Edestone and Lawrence sat quietly for a few minutes, Lawrence watching him with a merry twinkle in his eye while Edestone was unconsciously fingering the note that General von Lichtenstein had given him. Finally he said:
“Well, I’m off for bed. I have a hard day before me tomorrow.”
“Yes, you are, you old fox!” said his companion. “I’m on to you. There is something up, and you can’t hide it from me. You have been sitting there fingering that note from—well, I guess I can pretty well call you, because your lady friends in Berlin are limited—with the silliest expression I have ever seen on your face. Now, out with it! You had better get it off your chest by telling your troubles to papa.”
Edestone put the note quickly into his pocket, and was about to force through his bluff when Lawrence stopped him by saying:
“You can trust me, old man; now out with it.”
“Well,” said Edestone in an embarrassed tone, “General von Lichtenstein did give me a note from Princess Wilhelmina,” showing it to Lawrence.
“My dear fellow,” Lawrence said, “what do you propose to do? If you are going to take a chance for the pleasure of seeing a beautiful woman, I am with you heart and soul; but if you are taking a chance because you believe she is sincerely in distress and calling on you, an American here in Berlin, when she’s got all of those becorseted Johnnies around her, you had better allow me to advise you.”
“I am perfectly willing to take a chance,” cried Edestone in an angry tone, “if you choose to call it that, because I have absolute confidence in her.”
“Say, Jack, I think you are beginning to get a little bit soft on the Princess. You may be all right when it comes to straight electricity, but I think you will admit that I have had more experience in this kind of animal magnetism than you. She is certainly a snappy little induction coil.”
“Lawrence, please don’t,” said Edestone.
“Well, you don’t know perfectly well, Jack, that General von Lichtenstein would not have delivered that note from a Princess of the house of Windthorst to you, a low-born American plebeian, unless it was part of their scheme. Why it’s as much as his life is worth, if it is as you believe it to be,” and he gave Edestone a knowing look.
“Now, cut that out, Lawrence,” said Edestone in a decided tone. “Do not think for one moment that I have any illusions as far as that young lady is concerned. She is evidently in trouble of some kind, and the fact that she is so young offsets that of her being a Princess.”
Lawrence shrugged his shoulders, and occupied himself smoking while Edestone continued:
“I think that General von Lichtenstein thinks she is working for them, but I am just fool enough to think that she is not. In fact, I know she is not, but even if she were, I would like to show those people that I will not allow them to sacrifice her dignity and compromise herself in her own eyes even for them, so I am going, if for no other reason than to keep her from doing something which she may some day deeply regret. I’m off. If you want some excitement, why you might drop into some of the clubs and feel out the officers.”
“Ah,” said Lawrence, “that is a good idea. I will be just about as popular as a baby rabbit in a litter of foxes.”
“And you can enjoy watching them as they sit around, licking their chops,” interjected Edestone, “as they think of the dainty morsel you will make when they eat you alive tomorrow. Be careful. We want no false steps, and there are some pretty skittish ponies in the Emperor’s stable. He can hold in check his plough horses, but these young thoroughbreds are getting nervous at the post.”
“Well,” said Lawrence, “I never was very strong for these Prussians, but they made a hit with me tonight in the way in which they started for you. They were a pretty fine looking lot of handsome young chaps,” and curling an imaginary moustache, he continued: “Almost as good as our eleven of 1903,” and they both stood and toasted grand old Harvard, and he was leaving the room singing, “Here’s to dear old Harvard, drink her down!” when Edestone called him back and said:
“Lawrence, get one of the Embassy automobiles and I will drop you on the way.”
Edestone, whereas he knew that his movements were being watched and that this meeting had been arranged, if not by the German General Staff, by some of its female lieutenants, was determined to show them that he did not intend to compromise this little Princess by calling upon her at that hour of the night in a secretive manner.
All was perfectly quiet in the streets, and the automobile was allowed to pass without interruption. When he arrived at the Palace he imagined that the coast had been cleared for him, for on entering he discovered that there was some sort of an entertainment going on, which would have necessitated the presence of waiting automobiles on the outside, which were conspicuous by their absence.
He was evidently expected, and was immediately conducted to a small room. He could hear music and laughter in another part of the Palace, but saw no one except the flunkeys in the hall.
The room into which he was shown was evidently one of those used by the family in their home life, as was shown by the papers, books, and fancy work lying about.
The situation would ordinarily have been most amusing to him, and had he not been so occupied with such serious matters, and had there been less of a difference in their ages and social positions, he would have enjoyed the excitement of a mysterious rendezvous with this extremely charming and attractive young woman.
He was thoroughly conscious of her attractions, and though he might have denied the necessity of this, in thinking of her he always kept before his mind the fable of the fox and the sour grapes.
He was kept waiting for about fifteen minutes, and he began to wonder if the whole thing had not been arranged, and would not have been surprised if when the door quietly opened he had seen von Lichtenstein or even the Emperor himself instead of a very much frightened little woman.
She was apparently supported by sheer will power and the pride of the Princess, which she had inherited from her long line of ancestors, extending back into the unwritten pages of history.
She was dressed so simply that the lines of her most graceful little figure were perfectly revealed, but with such modesty that though she followed the dictates of the modern fashions, which leave little to the imagination, the effect upon Edestone was that of reverence in the presence of such youth and innocence.
To him she seemed to be draped in some soft silky material, and though her neck and arms were bare, they were enveloped in a shimmer of tulle, which she held about her as if for protection. Her hair, parted in the middle, was flatly dressed, and held close to her small head by a little band of jewels which encircled it and crossed her low white brow.
She was perfectly calm, dignified, and had herself well in hand. There was an expression upon her face of resolution, and as if to help, she assumed a more royal and dignified bearing than he had ever supposed she was capable of.
She had evidently been crying, but her voice was steady and rather haughty in its tone as she said, giving him her hand:
“I am glad that you have come.”
Edestone took it gently in his own, and bowing, scarcely touched it with his lips, but when he felt its icy touch, and caught the faint perfume, he felt a thrill, and for a moment he forgot that he was in the presence of a Royal Princess, who looked upon him as something a little bit better than a servant, and not as good as the most miserable Count that ever wore a paper collar or passed a fraudulent check at the Newport Reading Room.
Recovering himself quickly, however, he dropped her hand and stood in an attitude of deep respect, but not until she had caught the look that he had given her.
Not daring to look up at her for fear of her indignation at his presumption, he busied himself arranging the cushions in a seat for her.
Raising her hand to her throat, which had moved convulsively, she watched him with a quiet little smile, as if waiting to finish the deadly work which she, young as she was, knew that she had started. Like a great ring general, she did not intend to allow her adversary time to recover before she administered the coup de grace.
When he recovered sufficiently to allow himself to look at her, although he resolved to keep strictly to the object of their meeting, he was so struck with her great charm that he could not resist saying:
“I sincerely hope, Princess, that you will pardon me if I take the great liberty of saying to you that you are looking extremely beautiful tonight.”
She answered with a smile.
And then in a light and frivolous tone, and looking at her in a manner which she could not misunderstand, with the deepest respect he added:
“If I were a Prince and a few years younger, I would humbly kneel and worship at your shrine, Princess.”
A cloud passed over her face, but recovering, with a look which if Edestone had been younger and less sensible would have finished him:
“Well, Mr. Edestone,” she smiled coquettishly, “I understand that you were tonight a match for an Emperor; and I am feeling very old myself.”
With a smile acknowledging her condescension in allowing this slight exchange of repartee, he assumed a fatherly air, and said, having recovered himself entirely:
“Now, my dear and very sweet little Princess, your very old and most humble servant awaits your orders. The only reward that he expects is that he be allowed to see you one or two times before he dies of old age, or you are seated on a throne.”
With an impatient gesture, and an almost imperceptible stamp of her little foot, she said:
“Please don’t talk that way. I hate being a Princess, and the way you say it makes me hate myself,” and with a quick glance and a tone of great seriousness: “I don’t think you are so old as all that.
“I have sent for you,” changing her voice, “to warn you again. It was absolutely necessary in order to arrange this meeting to lead them to believe that I was willing to do that which you must hate me for—use my power as a woman to persuade you to give up the position which you have taken, and though I hate them all for it, in order to save you from certain death I have compromised myself in my own eyes, and have done that which will cause you to hate me.”
“That I could never do,” said Edestone, which brought a faint smile to her lips. “Princess, I appreciate more deeply than I can say your great kindness, and if there is anything that I can do which will save you from these people when they find that you have failed in your undertaking, you can command me. Your warning, however, comes as no surprise to me; but I appreciate it none the less.”
“Could I not hold out to them,” she anticipated, “that you had agreed to reveal this secret to me, and in that way gain time, and you might be able to get out of Berlin?”
“But what would become of you when they discovered that you had played them false?” asked Edestone. And then, as if hesitating to refer to the delicacy of her position, an English Princess in Berlin, he added: “They are relentless, and they might suspect you of playing into the hands of England. No, Princess, there is but one thing for you to do, and that is to say that I declined absolutely and entirely to consider any proposition of any kind.
“If you were in any way associated with me in what I have already done and what I propose to do, I should not be willing to leave you in Berlin, and though I know you are absolutely sincere in your intentions to assist me in my work, there is no possible way for me to protect you other than by taking you with me, which is absolutely out of the question. You would not be safe even in the American Embassy.”
She thought for a while, and then, as if an idea had struck her, she said blushingly:
“My mother, like myself, is perfectly loyal to England, and if as I understand it is the intention of the American Government to come out on the side of the Allies, would there be any impropriety in my going with her to the Embassy and taking my chances with the Secretary’s family?”
“That would be impossible,” said Edestone. “They have taken you into their confidence, and would not allow you to leave the country. I think mine is the only plan. Say to them that I would listen to no proposition, and allow me to go and take my chances.”
He could not trust himself, and he knew his only hope of keeping her esteem was in getting out before she discovered his real secret, and rising in a most dignified manner he kissed her hand, and then allowing himself to press it gently to his cheek for a moment, left the room abruptly, while she sank into a seat and covered her face with her hands.
The next morning everything was perfectly quiet on the outside of the Embassy. The soldiers had apparently settled down for a siege. They contented themselves with singing hymns and drinking songs, and with mock reverence rendering the “Star Spangled Banner,” closely followed by the “Marseillaise,” and “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary.”
But there was mutiny within the walls. Mrs. Jones had flatly refused to leave the Embassy. She said that she had not the slightest idea of going up in Jack’s foolish flying machine, to be shot at by the soldiers or dropped into the middle of the ocean; that for her part she intended to stay exactly where she was. The Secretary might go if he wished to risk his life in a balloon or if it was his duty, but she thought she was safer in the Embassy. She was perfectly sure that the Germans would not dare to shoot at it while the United States flag was flying over it, and there were women inside.
The Secretary seemed to agree with her, and said: “It was only on your account, my dear, that I was going. As long as the flag flies above this roof, my duty is here, and I sincerely hope that you are right.”
“But we are now at war with these people,” said Edestone, “and they may take it into their heads to shoot that flag away, and they have plainly shown that they will kill and burn women and children if in their judgment one single point, however small, can be gained in their national game of war. It is a ruling passion with them, and they think that all of the nicer feelings of honour, humanity, and even religion must be crushed, and that these sentiments are foolish and are for women and weaklings only.”
At which Mrs. Jones seemed worried. She preferred, however, she said, to stay and take a chance rather than go to certain death with Edestone.
“I think,” said he, “that if we were dealing with any of the other civilized nations, the Embassy would be perfectly safe, even if war had been declared or forced upon us without any formal declaration, but with the Germans in their present state of nerves, it is quite different. They have a strange method of retaliation, not for an injury to themselves, but for the failure on their part to inflict one upon others, which can only be accounted for by their savage passion for revenge. The real danger, however, will be before this while they are trying to prevent my escape.”
The Secretary was anxious to remain at his post as long as possible, so he was glad to side with Mrs. Jones. Lawrence begged for and obtained permission to go with Edestone.
“You can take absolutely nothing in the way of luggage,” said Edestone. “I can fit you out when we get on board. I have just told Black, Stanton, and James the same thing, and I suppose your boy would like to go with you also.”
“Certainly,” said Lawrence.
With no preparations to make, there was nothing to do but wait. Lawrence was the only one who was willing to go out on the streets and stand the ugly looks that were given by all those who in some way or another knew that they were Americans.
On his return he reported that the papers were silent on the subject of the Kaiser’s call at the Embassy the night before. One of the afternoon papers, he said, did report that a very large Zeppelin had been seen flying over Berne at 9 o’clock in the morning, at about 5000 feet, judging by her size. At first it was thought that she was on fire from the clouds of smoke that she was emitting, but she continued on her way in the direction of Berlin at about fifty miles an hour. She was up too high, the papers stated, to be identified, but as the Swiss Government knew that none of the Allies had Zeppelins, it was suggested that a protest would soon come from Switzerland for a violation of her neutrality.
Lawrence said that evidently the German General Staff had received some information, for he found no officers at the Club, and troops with anti-aircraft guns and mortars with their two-wheeled trailers were moving in all directions.
The general public, however, as usual, seemed to have no information, and were going about their duties in their usual stolid manner.
The troops around the Embassy had been reinforced and were showing great activity. He thought that the Kaiser was making a personal inspection judging by the number of high officers he saw going and coming.
The soldiers were most insulting in their manner and kept him moving, and would not allow him to go anywhere near the mortars which were stripped for action. The covers over the two-wheeled drums were unstrapped so that they could be thrown off at a moment’s notice.
“You are right,” said Edestone, as he and Lawrence stood looking out of one of the windows of the Embassy at about 5 o’clock in the afternoon. “They have heard something. I am surprised that we have heard nothing from them today. You can depend upon it, they will try to get me without an actual fight. They know that they can bamboozle our Government, but fear the temper of our people will not stand for any killing, which they certainly intend to do if necessary. I do wish Mrs. Jones was not here.
“If ‘Specs’ was over Berne at 9 o’clock,” he went on, “and he wanted to, he could have been here hours ago. He is evidently jogging along slowly. He cannot now be more than fifty miles away; he is perhaps just about at Leipsic. I think we had better speak to him and tell him to go higher up and not to come over Berlin before dark. You know he does not know what is going on here. I am afraid to warn him about the wires, for if by chance they should intercept our message they would know that they had struck a very good answer to my ‘Little Peace Maker.’”
“You don’t mean to say,” cried Lawrence, “that there is any chance of their pulling you down with those wires?”
“It all depends,” replied Edestone. “It would take me some time to calculate the amount of metal it would require to take the current that would wreck us, but if they do get that amount in contact with us and the earth at the same time we will come down.”
“My God!” said Lawrence.
“Well, that is the reason that I do not want to take any chance by mentioning wires at all. They don’t know now that one wire will not do the trick, and if they get the idea that it is a question of the largest possible number, they will double up on us. As it is, they have sixteen, and we have a fighting chance. At any rate, I will speak to ‘Specs’ and tell him not to come over the Embassy until after dark.”
“Won’t he have some difficulty in finding the Embassy?” asked Lawrence.
Edestone laughed. “You do not know old ‘Specs.’ In the first place he studied for six years in Berlin and knows it from end to end. Besides, he has all of the cities of Europe plotted, and he can get his bearings from a dozen different points. He will feel very badly unless Capt. Lee puts him within a few inches of where his calculations tell him he should be. Why, you should see him calculating! He used a 6 H pencil, and he can cover a large sheet of paper with microscopic figures before you have even sharpened yours! It will be just like ‘Specs,’ if it is a still night, to drop a plumb line and check himself. When you see him coming down slowly, you can be sure that he is going to drop his ladder at exactly the right spot.
“You see to it that the servants are all out of the way. If necessary, lock them all down in the basement. I will work out the message.”
When Lawrence returned and stated that everything was clear, Edestone said to him: “Send this. It says:
They then took the elevator and went together to the roof, where with powerful glasses they searched the south-western sky. On all sides they could see Taubes, which like great birds were circling in all directions.
Edestone was startled by seeing something that looked like the “Little Peace Maker,” but it turned out to be one of the largest German Zeppelins.
“Why, my boy,” laughed Lawrence, “Captain Lee could make that fellow look like an ante bellum picnic in a thunderstorm, all hoop skirts and bombazine, before Count Zeppelin could get it under the shelter tent.
“It is circling now,” he exclaimed; “he must have his eye on a Belgium baby, the old buzzard!”
After Edestone had gotten Lawrence to his wireless instrument by first running the car down until the top was at the level of the roof, and after Lawrence had stepped on running it up to the top of the penthouse, he then dropped the car down and came out on the roof again.
He looked about with his glasses; and was not surprised to see soldiers on the roofs of the other buildings where they had stationed powerful anti-aircraft guns and searchlights.
“I am rather glad Mrs. Jones is not coming with us,” he thought. “It is going to be pretty hot here for a little while. We shall be under fire for about ten feet; Captain Lee will not dare come down any closer.”
When Lawrence came down, he said: “I got him and he answered me. I am sure someone was trying to cut in. I could not tell whether he could get us or not, but he was trying to mix us up.”
Edestone worked with his little book for a few minutes, and then read aloud:
“That means that he is about over Dessau, and could get here in fifteen minutes easily if called. So far so good. But those machine guns are worrying me. I did not want to make any show of force, but self protection may drive me to it.
“Run the elevator down, Lawrence, and come back by the stairs. We can walk down. I want to look over my ground and plan my campaign.”
“How foolish,” he thought, “not to have remembered the machine guns on the roofs. The only protection we have on the Embassy are the chimneys and the penthouse, and they will protect only halfway up the landing ladder. There is always that ten feet in which we will be exposed on all sides to a fire under which nothing could live for half a minute.”
He then examined the door to the bulkhead at the head of the stairs. It was strong, but there was no way to fasten it on the outside. There was another door at the bottom of the stairs that could be locked, but it was an ordinary door and could easily be broken down. He found only one place on the entire roof where there was what might be called a zone of safety, and that was by no means perfectly safe.
He carefully worked out the plan of defence, giving to his enemy the part to play which he thought they would naturally take.
When Lawrence came up he explained his plan to him. He said: “When they see that we are attempting to escape by the roof, they will rush us by coming up those stairs. I do not intend to allow my men to fire unless it is absolutely necessary.”
“Oh, just shoot me one little one,” begged Lawrence.
Edestone frowned disapprovingly. “When they have broken through the lower door, we can stand here between the penthouse and the chimneys, and by keeping down below the parapet be comparatively safe. I will then tell them that I have a machine gun trained on the bulkhead door, and that it will be certain death for them to attempt to come out that way. If they fire on the Embassy, I will order my large guns to silence every gun that bears on it.”
As they went downstairs the sun was just setting.
As Edestone and Lawrence were coming down the stairs they were met by one of the German servants, who told them in a rather excited manner that the Secretary wished to see them both in his library.
Hastening down they were surprised as they arrived in the main hall to see through the iron and glass grille a squad of German soldiers standing at the front door.
“This is their last card,” said Edestone in an undertone, “and if it fails there is nothing left for them to do but kill me. They have received word from Leipsic and they know that there is no time to lose, so we can look out now for anything. You had better get our party together, Lawrence, and see that every man has a pistol. There are two automatics in my room. When you get back, if you find me standing, or if I rise, or if I light a cigar, make some excuse and get up to the roof as quickly as you can and send your S. O. S. call to ‘Specs.’ He can be here in fifteen minutes after he receives it. Then, lock that grille and station someone there you can trust.”
“I wonder what they’ll charge me with?” he thought as alone he entered the room where the Secretary was sitting calmly, although Edestone could see that he was making a great effort not to show his indignation to the German officer who was standing in front of him.
Edestone knew him so well that when he saw his mouth fixed as though he was whistling quietly to himself, the forefinger of his right hand at his lips as if to assist him in his musical efforts,—he who could not turn a tune,—he knew that Jones had himself well in hand. In his left hand the Secretary held a formal-looking paper with which he was quietly tapping the table in front of him as though keeping time to his soundless and imaginary ditty. With his chin well down, he was looking from under his heavy eyebrows with eyes that were dangerously cold.
The officer who had delivered these papers was apparently waiting for his answer and stood very erect, looking straight ahead of him. He did not change his position or notice Edestone as he entered the room.
“Good-morning, Count von Hemelstein,” said Edestone on seeing who it was, and the soldier then condescended to acknowledge the greeting with a slight bow.
The Secretary leaned forward, and putting both hands flat on the table while looking straight at Count von Hemelstein, said in a rather judicial tone, as though delivering an opinion from the bench:
“Mr. Edestone, Count von Hemelstein has just delivered to me an order for your arrest on the charge of giving assistance to the enemies of Germany. He also charges Lawrence Stuyvesant with insulting the Emperor’s uniform and his dignity by impersonating a Prince of the Royal Blood and rendering that Prince ridiculous. He states, however, in your case that the Emperor will accept your explanation if you will accompany Count von Hemelstein quietly and make it to His Imperial Majesty in person. In the case of Lawrence Stuyvesant, he demands an apology and has paroled him in my custody until this is received, and as in the first case he makes a further condition, which is that the Emperor will accept an apology made by Lawrence Stuyvesant to the Prince himself, provided only that you agree to accompany Count von Hemelstein quietly and at once.”
Then turning as if addressing a prisoner on trial before him he said, in that soft and quiet voice always assumed by a judge in speaking to a criminal, even though he knows that the culprit has just boiled his mother:
“In the case against you, Mr. Edestone, in your absence I have flatly denied the charge. In the case against Lawrence Stuyvesant I deny all knowledge of, and decline to express an opinion until I have had an opportunity of looking into, the circumstances of the alleged offence.”
Edestone who had stood during this went over and took a seat at the Secretary’s side of the table. “It is just as you said it would be,” he observed to the Count with a mocking laugh as he passed him. “You Germans are so thorough.”
The Count made no reply, only stiffening up, if it were possible to give any more of that quality of German militarism to a ramrod in human form.
He stood as if expecting the Secretary to continue, or to hear further from Edestone, but both men sat perfectly still looking at him. The Secretary, as if having delivered his ruling, he was waiting for the case to go on, settled back into his chair, while Edestone, with the look of a lawyer who is perfectly satisfied with the ruling of the court, was grinning at his opponent, toying with both hands with a small bronze paper-weight made in the shape of a ploughshare, recently received from Washington with the compliments of the Secretary of State.
As neither man seemed to have the slightest intention of breaking the silence, after a moment which seemed an age, Count von Hemelstein brought his hand with a snap to a salute.
“My orders are to bring Mr. Edestone with me,” he said, “and if you decline to deliver him to me, Mr. Secretary, I must use force.”
“That I have no power to prevent you from doing,” said Jones. “You are now in the Embassy of a friendly nation, on soil dedicated by His Imperial Majesty to the use of the representative of that nation, whose safety and that of those he may see fit to protect are guaranteed by the most solemn promise that it is possible for one nation to make to another. If His Imperial Majesty intends to break his solemn word, I am as powerless as the lowest peasant in his domain. As to my word of honour as to the safe-keeping of Mr. Lawrence Stuyvesant, you have by your act reduced me to the rank of a simple American citizen, and as such, and not as representing the Ambassador at the Court of Berlin—for after this there can be none—I tell you that I will not give my word to those who do not keep theirs. As to Mr. Edestone, I can simply, for his own sake, advise him to go with you, but not before I tell him that his country will resist with all its power the indignity which His Majesty has seen fit to offer it.”
Lawrence, who had come in during this speech, was standing looking in amazement from one to the other.
Then Edestone rose. “Mr. Secretary,” he said, “I regret to have been the cause of putting you in this most trying position, and before I decide to accompany this officer or detective I must think, so with your permission I will light a cigar.” He walked over to a table and very slowly selected one from a box that was there.
Lawrence, as if he had forgotten something, left the room hurriedly.
Edestone very deliberately took his cigar and very slowly lighted it. He then as slowly walked back to his seat and sat blowing ring after ring, holding all the time the box of matches in his right hand.
In the meantime Lawrence had walked to the front door, as if looking out to see why the soldiers were there, and turned the key of the grille so noiselessly that it failed to attract any attention from the men on the outside. Then turning to Fred, the Bowery boy, who was waiting for him, he spoke in an undertone.
“Don’t let any of the servants open that door or even go near it,” he said, and, satisfied that his order would be obeyed, stepped inside the elevator and closed the door with a bang.
Edestone, who had meanwhile been doing anything simply to kill time, heard this. He knew that Lawrence would work quickly, and had had ample time to carry out the first part of his instructions. As if about to drop into his pocket the box of matches he was holding, he drew with a quick motion a .38 automatic, and leaning across the table covered the Count with it.
“Hold up your hands!” he said without raising his voice. “It is safer.”
There was on his face that unmistakable look of the man who intends to kill. The other man saw it and understood, and reluctantly raised his hands above his head after making a half-gesture as if to draw his own pistol from his belt but thinking better of it.
“This is very foolish, Mr. Edestone,” he said with a disdainful sneer. “Will you fight single-handed six million men?”
Jones, who when a young man had spent a good many years in a frontier town, was too accustomed to this method of punctuating one’s remarks and calling the undivided attention of one’s listener to them, to be much surprised. At any rate, he showed none, and besides he knew Edestone to be a perfectly cool man whose trigger finger would not twitch from nervousness.
“Be careful, Jack,” he contented himself with saying very quietly; “I suppose you know what you are about.” Then he settled back to wait for Edestone to explain what he would do next.
“Yes, William,” said Edestone, “I know exactly what I am doing, and in order to relieve you and your Government from any responsibility, I here, in the presence of the Emperor’s representative, renounce my allegiance to the United States of America and to all other countries, and I now become a law unto myself, accountable to no one but myself—in other words, an outlaw, a pirate.” He turned then to the emissary of the Kaiser.
“Count von Hemelstein, as I intend to keep you in that position for some little time unless you will allow me to remove your arms—not your sword,” he explained quickly on seeing the look of horror that came over the Prussian’s face. “I will allow you to keep that barbaric relic of the Middle Ages and modern Japan, to which you and the Knights k of the Orient attach so much importance. But that very nice automatic I must have. I beg that you will allow me to take it without any unnecessary fuss.” He walked around the table and, gently pulling the pistol out of its holster, put it into his own pocket, keeping the Count carefully covered all the while.
“Now you can take down your hands. I know that you can hide nothing more dangerous in that tight-fitting uniform of yours than a long cigarette holder and a very pretty box. I am delighted that you have been so quiet, as no one could come to your assistance. Your soldiers are locked outside of the iron grille and would have some difficulty in breaking it down, even if they could hear you; so sit down. I wish to explain a few things to you.
“It is now exactly a quarter before eight o’clock. By eight the Little Peace Maker will be over the Embassy, and you with your boastful knowledge of other people’s business must realize what that means. You have heard what I just said to the Secretary representing the United States at the Court of Berlin, and my object in making that statement before you was to relieve him and the United States of America of the responsibility of any of my acts. The Little Peace Maker is my own personal property, and before she fires a gun or drops a bomb I shall haul down the flag of the United States and run up my own private signal, which on my yacht, the Storm Queen, is well known in all yachting circles. In short, from now on I declare myself an outlaw.
“If your Emperor will allow me and my men to go abroad peaceably, I will do so and all may be well, but at the very first act of violence I will take the necessary steps to protect them. I intend to keep you here until I am notified that the airship has arrived, and when I leave this room, my advice to you is not to follow me, but go at once and notify your superior officer and thereby save the great loss of life that will otherwise ensue.
“Now, Count, as we will have about ten minutes longer together, I am quite sure that the Secretary will not object to your joining me with one of the Ambassador’s extremely good cigars,” and he winked at his friend Jones.
He walked over to the table as if to get the box, but the moment his back was turned the Count jumped and started for the door like a flash. With a quick side step, however, Edestone threw himself between him and the only exit from the room, and giving the fugitive a good poke in the stomach with the muzzle of his gun, said:
“I allowed you to do that to show you that you are absolutely in my power. Sit down, Count von Hemelstein, and if you will give me your word of honour that you will not move I shall not tie you. Do you accept these terms?”
The Count nodded his head and sat down, and the Secretary, who all this time had been sitting perfectly quiet, said with a very little bit of a smile on about one-half of his mouth:
“Count von Hemelstein, if I were you I should sit still. You must see that you are powerless to do anything, and whereas I know that Mr. Edestone does not intend to kill you unless it is absolutely necessary, I am equally certain that he intends to if it is. In fact, I do not know that he might not kill me if I stood in his way. He has just declared himself to be an outlaw, and it is my duty to turn him over to the authorities, but I should hate to have to try to do it now that he seems so bent on leaving us.”
Edestone, who quickly caught the idea that the Secretary was trying to convey to him, turned on his friend.
“If you, my friend, whom I have known for years, desert me now,” he declared in a loud and apparently much excited tone, “or attempt to deliver me over to these wild people to kill, I will kill you, if it is the last act of my life.” He faced about so that one eye was hidden from the flabbergasted German and gave another significant wink. Then turning back to the Count he resumed: “I will kill any man who prevents me from going on board the Little Peace Maker tonight. Now let us talk about more pleasant things for the few remaining minutes that we are to have in each other’s company.”
But the Count was in no mood for conversation. He sat staring at the floor, while Edestone with his watch in his hand waited for word from Lawrence. It was now eight o’clock and still no response. Could there be some mistake? Had the Germans been able to prevent his message from going through? Or was Lawrence waiting to be sure that the airship was coming before leaving the roof to notify him?
On the outside all was quiet, and as long as the soldiers did not suspect, everything would be all right. But suppose that the Emperor should grow impatient and send another messenger? He was just congratulating himself that the Count did not know what time it was or that the Little Peace Maker was now overdue, when a clock somewhere struck eight.
The Count straightened up and his look of k interest changed to hope, and finally a smile broke over his face as the minutes slipped by.
“Well, Mr. Edestone, your little dream will soon be over,” he taunted, after sitting for about five minutes longer.
Even the Secretary was growing fidgety. He knew that something would have to happen soon or the German General Staff, with its usual thoroughness, would ask the reason why, and this question would be put in their usual forcible manner.
It was now ten minutes after eight, and Edestone expected every minute to hear a ring at the front door. Besides, the dusk was coming on and the servants would soon be in to light the lights. He had decided that if they did he would retreat to the roof, forcing the Count to accompany him, and there make a last stand. He formed a mental resolution never to leave that roof alive except on board of the Little Peace Maker. He had always said that he had rather be dead than a failure. He did not want to live to see his life’s work, his beautiful ship, which must finally come down, used for war, death, and destruction, his dream of universal peace gone forever; or by his own discovery remove still farther from the grasp of the long-suffering world that relief which it was vainly reaching out for in its present desperate plight.
Was this the end? If so, he would meet it calmly, but not until he had made a fight. Then he would meet Fate with a smile, for she had been good to him. Perhaps an all-wise Providence had decreed that man must fight on to the bitter end, and to punish him for his presumption in attempting to alter an unalterable law had led him on only to destroy him just as he, with his petty little mind, thought he had reached the goal.
The Count was now laughing and explaining to Jones what was going to happen to him, to the United States, and especially to Edestone, and Jones was beginning to look as if he thought there might be some truth in what he was saying.
It was nearly half-past eight when the long-expected ring at the front door came. The Count laughed out loud in triumph.
“Mr. Edestone,” he said, “don’t you think that it is just about time to ask for terms? It is not too late even now. You are a game man, and I hate to see you go to destruction when it is not necessary.”
The ring was followed by another longer than the first.
Edestone was leaning well over the table and looking at the Count with a light in his eyes like that in those of a tiger about to spring.
“I return the compliment,” he said.
There was now heard on the outside much noise and confusion. The bell was rung again and the sound of someone violently shaking the front door was followed by the breaking of the glass in the iron grille. Above this din, which was really not so great as it seemed to the overwrought nerves of the three men who had sat looking at each other for the last forty minutes, there came the unmistakable rattle of machine-guns, which at first was distant and light in volume, but with incredible rapidity increased until it was a roar that seemed like a great wave rolling up from the southern part of the city.
Edestone, who knew that this meant that the Little Peace Maker must have been sighted by the German look-outs on the roofs, ran to the window.
The Count hesitated for just one moment, as if there were two forces within him fighting for mastery, and then with a quick movement he made a jump for the door.
“Sit down, you dog!” cried Edestone turning just in time to see him, and he sent a bullet crashing through the door just above the Count’s hand where it rested on the knob.
Count von Hemelstein stopped, and turning braced himself to receive the ball that he thought must certainly follow.
“Come back and sit down, you poor thing. If you cannot keep your word without help, I will help you next time.”
But the soldiers on the outside, on hearing the shot, redoubled their efforts to get in, and now could be heard running around the house and trying the other doors. In the midst of all this uproar, Lawrence came down, and in imitation of one of his favourite characters, the sailor who announced to Captain Sigsbee the sinking of the Maine, said:
“Sir, I have the honour to report that the Little Peace Maker has been sighted on our starboard bow.” Then throwing off his assumed character he added: “Get a move on you, they will be in at the front door in a minute!
“And what are you going to do with this?” he asked on seeing the Count. “Don’t you think we had better wing it before we leave? Ish ka bibble.”
“No.” Edestone pushed him ahead of him out of the room. And to Jones: “Good-bye, William,” he called over his shoulder. “I am sorry to have given you so much trouble.”
When he had closed the door they both ran into the elevator and started for the roof.
“Where are all of those who are going with us?” asked Edestone.
“They are all on the roof. No, by Jove!” Lawrence interrupted himself, “Fred is still down in the front hall.”
“We must go for him,” said Edestone, halting the car and starting it down.
“Why not leave him? Mr. Jones can take care of him.”
“No, they won’t stop at anything.” Edestone shook his head.
By this time the car had arrived at the main-floor level, and as Edestone flung open the door the Count was seen just coming out of the library, while Fred, who had seen Edestone and Lawrence take the lift, was running up the stairs. In the dim light the Count saw him, and cried to the soldiers who had their guns through the grille:
“Shoot that man!”
There was the report of several rifles in quick succession, and the Bowery boy, who was now at the top of the great monumental stairs, fell dead. His body rolled to the bottom and lay there perfectly still.