When Rebener got back to the entrance hall he found Edestone standing talking with an American newspaper correspondent, and as he came up heard the inventor say: “Well you can say that if I sell my discovery to anyone it will be to the United States, and that rather than sell to any other nation I would hand it over to my own country as a free gift.”
“Here, here,” Rebener joined in laughingly as he came up, “don’t you offer to give away anything. Just because your father left you comfortably well off is no reason that you shouldn’t sell things if people want to buy. Sell and sell while you’ve got the market, and sell to the highest bidder. Look at me, I am selling to both sides; that is my way of stopping this war.” He turned to the young newspaper man. “Is there anything new, Ralph?”
“Nothing, Mr. Rebener, except that there is a story out in New York that Mr. Edestone here has been sent over to act as a sort of unofficial go-between to bring England and Germany to terms; but he denies this. Then there is another story that he is trying to sell this new invention of his to England and that the German agents are trying to get it away from him before he does. You’ve just heard what he has to say on that subject, so I seem to have landed on a ‘Flivver’ all around.
“Say, Mr. Edestone, you’ll give me the dope on this lay-out won’t you, before the other boys get to it?” he wheedled. “We all know that something is going on, and she’s going to be a big story when she breaks, and it would be the making of me with the ‘old man’ if I could put it over first.
“I saw you, sir, this afternoon coming home from the Palace,” he chuckled, “and the President, going out to the first ball game of the season, surrounded by the Washington Blues, to toss the pill into the diamond, certainly had nothing on you.”
“You’ve struck it,” said Edestone, with a good-humoured laugh at himself. “I have been trying all day to think what I looked like, and that’s it.”
Rebener laid his hand upon his arm. “Well, Jack,” he said, “hadn’t we better be getting up to my place? I don’t want to keep the other gentlemen waiting, and these Europeans have an awful habit of coming at the hour they are invited, and do not, as we do in America, in imitation of the ‘Snark,’ ‘dine on the following day.’
“Good-night, Ralph,” he waved his hand to the correspondent. “Drop around tomorrow; I may have something for you.”
Then as they were going up in the elevator he confided to Edestone: “I am not so crazy about these two chaps that are coming to dinner tonight, but you know most of the good sort are at the front, or, if they happen to be in London, are too busy to waste their time on us Americans. Do you know, Jack, there is at this time quite a bit of feeling against us in England? Exactly what it is they resent it is hard to say. I certainly do not understand how they can expect us to take any part in this war with our population composed of people from every one of the countries that are engaged.”
They had scarcely had time to take off their coats when Lord Denton and Mr. Karlbeck came in through the private entrance. Edestone was introduced, and after the two Americans had had their cocktails, both Englishmen having declined to indulge in this distinctly American custom, the four sat down to dinner. Rebener put “Lord Denton” on his right, Edestone on his left, while “Mr. Karlbeck” took the only remaining seat. The conversation was general, and Edestone found that both the Englishmen were evidently making an effort to be agreeable.
“You are quite like an Englishman,” said “Lord Denton” addressing him. “I have known so few really nice Americans that I must say it is a most delightful surprise. When I was told that you were a great American inventor, I was prepared to see a fellow with the back of his neck shaved, who, while chewing gum, would seize my lapel and hold on to it while he insisted on explaining how I could save time and money by using his electrical self-starting dishwasher or some such beastly machine. When I visited New York two years ago, a committee had me in charge for three days. Their one idea seemed to be to force large cigars and mixed drinks on me at all hours of the day and night. One of these charming gentlemen, a particularly objectionable fellow, although he seemed to be very rich, was covered with diamonds and wore the most ridiculous evening clothes topped off with a yachting cap fronted with the insignia of some rowing club of which he had been admiral. He always referred to his one-thousand-ton yacht as his ‘little canoe,’ and took delight in telling exactly what it cost him by the hour to run, invariably adding that this amount did not include his own food, wines, liquors, and cigars. ‘We always charge that up to profit-and-loss account,’ he would say with a roar of laughter, in which he was joined by a group of his satellites.”
“I’ll bet I can call the turn, eh, Jack?” Rebener glanced across the table to Edestone, with a twinkle in his eye. “Didn’t the chap also tell you with great seriousness, ‘Lord Denton,’ that he had pulled off more good deals in his ‘little canoe’ than in all the hotel corridors put together?”
“Well, I sincerely hope it’s the same,” said ‘Lord Denton’. “You can’t have two such creatures in your country?”
“Was that the chap, ‘Denton,’” broke in “Karlbeck,” “who said to you, the day that he slapped you on the back, that he was not so strong for making all this fuss over Princes and things, as in his opinion it wasn’t democratic?”
“Yes, that was when I was on board his yacht, but he said I was all right and he didn’t mind spending money on me. ‘This is my pleasure today,’ he said, ‘although the Boss did say he wanted you treated right, and his word goes both ways with me. See!’”
“Tell them about your experience with the New York newspaper men,” suggested “Karlbeck.”
“Oh, that was very amusing! The whole committee would stand around and laugh while the ‘boys,’ as they called them, had a chance, which consisted in my being asked the most impertinent questions by a lot of objectionable little bounders whom they constantly referred to as ‘the greatest institution of our glorious country,’ at times allowing also that the country was ‘God’s own.’
“When I objected, some of your most powerful men would say: ‘You had better tell the reporters something or they’ll get sore on you and print a lot of lies about your women-folk.’
“The particularly offensive gentleman of whom I have spoken, after telling me what he thought of the British aristocracy, which was not always flattering, though I seemed to be exempt, said as he bade me good-bye: ‘By the way, don’t forget that my wife and two daughters will be stopping in London next spring.’”
“Well,” inquired Edestone with a faint smile, “you did forget that his wife and two daughters were stopping in London in the spring, I am quite sure, and sure that he is convinced you got the best of it.”
“Oh, I say, Mr. Edestone, that was a nasty one! You really would not have expected me to introduce that fellow at my clubs, would you?” “No,” said Edestone, toying with something on the table to hide the smile that played across his lips. “No, no, not at all. The Lord Mayor of London would have satisfied him.”
He would have dropped the subject there, but pressed by the other man he continued rather seriously: “Since you ask me, ‘Lord Denton,’ I do think that you should not have accepted that man’s hospitality unless you were prepared to return it to a certain extent.”
“Well, what would you have expected His Royal Highness to do—I mean ‘Lord Denton?’” “Karlbeck” corrected himself hastily. Edestone set his glass down, and looked at the man for a moment. When he finally spoke it was with a touch of asperity. With a sarcastic smile he said:
“The quiet way in which you Europeans accept everything from us and return nothing, is being resented, not by the lower classes for they read in our papers how the King shook hands with Jack Johnson; not by the nouveaux riches, for they are perfectly satisfied with the notoriety they get at the hands of your broken-down aristocracy who spend their money,—no not by these classes, but by our ladies and gentlemen.”
“Then why do you entertain our Princes so lavishly?” sneered “Karlbeck.”
“It is our sense of humour, which allows us to be imposed upon. That sense of humour is often mistaken for hysterical hospitality by the distinguished stranger. We—and when I say we I mean people of breeding which does not include the vulgarian who knows nothing and may be the son of your father’s ninth gardener—we know that the more ridiculous we appear to you, the better you like it. Not to appear ridiculous offends you, as it arouses a feeling of rivalry to which you object, but with your lack of that same sense of humour, this you deny.”
Again he would have willingly dropped the subject, but “Lord Denton” once more insisted upon keeping up the discussion.
“You must remember,” said he, “Prince Henry’s visit to America. You don’t mean to tell me the Americans were not complimented and pleased at a visit from a Royal Prince?”
Edestone laughed. “You mean when Prince Henry of Prussia came over to bridge the chasm which had formed between the German and American nations over the Manila episode, by the interchange of courtesies between the two ruling families, the Hohenzollerns and the Roosevelts?
“I was surprised that the Kaiser was so poorly informed as not to know our attitude toward him and his Divine Right and mailed fist. Why, everybody laughed except the Kaiser and the President—they were the only ones who were fooled: the Kaiser, because he could not help himself, it was in his blood; and Roosevelt, because he was at that time in a most septic condition and was suffering from auto-intoxication at the hands of that particular form of microbe.”
“Edestone entertained Prince Henry himself at his Little Place in the Country,” said Rebener, who saw that “Lord Denton” was losing his temper.
“Yes, I did,” said Edestone. “Not that I thought he would enjoy it, but somebody—and now when I come to think of it, you were the man, Rebener—insisted that he would like to visit my machine shops. And he did seem to enjoy seeing them very much, and Admiral Tirpitz and his staff took all kinds of notes while asking all kinds of questions.” The reminiscence seemed to make the three other men a trifle uncomfortable.
“Oh! what difference does it make after all?” said Rebener. “Let’s get down to business.
“Now, Edestone,” he turned to the inventor, “you know me, and I’m not much for beating about the bush. When I want something, my motto is, ‘Go to it.’ My object in inviting you here to meet these gentlemen tonight was to see if we can’t get together. As I understand the situation, Jack, you have something that you think is pretty good. You have lots of money, and you don’t want to sell it. You don’t have to, but you want to get England to use it, and if she won’t, you will try Germany. Now is not that just about the size of it?”
“To a certain extent, yes,” replied Edestone.
“Then why in the name of common sense don’t you let ‘Lord Denton’ and me have it and we will guarantee to have it used where it will do the most good. He has more pull with the Government than any man in England. I think you know pretty well now who he is,” he added with a wink. “If it is the war you want stopped, he is the best man outside of the King or Kaiser.”
“Well, yes, Mr. Rebener,” said Edestone, “I do know who ‘Lord Denton’ is and had the pleasure of seeing him this afternoon at Buckingham Palace, but I thought perhaps he would prefer that I should preserve his incognito and, following the example of his most charming Duchess, permitted myself to forget. I shall be most happy to——”
He halted and turned as a waiter stepped up behind his chair to interrupt him.
“I beg pardon, sir, but the Marquis of Lindenberry wishes to speak to you on the telephone.
“I am sorry, sir, but you will have to go to the booth in the room behind the stairs. Mr. Rebener’s telephone is out of order.”
“What do you mean, ‘my telephone is out of order’?” Rebener glanced up sharply. “I used it not twenty minutes ago.” And going into the adjoining room he tried to speak to the floor switchboard.
“The fellow’s right,” he admitted on returning to the table. “You’ll have to use the booth, Jack. Waiter, show Mr. Edestone where to go.”
“This way, sir,” said the waiter, and he conducted Edestone down the long corridor, passing one of Captain Bright’s cavalrymen at almost every turn. Just around the foot of the stairs the waiter showed him a door.
“There it is, sir,” he pointed.
Edestone went in and found himself in a room that was almost dark. It was lighted only by a shaded electric bulb used by the man at the switchboard, who sat facing the door but hidden from anyone entering by the high instrument in front of him. Edestone walked over to him, finding him almost obscured by the huge green shade pulled down over his eyes, and seemingly very much occupied with both incoming and outgoing calls.
“Is there a call for Mr. Edestone?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” said the man without looking up from his plugs. “The second booth from this end, No. 2.”
Edestone, turning, saw in the dim light a row of booths against the wall over beyond the door. It was quite dark in that corner, but he could see that the door of the second booth was open. He went inside, muttering as he did so, “I think they might give a fellow a little more light.”
As he sat down and took up the receiver, he put out his hand to stop the door from slowly closing, apparently by itself. It was one of those double-walled, sound-proof, stuffy boxes, and he did not want the door shut tight, so he put out his foot to hold it open. But he was just a moment too late. The door shut with a little bang, and when he tried to open it again, he found that it seemed to have jammed.
Edestone waited. He thought he heard, or rather he felt, a vibration as if someone were moving in the next booth. He tried the door again, but found that it held fast.
He was about to signal the switchboard operator and tell him to come and open up the booth, when an, “Are you there, Mr. Edestone?” came to him from across the wire, and caused him for the moment to forget the refractory door.
“Hello!” he answered. “Yes; I am Mr. Edestone. Who is this?”
The voice, instead of replying directly, spoke as if to another person with an aside. “Mr. Edestone is on the wire.”
A moment, and then a second voice spoke. “Are you there, Mr. Edestone?”
It was not the voice of his friend, and he answered a trifle impatiently: “Yes. Who are you? Are you speaking for the Marquis of Lindenberry?”
“No, I am not,” came the reply. “And I must apologize for having used his name.”
The voice bore the unmistakable intonation of an English gentleman.
“I am the Count Kurtz von Hemelstein. I regret that circumstances compel me to force myself upon you in this caddish manner. But my duty as a soldier in the service of His Majesty, the Emperor of Germany, demands it. I shall not delay you long, however, if you will only do what I ask.”
There was a moment’s pause. Involuntarily Edestone drew back slightly from the instrument.
“Count Kurtz von Hemelstein, did you say?” He spoke with a touch of sternness. “I do not think that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting you, sir. I did meet a Count Heinrich von Hemelstein last summer.”
“Yes; that was my brother. He has often spoken of you, Mr. Edestone. If I am not mistaken, you were rivals for the attention of a pretty, young matron with a good-natured husband?”
“Not rivals, Count von Hemelstein.” Edestone laughed, but under the laugh he was doing some rapid thinking. “Your brother was the favoured one, and when the war broke out, and he had to leave for the front, the lady was almost inconsolable.
“But, Count von Hemelstein,” he continued, “what can I do for you? We Americans, you know, do not always insist upon a formal introduction. As we say, ‘Any friend of a friend of mine.’”
“Also, you are wrong on one point,” said the Count, with a little chuckle. “I have had the pleasure of meeting you. It was a trifle informal, I must admit, but you were just as charming as you are now, and I think I am indebted to you to the amount of several shillings. In the end, you did leave me rather abruptly, and seemed offended at something I had done; but I trust you have recovered from that by this time.” Edestone could hear him laughing heartily.
“You have met me?” repeated Edestone, completely mystified. “When and where?”
“Today; in London. Indeed, I am in London now.”
“In London, Count von Hemelstein?” Involuntarily Edestone lowered his voice. “But I say, isn’t that taking a bit of a chance for a German officer? Where are you speaking from now, may I ask?”
The Count was laughing so, that just at first he could not answer; but after a moment he managed to control his amusement.
“I am in the next booth to you,” he said.
When he spoke again, his tone had lost all trace of levity and become hard and direct like that of a man charged with a distasteful duty, yet with which he was determined not to let his feelings interfere.
“In regard to our meeting today,” he said; “I was in disguise. In short, I was the taxi-driver whom you gave the slip this afternoon by the aid of that cur, Schmidt. And now, Mr. Edestone, you must realize what it is I want.” In a more conciliatory tone, he added: “I can see no reason, however, why we should not settle this matter as between gentlemen.”
“Please be more explicit,” returned Edestone, quietly.
“In brief, then, I am authorized by my Government to meet, and even double or quadruple any offer for your invention made by the English Government. I will take your word of honour. All that you have to do is to say now, on your word as a gentleman, that you will sell it to my Government, and you can return to your friends. My Government will then communicate with you, and close with you at your own price.”
“And if I decline the proposition?” said Edestone.
“Then I fear I shall be compelled to use force; and much as I may regret to do so, I will tell you that I am prepared to stop at nothing.
“You are now,” he went on, “locked in that solid oak booth, with its strong double doors, perfectly sound-proof. The operator at the switchboard is my man. He can by pulling a wire uncork a bottle which is concealed in your booth and asphyxiate you in one half minute.”
But if he had expected the American to show any trepidation as a result of his threats, he soon found out his mistake. Edestone’s reply was as insouciant as if he had been merely commenting on the weather.
“Really, this is quite interesting, Count von Hemelstein,” he said. “I might almost call you a man after my own heart. That bottle trick is so simple and yet effective that I, as an inventor, cannot help but compliment you. I am wondering just what chemical you have employed. There are of course a dozen or more that would answer your purpose; but as their action varies greatly in the effect upon the victim, I am naturally curious.”
“Does that mean that you are about to decline my offer?” demanded the Count sharply. “Have a care, Mr. Edestone. I am not merely trying to frighten you, as you may suppose. The facts are just as I have stated them, and I shall not hesitate to——”
“Assuredly, my dear Count,” Edestone broke in. “I have never doubted that for a moment. Nor am I going to refuse your proposition—that is, not definitely. Instead, I have been so pleased by the charming manner in which you have presented this little matter that I desire to submit a counter-proposition. Only, I must beg you to urge your modest friend with the weak eyes out there at the switchboard to be a little careful with that wire. Judging from the atmosphere in this booth, his bottle has been leaking for some time.”
“Come, come, Mr. Edestone.” The Count’s voice rose nervously, showing the strain under which he was labouring. “I have already told you that this is no joke. If it is your game to play for time, in the hope that some one may come to release you, or that you may discover the manner in which the bottle is secreted, you are going to be disappointed. I must do my work quickly. If I do not have your answer at once, I will give the signal and take your instrument away from you by force.”
“It is not time I want, but air.” Edestone gave a little gasp. “You yourself have spent more time than I, with your kind explanations as to how I may avoid what would be to me a most distressing accident. However, since celerity is what you want, I hasten to say that I have not my instrument, nor indeed any instrument with me.”
“Not with you?” snapped the Prussian angrily. “Where is it, then?”
“Ah! That is my counter-proposition. Count von Hemelstein, if I promise to tell you, on my word of honour, where you may find this instrument of mine that contains the entire secret of my invention—and it is near at hand where, if you are a brave man, you can easily get it,—if I do this, will you, on your side, give me your word as a gentleman, that you will immediately open this booth?
“I may add,” he went on, as von Hemelstein seemed to hesitate, “that this is my last and only proposition, and you can take that or nothing. I will die here in this box before I will sell my invention to any European Government; but you may have it as a free gift, Count, if you have the nerve to go after it. There is a challenge to your boasted Prussian valour! Are you a sport, Count von Hemelstein, or are you not?”
Von Hemelstein wavered no longer. From what Edestone told him, he argued that the inventor must have left his instrument with some of his subordinates, probably Black and Stanton, and relied upon them to protect it; and it stung him to think that the American should believe a German officer would falter at such odds—a couple of electricians, mere Yankee artisans.
“Yes,” he growled hoarsely. “I accept your terms. It is a bargain.”
“On your honour?”
“On my word of honour as a Prussian officer and a gentleman.”
“Well, then, hurry up and open this door. It is getting stifling in here; and, besides, Rebener will be growing anxious about me.”
“But, first, your information. Where is the instrument?”
“Oh, the instrument?” It was now Edestone’s turn to laugh. “Why, that is lying on the floor under the table in Mr. Rebener’s dining-room. I dropped it there, when I came out to answer your telephone call, and I also gave instructions to the sentries on guard at the door of the apartment to shoot any one who attempted to pass in or out during my absence. You are doubtless a brave man, but I do not think you are prepared to tackle a whole company of British cavalry.
“And now,” he concluded, “I have kept to my bargain. Will you kindly open the door?”
A muttered German imprecation, like a snarl of baffled chagrin, was his only answer. But a moment later the door to his booth swung open, and he was free.
As he stepped out, he found the lights in the room turned on, and the man at the switchboard gone. He also noticed that the door to the adjoining booth was shaking, as if someone had just jerked it open and had passed out hurriedly, and, as he came out into the corridor, he thought he glimpsed the figure of a man hastily disappearing down the staircase. So far as any other evidence went, except for his wilted collar and heaving lungs, the whole experience might have been a dream.
He returned quietly to the dinner table, and stooping over, as if to pick up his napkin, recovered the instrument and slipped it into his trousers pocket.
“Lord Denton” and “Karlbeck” kept staring at him with puzzled, almost incredulous faces.
“Did you find your friend on the wire?” finally ventured “Lord Denton,” leaning across the table toward him.
“No; it was another gentleman speaking for him,” smiled Edestone, “a mere visitor to England like myself. I took the liberty of asking him to join us, but he declined. He is, I fancy, leaving the country very shortly—probably going to Berlin.”
A little gasp from behind him caused him to turn in his seat. It came from the hotel proprietor who, entering the room by the rear door, stood rooted in amazement at the sight of Edestone, his jaw dropping, his eyes as big as saucers.
Edestone regarded him a moment; then turned to his host.
“What silly-looking waiters you have in this hotel, Rebener,” he said. “That fellow yonder doesn’t appear to have brains enough to be even a German spy.”
The real waiter, overhearing this compliment to his employer, clapped his hand over his mouth and dived for the pantry, just managing to get through the swinging door before he exploded.
The self-satisfied Bombiadi also overheard, and although he endeavoured to appear unconscious, a dull red flush crept up over his cheeks, and after shifting for a moment from one foot to the other, he left the room.
“Lord Denton” and “Karlbeck” exchanged glances out of the corners of their eyes; and Rebener, although he made out to grin at the speech, shifted a little uneasily in his chair.
But Edestone, who, under his quiet exterior, possessed a rather mischievous spirit, was not yet through with them.
“As I was saying when I was called to the telephone,” he leaned across the table toward the incognito Royal Duke, “the desire of Your Royal Highness—pardon me, I mean, of ‘Lord Denton’—is of course to see England victorious in this contest; but that may mean years of fighting and an appalling loss of men and money. Such true patriots as yourself and ‘Mr. Karlbeck’ must see that it would be far better to end the war now, provided that a lasting peace can be ensured, and that I think I can guarantee with my discovery. I should be delighted, therefore, to co-operate with you gentlemen to that end, and if you would advocate the proposition that England allow me to go to Berlin with something to show that she is willing to enter into pour parlers, I shall bring pressure to bear on Germany to make some liberal answer.”
“Lord Denton,” however, seemed no longer interested in the matter, and was unable to concentrate his attention; while “Mr. Karlbeck” made no attempt to hide the fact that he was disgusted gusted with the evening, and wished to see it end as soon as possible.
Rebener, seeing his dinner a failure, although not quite understanding the cause, like many a nervous host compelled to face a tableful of distinguished guests who do not hesitate to show that they are bored, did the silliest thing possible under the circumstances, and drank more than he should.
Presently he began to talk in such unrestrained fashion that “Mr. Karlbeck” looked as if he would faint with apprehension, while His Royal Highness sought by every possible means to divert Edestone’s attention from the broad hints and imprudent revelations that were thrown out.
They were still engaged at this, when suddenly the door was thrown open, and some one announced in a loud voice, “The King’s Messenger!”
“Karlbeck” and “Lord Denton” sprang to their feet, their faces ashy pale, as they stood grasping the backs of their chairs. When, a moment later, Colonel Stewart, the Equerry, appeared on the threshold, they both crumpled up, and dropped into their chairs, fit subjects for the starch-pot.
The Colonel stared at them in undisguised surprise, a slow frown gathering between his eyes.
“Your Royal Highness did not mention to me this afternoon that he was dining with Mr. Edestone tonight,” he drew himself up stiffly. And it was in his mind that, on the contrary, His Royal Highness had inveighed against the American inventor as a fraud and a fakir, and had loudly urged that no attention be paid to him or his claims.
Neither did Colonel Stewart forget that certain ugly whispers had been in circulation regarding the loyalty of these two high-born Englishmen with the Teutonic names. What did it mean, then, when he found them here in the apartment of a man practically known as a German agent, and in conference with the possessor of the secret which Germany was seeking so eagerly to obtain?
Whatever his suspicions, though, he said nothing further at the time, but turned to Edestone.
“I am sorry to disturb you, Mr. Edestone, but His Majesty, the King, has ordered that certain messages be delivered to you without delay, and I should appreciate it, if you would give me a few minutes of your time.”
Then, when Edestone, after requesting Rebener’s permission, had withdrawn with him into the salon, he explained that the King had instructed Sir Egbert Graves to call the following morning at nine o’clock and to state the decision of the Government in answer to the inventor’s proposition.
“Will that hour be convenient to you?” asked the Colonel.
“Perfectly,” Edestone assented. Then on an impulse, he added: “I do not leave for the Continent until eleven.”
The Equerry extended his hand. “In that case, I shall probably not see you again. Good-bye, Mr. Edestone; I trust you will have a pleasant journey and good luck when you reach Berlin.”
It was evident that he was not to be detained. He was in no sense a prisoner, but free to go or stay as he chose. With a smile of gratification, he responded to Colonel Stewart’s parting salute, and returned to the dining-room.
There he found the two discomfited members of the nobility just taking their leave; while Rebener, his earlier ill-humour put aside, was playing the rather too strenuous host, and with his flushed face and over-loud manner urging them to stay and “have another.” Wouldn’t they try one of his wonderful cigars? Just one pony of his marvellous brandy?
But His Royal Highness, pale as death, was bent on getting away, and turned a deaf ear to all these hospitable suggestions; and although “Mr. Karlbeck” did consent to gulp down a large glass of Rebener’s very fine brandy, he immediately hurried off in the wake of his royal associate.
Edestone left almost immediately, and his “guard of honour,” to which he was getting quite accustomed by this time, having been duly assembled, he was escorted back to the hotel and a sleepy-eyed James.
The next morning Sir Egbert Graves called. He touched first upon the occurrences of the evening before at Rebener’s dinner, and Edestone was surprised to learn how fully the Government was informed concerning all that had transpired.
“His Majesty begs that you will, if possible, forget the whole distasteful episode,” Sir Egbert said, with a stern face, and a flash of contempt in his eye. “His Royal Highness has been relieved of his commission and is in retirement, and the Duchess of Windthorst together with Princess Wilhelmina is leaving to join the Princess Adolph, in Berlin. By these means, and of course with your silence, upon which he counts, His Majesty hopes to keep England in ignorance of the fact that such rottenness exists in his immediate household.”
“And so that pretty young girl who crossed with me on the Ivernia is in the mire too,” thought Edestone; for it seemed to him that the King’s order of exile against the Duchess and herself could mean nothing else. Yet somehow his feeling of disdain and aversion for the traitor did not extend to the feminine members of the family. For them he had only sorrow and sympathy.
Meanwhile, Sir Egbert, as if glad to be rid of so disagreeable a subject, had taken up the direct purpose of his call.
He said that, whereas the King was unwilling to offer any terms of settlement that Germany in her present mood would be apt to consider, His Majesty thought that after she understood the position of the United States, and after her spies had reported the nature of Edestone’s reception in London, and especially after the inventor should have had an interview with the Emperor, the Berlin Government might suggest something which could serve as a basis upon which to open negotiations. In such a case, His Majesty was of the opinion that Edestone, if he were willing to undertake the delicate task, would be the most suitable person to act as a go-between.
The Foreign Minister made it plain that England could promise nothing at that time; but that he had her friendly interest upon his mission, and that she would listen in the most conciliatory spirit to any proposition he might bring back.
He brought letters to the President of France, General French, General Joffre, and others, which would guarantee Edestone’s safety up to the German line; but suggested that it would be well not to show the French too much, since they were such a volatile nation that they might readily decide to retire from the field and allow the United States and England to settle the matter. On account of the long and sincere friendship which had existed between the French people and those of the United States, France might feel that she could depend upon the United States to recover her lost territory, together with Alsace and Lorraine, and that was all she wanted.
In leaving, Sir Egbert, upon behalf of the King, insisted on placing a torpedo boat at Edestone’s disposal. Then, with the assurance that anything he might have to communicate to the British Government would be given most careful consideration, the Foreign Minister bowed himself out.
Edestone could not but compare this interview with the one he had held with Lord Rockstone—the opening gun of his campaign. Verily, twenty-four hours had made a vast change in the attitude of the British Cabinet.
His journey to Paris was uneventful except for one incident.
In the middle of the Channel, as he leaned against the rail, gazing back toward the white cliffs of Dover, he drew the Deionizer from his pocket and quietly dropped it overboard. With scarcely a splash the little instrument, for which the warring nations were willing to barter millions and commit almost any crime, disappeared beneath the waves.
He did not, however, intend giving any further demonstration until his arrival in Berlin, and there he thought he might have a larger and better one; while, in the meantime, and especially since his encounter with Count von Hemelstein had shown him how far the Germans were prepared to go, he did not feel like taking any unnecessary chances.
At Calais, he was received by the representative of the President and other high officials, and when they had seen some of his photographs, and had heard an outline of his plans, they readily followed the lead of England in accrediting him as a sort of unofficial peacemaker. Indeed, the Frenchmen looked upon Edestone as someone almost superhuman—a being who had come to establish on earth the dream of their philosophers, “Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité”—and they gloried in the good fortune of their sister Republic in having produced and sent to their rescue such a son.
When he left for Berlin, he was conducted to the Swiss frontier like a conquering hero, and, with prayers that he would be careful while in the land of the Huns, was turned over to the Swiss Government. The latter also accorded him every consideration and courtesy; but when he finally left their outposts behind and arrived on German soil, he found a different story.
Here, he was immediately taken in charge by the frontier military authorities, and practically held a prisoner for three days under the excuse that instructions in regard to him had to be asked for from Berlin.
He was incensed at the petty annoyances to which he was subjected by his jailer, a fat old German martinet.
Under one pretext or another he and his men were constantly being interrogated, and his baggage, which they insisted upon opening, was thoroughly and repeatedly searched.
When they discovered among other things something that suggested a miniature wireless plant, they would not let him or any of his men out of their sight. His letters were so strong, however, that they would not dare to do anything with him without instructions.
He let it be known that he had absolutely nothing hidden on his person by taking off all of his clothes and going to bed, and would apparently sleep while watching the spies go through them. They seemed to enjoy this little game so much that he would sometimes play it once or twice a day, varying it by taking a bath or having James give him massage.
They never seemed to suspect that he was playing with them, but would stand around and pounce down on his clothes, each time searching them thoroughly as if they had discovered something entirely new, when they had just turned the same things inside out within an hour.
While waiting here, too, he came to learn how intensely bitter was the feeling against Americans among Germans of all classes. They regarded themselves as superior beings, he found, and when they first noted his splendid physique, would not believe but that he must have German blood in his veins. When he convinced them, however, that he was of pure Anglo-Saxon stock, Virginia bred—a thorough-paced “Yankee,” as they called it—even the peasants treated him as the dirt beneath their feet.
But at last word came from the German General Staff. He was “sealed, stamped, and marked, ‘not to be opened until after delivery in Berlin.’” He was shown greater consideration now; but it was a consideration which rather unpleasantly reminded him of that shown by the keeper to a condemned prisoner in presenting him with his new clothes in which to be executed.
He and his men and all his belongings—the latter carefully listed in triplicate—were put into a private car, and locked in, like a rich American with the smallpox whom they were sending out of the country; while, to add to his comfort, he was told that Count von Hemelstein was to act as his escort.
As they started on the journey, Edestone had an opportunity of seeing in his true character for the first time the man whom he had so cleverly outwitted in the telephone booth, and he found it hard work to identify the smart cavalry officer as the grimy London taxi-driver of a few days before.
The Count was a big, splendid-looking fellow, who rather affected an American manner in order to hide the fact that he had been educated both at school and college in England. Without his uniform, he would have been taken anywhere for an Englishman, blond, blue-eyed giant that he was, with as beautiful a moustache and as winning a smile as was ever given to the hero of a love story. He wore the uniform of a Colonel of Uhlans, which well set off his handsome figure. In fact, he was as noble-looking an Uhlan as ever, either before or after marriage, broke the heart of a rich brewer’s daughter.
“Delighted to meet you again, Mr. Edestone,” he grasped the American’s hand, with a hearty laugh. “Ever since our last encounter, I have been wanting the opportunity of asking how you knew that I would keep my word and release you, when you divulged to me the whereabouts of your instrument there in the telephone booth? Didn’t you realize that, by ‘putting you out,’ and then having the switchboard man raise an alarm, I could in the resultant confusion, easily have secured the instrument?”
“But I also realized that I was dealing with a soldier, not a burglar; and I took a chance,” said Edestone with a smile.
“Well,” said the Colonel, “now that you are safe in Germany what difference does it make? We mean to keep you here.”
“The United States might have something to say to that,” suggested Edestone.
“The United States? Bah! One more country to fight; what difference would it make to Germany, especially one that could make so little showing? You have no army. Your navy could do no more than England is already doing. We are at present cut off from your supplies as much as if we were at war with you. Finally, the German-Americans would put the brakes on you, now that another Presidential election is approaching.
“No, Mr. Edestone,” he shook his head triumphantly; “you are making a bad mistake, if you are relying on the protection of the United States, now that you have stuck your head into the tiger’s mouth.”
“Do I understand, Count von Hemelstein, that Germany proposes to hold me a prisoner? Are you telling me that she would dare do such a thing?”
“Ah, do not put it so crudely.” The Count raised his hand a trifle mockingly. “Let us say, rather, that we expect you to become so convinced of the righteousness of our cause that you will gladly turn over your instrument and render us any other aid you can toward the crushing of our enemies.”
The smile faded from his lips, and for a moment he, “showed his teeth.”
“Take my advice, my friend,” he said sharply. “Don’t try to frighten the Wilhelmstrasse with your moving pictures and your covert threats of intervention by the United States as you did at Buckingham Palace. We are made of sterner stuff here. We know the nature of your invention, and just what you can accomplish with it; and our gifted men of science are now hard at work in the effort to duplicate your achievement.
“My brother brought back word a year ago,” he disclosed, “that you were building a super-dreadnought 907 feet long, 90 feet beam, 35 feet draught, 40,000 tons displacement. We also know that you are now working full blast night and day at your ‘Little Place in the Country.’ We know about the tricks you played with that flunkey in your audience with the King. A hint to us Germans is all that is needed.
“We know further,” he went on in a sterner voice, “the sentiments of love and devotion toward England that you expressed to the English King, and we know the tenor of the answer that was returned to your proposition.
“But do you imagine that you can come here, sir, and dictate terms to our Emperor, or arrange a peace for us, which would mean anything less than the absolute humbling of England? Do you think we would run the slightest risk of letting this invention of yours fall into England’s hands?
“Your question was expressed very undiplomatically, Mr. Edestone, for one who is arrogating to himself the prerogatives of an envoy and ambassador. Nations in speaking to one another use language that is lighter than fairy’s thought, and sweeter than a baby’s dream, but more deadly than a pestilence. But I will answer you on this occasion just as bluntly and baldly.
“We do propose to hold you virtually a prisoner on German soil until such time as our men of science have completed their labours. If they succeed in solving the secret of your discovery, we shall be ready to try conclusions with the United States, and shall deal with you personally as may seem most advisable, dragging you by force from the very Embassy itself, if you attempt to take refuge there. If, on the other hand, our men of science fail, your position will be in no way preferable. We will simply compel you to disclose your secret to us, and, as I told you once before, we stop at nothing to gain our ends. Your best plan, therefore, and I believe I am your sincere friend when I tell you this, is to sell to my Government at once.”
A slightly amused smile flitted over Edestone’s lips from time to time as he listened; but when he spoke it was quite seriously.
“I have no doubt,” he said, “that everything you tell me is absolutely true. Germany is undoubtedly thorough, whether her thoroughness take the form of the destruction of Louvain, or of sewing two buttons where only one is needed on the trousers of her soldiers. But I pity her for not finding a larger way to gain her ends in the first place, and for her conceit in thinking that a lot of little thoughts and extra buttons when added together make a great nation. Germany may know exactly how many gold and how many amalgam fillings there are in the teeth of the German army, but she does not know that thousands of men leave Germany and come to the United States simply because they do not want their teeth counted. Germany may know what I have done and am doing at my place on the Hudson, but she does not know that she has so incensed me by her methods of obtaining this information that it were better for her if she had never known, or you so boastful as to have told me of it.
“Yes,” and he spoke almost with the fervour of an inspired prophet; “Germany may know her alphabet of war from end to end, forward and backward, but she does not know that she and it are doomed to destruction, because she thinks that she can drive the intelligent modern world with a spear, as her forefathers did the wild beasts of the Black Forest.”
Von Hemelstein started and laid his hand indignantly to the hilt of his sword. His instructions to bring Edestone safely to Berlin alone prevented him from punishing then and there such insult to his country and his Emperor.
“My orders prevent me from killing you!” he said hoarsely, as he straightened up and, drawing his heels together with a click, turned and stalked away.
He took a seat at the other side of the car, and as if utterly oblivious that such a creature as Edestone existed, produced and deliberately adjusted the two parts of a very long and handsome cigarette holder, and with much straining of his very tight uniform restored the case to the place provided by law for its concealment on his glittering person. He then took out his cigarette case, and after selecting a cigarette, he gently tapped it on the gold cover, glaring all the time quite through and beyond the unspeakable American. With more absurd contortions the cigarette case was disposed of, and matches produced. Then, stretching out his beautiful patent-leather boots, he finally lighted his cigarette.
He took a deep inhalation, and blew from the very bottom of his lungs a thin cloud of smoke in Edestone’s direction, while with much rattling he unfolded a newspaper, and pretended to read it.
Edestone, who was with difficulty keeping a straight face, sat all this time solemnly watching him with the expression of a schoolgirl looking at her matinee idol at about the juncture in the last act when that hero puts on his kingly robes which have been hidden for a hundred years in the moth closet of his twenty-story apartment house on upper Riverside Drive.
When the Count finally peeped cautiously over the top of his paper to see what effect he was producing, he felt almost tempted to applaud and blow him a kiss.
“Count von Hemelstein,” he said lazily, when finally the Prussian had put down his paper, and was sitting glaring in front of him, “I was just thinking what a stunning book-cover you would make for a cheap novel, or how many thousands of bottles of beer your picture would sell in Hoboken. Hoboken, you know, is the headquarters of the German-American standing army, and your second largest naval base. Or you might serve as——”
He halted in some anxiety, for it seemed as if the Count were about to choke to death.