing of the American, he gave a slight frown of annoyance. Immediately he directed that Edestone be brought up and placed in a chair near himself, while the attendants drew the curtains and extinguished the lights.
After the room had been made perfectly dark, and the buzzing of the cinematograph in its temporary cabinet indicated that everything was in readiness, Edestone’s operator, in response to a word from his employer, threw upon the screen two or three portraits of the King and various members of the Royal Family. This was not only by way of compliment, but also to give assurance that the machine was in proper working order. Edestone proposed to run no chances of a bungling or incomplete presentation of his pictures.
Satisfied at length, he rose and faced about toward his audience.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said, after addressing the King,—for from the gallery had come sounds which showed that, as Colonel Stewart had suggested, some of the ladies of the Court were taking an interest in the exhibition,—“I shall not trouble you to listen to a long, scientific discourse on the theory of my discovery, nor how I have made practical application of it. I shall simply throw the pictures on the screen, letting them speak for themselves; and then, with His Majesty’s kind permission, shall be glad to answer any questions that may be put to me. The first picture I shall show you is one of my workshop in New York.”
There appeared on the screen a dark, somewhat indistinct interior, which seemed to have been photographed from high up and looking down through a long, shed-like building lighted from the roof. The immense height of this roof was not at first apparent until it was compared with the pigmy-like figures of the workmen who were busily engaged about a great, black, cigar-shaped object, which had the general appearance of a Zeppelin. In the dim light, there was nothing about its aspect to distinguish it from the latest models of the German air-ship, save that it seemed to be of heavier construction, as shown by the great difficulty with which the men were moving it toward the farther end of the shed, which was entirely open.
“I would especially call your attention to the track upon which moves the cradle that carries the large black object in the centre of the picture,” said Edestone. “The tires are made of hard rubber, and the rails which are of steel rest on glass plates attached to each of the tires. Thus, any object placed in the cradle becomes absolutely insulated, and has no electrical connection with the earth, which, as I have explained, are the requisite conditions to permit of ‘Deionizing’ by the use of an instrument similar to the one I have in my pocket. Of course, though in actual operation we use a much larger ‘Deionizer’ than the little model I have shown you, and run it with a hundred horse-power motor, instead of with a small spring and watchworks. This track and cradle at which you are looking, although they weigh many tons, can be easily taken apart and transported in sections, as I stand ready to demonstrate.”
The film ended as he finished, and for a moment the screen was blank; then with a little splutter from the cabinet, another picture appeared.
This was of a great open space, the most desolate and lonely stretch of country that could well be imagined, a broad, open plain that stretched on for miles and miles, perfectly flat, treeless and uninhabited. The wind apparently was blowing violently, judging from the way it tossed Edestone’s hair about as, hatless, he walked back and forth in the near foreground, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand while he looked into the lens and called his directions to the man who was working the camera.
“That disreputable-looking individual is myself,” he confessed. “My hat had blown away, a circumstance quite inconvenient at the time, but not without a certain element of present interest, as showing that a high wind was blowing at that time.”
Behind him in the middle distance was a track and cradle similar to the one shown in the first picture. The machine in the cabinet buzzed, and clicked, and made a noise like that of a small boy rattling a stick along a picket fence. A draught from some open window blowing against the linen screen caused the flat, deserted plain to undulate like the waves of the sea. The horizon bobbed up and down, showing first a great expanse of sky, and then the foreground ran up to infinity. The cradle was seen first at the right, and then at the left of the picture. The clouds in the sky kept jumping about, as if the operator was trying to follow some object aloft, but was unable to get it into the field of his camera.
The audience began to grow impatient. Had the apparatus got out of order, they wondered, and were they to be cheated of the promised sensation? But just then the screen steadied, and there appeared in the upper left-hand corner of the picture a faint, far-away dot which gradually assumed the form of a dirigible. Across the desolate landscape it sailed, growing more and more distinct as it drew nearer. It circled, turning first to the right and then to the left, rising and descending, as if responding willingly to the touch of its unseen pilot, until with a majestic swoop it hovered like a great bird exactly over the cradle, and came to a standstill.
To those among the spectators who had witnessed the evolutions of the great battleships of the air over Lake Constance, there was nothing notable about either the vessel or its performance, except that it seemed larger, more solid, and had four great smoke stacks. In the gale which was blowing, the volumes of inky smoke which poured from the four great funnels were tossed about and flung away like long, streaming ribbons; yet the ship itself was as steady as a great ocean liner on a summer sea.
On closer inspection, too, it was seen that on the upper side of the craft there was a platform or deck running its full length, where men were working away like sailors on a man-of-war, and from portholes and turrets protruded great black things which looked like the muzzles of guns.
All at once, as if acting under an order from within, these were trained on the spectators and simultaneously discharged, belching out great rings of smoke. There was a stifled scream from the gallery at this, but immediately the room grew quiet again, and the audience sat as if spellbound awaiting further developments. A small door in the starboard side now opened, and the figure of a man came running down a gangway to a platform suspended under the ship, where, silhouetted against the sky, he occupied himself in signalling to some one on the ground. He was joined from time to time by others of the crew as the vessel settled slowly toward the earth.
When it was about one hundred and fifty feet above the cradle, Edestone was seen to walk out with a megaphone in his hand, and through it communicate instructions to the man on the bridge, in evident obedience to which the airship settled still lower, until it was not more than twenty feet above the top of the cradle.
A ladder having then been lowered to Edestone, he climbed up it, ascended the gangway, and disappeared into the interior of the great cigar-shaped object, it all the time remaining absolutely stationary. But he was not long lost to view. In a few minutes he re-appeared on the top deck and a man by his side energetically waved a large flag.
And as the two stood there, the airship began to move.
Slowly at first, but gradually gaining momentum, it soared away across the wastes, and soon was lost to sight.
There was a moment after that when the room was dark, while horizontal streaks of light chased each other from bottom to top across the screen, and disappeared into the darkness from which they had come.
Another picture followed, taken from the same viewpoint as the last.
“Here she comes!” cried Edestone, seeming to forget for the moment where he was, as a small speck which represented the approaching airship disclosed itself. “This time in the upper right-hand corner of the picture. See! I am on board, and I am driving her at one hundred and ten miles.” And he followed with his pointer the swift course of the vessel, as it shot down the screen like a great comet, leaving a long tail of smoke behind it. To the overwrought nerves of the audience, the buzz and splutter of the moving-picture machine seemed to increase in volume, and thus lend a semblance of reality to the monster as it swept nearer and nearer.
Straight for the camera it was headed, grim, threatening, irresistible, as if it were preparing to rush out of the screen and destroy Buckingham Palace. The spectators with difficulty kept their seats, and when the formidable thing dashed by and disappeared at the side of the picture, they settled back in their chairs with an unmistakable sigh of relief.
It appeared again, after making a great circle, returning slowly now, and dropping lightly as a feather to the cradle, where it remained perfectly still, while the black smoke enveloped it in a veil of mystery.
The machine in the cabinet stopped, and some one was heard to say in a loud whisper, “Lights!” Admiral Brown was the first of the assembly to recover. He sprang to his feet and like a wounded old lion at bay stood glaring at Edestone. His rugged weather-beaten face convulsed with suppressed rage, which but for the presence of the King would have exploded upon Edestone after the manner of the old-fashioned sea-dog that he was, but holding himself in check he said loudly and challengingly:
“If there is no objection I will ask the young man to repeat the last picture, and I would also like to inquire with what material the framework of this ship is covered, and what is the calibre of those large guns—if they are guns?”
“Will you please be so kind as to answer the Admiral’s questions, Mr. Edestone?” said the King.
“The material which I used through her entire length of 907 feet, both top and bottom, is Harveyized steel, six feet thick; and the largest gun is sixteen inches,” replied Edestone slowly, enjoying the look of blank amazement which spread over the Admiral’s face as he dropped back into his chair gasping and mopping his brow.
“This is the end of everything. I wish I had never lived to see the day!” The old sailor sat like a man who had seen a vision so appalling that it robbed him of his reason.
The King, of all the company, seemed to be the only one who had remained perfectly cool. He was like a man who realizing the gravity of the situation yet had nerved himself to meet it.
“Mr. Edestone,” he said, as if speaking to one of his own naval officers, “you will please show the last two pictures again, and for the benefit of Admiral Brown you might give us some further details in regard to the ship’s equipment and armament. May I also ask you where these pictures were taken?”
“On the flat plains in the centre of the island of Newfoundland,” Edestone informed him, “between the White Bear River and the east branch of the Salmon, and from fifty to seventy-five miles from the seacoast on the south. If Your Majesty will look into the middle distance when the second picture is again thrown on the screen you will see some small, dark objects; these are one of those immense herds of caribou, which happen to be moving south over this vast barren at the time of year that these pictures were taken—that is, in October.”
He observed that the face of the King took on an expression blended partly of astonishment and partly of resentment when he mentioned the name of one of the Colonial possessions of the Empire, and hastened to add:
“You will find, Sire, if you inquire of the Governor of that Province that I was there with the full knowledge and consent of Your Majesty’s Government to carry on certain scientific experiments. I selected this deserted spot, so far removed from all human habitation, because there I should not be disturbed. Until I showed these pictures here today no one outside of my own men knew the nature of these experiments. The guns were loaded with nothing more harmful than several hundred pounds of black powder to produce the display of force which you have just seen. I will admit,” he granted with a smile, “that if the newspapers had got word of what was going on there they might have made some excitement; I can assure you, however, that no act of mine could be construed even by our most susceptible and timid State Department as a violation of neutrality.”
“But where is your ship now?” asked the King, while the rest of the company held their breath, awaiting the answer.
“That, Your Majesty, for reasons of state, I regret I cannot at this time tell you, but you have my word and that of our Secretary that wherever she may be, her mission is one of peace.”
“Peace!” snorted Admiral Brown. “With a six-foot armour-belt and sixteen-inch guns! It is a ship of war, Your Majesty. We have the right to demand whether or not it is now on or over British soil, and if it is, to make such representations to the United States Government as will cause her to withdraw it at once and apologize for having violated the dignity of Great Britain.”
“And if they should refuse, Sir William,” asked the King, with a weary smile, “would you undertake to drive it off?
“No, Admiral,” he continued, “up to this time we have no official knowledge of this airship’s existence. Until we have, we will take Mr. Edestone’s assurance that his own and his country’s intentions to us are friendly.”
A wave of hot indignation had swept over the entire assembly, and it was with some difficulty that the King was able to restore order.
“Please continue with your pictures, Mr. Edestone,” he said in a tone of authority.
The lights again went out, the machine in the cabinet began to turn, and as the dramatic scene was re-enacted before them his audience sat in perfect silence while Edestone, as though he were recounting the simplest and most ordinary facts, gave out the following information:
“This ship has a length over all of 907 feet. Its beam is 90 feet. Its greatest circular dimension is described with a radius of 48 feet. She would weigh, loaded with ammunition, fuel, provisions, and crew, if brought in contact with the earth, 40,000 tons. Her weight as she travels, after making allowance for the air displacement is generally kept at about 3000 tons, which automatically adjusts itself to the density of the surrounding atmosphere, but can be reduced to nothing at pleasure. Its full speed has never been reached. This is simply a matter of oil consumption; I have had her up to 180 miles. Her steaming radius is about 50,000 miles, depending upon the speed. She carries twelve 16-inch guns, twenty-two 6-inch guns, sixteen 4-inch anti-aircraft guns, eight 3-pounders, four rapid-fire guns, six aerial torpedo tubes, and six bomb droppers, which can simultaneously discharge tons of explosives. She has a complement of 1400 officers and men. She required three years and eight months to build at a cost of $10,000,000. In action her entire ship’s company is protected by at least six feet of steel, and there is no gun known that can pierce her protection around the vital parts. As you have seen, she can approach to within a few feet of the surface and remain perfectly stationary in that position as long as she is not brought in electrical contact with the earth.”
The machine in the cabinet had stopped. As the lights were again turned on, Edestone, glancing in the direction of the gallery and seeing that there was no one there, bowed merely to the company before him. “I thank Your Majesty, Lords, and Gentlemen for your very kind attention,” he said. He then stood quietly, waiting respectfully for the King to speak.
“Mr. Edestone,” said the King as he rose, “you have certainly given us a most instructive afternoon, and you must be exhausted after your efforts.” He turned to Colonel Stewart, “Please insist upon Mr. Edestone taking some refreshments before he leaves Buckingham Palace.”
He grasped the inventor firmly by the hand. “Good-bye, Mr. Edestone. I shall probably not see you again,” and bowing to the rest of the company he left the room deep in conversation with Sir Egbert Graves.
Edestone immediately became the centre of attraction.
“The King is dead; long live the King!” expresses the eagerness with which man adapts himself to a new order of things. The older men were stunned and seemed unable to throw off the gloom that had settled upon them. They bowed to the inevitable fall of the old and its replacement by the new. They were not buoyed up by the elasticity and confidence of youth; they seemed to realize that their race was run and that it were better that they step aside and give to younger men the task of solving a new problem in a new way. They sat perfectly still with dejected faces that seemed to see only dissolution.
The younger men were quicker to recover, and as they felt the old foundations crumbling under their feet, saw visions of a new and greater edifice. They gloried in the development of the age as they did in their own strength to keep abreast of it, and rushed to meet progress, to join it, and to become one with it. They did not stop to think what the future might have in store for them, but seemed to be intoxicated by its possibilities.
Crowding around Edestone they probed him with questions which he answered with the greatest patience and in the most modest, quiet, and dignified manner. When asked a question almost childish in its simplicity, he appeared to acknowledge the compliment in the assumption that he knew the answer, and gave it with the same precision as one which called for the most complicated mathematical calculation and reference to the most intricate formulae of the laws of mechanics and physics. He was rescued and borne away by Colonel Stewart who announced that, acting under His Majesty’s order, he was obliged to give him some refreshments, whether he wanted them or not, and if he did not come at once to his quarters and have a drink he would be forced to order out the Guards. Drawing him aside the Colonel whispered, “I must see you alone before you leave the Palace.”
Edestone turned and slowly left the room, bowing to each of the separate groups.
“Now,” said Colonel Stewart, “come to my quarters first, as I have something rather confidential to tell you. You can come back and join the others afterward, if you care to.”
When they were comfortably seated in the Colonel’s private apartments, and had provided themselves with drinks and cigars, the equerry leaned toward his charge a trifle impressively.
“Mr. Edestone,” he said, “you do not look like a chap who would lose his nerve if he suddenly found himself in a position that was more or less dangerous. Indeed I rather gather that you are like one of your distinguished Admirals—ready at all times for a fight or a frolic.”
Edestone smiled.
“The facts are, Mr. Edestone, that you are in a pretty ticklish position, and had not Mr. Underhill notified Scotland Yard when he did, I do not know what might have happened. These German spies who have been following you all day are well known to them, and when our men picked you up, which was when you left the Admiralty and were talking to the taxi-chauffeur, they were convinced that you were in real danger. Then when you were directed to the German restaurant and afterward left it in the taxicab with this man Smith they had your cab followed, at the same time notifying Mr. Underhill, and covering your hotel.”
“This is most interesting,” said Edestone; “but if the business of these men is known why are they not arrested?”
“Mr. Edestone,” said Colonel Stewart, “we Englishmen are not credited with any sense by our friends the enemy, and relying upon our supposed stupidity their work, which they take so much pride in, is by no means as secret as they suppose it to be. There have been in London thousands of what the Germans term ‘fixed posts.’ These are men who have established places of business and have lived in the community from ten to fifteen years. They receive a salary from the German Government running from two pounds to four pounds a month and all incurred expenses. The ‘fixed post’ men report to men higher up, who, in turn, report to the Diplomatic Service. Under them, too, are all of the patriotic emigrants from Germany, who act as spies without being conscious of the fact that they are doing so. These receive no pay for bringing in the bits of scandal or other information which is all carefully noted and kept on file in Berlin under a system of card indexes.
“That man Munchinger who keeps the restaurant where you lunched, and the barber Hottenroth at your hotel, are both of them ‘fixed post’ men. This American architect was new and had not been quite placed as yet. The chauffeur also seems to be one of them, although he is entirely unknown to Scotland Yard.
“When you discharged your first taxi and took another, Smith and the chauffeur spy followed you until they were frightened off by seeing my carriage with the royal livery in front of your hotel. They drove off then with such a rush that the chauffeur must have lost control of his car, for it plunged into the Thames with Smith inside it, and before he could be reached and rescued he was drowned. The chauffeur was either drowned or ran away, as nothing has been seen of him since.”
Edestone rose, his face stern as he learned the news of Smith’s fate. “Colonel Stewart,” he declared sharply, “that poor devil was murdered.” And to support his accusation he told briefly of Smith’s confession and behaviour in the cab.
The Colonel bowed. “I shall see that these facts are turned over to the authorities,” he said, “but at present I am more concerned in regard to you. These men are fanatics, you must understand, whose faith teaches them to do anything that is for the benefit of the Fatherland. We know most of them. We do not arrest them because they are more useful to us as they are. As soon as one is arrested he is immediately replaced by another, and it takes some little time before we can pick up the new one. We have received reports to the effect that a small army of them have been around Buckingham Palace all afternoon, as well as at your hotel; so it is evident that Smith’s story was no fancy and that these men are after you in desperate earnest. Would you mind telling me, Mr. Edestone, what are your plans for the future?”
“Not at all. My movements are extremely simple. I shall return to my hotel, where I expect to remain until I retire. A friend of mine, an American, Mr. Rebener, whom I have known for a great many years, will dine with me there this evening.”
“An old friend of yours you say?” The Colonel’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Yes,” replied Edestone. “I have known him for fifteen years.” For reasons of his own he had made it a point not to include Rebener’s name among those mentioned by Smith in his confession, nor did he refer to it now.
Colonel Stewart hesitated a moment. “Of course, Mr. Edestone,” he said finally, “you Americans are neutrals and are at liberty to select your friends where you please, but my advice to you would be not to take London as the place to entertain people with German names. You will probably understand that we cannot take any chances.”
“I have known Mr. Rebener,” repeated Edestone, “for years. He is one of our most prominent men, and I am confident that he would not lend himself to any of these Middle-Age methods.”
“You can never tell,” said Colonel Stewart darkly. “Germany holds out to the faithful the promise of great rewards at the end of this war, which she has convinced them cannot fail to end successfully for her.”
“No,” the American insisted stubbornly. “Mr. Rebener might readily sell to Germany a few million dollars’ worth of munitions of war, and likewise tell his friend, Count Bernstoff, anything that he might hear. I will even go so far as to say that he might make an especial effort to pick up bits of gossip here in London; and he will almost certainly endeavour to use his influence with me in favour of Germany. But that he would take part in a plot to kill, kidnap, or rob me is incredible.”
“I see you are determined to have your own way, Mr. Edestone,” the Colonel smiled, “so I come now to the most difficult part of my mission. What do you propose to do with that instrument which you now carry so carelessly in your coat pocket? You can readily understand that it is not safe in your hotel, or, in fact, at hardly any other place in London outside of the vaults of the Bank of England. We are put in the delicate position of having to protect it without having the privilege of asking that it be put in our charge.”
“I appreciate all that you say and have considered destroying it, but have now come to the conclusion to keep it always with me, for, after all that you tell me, I think that I am in pretty safe hands in London.”
“But think, my dear fellow,” cried the Colonel jumping up, “what might happen if this thing falls into the hands of the Germans! To prevent that it would be my duty to shoot you on the spot.”
“Good work! Right-o!” laughed Edestone. “You have my permission to shoot whenever it goes to the Germans. Don’t worry. They’ll not murder and rob me in the middle of dear old London with all your fellows about, and I do not expect to leave the hotel tonight.”
As Edestone and Colonel Stewart were leaving the Palace, they were met by the young Prince of the Blood, who seemed bent upon renewing his acquaintance with his American friend.
“I say, Edestone,” he greeted him, “you really must not leave before giving me an opportunity of presenting you to some of the ladies of the Court. You are the lion of the day and they are anxious to meet you. My sister, Princess Billy, is almost in tears and hysterical. She insisted upon seeing your pictures because she said that you were an old friend of hers she had met on the steamer coming over from America.”
Accepting, Edestone smiled as he thought of the undignified manner of their meeting, and was taken in charge by the young man.
Colonel Stewart made his excuses when the invitation was extended to him, saying: “Mr. Edestone, I shall wait for you in the Guards’ Room,” and, turning to the young man, he added: “I deliver him into your hands, and I hold you responsible for his valuable person which must be delivered to me there.”
Edestone was then taken in charge by the young Prince, who proudly bore him off to deliver him into the hands of the ladies. He was rather bored with the idea, and would have preferred to have gone directly to his hotel, as he had had an eventful day and he did not feel in the humour for the small talk of the tea-table.
He was taken into one of the smaller rooms where several ladies and young officers in khaki were just finishing their tea. The atmosphere of the room was offensively heavy with the strong odour of iodoform. His pity was aroused when he suddenly realized that almost every man in the room bore the unmistakable mark of service in the trenches. It was the first time that he had been brought violently into contact with the far-reaching and horrible devastation of this cruel war. One pitiful figure, a young man of about twenty-two who sat apart from the rest, so affected him that he scarcely recovered himself in time to acknowledge the great kindness of the Duchess of Windthorst, who was receiving him in the most gracious manner. This boy was totally blind. Edestone was filled with admiration for these descendants of the Norman conquerors, who in their gallantry and patriotism responded so quickly to the call of their country, while the miserable swine whose homes and families were being protected by these noble men were instigating strikes and riots under the leadership of a band of traitors who hid their cowardice behind labour organizations, or attempted to mislead the disgusted world by windy speeches on the subject of humanitarism into which position they were not followed by the very women that they were giving as their excuse for their treasonable acts.
The Duchess presented him to Princess Wilhelmina and the others. In the soft and rich voice of the Englishwoman of culture and refinement, which always charmed him, she said:
“Mr. Edestone, my daughter tells me that you came over on the Ivernia with us.”
“No, no, mamma!” interrupted the Princess, with a frown and nervous little laugh. “I said that Mrs. Brown said that she thought that Mr. Edestone was on board.”
The Duchess acknowledged this correction, and with the cool effrontery that only a woman can carry off to her entire satisfaction, she then pretended that this was the first time that she had ever laid eyes on him, when as a matter of fact she and the Princess had discussed this remarkable, independent individual, who had so quietly and alone occupied the large suite adjoining theirs.
“Do sit down, Mr. Edestone,” she smiled, “and tell us about your wonderful electrical gun or ship. I really know so little about electricity that I could not understand what my daughter has just been telling me.” And then, as if to save him from the great embarrassment of speaking, which she felt that he must have in her presence, she hastened to continue: “I am really so sorry that I did not know you were a fellow-passenger or I should most certainly have had you presented. I am very fond of you Americans, I find them most charming and so original, you know.”
Edestone bowed.
“I really became quite attached to your Mr. Bradley, who was on board. I think you call him ‘Diamond King John.’ He was most attractive,” and, with a charming smile, “he showed me his diamond suspender buttons; and he dances beautifully, my daughter tells me. I understand that Mr. Bradley is one of your oldest Arizona families—or was it Virginia?—I am so stupid about the names of your different counties. But I agree with him that family is not everything, and that clothes make the gentleman. He tells me that he gets all of his clothes from the same tailor as the Duke. Do you get your clothes in London, Mr. Edestone?” And then, seeing an expression on Edestone’s face which indicated to her that he was going to be bold enough to attempt to enter into the conversation, hastily added: “No, of course not, you would naturally get yours in New York, where Mr. Bradley tells me that the finish of the buttonholes is much better on account of the enormous salaries that you very rich Americans are able to pay your tailors. No tea, Mr. Edestone? How foolish of me to ask! You would like to have one of those American drinks; what is it you call them? Cockplumes? My son could make one for you. Madame La Princesse de Blanc taught him how to make one.”
Edestone smilingly declined.
The Duchess, who by this time was beginning to feel that perhaps Mr. Edestone would not insist upon taking off his coat or squatting Indian fashion on the floor, continued:
“My son tells me that it was at her house in Paris that he had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”
“Yes, Duchess,” nodded Edestone.
“She is a most delightful little American,” continued the Duchess. “So bright, natural, unconventional, and original. And she chews tobacco in the most fascinating manner.”
Edestone all this time had been debating in his mind whether this silly prattle was the result of real ignorance, snobbishness, or kindness of heart. He gave her the benefit of the doubt, however, and, wishing to show her that she might put her mind at rest as to his ability to overcome any embarrassment that he might have had, said with a perfectly solemn face:
“You should have asked your friend, Mr. Bradley, to show you his suspenders themselves, Duchess. They are, I am told, set with rubies, sapphires, and diamonds, and cost, I understand, $10,000.”
“How very odd,” said the Duchess.
“And I am sure,” he continued, “that he feels as proud of having danced with the Princess as she could have been at having been the recipient of so much attention at the hands of ‘King John,’ who apparently is also a Prince Charming.”
And then ignoring their pretence of having just seen him for the first time, in a most natural manner Edestone referred to the episodes of the crossing.
Turning to the Princess, who all this time had vainly endeavoured to check her mother, and changing his manner out of deference for her youth and inexperience, and assuming a more humble demeanour, he continued:
“I sincerely hope, Princess, that I did not hurt you when I was forced to handle you so roughly, but it was blowing almost a hurricane.”
“I forgive you, Mr. Edestone,” she said with a charming smile, “for hurting my arm; but,” with a little pout, “I don’t think I can forgive you for hurting my feelings. Why did you not ask Mr. Bradley to present you? He said that he knew you very well.”
“Oh, I was rather afraid,” laughed Edestone, “to suggest this to him. You know we do not move in exactly the same set, and I did not wish to give him an opportunity to snub me. Now that he does speak so familiarly of his royal friends, I thought that he might consider me a bit presumptuous.”
“You don’t mean to say,” snorted the Duchess, “that that creature would dare to speak of me as a friend?”
“Well,” said Edestone, “I shall do him the justice of saying that I am quite certain he would not if he did not believe that you were, and did not think that it was perfectly natural that you should be.”
The Princess, who was looking at Edestone with an intense look, of which however she was absolutely unconscious, broke in impatiently:
“Oh, mamma, do stop talking about that dreadful man and ask Mr. Edestone to tell us something about his wonderful work.” A light came into her eyes which would have alarmed an American mother had she seen it in the eyes of her daughter at a mixed summer resort.
Edestone was anxious to get away as he took absolutely no interest in this particular phase of life; yet he did not wish to appear unappreciative of the great honour that had been conferred upon him by these ladies of such high rank. However, an opportunity soon presented itself which permitted him to retire, and he bowed himself out of the room, but not, it must be admitted, until he had answered a number of questions which the Princess insisted on putting to him. He did this with perfect deference, yet in such a businesslike way that she was convinced, should a year elapse before he next saw her, he would probably not recognize her.
As Edestone left the Palace in company with Colonel Stewart, and the two took their seats in the waiting carriage, he was amused to see a troop of cavalry, which had been drawn up before the entrance, fall in about them as an escort. The men were all dressed in khaki, and, judging from their equipment, they were fixed for business more than a mere guard of honour. A smart, young officer rode up and, saluting the Colonel, asked: “Where to, sir?”
“To Claridge’s.” The Colonel saluted in return.
The carriage started, and the troopers, clattering out of the courtyard, closed up about it in a fashion which showed that they were going to take no chances with their valuable charge.
Edestone laughed at himself with his high hat and frock-coat as a centre for all this military panoply. It recalled to him an old-fashioned print he had seen when a boy, representing Abraham Lincoln at the front.
“You don’t mean to tell me that you really consider this necessary?” he chaffed his companion.
Colonel Stewart nodded gravely. “They will make no attempt on your life, Mr. Edestone,” he added reassuringly, “except as a last resort; but they are determined to have your secret. They prefer to get it with your co-operation and assent. If not, they want it anyhow. Finally, they stand ready to accomplish its destruction and your own rather than permit England to obtain it.”
Arriving at the hotel, the soldiers were drawn up in line while he entered the door. To his surprise, moreover, the Colonel and two of the cavalry-men accompanied him to the door of his apartment.
“Mr. Edestone,” said the Royal Equerry, “I am sorry, but my orders are to place a sentry at your door. You are not of course to consider yourself in any sense a prisoner, but an honoured guest whose safety is of paramount importance. Should you at any time wish to leave your apartment, notify Captain Bright by telephone at the hotel office where he will be stationed, and he will act as your escort. My advice, however, is that you remain in the hotel.” Giving a military salute, he retired, leaving the two soldiers posted in the corridor.
A moment later, Edestone was summoned to the door to find that the sentries had halted Black and Stanton whom he had directed to report to him immediately on his return to the hotel.
A word from him proved sufficient to secure the admission of his moving-picture experts; nevertheless, the three gazed at one another uneasily as they stood within the room.
“What is it, Mr. Edestone?” Black’s eyes rounded up. “They haven’t placed you under arrest, have they?”
Edestone shook his head. “Apparently not. At least they tell me I am under no restraint, and, as they might say to a little boy about to be spanked, that this is all for my own good. Whether or not this is merely a polite subterfuge, and they intend to postpone my departure from London from time to time in a way that can give no offence to our Government, yet would spoil all my plans, I am still uncertain.”
“By Jove, it might be worth while trying to find out,” flared up Stanton, bristling at the very suggestion of an indignity to his adored chief. “If they’ve got anything of that kind up their sleeves, we could soon show them that——”
“No.” Edestone spoke up a trifle sharply. “I have decided to let the situation develop itself.”
His manner indicated that he wished the subject dropped; but, after he had given the two men the orders for which he had summoned them, and dismissed them, he fell into a rather perturbed reverie.
After all, might it not be well, as Stanton had urged, to assure himself in regard to John Bull’s honourable intentions? His mind reverted to an expedient which he had already considered and cast aside. It was to communicate with the American Ambassador, get his passports, and start for Paris at once. Then, if he were halted, the purpose of the British Government would be made plain and its hypocrisy exposed.
But, to tell the truth, he rather shrank from such a revelation. Suppose he forced their hand in this way, and they should retaliate, either by attempting to detain him in England, or insisting upon his return to his own country? Was he prepared to——?
As Underhill had said, blood is thicker than water; and there were in his nature many ties that bound him to the mother-country.
No, he concluded; if there was cause to worry, he would meet the emergency when it arose. Anyhow, he was not of the worrying kind. He threw himself down upon the sofa, since even for him it had been a rather strenuous day, and soon was fast asleep.
He was awakened by James. “It is 7:30, sir, and you are dining at 8 o’clock.” Then with a perfectly stolid face: “I beg pardon, sir, what clothes will you take to the Tower, sir? The hall porter says, sir, that with all these soldiers around, they are certainly going to stand you up before a firing squad. And Hottenroth, the barber, says as how every American that comes to London is more or less a German spy. But he is a kind of a foreigner himself, sir. A Welshman, he says he is, and he talks in a very funny way.”
“No, they are not going to stand me up before a firing squad,” Edestone halted this flood of intelligence, as he sprang up from the sofa; “but I shall turn myself into one, and fire the whole lot of you, if you don’t stop talking so much. Now hurry up, and get me dressed. I don’t want to keep Mr. Rebener waiting.”
Yet even with James’s adept assistance, he found the time scant for the careful toilet upon which he always insisted; and it was almost on the stroke of the hour when at last he was ready.
Snatching his hat and cane from James, he started hurriedly out of the door, but found himself abruptly challenged by the sentry just outside whose presence he had for the moment completely forgotten.
“Excuse me, sir,” the soldier saluted, “but my orders are to notify Captain Bright, if you wish to leave your rooms.”
He blew a whistle, summoning a comrade who suddenly appeared from nowhere.
“Notify Captain Bright,” he directed; then, in response to Edestone’s good-humoured but slightly sarcastic protests: “I’m sorry, sir, but those are my orders.”
“Has England declared war on the United States?” said Edestone.
“I don’t know, sir,” the sentry grinned. “We seem to be taking on all comers.” Then standing at attention, he waited until the soldier, who had returned from telephoning, came forward to announce that the Captain presented his apologies and would be right up.
A moment later Captain Bright himself came panting down the corridor. He expressed profound regret that any inconvenience should have been caused, but explained, as Colonel Stewart had already done, that he was held personally responsible for Edestone’s safety, and had instructions to accompany him wherever he might go.
“Very well, Captain; I bow to the inevitable. May I trouble you to conduct me to the dining-room?” And he strolled toward the lift at the side of the tall cavalryman.
But in the office they encountered Rebener himself writing a note on the back of his card.
“Oh, there you are, Jack?” he hailed Edestone. “I was just sending you a note asking you if you wouldn’t come and dine with me at the Britz instead of here. It is too damn stupid here. Not that it’s very bright anywhere in London at present, but at least there’s a little bit more life at the Britz.”
“Who is stopping here anyhow? Royalty?” he interrupted himself. “There are soldiers all over the place.”
“Yes; I am the recipient of that little attention,” laughed the young American. “Let me introduce Captain Bright here, who is acting as my especial chaperon.”
“What? You surely haven’t run afoul of the War Department?” Rebener rolled his eyes. “That sounds more like our friends, the barbarians, than Englishmen. But, say, you are joking of course; you’re not really in trouble? Seriously is there anything you want me to do for you? I have quite a little pull over at the War Offices, you know.”
“No, thank you; I am leaving for Paris tomorrow.” He looked straight into Rebener’s eyes, without giving the slightest hint in his expression of the disclosure which had been made to him by the unfortunate Smith. “It is simply that Captain Bright thinks there are some people who might do something to me. I don’t know exactly what it is, but he insists on preventing them anyhow; so there you are. How about it, Captain? Am I permitted to dine with Mr. Rebener at the Britz? I think the Britz is a perfectly safe place for two American business men.”
“As you please, Mr. Edestone.” The Captain drew himself up. “My orders are to escort you, though, wherever you go.” He raised his hand toward a sergeant who was standing just inside the door.
“What! You are not going to take all the ‘Tommies’ along too?” expostulated Rebener. “Oh, I say; you come along yourself, Captain, and dine with us, but leave the men behind. I will see that Edestone doesn’t come to any grief.”
“Sorry.” The officer’s tone ended any further argument. “I shall keep my men as much out of sight as possible; but it will be necessary for them to accompany us.”
“You see.” Edestone smiled somewhat ruefully. “I can’t even go out to buy a paper, without turning it into a sort of Fourth of July parade.”
On going to the door they found that one of the royal carriages was waiting for them, and after the two men were seated, and the Captain had given the directions to the coachman, they dashed off in the midst of a cavalcade.
“By the way,” Rebener vouchsafed as they drove along, “I have taken the liberty of inviting Lord Denton and Mr. Karlbeck, two friends of mine, to dine with us tonight, and as Lord Denton is in mourning, he has asked that I have dinner in my apartment. I hope that is all right?”
“Certainly,” assented Edestone. “Lord Denton, you say? I don’t think I have ever met him, have I? And isn’t he just a little supersensitive to raise a scruple of that sort? It seems to me that practically everybody over here is in mourning. Fact is, I don’t feel like going to a ball myself.” His face saddened, as he thought of the many good fellows he had met on former visits to London who now lay underneath the sod of Northern France and Belgium.
But by this time they were at the Britz and the proprietor was bowing them inside, apparently so accustomed to receiving men of distinction with military escort that he did not even notice the lines of trim cavalrymen which drew themselves up on either side of his entrance.
“Will you gentlemen dine in the public restaurant?” asked Captain Bright, stepping up to Edestone.
“No,” Rebener took it upon himself to answer. “We are going to have a little partie carrée in my apartment.”
“In that case,” said the Captain, “I regret that I shall have to station men on that floor.”
Rebener frowned as if he were about to voice a protest, but at that moment the proprietor called him over to consult with him in regard to the menu.
For a moment or two they discussed it calmly enough; then as the proprietor began to gesticulate and wax vehement, Rebener spoke over his shoulder to his guest.
“Excuse me, Jack,” he said, “but M. Bombiadi insists that I hold a council of war with him over the selection of the wines. He declines to accept the responsibility with such a distinguished personage as you seem to have become.” Then lowering his voice, he added with a wink: “He is evidently impressed with that military escort of yours, for all that he pretended not to notice it. I won’t be away a minute.”
He was hurried by the proprietor through the office and into one of the small duplex apartments on the main floor. Passing through the pantry and dining-room of the apartment out into the little private hall with its street door on Piccadilly, and up a short flight of marble steps with an iron railing, he was ushered into a handsomely furnished little parlour.
There, standing in front of the mantelpiece was a man who did not look like an Englishman, but more like a German Jew. He was perfectly bald and had a black beard which was rather long and trimmed to a point. His nose was unmistakable, and taken with his thick, red lips showed pretty well what he was and whence he came. Talking to him very earnestly was another man, who was much smaller, and who was also German to the finger-tips.
Pausing on the threshold, M. Bombiadi with the servile and cringing tone always assumed by those frock-coated criminals, European hotel proprietors, asked humbly: “May we come in, Your Royal Highness?”
But Rebener, with the air of a man who was not accustomed to, or else declined to consider, such formalities, unhesitatingly brushed the proprietor aside, and walked up to the two men.
“I am sorry to be late,” he said in a thoroughly businesslike manner, “but Bombiadi here has doubtless explained the reason for it.” Then, as if he purposely refused to acknowledge the high rank of either of the two men by waiting for them to speak, he said brusquely, even with a slight touch of contempt: “Bombiadi tells me that you want to speak with me, before we meet at the table.”
“Yes, Mr. Rebener,” said the smaller man, bowing with exaggerated ceremony. “If it is not asking too much of you, I am sure that His Royal Highness will appreciate your kindness.”
The silky smoothness of his manner seemed to disgust Rebener.
“Now, look here, Karlbeck, don’t try to get friendly with me,” he drew back as the other attempted to lay a hand upon his arm. “I am not in love with this business, anyhow. I am German, and I am proud of the Fatherland, as she stands with her back against the wall, fighting the entire civilized world—and some of the barbaric;—but you two fellows are Englishmen, and——”
“Pardon me, Mr. Rebener,” the man with the beard broke in angrily. “You seem to forget to whom you are speaking.”
“No, that is just the trouble,” cried Rebener with a loud laugh. “I can’t seem to forget it. And if Your Royal Highness insists upon keeping on your crown, you had better let Mr. Edestone and myself dine alone.”
“Please, Mr. Rebener. Please not so loud,” cautioned the proprietor, pale with terror. “One never knows who may be listening.”
“I have a word for you too.” Rebener turned, and shook a threatening finger in his face. “If I find that you cut-throats have murdered Schmidt, I will turn you over to the London police, and let you be hanged as common murderers without having any of the glory of dying for your country. I distinctly told you, that I would not stand for that sort of thing. He was a miserable creature, but he was an American, and we Americans, even if we have got German blood, are not traitors to the country of our adoption.” And he looked with a sneer at the two Englishmen. “Now, if any of you are planning to indulge in any of your pretty little tricks with Mr. Edestone tonight, I give you fair warning. I will call Captain Bright in, and turn the whole lot of you over to him. I think he would be rather surprised to find His Royal Highness in such company.”
The man with the beard was literally white with rage. The thick veins swelled along his neck, and his lower lip was trembling. But he controlled himself with an effort, and endeavoured to speak calmly.
“Now, now, Mr. Rebener,” he said, “you are unnecessarily excited, and I therefore overlook your disrespect toward me. There is no intention whatever of doing any violence to Mr. Edestone. We hope merely to prevail on him to talk.”
“What good will his talking do?” cried the smaller man before his associate could silence him. “We know all that he said today at Buckingham Palace. What we want is his instrument, and if we’re not going after that, what use is this dinner, I would like to know?”
“I can’t tell you,” rejoined Rebener, “unless His Royal Highness would be willing to show his hand, and try to persuade Edestone to take our view of the matter.”
A sharp retort trembled on the lips of the Jewish-looking man, but just then he caught sight of Bombiadi out of the corner of his eyes gesticulating and making signs to him from behind Rebener’s back.
“I suppose that is the only chance left us,” he pretended to consider. “We can try it at any rate. I suppose, too, we had better come to your apartment immediately. Remember, though, we are to remain incognito until I give the word. In the meantime, we are simply ‘Lord Denton’ and ‘Mr. Karlbeck.’”
On that agreement, Rebener left; but the proprietor, after following him far enough to make sure that he was out of earshot, returned to the little parlour where the other men waited.
“We will have to leave him out of our calculations,” he shook his head. “He is not heart and soul in the cause as is your Royal Highness. However, it can be managed without Rebener.
“Hottenroth has telephoned me that he thinks Edestone has the instrument on his person, but cannot make sure, as his rooms at Claridge’s are too closely guarded to permit of a search. We must go upon the assumption that he has it with him, however, and get it away from him. That plan of Your Royal Highness’s will work perfectly, I am sure. I will call Edestone to the telephone while you are at dinner, and since the rest of you will all remain at the table, how can Rebener suspect either of you gentlemen any more than he would suspect himself.
“Now, I will return in a few minutes, and take you up to Mr. Rebener’s apartment. No one knows of your presence in the house so far, I can assure you, and the servants on that floor may be thoroughly depended upon.”