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diff --git a/old/54099-h/54099-h.htm b/old/54099-h/54099-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 82a749a..0000000 --- a/old/54099-h/54099-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4599 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title>Shot With Crimson, by George Barr McCutcheon</title> - <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" /> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .50em; margin-bottom: .50em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Shot With Crimson, by George Barr McCutcheon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Shot With Crimson - -Author: George Barr McCutcheon - -Illustrator: F. R. Gruger - -Release Date: February 3, 2017 [EBook #54099] -Last Updated: March 12, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHOT WITH CRIMSON *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - SHOT WITH CRIMSON - </h1> - <h2> - By George Barr McCutcheon - </h2> - <h3> - Illustrated by F. R. Gruger - </h3> - <h4> - New York: Dodd, Mead And Company - </h4> - <h3> - 1918 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0008.jpg" alt="0008 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0008.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>SHOT WITH CRIMSON</b> </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - SHOT WITH CRIMSON - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>OR thirty seconds - no one moved. - </p> - <p> - An odd sort of paralysis seemed to have gripped every one in the room,—paralysis - of the mind as well as of the body. - </p> - <p> - Then puzzled, wondering looks were exchanged. - </p> - <p> - A man sitting near the fireplace glanced sharply, apprehensively at the - huge beams in the ceiling and muttered: - </p> - <p> - “What was it! Sounded as though something had smashed in the roof. There's - a tremendous wind. It may have got that big tree at the corner of the - locker room.” - </p> - <p> - “It <i>couldn't</i> have been thunder,—not at this time of the - year,” said one of the women, sending a nervous, frightened look at her - husband who sprawled ungracefully in a big Morris chair at the end of a - table littered with newspapers and magazines. - </p> - <p> - “'Gad, did you feel the house rock?” exclaimed he, sitting up suddenly, - his eyes narrowing as with pain. “Like an earthquake. - </p> - <p> - “It <i>couldn't</i> have been an earthquake,” interrupted his wife, - starting up from her chair. - </p> - <p> - “Why couldn't it?” he demanded crossly, and then glanced around at the - other occupants of the room,—ten or a dozen men and women seated in - a wide semi-circle in front of the huge logs blazing in the fireplace. - “What do you think it was, Zimmie?” - </p> - <p> - “We'll find part or all of the roof gone,” answered the man addressed. As - he spoke, he rose quickly and started across the room in the direction of - the door leading to the steward's pantry. “I'll have a look from the back - of the—” - </p> - <p> - He stopped short. The dull, ripping crash that had startled them was - repeated, this time a little louder and more prolonged than before. The - club-house shook. Several of the men sprang to their feet in alarm. A look - of comprehension shot among them. - </p> - <p> - “By Gad! An explosion!” cried one of them. “The damned beasts!” - </p> - <p> - “The Reynolds Works!” cried another, gripping the back of his chair with - tense fingers. “Sure as you're alive! It's only a few miles from here. - Nothing else could have—” - </p> - <p> - “Let's go home, Ned. The children—something may have happened—you - never can tell—” - </p> - <p> - “Don't get excited, Betty,” cried the man in the Morris chair. She was - shaking his arm. “The children are in New York, twenty miles away. They're - all right, old girl. Lord! What a smash it was!” - </p> - <p> - The group was silent, waiting with bated breath for the third and perhaps - more shocks to come. - </p> - <p> - The club steward came into the room, bearing a tray of bottles and - glasses. His face was ashen; there was a set expression about it, as one - who controls his nerves with difficulty. - </p> - <p> - “Did you hear it, Peter?” was the innocuous inquiry of one of the men, a - dapper young fellow in corduroys. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Yes</i>, Mr. Cribbs. I thought at first it was the roof, sir. The chef - said it was the big chimney—” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind the drinks, Peter,” said a tall, greyish man as the steward - placed the glasses on the table. “We've lost what little thirst we had. - Where are the Reynolds Works from here?” - </p> - <p> - Peter looked surprised. “South, sir,—beyond the hills. About five - miles, I should say, Mr. Carstairs.” - </p> - <p> - “And which way is south?” inquired one of the women. “I am always turned - around when I am in the country.” She was a singularly pallid, - clear-featured woman of perhaps forty-five. One might surmise that at - twenty she had been lovely, even exquisite. - </p> - <p> - “This way, Mrs. Carstairs,” said the steward, starting toward the windows - at the lower end of the lounge. - </p> - <p> - The man who had been addressed as Zimmie was already at one of the broad - windows, peering out into the black, windy night. - </p> - <p> - “Can't see a thing,” he said, as the others crowded about him. “The shops - are off there in a direct line with the home green, I should say.” - </p> - <p> - “I happen to know that the Allies have a fifteen million dollar contract - with the Reynolds people,” said Carstairs, looking hard into the - blackness. - </p> - <p> - “If they'd string up a few of these infernal—There! See the glow - coming up over the hill? She's afire! And with this wind,—'gad, - she'll go like waste paper! My God, I wish the whole German Army was - sitting on top of those buildings right now.” It was little Mr. Cribbs who - spoke. He was shaking like a leaf. - </p> - <p> - “I'd rather see a million or two of these so-called German-Americans - sitting there, Cribbs,” said Carstairs, between his teeth. “There'd be - some satisfaction in that.” - </p> - <p> - His wife nudged him sharply. He turned and caught the warning look in her - eye and the slight movement of her head in the direction of the man called - Zimmie. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that's all right,” cried Carstairs carelessly. “You needn't punch me, - dear. Zimmie 's as good an American as any of us. Don't think for a - moment, Zimmie, old chap, that I include you in the gang I'd like to see - sitting on that pile of shells over there.” - </p> - <p> - The man at the window turned, and smiled affably. - </p> - <p> - “Thanks, old man. Being, as you say, as good an American as any of you, I - may be permitted to return the compliment. I shouldn't like to see Mrs. - Carstairs sitting on that pile of shells.” - </p> - <p> - Carstairs flushed. An angry light leaped to his eyes, but it was banished - almost instantly. Mrs. Carstairs herself replied. - </p> - <p> - “I can't imagine anything more distasteful,” she drawled. - </p> - <p> - “But Mrs. Carstairs isn't a German,” put in little Mr. Cribbs, somewhat - tartly for him. - </p> - <p> - “You're always saying the wrong thing, Cribbs,—or the right thing at - the wrong time,” said Carstairs. “Mrs. Carstairs is not German. Her father - and mother were, however. She's in the same fix as Zimmerlein, and she - isn't ashamed of it any more than Zimmie is.” - </p> - <p> - “I had—er—no idea that Mrs. Carstairs was—” - </p> - <p> - “What were your parents, Mr. Cribbs?” asked Mrs. Carstairs calmly. - </p> - <p> - “Nebraskans,” said Cribbs, stiffening. “My grandfather was a Welshman.” - </p> - <p> - “And so you have absolutely nothing to reproach yourself with,” said she. - “How fortunate in these days.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry, Mrs. Carstairs, if I—” - </p> - <p> - “I was born in the United States,” she said, without a trace of annoyance, - “but not in Nebraska. You have the advantage of me there, I fear. And of - poor Mr. Zimmerlein, too. He was born in Boston,—were you not?” - </p> - <p> - “In Marlborough Street,” said Zimmerlein, drily. “My father was Irish, as - you can tell by me name, and me poor mither was Irish too. Her name before - marriage was Krausshof.” Mr. Cribbs's face was scarlet. To cover his - confusion, he wedged his way a little closer to the windows and glared at - the dull red light that crept slowly out of the darkness off to the south. - The crests of the hills were beginning to take shape against a background - shot with crimson. - </p> - <p> - “Just the same,” he muttered, “I'd like to see the men who are responsible - for that fire over there burning in hell.” - </p> - <p> - “I think we can agree on that point, at least, Mr. Cribbs,” said - Zimmerlein, with dignity. - </p> - <p> - “Who wants to run over there with me in my car?” cried the other, - excitedly. “It's only a few miles, and it must be a wonderful sight. I can - take six or seven—” - </p> - <p> - “Stay where you are, Cribbs,” said Carstairs sharply. “When those shells - begin to go off—Why, man alive, there's never been anything on the - French front that could hold a candle to it. Don't forget what happened - when Black Tom pier was blown up. Pray do not be alarmed, ladies. There - isn't the slightest danger here. The shells they are making at the - Reynolds plant are comparatively small. We're safely out of range.” - </p> - <p> - “What size shells were they making, Carstairs?” inquired one of the men. - </p> - <p> - “Three inch, I believe—and smaller. A lot of machine-gun ammunition, - too. Cox, the general manager, dined with us the other night. He talked a - little too freely, I thought,—didn't you, Frieda?” - </p> - <p> - “He boasted, if that is what you mean,” said Mrs. Carstairs. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said a big, red-faced man on the outer edge of the group, “it's - time some of these blooming fools learned how to keep their mouths shut. - The country's full of spies,—running over with 'em. You never know - when you're talking to one.” - </p> - <p> - Silence followed his remark. For some time they all stood watching the - crimson cloud in the distance, an ever-changing, pulsing shadow that - throbbed to the temper of the wind. - </p> - <p> - They represented the reluctant element of a large company that had spent - the afternoon and early evening at the Black Downs Country Club,—the - element that is always reluctant to go home. There had been many intimate - little dinner parties during the evening. New York was twenty miles or - more away, and there was the Hudson in between. The clock above the huge - fireplace had struck eleven a minute or two before the first explosion - took place. Chauffeurs in the club-garage were sullenly cursing their - employers. All but two or three waiters had gone off to the railway - station not far away, and the musicians had made the 10:30 up-train. - Peter, the steward, lived on the premises with the chef and several house - employes. - </p> - <p> - The late-staying guests were clad in sport clothes, rough and warm and - smart,—for it was one of the smartest clubs in the Metropolitan - district. - </p> - <p> - A fierce October gale was whining, cold and bitter and relentless, across - the uplands; storm-warnings had gone out from the Weather Bureau; - coast-wise vessels were scurrying for harbours and farmers all over the - land had made snug their livestock against the uncertain elements. - </p> - <p> - If it turned out to be true that the vast Reynolds munitions plant had - been blown up, the plotters could not have chosen a more auspicious night - for their enterprise. No human force could combat the flames on a night - like this; caught on the wings of the wind there would be no stopping them - until the ashes of ruin lay wet and sodden where the flight had begun. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Carstairs was the first to turn away from the windows. She shuddered - a little. A pretty, nervous young wife sidled up to her, and laid a - trembling hand on her arm. - </p> - <p> - “Wouldn't it be dreadful if there were a lot of people at work over there - when—when it happened?” she cried, in a tense, strained voice. “Just - think of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't think about it, Alice dear. Think of what they are going through in - France and Belgium.” - </p> - <p> - “But we really aren't fighting them yet,” went on the other, plaintively. - “Why should they blow up our factories? Oh, these dreadful, terrible - Germans.” Then suddenly, in confusion: “I—I beg your pardon.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Carstairs smiled pleasantly. “That's all right, my dear. A good many - of us suffer for the sins of the fathers. Besides, we are in the war, and - have been for six months or more.” - </p> - <p> - “We all hate the Kaiser, don't we?” pleaded the younger woman. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Carstairs pressed her arm. “None more so than those of us whose - parents left Germany to escape such as he.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm glad to hear you say that.” - </p> - <p> - “Beg pardon,” said Peter the steward, at Mrs. Carstairs' elbow. “I think - this is yours. You dropped it just now.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, Peter,” said she, taking the crumpled handkerchief he handed - her. “I shan't drop it again,” she went on, smiling as she stuffed it - securely in the gold mesh bag she was carrying. - </p> - <p> - “Peter is such a splendid man, isn't he?” said her young companion, - lowering her voice. “So much more willing and agreeable than old Crosby. - We're all so glad the change was made.” - </p> - <p> - “He is most efficient,” said Mrs. Carstairs. - </p> - <p> - The admirable Peter approached Mr. Carstairs and Zimmerlein, who were - pouring drinks for themselves at the table. - </p> - <p> - “Preparedness is the word of the hour,” Carstairs was saying, as he raised - his glass. “It's a long, cold ride home.” - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me, gentlemen, shall I call up Central at Bushleigh and see if - they can give us any news!” asked Peter. - </p> - <p> - “You might try. I don't believe you can get a connection, however. - Everything must be knocked galley-west over on that side of the ridge.” - </p> - <p> - “I think your wife is signalling you, Carstairs,” said Zimmerlein, - looking over the other's shoulder. - </p> - <p> - Carstairs tossed off the contents of the glass, and reached out his hand - for the check. Zimmerlein already had it in his fingers. - </p> - <p> - '“I'll sign it, old chap,” he said. “Give me your pencil, Peter.” - </p> - <p> - “None of that, Zimmie. I ordered the—” - </p> - <p> - “Run along, old man, your wife—He's coming, Mrs. Carstairs,” called - out Zimmerlein. - </p> - <p> - As Carstairs turned away, Zimmerlein scratched his name across the check, - and handed it back to the steward. - </p> - <p> - “Under no circumstances are you to call up Bushleigh,” fell in low, - distinct tones from his lips. “Do you understand?” - </p> - <p> - Peter's hand shook. His face was livid. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” he muttered. “What shall I say to Mr. Carstairs?” - </p> - <p> - “Say that no one answers,” said the other, and walked away. - </p> - <p> - The company had recovered its collective and individual power of speech. - Every one was talking,—loudly, excitedly, and in some cases - violently. Some were excoriating the Germans, others were bitterly - criticizing the Government for its over-tenderness, and still others were - blaming themselves for not taking the law in their own hands and making - short work of the “soap-boxers,” the “pacifists,” and the - “obstructionists.” Little Mr. Cribbs was the most violent of them all. He - was for organizing the old-time Vigilantes, once so efficacious in the Far - West, and equipping them with guns and ropes and plenty of tar and - feathers. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing would please me more than to lead such a gang,” he proclaimed. - “Lead 'em right into these foul nests where——What's that, - Judge?” - </p> - <p> - “I repeat—How old are you, Cribbs?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I guess I'm old enough to shoot a gun, or pull a rope or carry a - bucket of tar,” retorted the young man. - </p> - <p> - “I'll put it the other way. How young are you?” - </p> - <p> - “I'm twenty-nine.” - </p> - <p> - “I see. And how did you escape the draft?” - </p> - <p> - “They haven't reached my number yet,” said Mr. Cribbs, with dignity. - </p> - <p> - “Well, that's good. There's still hope,” said the Judge, grimly. “They - need just such fire-eaters as you over there in France with Pershing.” - </p> - <p> - Carstairs turned to Zimmerlein, who was being helped into his fur-coat by - one of the attendants. - </p> - <p> - “Can't we take you to the city, Zimmerlein? There is plenty of room in the - car.” - </p> - <p> - “No, thank you, Carstairs. I'm going in by train. Mr. and Mrs. Prior will - drop me at the station. Good night. Oh, here's Peter. What did you hear?” - </p> - <p> - “I could get no answer, Mr. Zimmerlein,” said the steward steadily. “Wires - may be down, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Good night, Mrs. Carstairs.” Zimmerlein held out his hand. She hesitated - an instant, and then took it. Her gaze was fixed, as if fascinated, on his - dark, steady eyes. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>OARSE, - raucous-voiced newsboys were crying the “extras” soon after midnight. They - were doing a thriving business. The destruction of the great Reynolds - plant, more spectacular and more appalling than any previous deed - perpetrated by the secret enemies of the American people, was to drive - even the most sanguine and indifferent citizen to a full realizaton of the - peril that stalked him and his fellow-man throughout the land. Complacent - security was at last to sustain a shock it could not afford to scorn. Up - there in the hills of Jersey a bombardment had taken place that rivalled - in violence, if not in human toll, the most vivid descriptions of - shell-carnage on the dripping fronts of France. - </p> - <p> - Huge but vague headlines screamed into the faces of quick-breathing men - and wide-eyed women the first details of the great disaster across the - River. - </p> - <p> - Night-farers, threading the streets, paused in their round of pleasure to - gulp down the bitter thing that came up into their throats—a sick - thing called Fear. From nearly every doorway in the city, some one issued - forth, bleak-eyed and anxious, to hail the scurrying newsboys. The distant - roar of the shells had roused the millions in Manhattan; windows rattled, - the frailer dwellings rocked on thin foundations. It was not until the - clash of heavy artillery swept up to the city on the wind from the west - that the serene, contemptuous denizens of the greatest city in the world - cast off their mask of indifference and rose as one person to ask the - vital question: Are the U-Boats in the Harbour at last? - </p> - <p> - An elderly man, two women, and a sallow-faced man of thirty sat by the - windows at the top of a lofty apartment building on the Upper West Side. - For an hour they had been sitting there, listening, and looking always to - the west, out over the dark and sombre Hudson. Father, mother, daughter - and son. The first explosion jarred the great building in which they were - securely housed. - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” sighed the old man, and it was a sigh of relief, of satisfaction. - The others turned to him and smiled for the first time in hours. The - tension was over. - </p> - <p> - Farther down-town two men in one of the big hotels silently shook hands, - bade each other a friendly good-night for the benefit of chance observers, - and went off to bed. The waiting was over. - </p> - <p> - Two night watchmen met in front of one of the biggest office buildings in - New York, within hearing of the bells of Trinity and almost within sound - of the sobbing waters of the Bay. Their faces, rendered almost invisible - behind the great collars that protected them from the shrill winds coming - up the canyons from the sea, were tense and drawn and white, but their - eyes glittered brightly, fiercely, in the darkness. They too had been - waiting. - </p> - <p> - In a dingy apartment in Harlem, three shifty-eyed, nervous men, and a - pallid, tired, frightened woman rose suddenly from the lethargy of - suspense and grinned evilly, not at each other but at the rattling, - dilapidated window looking westward across the sagging roofs of the - squalid district. One of the men stretched forth a quivering hand and, - with a hoarse laugh of exultation, seized in his fingers a strange, - crudely shaped metallic object that stood on the table nearby. He lifted - it to his lips and kissed it! Then he put it down, carefully, gingerly,—with - something like fear in his eyes. Scraps of tin, pieces of iron and steel, - strands of wire, wads of cotton and waste, and an odd assortment of tools - littered the table. Harmless appearing cans, and bottles, and dirty - packages, with a mortar and pestle, a small chemist's scales, funnels and - graduates stood in innocent array along a shelf attached to the wall, - guarded,—so it seemed,—by sinister looking tubes and retorts. - </p> - <p> - The woman, her eyes gleaming with a malevolent joy that contrasted - strangely with the dread that had been in them a moment before, lifted her - clenched hands and hissed out a single word: - </p> - <p> - “Christ!” - </p> - <p> - They, too, had been waiting. - </p> - <p> - Thousands there were in the great city whose eyes glistened that night,—thousands - who had not been waiting, for they knew nothing of the secret that lay - secure and safe in the breasts of the few who were allowed to strike. - Thousands who rejoiced, for they knew that a great and glorious deed had - been done! They only knew that devastation had fallen somewhere with - appalling force,—it mattered not to them where, so long as it had - fallen in its appointed place! - </p> - <p> - Many a glass, many a stein, was raised in stealthy tribute to the hand - that had rocked the city of New York! And in the darkness of the night - they hid their gloating faces, and whispered a song without melody. - </p> - <p> - Rich man, poor man, beggar-man, thief! In spirit, at least, they touched - hands and thrilled with a common exaltation! - </p> - <p> - It was after one o'clock when the Carstairs' motor crept out of the - ferry-house at 130th Street, and whirled up the hill toward the Drive. A - rough-looking individual who loitered unmolested in the lee of the - ferry-house, peered intently at the number of the car as it passed, and - jotted it down in a little book. He noted in the same way the license - numbers of other automobiles. When he was relieved hours afterward, he had - in his little book the number of every car that came in from Jersey - between half past eleven at night and seven o'clock in the morning. It was - not his duty to stop or question the occupants of these cars. He was - merely exercising the function of the mysterious Secret Eyes of the United - States Government. - </p> - <p> - Mr. and Mrs. Carstairs were admitted to their Park Avenue apartment by a - tall, beautiful girl, who threw open the door the instant the elevator - stopped at the floor. - </p> - <p> - “Thank goodness!” she cried, a vibrant note of relief in her voice “We - were so dreadfully—” - </p> - <p> - “What are you doing up, Louise?” cried Mrs. Carstairs quickly. Her husband - frowned, as with annoyance. - </p> - <p> - “Where is Hodges?” he demanded. He stood stock-still for a moment before - following his wife into the foyer. - </p> - <p> - “He went out some time ago to get an 'extra.' The boys were in the street - calling new ones. He asked if he might go out. How—how terrible it - is, Uncle Dawy. And it was so near the Club, I—I—oh, I was - dreadfully worried. The papers say the shells fell miles away—Why, I - couldn't go to bed, Aunt Frieda. We have been trying for hours to get the - Club on the telephone.” She was assisting Mrs. Carstairs in removing her - rich chinchilla coat. Carstairs studied the girl's white face with - considerable anxiety as he threw off his own fur coat. The worried frown - deepened. - </p> - <p> - “Could you hear the explosions over here, Louise?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Hear them? Why, Uncle dear, we all thought the city was being bombarded - by warships in the river, it sounded so near and so terrible. Alfie and I - ran to the windows. It was just after eleven, I think. He called up - Central at once, but the girl was so frightened she could hardly speak. - She didn't know what had happened, but she was sure the Germans were - destroying the city. She said another girl had seen the Zeppelins. Alfie - went out at once. Oh, dear, I am so glad you are home. I was so anxious—” - </p> - <p> - “My dear child, you should be in bed,” began her uncle, taking her hand in - his. He laid his other hand against her cheek, and was relieved to find it - cool. “You say Alfred went out—at eleven?” - </p> - <p> - “A few minutes after eleven. He waited until all the noise had ceased. I - assured him I was not the least bit nervous. He had been working so hard - all evening in your study over those stupid physics.” - </p> - <p> - “And he hasn't returned? Confound him, he shouldn't have gone off and left - you all alone here for two solid hours—” - </p> - <p> - “Don't be angry with him, Uncle Dawy,” pleaded the girl. “He was so - excited, poor boy, he simply couldn't sit here without knowing what had - happened. Besides, Hodges and two of the maids were up,—so I wasn't - all alone.” She followed them into the brilliantly lighted drawing-room. - “Here are the first extras. The doorman sent them up to me.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Carstairs dropped heavily into a chair. Her face was very white. - </p> - <p> - “How terrible,” she murmured, glancing at the huge headlines. - </p> - <p> - “I say, Frieda,” exclaimed her husband; “it's been too much for you. A - drop of brandy, my dear,—” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing, thank you, Davenport. I am quite all right. The shock, you know. - We were so near the place, Louise,—don't you see? Really, it was - appalling.” - </p> - <p> - “What beasts! What inhuman beasts they are!” cried the girl, in a sort of - frenzy. “They ought to be burned alive,—burned and tortured for - hours. The last extra says that the number of dead and mutilated is beyond—” - </p> - <p> - “Now, now!” said Carstairs, gently. “Don't excite yourself, child. It - isn't good for you. You've been too ill, my dear. Run along to bed, - there's a sensible girl. We'll have all the details by tomorrow,—and, - believe me, things won't be as bad as they seem tonight. It's always the - case, you know. And you, too, Frieda,—get to bed. Your nerves are - all shot to pieces,—and I'm not surprised. I will wait for—” - </p> - <p> - A key grated in the door. - </p> - <p> - “Here he is now. Hello, Alfred,—what's the latest?” - </p> - <p> - His son came into the room without removing his overcoat or hat. His dark - eyes, wet from the sharp wind without, sought his mother's face. - </p> - <p> - “Are you all right, Mother? I've been horribly worried—thank the - Lord! It's a relief to see that smile! You're all right? Sure?” - </p> - <p> - He kissed his mother quickly, feverishly. She put her arm around his neck - and murmured in his ear. - </p> - <p> - “I am frightfully upset, of course, dear. Who wouldn't be?” - </p> - <p> - He stood off and looked long and intently into her eyes. Then he - straightened up and spoke to his father. - </p> - <p> - “I might have known you wouldn't let anything happen to her, sir. But I - was horribly worried, just the same. Those beastly shells went everywhere, - they say. The Club must have been—” - </p> - <p> - “Nowhere near the Club, so far as I know,” said his father cheerfully. “We - were all perfectly safe. Have they made any arrests? Of course, it wasn't - accidental.” - </p> - <p> - “I've been downtown, around the newspaper offices,” said the young man, - throwing his coat and hat on a chair. “There are all sorts of wild - stories. People are talking about lynchings, and all that sort of rot. - Nothing like that ever happens, though. We do a lot of talking, and that's - all. It all blows over as soon as the excitement dies down. That's the - trouble with us Americans.” - </p> - <p> - “America will wake up one of these days, Alfred,” said his father slowly, - “and when she does, there will be worse things than lynchings to talk - about.” - </p> - <p> - “Are your feet cold, Alfred dear?” inquired his mother, a note of anxiety - in her voice. “You've been tramping about the streets, and—— - You must have a hot water bottle when you go to bed. There is so much - pneumonia—” - </p> - <p> - “Always mothering me, aren't you, good Frieda?” he said, lovingly. He - pronounced it as if it were Friday. It was his pet name for her in the - bosom of the family. “Warm as toast,” he added. He turned to Louise. “You - didn't mind my running away and leaving you, did you, Louise?” - </p> - <p> - “Not a bit, Alfie. I tried to get Derrol on the long distance, but they - said at the Camp it was impossible to call him unless the message was very - important. I—I—so I asked the man if there had been any kind - of an accident out there and he said no, there hadn't. I—asked him - if Captain Steele was in bed, and he said he should hope so. Don't laugh, - Alfie! I know it was silly, but—but it <i>might</i> have been an - ammunition depot or something at the Camp. We didn't know—” - </p> - <p> - “Ammunition, your granny! They haven't sufficient ammunition in that Camp,—or - in any of 'em, for that matter,—to make a noise loud enough to be - heard across the street. How can you expect me to keep a straight face - when you suggest an <i>explosion</i> in an Army Camp?” - </p> - <p> - “It's high time we stopped talking about explosions and went to bed,” said - Carstairs, arising. He put his arm across his wife's shoulders. “We've had - all the explosions we can stand for one night, haven't we, dear? Come - along, everybody. Off with you!” - </p> - <p> - “Hodges should be back any moment with the latest 'extra,'” said Louise. - “Can't we wait just a few minutes, Uncle Dawy? He has been gone over an - hour.” - </p> - <p> - The telephone bell in Mr. Carstairs' study rang. So taut were the nerves - of the four persons in the adjoining room that they started violently. - They looked at each other in some perplexity. - </p> - <p> - “Probably Hodges,” said Alfred, after a moment. “Shall I go, dad?” - </p> - <p> - “See who it is,” said Carstairs. - </p> - <p> - “Wrong number, more than likely,” said his wife, wearily. “Central has - been unusually annoying of late. It happens several times every day. The - service is atrocious.” - </p> - <p> - Young Carstairs went into the study and snatched up the receiver. Moved by - a common impulse, the others followed him into the room, the face of each - expressing not only curiosity hut a certain alarm. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, this is Mr. Carstairs' residence.... What?... All right.” He sat - down on the edge of the library table and turned to the others. “Must be - long distance. They're getting somebody.” - </p> - <p> - Alfred Carstairs was a tall, well-built young fellow of twenty. He bore a - most remarkable, though perhaps not singular, resemblance to his mother. - His eyes were dark, his thick hair a dead black, growing low on his - forehead. The lips were full and red, with a whimsical curve at the - corners denoting not merely good humour but a certain contempt for - seriousness in others. He was handsome in a strong, hold way despite a - strangely colourless complexion,—a complexion that may be described - as pasty, for want of a nobler word. His voice was deep, with the guttural - harshness of youth; loud, unmusical, not yet fixed by the processes of - maturity. A big, dominant, vital boy making the last turn before stepping - into full manhood. He was his mother's son,—his mother's boy. - </p> - <p> - His father, a Harvard man, had been thwarted in his desire to have his son - follow him through the historic halls at Cambridge,—as he had - followed his own father and his grandfather. - </p> - <p> - Sentiment was not a part of Alfred's makeup. He supported his mother when - it came to the college selection. Together they agreed upon Columbia. She - frankly admitted her selfishness in wanting to keep her boy at home, but - found other and less sincere arguments in the protracted discussions that - took place with her husband. She fought Harvard because it was not - democratic, because it bred snobbishness and contempt, because it deprived - the youth of this practical age of the breadth of vision necessary to - success among men who put ability before sentiment and a superficial - distinction. She urged Columbia because it was democratic, pulsating, - practical. - </p> - <p> - In the end, Carstairs gave in. He wanted to be fair to both of them. But - he was not deceived. He knew that her chief reason, though spoken softly - and with almost pathetic simpleness, was that she could not bear the - separation from the boy she loved so fiercely, so devotedly. He was not so - sure that filial love entered into Alfred's calculations. If the situation - had been reversed, he was confident,—or reasonably so,—that - Alfred would have chosen Harvard. - </p> - <p> - He had the strange, unhappy conviction that his son opposed him in this, - as in countless other instances, through sheer perversity. His mother's - authority always had been supreme. She had exercised it with an - iron-handed firmness that not only surprised but gratified the father, who - knew so well the tender affection she had for her child. Her word was law. - Alfred seldom if ever questioned it, even as a small and decidedly - self-willed lad. Paradoxically, she both indulged and disciplined him by - means of the same consuming force: her mother-love. - </p> - <p> - On the other hand, Carstairs,—a firm and positive character,—received - the scantiest consideration from the boy on the rare occasions when he - felt it necessary to employ paternal measures. Alfred either sulked or - openly defied him. Always the mother stepped into the breach. She never - temporized. She either promptly supported the father's demand or opposed - it. No matter which point of view she took, the youngster invariably - succumbed. In plain words, it was <i>her</i> command that he obeyed and - not his father's. - </p> - <p> - As time went on, Carstairs came to recognize the resistless combination - that opposed him, and, while the realization was far from comforting, his - common-sense ordered him to accept the situation, especially as nothing - could be clearer than the fact that she was bringing her son up with the - most rigid regard for his future. She had her eyes set far ahead; she was - seeing him always as a man and not as a boy. That much, at least, - Carstairs conceded, and was more proud of her than he cared to admit, even - to himself. He watched the sturdy, splendid, earnest development of his - boy under the influence of a force stronger than any he could have - exercised. - </p> - <p> - Sometimes he wondered if it was the German in her that made for the rather - unusual strength which so rarely rises above the weakness of a mother's - pity. Once he laughingly had inquired what she would have done had their - child been born a girl. - </p> - <p> - “I should have been content to let <i>you</i> bring her up,” said she, - with a twinkle in her eye. - </p> - <p> - While she was resolute, almost unyielding in regard to her growing son, - her attitude toward her husband was in all other respects amazingly free - from assertiveness or arrogance. On the contrary, she was submissive - almost to the point of humility. He was her man. He was her law. A simple, - unwavering respect for his strength, his position, his authority in the - home of which he was the head, rendered her incapable of opposing his - slightest wish. An odd timidity, singularly out of keeping with her - physical as well as her mental endowments, surrounded her with that - pleasing and,—to all men,—gratifying atmosphere of femininity - so dear to the heart of every lord and master. She made him comfortable. - </p> - <p> - And she was, despite her social activities, a good and capable house-wife,—one - of the old-fashioned kind who thinks first of her man's comfort and, - although in this instance it was not demanded, of his purse. He was her - man; it was her duty to serve him. - </p> - <p> - As her boy merged swiftly,—almost abruptly into manhood,—her - long-maintained grip of iron relaxed. Carstairs, noting the change, was - puzzled. He was a long time in arriving at the solution. It was very - simple after all: she merely had admitted another <i>man</i> into her - calculations. Her boy had become a man,—a strong, dominant man,—and - she was ready, even willing, to relinquish the temporary power she had - exerted over him. - </p> - <p> - She was no longer free to command. Alfred had come into his own. He was a - man. She was proud of him. The time had come for her to be humble in the - light of his glory, and she was content to lay aside the authority with - which she had cloaked her love and ambition for so long. <i>His</i> word - had become her law. She had two men in her family now. Slowly but surely - she was giving them to understand that she was their woman, and that she - knew her place. She had been for twenty-two years the wife of one of them, - and for twenty years the mother of the other. - </p> - <p> - Carstairs was rich. He was a man of affairs, a man of power and - distinction in the councils of that exalted class known as the leaders of - finance. He represented one of the soundest vertebrae in the back-bone of - the nation in these times of war. With a loyalty that incurred a - tremendous amount of self-sacrifice, he had offered all of his vital - energy, all of his heart, to the cause of the people. He was on many - boards, he was in touch with all the great enterprises that worked for the - comfort, the support and the encouragement of those who went forth to give - their lives if need be in the turmoil' of war. Davenport Carstairs stood - for all that was fine and strong in practical idealism, which, after all, - is the basis of all things truly American. - </p> - <p> - As he stood inside the study door, watching with some intensity the face - of his son, he was suddenly conscious of a feeling of dread, not - associated with the recent grave event, but something new that was - creeping, as it were, along the wire that reached its end in the receiver - glued to Alfred's ear. He glanced at his wife. She suddenly exhaled the - breath she was holding and smiled faintly into his concerned eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,—” said Alfred, impatiently, after a long pause,—“Yes, - this is Mr. Carstairs' home.... I am his son.... What?... Yes, he's here, - but can't you give me the message?... Who are you?... What?... Certainly - I'll call him, but... Here, father; it's some one who insists on speaking - to you personally.” - </p> - <p> - He set the receiver down on the table with a sharp bang, and straightened - up to his full height as if resenting an indignity. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0051.jpg" alt="0051 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0051.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Carstairs took up the receiver. He realized that his hand trembled. He had - never known it to happen before, even in moments of great stress. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Yes</i>, this is Davenport Carstairs. Who are you, please?” He started - slightly at the crisp, business-like reply. “Bellevue Hospital? Police - surgeon—What? Just a moment, please. Now, go ahead.” He had seated - himself in the great library chair at the end of the table. “Yes; my - butler's name is Hodges.... An Englishman.... What?... What has happened, - officer?... Good God!... I—Why, certainly, I shall come down at once - if necessary. I—can identify him, of course.... Yes, tomorrow - morning will suit me better.... Hold the wire a moment, please.” - </p> - <p> - He turned to the listeners. “Hodges has been injured by an automobile,” he - said quietly. “I gather he is unconscious. You are nervous and upset, - Frieda, so you'd better retire. Leave this to—” - </p> - <p> - “Is he dead, Davenport?” she asked in a low horror-struck voice. - </p> - <p> - “Run along, Louise,—skip off to bed. I'll get the details and tell - you in the morning.” The girl swayed slightly. Her eyes were wide with - anguish. - </p> - <p> - “I—I shouldn't have allowed him to go out,” she stammered. “I—Oh, - Uncle Dawy!” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Carstairs put her arm about the girl's waist and led her from the - room. Carstairs looked up at his son. - </p> - <p> - “I guess you can stand it, Alfred. He's dead. Instantly killed.” He spoke - into the transmitter. “Tell me how it happened, please.” - </p> - <p> - He hung up the receiver a moment or two later. - </p> - <p> - “Run down at the corner of Madison Avenue and 48th Street. There were two - witnesses, and both say that he was standing in the street waiting for a - car. The automobile was going forty miles an hour. He never knew what hit - him. Poor devil! Have you ever heard him mention his family, Alfred? We - must notify some one, of course.” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir,” said his son. “He seemed a quiet sort. The other servants may - know. Mother says his references were of the highest order,—that's - all I know. What a terrible thing to have—” - </p> - <p> - “We must not worry your mother with this tonight, my son. She's had enough - for today.” - </p> - <p> - “I should say so,” exclaimed Alfred, clenching his hands. He choked up, - and said no more. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>AUL ZIMMERLEIN was - a mining engineer. His offices were off Fifth Avenue, somewhere above 34th - Street. He stood well in his profession, he stood high as a citizen. No - one questioned his integrity, his ability or his loyalty. He was a good - American. At least, a great many good Americans said he was, which amounts - to the same thing. - </p> - <p> - One entered his offices through a small antechamber, where a young woman - at the telephone-desk made perfunctory inquiries, but always in a crisp, - business-like manner. She was the first cog in a smooth-running piece of - machinery. Her name was Mildred,—Mildred Agnew, and she had a - brother in the British navy, from whom she received infrequent letters of - a most unilluminating character,—letters omitting date, place and - ship: in which he said he was well and happy and hoped to God the Germans - would come out into the open to see what the weather was like. - </p> - <p> - If your business was important, or you had an appointment, you would be - conducted by a smart-looking boy into a rather imposing corner room, from - whose windows you could look down fourteen storeys to the roof of an eight - storey building below. Presently you would be invited into Mr. - Zimmerlein's private office. Beyond this snug little office was the - drafting room, where several actively studious men of various ages bent - over blue-prints and estimate sheets. - </p> - <p> - They all appeared to be good, industrious Americans; you could see them - quite plainly through the glass upper half of the intervening door. - </p> - <p> - You were at once aware of an impression that this was not the place to - come if you were engaged in a secret or shady enterprise,—such as - the exploitation of a “get-rich-quick” mining proposition or any kindred - opening for the unwary. You always said to yourself that you felt quite - safe in the hands of Mr. Paul Zimmerlein,—and his associates. - </p> - <p> - You went about saying that you wished all men with German blood in them - were like Mr. Paul Zimmerlein. He became one of your pet hobbies. You - invariably referred to him when you declared that you knew at least one - man of German extraction who was “absolutely on the level,” and you would - unhesitatingly go about proving it if any one had the effrontery to even - discuss the point with you. All you would have to do would be to point in - triumph to the men who were his associates professionally, commercially - and socially. The list would include many of the really significant - figures in public life. Among them, for instance, you would mention - several United States senators, at least two gentlemen high up in - Administrative circles, practically all of the big financiers, certain - members of the English Cabinet, and,—in a pinch,—the - presidents of three South American Republics. He was on record as being - violently opposed to Von Berastorff,—indeed, he had said such bitter - and violent things about the ex-ambassador that even the most conservative - German-Americans,—those who actually were opposed to the Kaiser and - his policies,—felt that he was going much too far. - </p> - <p> - He was about forty years of age, tall and powerfully built, with - surprisingly mobile features for one whose face at a glance suggested - heaviness and stolidity. His smile was ever ready and genial; his manner - courtly; his eyes, which were honest and unwavering, had something - sprightly in them that invited confidence and comradeship. The thick, dark - hair was touched with grey at the temples, and there was a deep scar on - his left cheek, received—not in a German university, as you might - suppose,—but during a fierce and sanguinary encounter with Yaqui - Indians in northern Mexico,—a tragedy which cost the lives of - several of his companions and brought from the people of the United States - a demand that the government take drastic action in the matter. - Altogether, a prepossessing, substantial figure of a man, with a - delightful personality. - </p> - <p> - Shortly before noon on the day following the destruction of the great - Reynolds plant by alien plotters, Zimmerlein was seated in his office, - awaiting the arrival of two well-known New York merchants and a gentleman - from Brazil. Half-a-dozen morning newspapers, with their sinister - head-lines, lay upon his desk, neatly folded and stacked with grave - orderliness. He had read them, and was lolling back in his big leather - chair with a faint smile on his lips, and a far-off, frowning expression - in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - The gentleman from Brazil came first. - </p> - <p> - “Sit down,” said Zimmerlein curtly. “They will be here in a few minutes.” - </p> - <p> - “That was a terrible thing last night, Zimmerlein,” said the Brazilian, - nervously glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the - drafting-room. - </p> - <p> - Zimmerlein made no response. He resumed his set, faraway expression, his - gaze directed at the upper sash of the broad, high window, beyond which a - distant, grey cloud glided slowly across a blue-white sky. - </p> - <p> - “Most shocking,” went on the Brazilian, after a moment. He had not removed - his overcoat. The fur collar was still fastened closely about his neck. - </p> - <p> - Zimmerlein turned toward his visitor. - </p> - <p> - “Take off your coat, Riaz. Make yourself comfortable,” he said, affably. - “Help yourself to a cigar.” - </p> - <p> - Riaz,—Sebastian Riaz, diamond merchant and mine-owner of Rio - Janeiro,—removed his coat. “The appointment was for eleven o'clock, - Mr. Zimmerlein,” he said, looking at his watch. “They are late. It is - nearly twelve.” - </p> - <p> - “Permit me to remind you that you also were late. Everything is in order, - my dear sir. The deal may be closed in ten minutes,—or even less - time than that,—if there is no further haggling on your part.” He - closed one eye slowly. “The contracts, the estimates, the plans are ready. - Nothing is lacking except the signatures.” - </p> - <p> - “Just as they have been ready for nearly two months,” observed Riaz, also - closing an eye. - </p> - <p> - “All ready—except the signatures and the <i>date</i>.” - </p> - <p> - “We shall date them,—and sign them,—in our extremity,” said - Zimmerlein, going to a safe which stood invitingly open in a corner of the - room. He removed a small but important-looking package of papers and - tossed them carelessly on the table. “Such as a visit from on high,” he - added, with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Riaz, and sat down again, frowning. - </p> - <p> - “We shall never be caught napping. Here are the papers, as they would say - in the melodrama. By the way, do you go in for melodrama in Rio? Or are - you above that form of amusement?” - </p> - <p> - Riaz remained unsmiling. “It is not as popular with us as it is with you - Americans,” said he. “We see through it too readily.” - </p> - <p> - Zimmerlein unfolded and spread out several of the documents. “There!” he - said. “Let him come who will. Under the sharpest eyes in America you may - transfer property valued at ten millions, and no one will question the - validity of the transaction. You see, my dear Riaz, you <i>do</i> own - these mines and they are exactly what they are represented to Be. To save - their lives, they can't go behind the facts. And the purchasers are - prepared to hand over the cash at any moment. Could anything be simpler?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing,” said the Brazilian, sententiously,—“except the damned - little slip that sometimes comes between the cup and the lip.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, but our cup is always at the lip,” said Zimmerlein buoyantly. “Don't - be a kill-joy, old chap.” - </p> - <p> - “All well and good, Zimmerlein, unless some one's lip splits.” He shot an - uneasy glance into the drafting-room. - </p> - <p> - “This is the most perfect machine in the world, Riaz. Have no fear. Every - cog has been tested and is of the staunchest steel. Every part has been - put in its proper place by the greatest genius alive.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't have to remind you that a few cogs in the Foreign office have - slipped badly.” - </p> - <p> - The door opened to admit two brisk, prosperous-looking gentlemen. - </p> - <p> - “I fear we are late,” said the foremost. “It was unavoidable, I assure - you.” - </p> - <p> - “It is never too late,” said Zimmerlein, advancing to shake hands with the - new-comers. Then, while they were laying aside their overcoats, he stepped - swiftly to the door of the drafting-room and called out: “Thorsensel! Come - here, please. And you also, Martin.” - </p> - <p> - One of the men in the outer room, laid down the instrument with which he - was working over a huge blue-print; with a sigh of resignation, he removed - his green eye-shield, smoothed out his wrinkled alpaca coat, and came - slowly, diffidently into the private office. He was a middle-aged, - stoop-shouldered, sunken-faced man, with a drooping moustache that lacked - not only in pride but in colour as well. The ends were gnawed and - scraggly, and there were cigarette stains along the uneven edges. - Otherwise, this sickly adornment was straw-coloured. Thick spectacles - enlarged his almost expressionless blue eyes; as one looked straight into - them, the eyeballs seemed to be twice the normal size. - </p> - <p> - This man was John Thorsensel, civil engineer, American—born of - Norwegian parentage, graduate of one of the greatest engineering - universities in the country. You would go many a league before - encountering a more unimposing, commonplace person,—and yet here was - the most astute secret servant in the German Kaiser's vast establishment. - Not Zimmerlein, nor Riaz, nor any of the important-looking individuals who - skulked behind respectable names, not one of them was the head and heart - of the sinister, far-reaching octopus that spread its slimy influence - across the United States of America. John Thorsensel, an insignificant - toiler, was the master-mind, the arch-conspirator. It was his hand that - rested on the key, his thought that covered everything, his infernal - ingenuity that confounded the shrewdest minds on this side of the - Atlantic. The last man in the world to be suspected,—such was John - Thorsensel, bad angel. - </p> - <p> - Martin, the other man called to the conference, was a brisk young fellow - who left a rolltop desk in the corner of the drafting-room and presented - himself with stenographer's note-book and pencil. It is worthy of mention - that this book already contained the stenographic notes of the preliminary - verbal discussion between the three principals to a transaction involving - the sale of great mining properties in South America. Everything was - perfectly prepared, even to the abrupt termination of the conference that - would come naturally in case agents of the government took it into their - heads to appear. Martin's notes, jotted down weeks beforehand, broke off - in the most natural way. There is no telling how many times he had sat - with the note-book on his knee in just such a conference as this, without - adding a single word to what already appeared on the pages. It is safe to - say, however, that the notes were never transcribed. - </p> - <p> - It would have been impossible to find in the offices of Paul Zimmerlein a - single incriminating line, or article, or suggestion of either,—for - the simple reason that no such thing existed. Nothing ever appeared in - tangible form. Visitors were always welcome. - </p> - <p> - Once and once only had the slightest symptom of a creak appeared in the - well-ordered machine. One man was suspected,—merely suspected. There - was no actual evidence against him in the hands of the conspirators, but - the fact that a <i>possibility</i> existed was enough for them. He was an - ordinary window-washer who came twice a month to the office,—not - oftener,—in his regular round of the building. Always it was the - same man who washed Zimmerlein's windows, and always a few words passed - between him and the engineer,—words that no one else heard. One day - the device to which his safety belt was attached gave way and he fell - fourteen storeys to the roof of the building below. He was to be trusted - after that. - </p> - <p> - The six men gathered in the office of Mr. Paul Zimmerlein formed a - combination of intelligence, wealth, energy and evil sufficient to satisfy - even the most exacting of masters. Here were the shrewdest, the safest, - the soundest agents of the cruelest system in all the world. No small, - half-hearted undertaking in frightfulness ever grew out of their - deliberations; no sporadic, clumsy botch in the shape of needless - violence; no crazy, fore-doomed project; no mistakes. They were the <i>big</i> - men,—the men who did the <i>big</i> things. - </p> - <p> - Out of every nook and cranny in the land oozed constant and reliable - reports from the most trustworthy sources, from agents of both sexes; sly, - secret, mysterious forces supplied them with facts that no man was - supposed to know; the magic of the Far East was surpassed by these wizards - who came not out of Egypt but from commonplace, unromantic circles in the - Occident. - </p> - <p> - The departures of vessels from every port, the nature of their cargoes; - the sailings of transports and the number of troops; the conditions in all - the munitions plants and cantonments; the state of mind of the millions of - workers and idlers throughout the land; the very <i>thoughts</i> of the - people in control of the country's affairs, it would seem. Everything! - Everything was known to this resourceful clique. They were the backbone of - the unrest, the uneasiness, the scepticism that swept the land. Their - agents, loyal unto death, were everywhere. The secrets of sea, land and - air were theirs. They could buy,—buy anything they wanted with the - wealth that was theirs for the asking. - </p> - <p> - Information came to them and commands were issued by them in a thousand - different ways, but never in circumstances that invited suspicion. A - casual meeting on the street; the passing of the time of day; a hand-shake - in restaurant or club; brief and seemingly innocuous exchanges of - pleasantries at the theatre; perfunctory contact with stenographers, - employes, and customers in the course of a day; thus, under the eyes of - all observers the secret word was given and received. With these men no - word was written, no visible message was exchanged. And the German - language was never spoken. - </p> - <p> - “Trains from the West are all late,” said one of the late arrivals, an - elderly, grey-whiskered man. “Rhine did not get in from Chicago till - nearly eleven. It was imperative that I should see him before coming here, - gentlemen.” - </p> - <p> - “Well?” demanded Thorsensel. - </p> - <p> - “He says the time is not yet ripe. He has studied the situation, has had - reports from many sources. It is too soon. A partial success would be far - worse than a total failure. He is very positive. '7 - </p> - <p> - “All right,” said Thorsensel crisply. The matter was thus summarily - disposed of. He did not believe in wasting time or words. He turned, with - a questioning look, to the other prosperous-looking citizen. - </p> - <p> - “He died very suddenly last night,” said that worthy, responding to the - unspoken query. - </p> - <p> - Thorsensel nodded his head with lively satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - “Anything else?” - </p> - <p> - “That young fellow we were speaking of the other day dropped in at the - store this morning. He appears to be interested in a very good-looking - shop-girl on the second floor. I don't know how many pairs of gloves he - has bought of her in the past few weeks.” - </p> - <p> - “I know, I know,” impatiently. “Miss Group.” - </p> - <p> - “We're making no mistake about this fellow, are we, Elberon?” demanded - Zimmerlein. - </p> - <p> - “No,—absolutely no. Ill stake my life on him.” - </p> - <p> - “Go on,” said Thorsensel curtly. - </p> - <p> - “The British and French Commission sails tomorrow on the <i>Elston</i>. - There is no question about it. He had it from the same source that - reported their arrival last month.” - </p> - <p> - “Martin, see that this information is on the wing immediately,” said - Thorsensel. “We may accept it as authentic.” - </p> - <p> - “I should think we might,” said Zimmerlein, “when you stop to consider - that no one in the United States or England is supposed to know, even now, - that this Commission is in the country,—that is, no one outside a - very restricted circle in Washington. I've never known anything to be kept - so completely under cover. Some of the biggest men in France and England - land on our shores, transact the most important business conceivable, and - get out again without so much as a whiff of the news reaching the public. - Somebody deserves the Iron Cross for this, Thorsensel. It is the - cleverest, smartest piece of work that has been done up to date.” - </p> - <p> - “I venture the opinion that the <i>Elston</i> with its precious cargo will - never see land again,” was Thorsensel's remark. - </p> - <p> - “The Kitchener job all over again, eh?” said Riaz, admiringly. - </p> - <p> - “Or the <i>Lusitania</i>, amended Elberon. - </p> - <p> - “Don't speak of the <i>Lusitania</i>,” exclaimed Thorsensel, irritably. - “You know how I feel about that piece of stupidity.” - </p> - <p> - “You were against it all the time, I know,” began Elberon. - </p> - <p> - “Of course I was. It was the gravest blunder in history. But this is no - time to talk about it. Every one has reported on last night's business. - There were no casualties and no one is missing.” - </p> - <p> - “Good!” exclaimed the grey-whiskered plotter, his piggish eyes sparkling. - “No one killed or injured or missing, eh? That seems all that could be - expected of Providence.” - </p> - <p> - “Every man has reported,” said Thorsensel succinctly. “Even Trott, from - whom we had heard nothing for two whole days. It appears he was trapped - and had to lie hidden in an empty bin. He got away just in time, and - without being seen. Yes, luck and God were with us last night, gentlemen. - Not a life lost, nor a man scratched.” - </p> - <p> - “If we come out half as well next week, I will say that God is with us,” - said Zimmerlein. - </p> - <p> - “Where were you last night, Elberon?” demanded the gaunt leader abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “I dined with some friends and went to the theatre afterwards, - Thorsensel.” - </p> - <p> - “Who were they?” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. and Mrs. Heidel——” - </p> - <p> - “You needn't finish the name,” broke in Thornsensel. “I want to warn you - again not to take them into your confidence,—not even in the - smallest of matters.” - </p> - <p> - “His brother is a general in the Bavarian——” - </p> - <p> - “It doesn't matter. I know all that. And one of her brothers is in the - Reichstag. But you must not overlook the fact that a great many of these - people are loyal to America. That is a point you don't seem able to get - through your head, Elberon. The worst enemy, the direst peril we have to - contend with is the American-German, if you grasp the distinction. No one - seems to have used the hyphen in just that way, Elberon, but there is such - a thing as the American-German, and we've got to steer clear of him. He's - not as uncommon as you may think, either. This man you were with last - night is one. He would turn you over to the authorities in a flash if he - got a breath of the truth. A word to the wise, Elberon, means a word to - you.” - </p> - <p> - “A man is one thing or the other,” said the other, flushing. “He's either - a German or an American. There's nothing in the hyphen.” - </p> - <p> - “You're quite right,” agreed Thorsensel. “The man you were with last night - is an American in spite of his name and his antecedents. I happen to know. - Somewhere in this city there is a list of the people I define as - American-Germans. It is a rather formidable list, let me tell you. They - happen to be traitors, damn them.” - </p> - <p> - “Traitors? I thought you said they were loyal.” - </p> - <p> - “You'd see what would happen to them if they ever set foot on German - soil,” said Thorsensel, and it was not difficult, even for the stolid - Elberon, to see what he meant by loyalty. - </p> - <p> - An hour later the meeting came to an end, and the men went their several - ways, unsuspected by the troubled, harassed watch-dogs of the nation. In - that hour they had confidently, almost contemptuously, forwarded the - consummation of other enterprises even more startling than the blowing up - of the Reynolds plant. Remote assassinations were drawn a trifle nearer; - plans leading to the bombing of New York by aeroplanes that were to rise - up out of the sea from monster submarines; a new and not to be denied - smashing of the Welland Canal; well-timed collisions of ships in the lower - Hudson, and other basins, with results more stupendous than anything yet - conceived; deceptive peace propaganda for the guileless and unwary - American proletariat; subtle interference in the Halls of Congress; almost - everything, it may be said, except the transfer of valuable mines in - Brazil. That trifling detail was left to another day. - </p> - <p> - Within the next hour, a message was on its way through the air to far-off - Berlin, giving in singularly accurate figures the military losses - sustained by the Allies at a spot in New Jersey recently occupied by the - great Reynolds concern. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>T the end of ten - days the excitement and horror occasioned by the blowing up of the - Reynolds plant had succumbed to the great American curse: indifference. - Amateur secret service men brazenly proclaiming themselves, went about - more actively than ever, showing their badges and looking up clues at the - same time, doing more harm than good, for while professional intelligence - men were compelled to accept them as liabilities, the grateful aliens - quite properly regarded them as assets. - </p> - <p> - The burning of two grain warehouses in Chicago, the wrecking of a train - loaded with motor trucks, three dock fires in Brooklyn, and the partially - suppressed account of an explosion on board a man-of-war in home waters, - provided the public with its daily supply of pessimism. Scores of alien - suspects were seized, examined and interned. Others were caught with “the - goods,” so to speak, and were flung into prison to await, in most cases, - the minimum penalty for maximum intentions. But at no time was the finger - of accusing Justice levelled at any one of the men or women who made the - wheels go round. - </p> - <p> - Late in the afternoon of a cold, blustering day a young man presented - himself at the Carstairs home. He was a smart-looking, upstanding chap in - the uniform of a captain of Infantry. The new butler announced that Miss - Hansbury was at home and was expecting Captain Steele. - </p> - <p> - You would go far before finding a manlier, handsomer fellow than this - young American soldier. Lithe, and tall, and graceful, he was every inch a - man and a thoroughbred. Only a few months before, he had given up a - splendid position down town, with a salary that few young men commanded - and prospects that even fewer entertained, and eagerly offered himself, - heart and soul, to the army that was to lift his country out of the pit of - commercialism and give it a place among the proud. - </p> - <p> - He had won his sword and his shoulder straps with the ease of one who - earnestly strives, and at the same time he had conquered in an enterprise - sweetly remote from the horrors of war. Louise Hansbury, beautiful and - gifted, was wearing the emblem of surrender on the third finger of her - left hand. - </p> - <p> - He was to dine with the Carstairs that evening; as a privileged person, he - came long ahead of the other guests of the evening. There was to be a - distinguished company. A Cabinet officer, a prominent Southern Senator, an - Admiral of the Navy, a Foreign Ambassador, to say nothing of more than one - potentate in the realm of finance. And women whose names were not more - widely-known than their deeds in these days of great endeavour,—women - who had put aside frivolity and selfishness and social gluttony for the - cold, hard business of making the country safe. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Carstairs, herself, was the chairman of one of the most important of - the Relief Organizations controlled and operated exclusively by women; far - from being a mere figure-head, she was an active, zealous worker, an - inspiration to her associates. - </p> - <p> - One of the guests of the evening was to be an Italian Countess whose - labours in the war hospitals of her native land had made her one of the - most conspicuous women in all Europe. - </p> - <p> - Louise Hansbury was the daughter of Davenport Carstairs' only sister, now - deceased. Since the death of her mother,—her father had died when - she was a small child,—the girl had made her home with this adoring - uncle. She possessed a somewhat meagre fortune,—sufficient to - guarantee independence, however, if she chose to care for herself,—-a - circumstance that would have excited resistance in Davenport Carstairs had - it ever come up for discussion. - </p> - <p> - “How are you, dearest?” inquired the young officer, holding her off to - look anxiously, searchingly into her eyes. The colour of health was just - beginning to flow in her cheeks. - </p> - <p> - “Gorgeous,” she replied, her eyes agleam with love and happiness. - </p> - <p> - “Go slow,” he said gently. “Don't tax yourself too much. It's a serious - job, this business of getting well.” - </p> - <p> - “But I <i>am</i> well, you goose. I never felt better in my life.” - </p> - <p> - “You never were more beautiful,” he said softly. - </p> - <p> - “I'd much rather hear you say that than something really serious,” she - cried, smiling divinely into his dazzled eyes. - </p> - <p> - “You've had pneumonia,” he said sternly, after the moment it took to - regain a temporarily lost air of authority. “Mighty sick you've been, - darling,—and—” - </p> - <p> - “And I'm not to get my feet wet, or sit in a draft, or—Very good, - Captain! Orders is orders, sir.” She stood off and saluted him with mock - solemnity. - </p> - <p> - “I'm so glad you came early, Derrol,” she cried, abruptly abandoning her - frivolous air. “I've—I've wanted you so much. This has been a long—oh, - an age, dear. You knew that poor Hodges was killed by an automobile, - didn't you? I never know what I put in my letters. And there is all this - talk about Belgium being a nest of spies at the outset, and—oh, <i>that</i> - would be too much. Sit here with me, Derrol, and—you might hold me - close to you,—just for a little while. It—yes, it does give me - strength to feel your arms about me.” After a few moments, the troubled - look that had been lurking in his eyes for a long time, reappeared. A - light frown clouded his brow. He glanced over his shoulder, and, when he - spoke, his voice was even lower than it had been before. - </p> - <p> - “Louise dear, something very strange and mysterious has happened. Don't be - alarmed, dear. It has turned out all right. But,—'gad, it might have - resulted very seriously. Do you remember that I told you about ten days - ago,—in this very room,—that I suspected a certain officer in - our camp of being—well, crooked?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,—I remember quite well, Derrol. Is—is he?” - </p> - <p> - He smiled grimly. “That remains to be seen. I had observed one or two - things about him that excited my suspicions, but I mentioned the matter to - no one. The next day after I spoke to you about it, I decided to go to - headquarters with my fears. As a matter of fact, by that time I really had - something tangible to report. I was received by the general himself. He - was dumbfounded. Instantly an investigation was started. The officer I - mentioned was missing from camp. It was found that he had gone to New York - the night before, but was expected back in the morning—just as I - was. That was ten days ago. He has never returned. It has been proved - beyond all question that he was a spy. There is no doubt in my mind that - he got a tip while in New York, and beat it for parts unknown. Now the - infernal part of the business is that I never mentioned my suspicions to a - soul except to you,—never even breathed them outside of this room - until the next day.” - </p> - <p> - She was staring at him in perplexity. “But—but, Derrol dear, what - does it all mean? You—you certainly cannot think that I repeated—” - </p> - <p> - “Of course not, dear,—certainly not. I—” - </p> - <p> - “In the first place, I had not been outside the apartment,” she went on in - suppressed excitement. “And I give you my word of honour that I did not - mention the matter to a soul in this house. Not one word, Derrol. If you—” - </p> - <p> - “Calm yourself, Louise,” he urged, pressing her hands. “The chances are - that he found out he was suspected before he left camp, and even as I was - telling you he may have been on his way to safety. I have not told any one - that I spoke of the matter here,—you may be quite sure of that. That - would bring trouble and annoyance to you and—well, I couldn't allow - that, you know. Just the same, he has disappeared, completely, utterly. He - got the scent somehow, and didn't lose a minute. Saved himself from facing - a firing squad, you may be sure. So far as we have been able to discover, - I am the only man who knew that he was up to something wrong. That's the - maddening part of it. I—you see, I actually had the goods on him.” - </p> - <p> - “You looked over your shoulder just now, Derrol,” she said, the colour - ebbing from her cheek. “Do you—do you suspect any one here? Any one - of the servants? They have all been with us for years,—except poor - Hodges, and he is dead,—and I know that Uncle Davenport trusts them - implicitly.” - </p> - <p> - He held her a little closer. His lips were close to her ear, and the - half-whispered words were fraught with the deepest meaning. - </p> - <p> - “See here, Louise, it's a desperately serious thing to say,—and I - know I'm a fresh, half-baked upstart, and all that sort of thing,—but - I just can't help feeling that if I hadn't spoken of that matter here last - week, we would have nabbed Mr. Spy practically red-handed.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Derrol!” she whispered, aghast. “You don't know what you are saying.” - </p> - <p> - “It's the way I feel, just the same,” said he stubbornly. - </p> - <p> - “Then you <i>do</i> think the warning came from this house?” She attempted - to withdraw herself from his arms. - </p> - <p> - “God bless you, darling,—I don't think it came from you, or in any - way through you,” he cried miserably. - </p> - <p> - “Then, whom do you suspect?” she demanded. - </p> - <p> - “It might have been Hodges,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he looked away - from her. - </p> - <p> - “But Hodges was an Englishman, and violently anti-German. It couldn't have - been Hodges.” - </p> - <p> - “In any event, he's dead and can't defend himself,” said he. “I trust you, - dearest, not to repeat a word of what I've just been saying,—<i>not - a word to any one.</i>” - </p> - <p> - “You are very foolish, Derrol,—but I promise. Not even to Uncle - Davenport or Aunt Frieda. They would be shocked beyond words if they knew - you—” - </p> - <p> - “That's right, dear,—not even to Mr. or Mrs. Carstairs,—or - that bustling young son of theirs.” - </p> - <p> - “It would be far more sensible to suspect me than either of them,” she - said. - </p> - <p> - A latch-key turned in the front door, and a moment later young Alfred - Carstairs came whistling into the hall. - </p> - <p> - “Hullo!” he called out, peering in upon them from the dimly lighted - hallway. He was shedding his overcoat. “How's the camp, Derrol? Getting - into shape?” - </p> - <p> - “Getting shapelier every minute,” said Derrol Steele, crossing over to - shake hands with the youth. - </p> - <p> - “Where's mother?” inquired Alfred, looking over the officer's shoulder at - his cousin, who had not risen. - </p> - <p> - “Lying down, Alfie. She has been on the go all day. Much beauty is - required for this evening. She's giving it a chance to catch her napping.” - </p> - <p> - “By golly, it's the only thing that ever does catch her napping,” said - Alfred warmly. “She's a wonder, Derrol. She'd be a field-marshal if she - ever got into the army.” - </p> - <p> - “I haven't the least doubt of it,” said Captain Steele, smiling. Even as - he uttered the jesting words, a strange, uncanny sense of their importance - took root in his mind. - </p> - <p> - Very serious topics were discussed by the guests at Mrs. Carstairs' dinner - that evening. No one felt the least restraint, nor the slightest hesitancy - in speaking freely of matters that never were mentioned in the open. - Questions that could not have been answered outside the most secret - recesses of the State department were frankly asked here,—and - answered by some one who spoke with authority. No man feared his - neighbour, nor his neighbour's wife, for here were assembled only those to - whom the Government itself could look with confidence. These were the - people on the inside of everything, the spokes of the inner wheel,—the - people who knew what was going on in Washington, in London, and in Paris. - No alien ears were here to listen, no alien eyes to watch; sanctuary for - the true and loyal. - </p> - <p> - One man there held his tongue, and spoke not of the things that were - vital: Captain Derrol Steele. It was not modesty alone that kept him - silent in this imposing group, nor the recognition of his own - insignificance. He had had his lesson. He was young enough to profit by - it. - </p> - <p> - True, the wine may have had something to do with it. It usually does. A - beguiling lubricant is this thing that gets into the rustiest of brains - and produces a smooth combination of thought and thoughtlessness. In any - case, tongues wagged loosely and wits were never keener than in this - atmosphere of ripe security. A good many secrets were out for an airing. - They were supposed, in good time, to get back into their closets and lie - there as snugly as if they had never been disturbed. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Carstairs was never more brilliant than on this particular evening. - Always clever,—but never witty,—she was at her best when - surrounded by personalities such as these; when confronted by problems - which permitted her profound mentality to rise to its highest level and - her singularly clear-headed vision to project itself across spaces that - defy even the most far-seeing of men. She went below the surface of - everything; she saw nothing from a superficial point of view. What men - liked in her, and what other women envied and sometimes hated, was the - rare faculty of saying little unless she was prepared to say a great deal - more. - </p> - <p> - More than one great statesman had said, on occasion, that it was too bad - she wasn't a man! With a mind like that, well, there's no telling! No - wonder Davenport Carstairs was proud of her! - </p> - <p> - And yet, with all this unstinted praise, with all this respectful - admiration, there was not a man among them who would have exchanged places - with Davenport Carstairs. Despite her beauty, her no uncertain charm of - manner, her strangely old-fashioned femininity, no man coveted her. As a - matter of fact, they were a little bit awed by Frieda Carstairs. - </p> - <p> - The foreign ambassador was leaving early. He explained to his hostess that - a very important conference was to be held that night in his rooms at the - hotel. He was profoundly apologetic, but if she knew how much depended on - the outcome of this very, <i>very</i> important meeting,—and so on, - and so on. She said she understood perfectly; affairs of state, she went - on to say, always lead up to a state of affairs, and that, of course, was - hopeless unless taken in time. - </p> - <p> - He was a little bewildered. Fearing that she had not fully grasped his - meaning, he proceeded to elaborate a little. It wasn't really a state of - affairs, nor, for that matter, an affair of state. Time, of course,—yes, - time was the essence of everything in these bitter days. She was quite - right; the whole trouble with the Allies had been the wasting of time; now - they realized the importance of doing things promptly. She said she was - glad that they were not letting the grass grow under their feet. He - mumbled something about winter and the nothing much growing outside the - tropics, and floundered with further confidences. - </p> - <p> - Leaning quite close to her he whispered something in her ear. It left her - perfectly calm. - </p> - <p> - “This, you understand, my dear madam, is not to be repeated,—strictly - confidential,—absolutely—ah—on the quiet, as you say - over here.” - </p> - <p> - “I sha'n't even repeat it to my husband,” said she. - </p> - <p> - The ambassador looked relieved. “I fear he would not approve of my - mentioning a matter that he seems to have withheld from you himself.” - </p> - <p> - She smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Possess your soul in peace, my dear Ambassador. I am as good as he at - keeping a secret.” - </p> - <p> - “It is—ah—most imperative that this shouldn't—ah—get - out, so to speak,” said he, wishing in his soul that he had not let it out - himself. - </p> - <p> - “You have spoken to the Sphinx,” said she gravely. - </p> - <p> - She happened to glance down the table at this juncture. Something hypnotic - drew her gaze directly to Captain Steele. He was regarding her steadily. - There was a queer, intent look in his eyes. For an instant their gaze - held, and then he looked away. She turned to speak to the man on her left. - If he had been an observing person, he would have noticed the tired look - that suddenly clouded her eyes,—briefly, fittingly, it is true, but - remaining long enough to have been detected by one less absorbed in - himself than he. No doubt his pride would have been hurt had he observed - it. - </p> - <p> - The little Italian Countess spoke very frankly of conditions in her - country, of specific needs that called for immediate action on the part of - the American government, of plots and counterplots in the very heart of - the army, of political and ecclesiastical intrigue that sapped the courage - of the people, and of the serious situation on the Isonzo where victorious - Italian armies were in constant danger of collapse because of an utter - lack of support from behind the lines. She went so far as to say that in - the event of a supreme assault by the Austro-Germans, the Italian armies - would have to relinquish their hard-earned gains and fall back,—perhaps - in actual defeat. - </p> - <p> - “But the Austrians are down and out themselves.” declared the cabinet - member. He spoke loudly, for he was at the far end of the table. “They - haven't a good solid kick left in them, much less anything like a supreme - assault, Countess.” - </p> - <p> - “Let us hope you are right,” returned the Italian woman, the line - deepening between her eyes. “I only know that the Italians are in no - condition to withstand a great offensive if it should come. Oh, if only - England, and France,—and you, gentlemen,—could but be made to - realize the importance of a real victory over the Austrians,—if you - could only be made to see how desperately we are in need of all the - support you can give us in men, and guns, and food, and—aye, in - confidence, too. If the German Emperor knew the truth about our position - on the Isonzo and in Trentino, he—ah, <i>he</i> would not wait, he - would not hesitate. He would move like lightning. He would send a million - men to the aid of the Austrians. He would strike with all his might,—and - then, when it was all over, you,—all of you,—would grate your - teeth while he laughed over another of your blunders.” - </p> - <p> - The men all smiled tolerantly. She was a woman. That was just the way a - high-strung, emotional woman would talk. - </p> - <p> - “It would be quite simple, Countess,” said Davenport Carstairs, “if the - Kaiser had even half a million men to spare. He is being kept pretty busy - in France and Flanders just now.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, but in Russia,” she cried vehemently. “What of the damned Russians?” - In her excitement she spoke the language of the army. Of her hearers, the - men seemed a little more shocked than the women. “Are they keeping him - pretty busy? No! Are they holding his vast armies in check? No! They are - doing more than that. They are shoving him back, driving him and all of - his men and guns out of Russia. Driving them down into Italy and over to - Flanders, that is what they are doing. And you,—you and France and - England,—will not wake up until it is too late. When the beastly - Russians have driven the Germans into Paris, and across the English - Channel, and down to Rome, then you will understand.” - </p> - <p> - “But the Italians will hold the ground they have gained,” protested one of - the men. “I talked with members of the commission before they sailed the - other day, and there wasn't one of them who expressed the slightest - uneasiness about the Italian front. On the other hand, they were of the - opinion that the Italians would continue to advance. The Austrians are - shot to pieces.” - </p> - <p> - “Italy was not represented in that secret mission, my dear sir,” said the - Countess, a trifle curtly. “You do not know what the Italians know, and - what they are actually dreading. They know they cannot resist a great - offensive.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, as long as the Germans are ignorant of the true state of affairs, I - can't see that there is much to worry about,” said Carstairs pleasantly. - </p> - <p> - “But the Germans will not remain in ignorance for ever, Mr. Carstairs,” - exclaimed the Countess. “They find out everything,—everything, in - time.” - </p> - <p> - “Not everything,” said the Admiral of the navy, blandly. “Their marvellous - spy system failed completely in the case of the Franco-British special - mission. The members of the party came, remained here for more than a - fortnight, sailed for home last week, and Germany never had so much as an - inkling of the visit. By this time the <i>Campion</i> is no doubt safely - through the danger zone. I call that beating the devil with his own - stick.” - </p> - <p> - “The <i>Campion?</i>” fell sharply from the lips of Mrs. Carstairs. - </p> - <p> - “You are mistaken, Admiral. They sailed on the <i>Elston</i>,” said her - husband. - </p> - <p> - The Admiral beamed. “My dear sir, the entire party was transferred to the - <i>Campion</i> ten hours after the <i>Elston</i> sailed out of this port. - The Secretary took no chances. He had that devilish Kitchener betrayal in - mind. There was the possibility, you know, of a leak somewhere. One never - can tell. So everything that could be thought of was done to frustrate the - 'system.' The destruction of the <i>Elston</i> with those men on board - would have been a greater disaster to the Allies than the loss of - Kitchener or half the battle front in France. I happen to know the - transfer was made safely and according to plans. The <i>Elston</i> - continued her voyage in convoy, but she was laden with nothing more - precious than food for the Germans.” - </p> - <p> - “Food for the Germans?” cried the Italian Countess, aghast. - </p> - <p> - The Admiral's smile broadened. “The most indigestible food that is made in - America,” said he. After a moment's perplexity, she smiled and clapped her - hands. - </p> - <p> - Once more Mrs. Carstairs' gaze was drawn irresistibly to the young captain - half way up the table. His eyes were fixed on her again, and again, as - before, after an instant they were averted. Something in his steady look - seared her like a hot iron. He seemed to be searching the innermost - recesses of her brain,—and she quailed. His face grew suddenly pale - and drawn,—paler even than her own. - </p> - <p> - The Admiral, having come sharply into prominence, continued to play his - high cards. He leaned back in his chair, neglecting a dessert of which he - was especially fond, and with considerable bumptiousness rambled on - sonorously. - </p> - <p> - “We've been expecting word all day from Admiral Sims. The convoy is a - swift one. Both the <i>Campion</i> and the <i>Elston</i> should reach port - today,—or at the very latest tomorrow. I confess we've all been - anxious. They are wiring me from Washington as soon as—By the way, - Mrs. Carstairs, I took the liberty of instructing my aide to telephone me - here in case the report comes tonight. Hope you don't mind. I thought—” - </p> - <p> - “Of course I don't mind, Admiral,” she said warmly. “On the contrary, I am - glad you thought of it. We are all terribly interested.” Late in the - evening,—in fact, just as the guests were preparing to depart,—the - Admiral was called to the telephone. When he rejoined the group a few - minutes afterward, his expression was serious. - </p> - <p> - “Our precautions were well taken, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “The <i>Elston</i> - was torpedoed this morning. Practically everybody on board was lost.” - </p> - <p> - There was a moment's silence. Then Captain Steele spoke. - </p> - <p> - “So the Germans <i>did</i> know that the Commission sailed out of New York - harbour on the <i>Elston</i>. It would seem, Admiral, that the spy sits - pretty close to the head of your board,—I mean, of course, your - board of strategy.” - </p> - <p> - “By Gad!” growled the distressed sailor-man. “It—it is absolutely - incredible. There <i>couldn't</i> have been a leak down there.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you an idea how many people actually knew that the party was sailing - on the <i>Elston?</i>” inquired the young man. His face was very white. - </p> - <p> - The Admiral glanced around the room, rather helplessly. “Of course the - fact was known to quite a number of people,—such as we are here,—but, - what are we to do if we can't trust <i>ourselves?</i> Nothing could have - been more carefully guarded. Not a line in the newspapers, not a word - uttered in public, not a——” - </p> - <p> - “The information could not have come from any one directly connected with - the Navy department, Admiral,” said Steele slowly. - </p> - <p> - “I'm glad to hear you say that, sir,” said the Admiral, stiffening. - </p> - <p> - “For the simple and obvious reason that it was the <i>Elston</i> and not - the <i>Campion</i> they went after. A spy in such a position would have - known of the transfer.” - </p> - <p> - “On the other hand, it may have been pure chance that they attacked the <i>Elston</i>,” - said Davenport Carstairs, a queer huskiness in his voice. “Coincidence, - and nothing more. Thank heaven, they didn't get the <i>Campion</i>.” - </p> - <p> - Steele was the last to leave. He said good night to Louise Hansbury in the - little hall outside. He had rung for the elevator. The door, on the latch, - had been closed behind them and they were quite alone for a few minutes. - </p> - <p> - “Louise,” he said, and suddenly his voice,—scarcely more than a - whisper,—sounded strange and unnatural to her, “it's a horrible - thing to say, but the—the trouble is right here in this house. You - heard what the Admiral said? I can't explain how it all happened, but - suddenly I had a—well, a revelation. A great, flaring light seemed - to flash in my face. I give you my word, it was actually blinding. I - thought my heart would never beat again. I saw through everything. It is - all as plain as day to me. God help us all, dearest,—it's—it's - unspeakable. I've just got to tell you,—so that you may be on your - guard. Tomorrow—or as soon as possible, at any rate,—you must - make an excuse to get away from here,—for a visit, or anything you - can think of. But get away you must!” - </p> - <p> - “Do you know what you are saying, Derrolf” she whispered, clutching his - arm. She was trembling like a leaf, and swayed. An expression of the - utmost dread and horror filled her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,—yes, I do. It is terrible,—but, by heaven, it's true,—as - true as we live and breathe.” - </p> - <p> - She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Derrol,—I felt it too,—tonight. - What are we to do? What can be done?” - </p> - <p> - “Hush! Here is the elevator. I can't say anything more tonight. I don't - have to go back to Camp till tomorrow night. Tomorrow morning,—I'll - call up. I must see you alone—and not here.” - </p> - <p> - “I go out every morning for a walk,—about eleven,” she breathed. - </p> - <p> - The elevator door slid open. - </p> - <p> - “Good night,” said he. She clasped his hand in silence. Then she went back - into the apartment, and, as one drugged, passed the drawingroom door and - staggered down the hall toward her bedroom. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Carstairs, alone in the drawing-room, saw the girl pass, and stepped - quickly to the door. - </p> - <p> - “Louise, dear,—are you ill!” she called out. - </p> - <p> - “No,—Aunt Frieda. I—I'm all right. Good night.” - </p> - <p> - “Good night, dear. Sleep late.” - </p> - <p> - The door down the long hall closed softly, and Frieda Carstairs turned - back into the drawingroom with a sigh. Her husband was looking over the - night mail that had been piled on his desk in the study. She went in to - him. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if poor, dear Alfred is struggling with that abominable - nightmare of his,” she said. “Really, Davenport, the boy is wearing - himself out. I don't see why physics should be so difficult for him.” - </p> - <p> - “They were difficult for me, my dear,” said he, looking up. Their eyes - met, and she smiled gently, lovingly. He took her firm, steady hand and - pressed it to his cheek.. - </p> - <p> - “I think I'll run in and shoo him off to bed. If only he wouldn't smoke - that dreadful pipe while he studies. He breathes nothing but smoke.” - </p> - <p> - “Doesn't hurt him a bit,” said he. “They've got sheet-iron lungs, you see,—these - sophomores.” - </p> - <p> - She left him and went down to her son's room. Carstairs was staring - fixedly, intently into space when she returned,—he knew not how long - afterwards. He came out of his reverie with a start when she spoke to him - from the door. - </p> - <p> - “Alfie is going out for a breath of fresh air,” she said. “It seemed to me - his room was stuffier and smokier than I've ever known it to be before. - Really, dear, he is dreadfully trying. He—” - </p> - <p> - “My dear, you've never been a boy,” said he, collecting himself and - smiling. “You don't know what it is to be completely self-satisfied.” - </p> - <p> - “I'll be back in a few minutes,” said Alfred, coming up behind his mother. - “Are you going to sit up much longer, mother?” - </p> - <p> - “A little while. Hurry back, dear. Don't go out without your overcoat. - There is quite a chill in the air.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>R. PAUL - ZIMMERLEIN'S telephone rang shortly before midnight. He lived in a small, - exclusive hotel on one of the crosstown streets, near Fifth Avenue. A - brief conversation over the wire ensued. A few minutes later he appeared - at the desk in the office downstairs, dressed for the street. He was very - angry. - </p> - <p> - “Why was I not informed when I came in this evening that Mr. Prince had - called up and was expecting me to join his party at the Helvetia for - supper, Mr. Rogers? He rang me up at nine o'clock and instructed you to - put the message in my box.” - </p> - <p> - “I have no recollection of—” - </p> - <p> - “Of course you haven't. You never do have any recollection. None of you. I - shall take the matter up with the manager in the morning, Rogers. It has - happened before. The least you could have done was to stick the message in - my box.” - </p> - <p> - “I will inquire of the telephone operator. The regular boy is off tonight. - If there has been any carelessness, Mr. Zimmerlein, it has been with her,—not - with us, sir,” said the clerk, with the servility that is sometimes - mistaken for civility on the part of hotel clerks. - </p> - <p> - “I haven't time to listen to her excuses. They have been waiting for me - since eleven o'clock, and I have been in my room since ten.” - </p> - <p> - “I know, sir. It was a little before ten when you came in.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, be good enough to investigate. I warn you that I intend to complain - in the morning.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry, sir,” began the clerk, but Zimmerlein was already on his way - to the street. - </p> - <p> - The night-clerk scowled after him, and then retired behind the key-rack to - consult the operator. - </p> - <p> - “What's the matter with you?” he demanded. “Zimmerlein's sore as a crab - about not getting a message that came in at nine,—he says,—and - he 's going to raise hell about it.” - </p> - <p> - “Nobody called him up,—not till just a few minutes ago. It's the old - gag. I heard what the guy said to Zimmerlein,—about calling up at - nine and giving directions and all that bunk,—and I had to hold my - tongue between my teeth to keep from butting in and telling him he was a - liar, and—” - </p> - <p> - “Tell that to Mr. Coxhorn in the morning,” broke in the clerk, and moved - languidly away. That was the extent of his investigations. - </p> - <p> - The Helvetia was a brisk five minutes' walk from Zimmerlein's hotel. He - did it in three. - </p> - <p> - “Is Mr. Prince entertaining in his rooms or in the café?” he inquired at - the desk. - </p> - <p> - “In the café, Mr. Zimmerlein.” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks.” - </p> - <p> - Fifteen minutes later, he sauntered up to a table at which a party of - seven or eight people were seated. Nodding and smiling in his most amiable - manner to the ladies, he laid his hand on the shoulder of one of the men. - </p> - <p> - “Sorry, old man, but they didn't give me your message. I should have been - sitting on the doorstep waiting for you, if I'd known you really wanted - me. Thanks for calling me up again. It was good of you, and I'll try to - make up for all the lost time and trouble by being as agreeable as I know - how to be.” He added an encircling smile. The ladies appeared to cheer up - measurably. - </p> - <p> - The man addressed, a huge individual with a tremendous expanse of white - shirt front, betrayed not the slightest sign of surprise or confusion. - With all the profound affability of a far-Westerner, he made the newcomer - welcome. If his steel-grey eyes bored inquiringly into Zimmerlein's for - the briefest instant, no one else at the table was aware of the fact. Nor - did any one observe the warning that shot back from the narrowing eyes of - the belated guest. - </p> - <p> - A waiter produced a chair for Zimmerlein, and placed it between two of the - ladies, who, with evident eagerness, made room for him. His smile deepened - as he shook his head, affecting dismay. - </p> - <p> - “Not yet, but soon,” he pleaded. “I ran across an old friend of yours out - in the lobby, Prince. Stillwell. I told him you'd be happy to have him - join you, but as he's just off the train, he says he's filthy.” - </p> - <p> - “Where is he?” cried Prince, starting up. “I wouldn't miss seeing him for - anything in the world. An old pal of mine in Japan,” he explained to his - guests. - </p> - <p> - “If you will excuse us both, we 'll—” began Zimmerlein - apologetically. - </p> - <p> - “Come along,” interrupted Prince, grabbing the other's arm. “Good old - Still! We 'll bring him back with us if we have to drag him in. You 'll <i>love</i> - him,” he added boisterously. - </p> - <p> - The two men hurried from the café. They did not speak until they reached a - deserted corner of the hotel lobby. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0111.jpg" alt="0111 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0111.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “What's up?” demanded Prince. - </p> - <p> - “I've just bad some damnably disturbing news. It's pretty bad, but I think - I've got word to the right people in time to head off—trouble. I was - just going to bed when I was called up on the 'phone. By God, he's - cool-headed, I'll say that for him. Said he was you, and wanted to know - why the devil I hadn't showed up over here. I was wise in a second. We met - in the most casual manner at the corner. He will go a long way, that chap - will, mark my words. He's as keen as a fox and as resolute as the devil. I - can't explain here, Prince. We must get back to your party. My alibi lies - there, you know, if I should happen to need it. You understand, don't - you?” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly. I knew something was in the wind. Is it serious? Tell me - that.” - </p> - <p> - “It <i>can</i> be serious,—desperately serious. But we can't do - anything now. At one o'clock I shall ask you to excuse me, Prince. - Engagement very early in the morning. Much-needed rest,—and so on. - And, by the way, we were unable to locate Folwell. He—” - </p> - <p> - “Stillwell, wasn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “So it was. 'Grad, my nerves must be shot up worse than I thought. At any - rate, he had vanished.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you managed to get in touch with any one else?” - </p> - <p> - “I've sent word to—Jehovah!” Zimmerlein permitted himself what was - meant to be a smile, but was instead an ugly grin. - </p> - <p> - “About the only name that's safe to utter in these days,” said Prince, - looking over his shoulder. - </p> - <p> - “You've done your bit tonight, my friend, by simply being who and what and - where you are. Nothing more is required of you.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm not asking questions,” said Prince, scowling. - </p> - <p> - “You have asked <i>one</i>,” snapped Zimmerlein. “Oh, Lord! Haven't I a - right to—” - </p> - <p> - “There is nothing more to be said on the subject,” said the other, fixing - the big man with a look that caused him to quail. “You know as well as I - just what our law is, Prince. I am not above it,—nor are you. Now, - let us return.” Shortly after one o'clock, Zimmerlein said good night to - the host and the guests upon whom he had deliberately imposed himself, and - went forth into the night. A short distance down the street, he was hailed - by a lone taxi-driver, who called out in the laconic, perfunctory manner - of his kind: - </p> - <p> - “Taxi?” - </p> - <p> - Zimmerlein walked on a few paces, and then, apparently reconsidering, - turned back. - </p> - <p> - “Take me to the Pennsylvania,” he said, and got into the cab. - </p> - <p> - When he took his seat, it was between two men who slunk down in the - corners and kept their faces and bodies well out of sight from the - occupants of passing cars and pedestrians on the sidewalk. - </p> - <p> - An unusual amount of clatter attended the getting under way of the car. - The exhaust roared, the gears grated and snarled, and the loose links of - tire-chains banged resoundingly against the mud-guards. - </p> - <p> - A quarter of an hour elapsed. Zimmerlein did most of the talking. Then, as - the taxi drew up in front of the little hotel in the cross-town street, he - got down and handed the driver a bank-note. His last words, before leaving - the car, were: - </p> - <p> - “Remember, now. There must be no mistake, no slip-up. Be dead sure before - you do a thing. He is to disappear,—that's all. There must be no - trace,—absolutely no trace.” As he sauntered into the hotel, the - taxi rattled swiftly off in the direction of Broadway, its remaining - occupants silent and white-faced, but with lips and jaws rigidly set. - </p> - <p> - “No complaint after all, Rogers,” said he to the night clerk, rather - jauntily. “My friend confessed that he hadn't called me up at all. It was - his nice little way of stringing me. Assuage the poor girl's grief if you - know how, Rogers. Tell her it's all right, and she can sleep soundly at - the switch. Also, be good enough to say to her that I apologize for myself - and for my friend.” - </p> - <p> - Rogers watched him enter the elevator, and once more strolled back to the - switchboard. - </p> - <p> - “Hey! Wake up. Zimmerlein's just come in. He's stewed and says his - friend's a liar. There won't be any court-martial.” - </p> - <p> - The girl yawned. “Say, has that darned old clock stopped, or is it still - only ten minutes of two? It's been that for an hour. Never again for me. - Next time Pilcher wants to get off till half-past 'leven, he needn't leave - a call for me. I'm through accommodating that mutt. My Gawd! Two o'clock, - and he swore he'd be here by eleven. I ought to report him. Do a guy like - that a favour and he—What was that you said about old Zim-zim? D'you - say he was soused?” - </p> - <p> - “No. I said stewed. He's carryin' an egg on an oyster fork. I never saw - him drunk before.” - </p> - <p> - At his usual hour for breakfasting, Mr. Zimmerlein briskly entered the - dining-room the next morning and seated himself at his customary table - near the window. Two morning newspapers lay beside his plate of sliced - oranges. His eyes swept the headlines on the front page. A slight frown - darkened his brow. He looked again, a little more closely. Then he took up - the other paper. A certain eagerness that had been in his eyes when he sat - down gave way to something bordering on astonishment. His interest passed - quickly to the second, third and fourth pages. - </p> - <p> - There wasn't a line,—not a solitary line about the sinking of the <i>Elston!</i> - </p> - <p> - He had encountered Elberon late in the afternoon of the preceding day. He - was going into the club as the other came out. - </p> - <p> - “You will read something great in the morning papers,” Elberson had said - guardedly. “Perhaps in the extras tonight.” - </p> - <p> - “I am always reading something great in the newspapers,” he had replied. - </p> - <p> - “They got the <i>Elston</i>. Report came about two o'clock. No details. I - doubt whether it is known in Washington yet.” - </p> - <p> - But the morning papers had no account of the sinking. Not a word. What did - it mean? Could it be possible that <i>their</i> news travelled so much - faster than that obtained by the eager, avid Press? Were they even ahead - of Washington? Elberon was in a position to know. He never went off - half-cocked. There wasn't the least doubt in Zimmerlein's mind that the <i>Elston</i> - had been sunk,—but why this amazing failure of the newspapers to—— - He started suddenly. Comprehension flooded his brain. His eyes lighted up - again. He understood in a flash. Suppressed! The news of the destruction - of the <i>Elston</i> with all those vitally important men on board,—Why, - of course! It <i>had</i> to be suppressed! - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless, he decided to drop in and see Elberon on his way down town. - </p> - <p> - As for last night's business, if it came to a head at all, it was after - the papers had gone to press. Still, he took the time to run through both - papers with unusual thoroughness. It was barely possible that a paragraph,—one - of those widely spaced paragraphs that always exact attention,—might - have stopped the presses at the last minute. - </p> - <p> - He slid indifferently over the account of a disastrous fire along the - water-front of an American port from which heavily laden ships departed - almost daily for French and English destinations. He knew all about <i>that</i>. - </p> - <p> - Elberon was not at his place of business. This defection on the part of - Elberon exasperated him. It was a new sensation. He could not account for - the sudden and admittedly unreasonable sense of irritation that assailed - him, for, after all, Elberon regulated his actions according to the - demands of his own business. The merchant's secretary announced that he - doubted if his employer would be in the office before noon. He thought he - had gone Christmas shopping with his wife. - </p> - <p> - “Damn Christmas!” muttered Zimmerlein as he closed the door behind him and - stalked off into the counter-lined aisles that led by rectangular turns to - the street. - </p> - <p> - The business of the night just ended had got on his nerves. His hand shook - a little as he paused inside the doors to light a cigarette. It was a bad - “business”; there was no use trying to make light of it. - </p> - <p> - Miss Mildred Agnew welcomed him with a cheery “Good morning,” and the - alert office-boy went her one better by adding the information that it was - “a fine day, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Any messages, Miss Agnew?” inquired Zimmerlein. - </p> - <p> - “A telephone call, sir, from the steward of the Black Downs Country Club. - He says there is a leak and wants to know if you, as chairman of the house - committee, will do something about it right away.” - </p> - <p> - “A leak?” he demanded, stopping short. - </p> - <p> - “So he said, Mr. Zimmerlein.” - </p> - <p> - “Get him on the telephone and ask him to come in and see me at once.” - </p> - <p> - He was frowning darkly as the office-boy relieved him of his hat and coat - and hung them up in the closet. His mail received scant attention. As a - matter of fact, he swept the pile aside and touched a button on the corner - of the desk. - </p> - <p> - Thorsensel came into the private office, carrying a roll of blue-prints. - </p> - <p> - “Any word?” asked Zimmerlein, as the other carefully and deliberately - spread the prints on the desk and weighted one end of them down with a - heavy steel ruler. - </p> - <p> - “No. Not a word.” - </p> - <p> - “It's—it's rather queer, don't you think?” - </p> - <p> - “You are nervous, Zimmerlein,” said Thorsensel, after a moment in which he - studied the other with a keen and soul-searching eye. “It won't do, my - friend. Nervousness tends to irritation, and irritation leads to - impatience. You know what happens to the impatient, Zimmerlein.” - </p> - <p> - “Damn it all, I <i>am</i> nervous. I admit it. Don't lecture me. I'm not - going to lose my grit,—or my head either.” - </p> - <p> - “You can't lose one without the other, you know,” remarked Thorsensel - sententiously. “What do you suppose has happened?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing,—nothing at all,” said the other. “You mean that—that - they didn't pull it off? God, that is the very worst that could have - happened.” - </p> - <p> - “That is exactly what I mean. You need not worry, however. Trust Scarf to - play it safe. If he saw that there was the slightest chance of failure, he - would have taken no risk. That's Scarf, my friend. Calm yourself. We will - hear from him before noon. He will have worked out another plan, you may - be sure.” - </p> - <p> - It may be mentioned here and now that Zimmerlein had consulted Thorsensel—the - mastermind,—before taking a step in the affair of the night just - past. He had gone directly from his hotel to the little French café down - the street. He knew that it was the unvarying habit of the strange, silent - engineer to drop in at this quaint place for a bite of something to eat - and a bottle of red wine at midnight. Thorsensel never missed doing this. - There was method in his continence. - </p> - <p> - A big and vital problem confronted Zimmerlein. - </p> - <p> - He did not dare act without consulting his pseudo-subordinate. Thorsensel - took the matter out of his hands. It was he who laid the plans. Zimmerlein - became merely an instrument, with certain functions to perform, and - nothing more. - </p> - <p> - “I hope you are right,” said Zimmerlein, absorbing some of the other's - fatalistic assurance. “God help us if you are wrong.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear man, God helps us because we are right, not because we are - wrong,” said Thorsensel, laying his big, clenched fist upon the desk,—not - violently but with a gentleness that suggested vast strength held under - control by the power of a vaster will. - </p> - <p> - Zimmerlein drew a long, deep breath. - </p> - <p> - “You've heard about the <i>Elston</i>, I suppose?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. They got her. I knew they would. That was the greatest tip we've - ever had. Our report is that not one of the big bugs on board was saved. A - number of the crew got off in boats, but they had to hurry. She went down - in eight minutes. They made a good job of it, bless 'em. No wonder the - night wind weeps! Now, we'll see what old England has to say for the - invincibility of her fleet, and what she 'll say to the United States for - letting the cat out of the bag.” He laughed aloud,—for the first - time in the memory of Zimmerlein. Several of the men in the drafting-room - looked up. They stared unblinkingly at the laugher. - </p> - <p> - The forenoon wore away. Thorsensel shuttled between the drafting-room and - the private office. He no longer laughed. The pleased, confident look had - left his eyes; in its stead lurked something that finally developed into - real, undisguised anxiety. An atmosphere of restraint settled down like a - cloud over the offices. The uneasiness of the two principal figures in the - place was acutely infectious. - </p> - <p> - The report of Peter Hooge, the steward of the Black Downs Country Club, - who arrived shortly after noon, neither increased nor lessened the strain. - He was unnecessarily alarmed. What if secret service men did visit the - club-house and question the employés? That was not an unusual proceeding. - They were doing something of the sort all the time. But, said Peter, they - obtained a list of all the members and guests of the club present on the - premises at the time of the Reynolds explosion. Naturally, said both - Zimmerlein and Thorsensel: That was just what they <i>would</i> do. - Precious little good it would do them, however. - </p> - <p> - “I was obliged to show them my passports and papers from the Swiss - Government,” said Peter. - </p> - <p> - “Well, they were all in order, weren't they?” - </p> - <p> - “Perfectly. That isn't the point. The mere fact that they asked for them - proves something, doesn't it?” - </p> - <p> - “You are too old a bird to be frightened by pop-guns, Hooge,” said - Thorsensel, gnawing at his moustache. “These fellows, from what I know of - them, couldn't catch the scent of a polecat.” - </p> - <p> - “I'm not so sure of that,” put in Zimmerlein. “They've landed some pretty - big fish.” - </p> - <p> - “They've landed a pack of blatant asses,” snapped Thorsensel. “Good God, - man, you don't put Reistelen and others of his stripe in the class with—well, - with a few I could mention, do you? They've only touched the surface, my - friend. It is very deep,—very deep indeed—where the big fishes - lie. Go back to your work, Hooge,—and don't worry us again with - trifles.” - </p> - <p> - Late in the afternoon Scarf came in. He came as a stoop-shouldered, - consumptive-looking, unwashed District Messenger of uncertain age and - stability. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” cried Zimmerlein, glaring at the man. - </p> - <p> - “Where in hell have you been?” grated Thorsensel. - </p> - <p> - “That's just where I have been,” replied the messenger, straightening his - bent figure and drawing a long, full breath. He passed his hand across his - brow. “Or rather, I've been close enough to get an unpleasant whiff of - it.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't sit down!” exclaimed Zimmerlein, as the man prepared to sink into a - chair. - </p> - <p> - “I 'm all in, I 've got to,” and down he flopped. After a moment he leaned - forward and fixed the others with burning, hitter eyes. “In the first - place, do you know what's happened to Elberon?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” fell in unison from the lips of the two men. - </p> - <p> - “Well, he's sitting up in the United States Attorney's office with half a - dozen experts trying to pump intelligence out of him.” - </p> - <p> - An imprecation ground its way out between Thorsensel's teeth. Zimmerlein's - lower lip tightened against his teeth. - </p> - <p> - “I had it from Zumpe. They went to Elberon's house early this morning,—on - the quiet, of course,—nothing for the public,—and took him - down for a grilling. Zumpe says old Elberon has been getting pretty gabby - with one or two people who ought to be good Germans but ain't.” - </p> - <p> - “The infernal fool! I have warned him repeatedly,” snarled Thorsensel. “He - has been very thick lately with Kleinhans, the banker. I told him to take - no chances with that man. I mentioned a few others too.” - </p> - <p> - “Some of 'em are straight, eh?” queried Scarf, a twist at the corner of - his mouth that went for a sneer. - </p> - <p> - “Straight? No! Crooked as rattlesnakes! I wouldn't trust a man like - Kleinhans out of my sight. He actually thinks he's an American,—and - God knows that makes him worse than one. Well? Goon. What else?” - </p> - <p> - “That's all I know about Elberon. As for that other little matter,—” - He stopped to wet his lips. - </p> - <p> - Zimmerlein muttered hoarsely: “Little matter!” - </p> - <p> - “I'm lucky, that's all,” said Scarf, and again passed his hand over his - brow. - </p> - <p> - “Get on with it. You can't stay here all afternoon,” commanded Thorsensel. - </p> - <p> - “We came within an ace of dropping into a pit—a bottomless pit at - that. Why didn't you tell me that secret service men were trailing him, - Zimmerlein?” - </p> - <p> - “What? What's that you say?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, damn your eyes, Zimmerlein, that guy was suspected of giving - information to the enemy. He's been watched like a hawk. We got onto it - just in time. Don't you see what would have happened if they had followed - us to his room? You don't, eh? Well, I'll tell you. We would have been - nabbed with him,—before anything could have happened,—caught - in the very net they were laying for him. His <i>pals</i>,—that's - what they would have made of us,—his comrades, mind you, not his - enemies. How the devil could we have explained? And would they have - believed him, no matter what he said about us? Not on your life. The very - thing they were watching for would have happened. A rendezvous! They would - have had him dead to rights,—delivering information received earlier - in the night to two German agents,—oh, what a diabolical joke it - would have been on him, and what a devil of a mess we would have been in! - God, I shiver every time I think of it,—and I've been shivering all - day, let me tell you.” - </p> - <p> - “Secret service men after <i>him?</i>” muttered Thorsensel, incredulously. - “What's the angle, Zimmerlein,—what's the angle? You are supposed to - be on the inside up there. What do you know about this?” - </p> - <p> - “I am completely in the dark. I can't understand it, Thorsensel. It—are - you sure, Scarf?” - </p> - <p> - “Absolutely. They got Blechter,—yanked him off the taxi when he - stopped around in the next block, according to plans. He was to wait for - us there,—fixing his engine as a blind,—stalling for time. He - put up a fight,—poor fool. They got him just the same.” - </p> - <p> - “Will he squeal?” demanded Zimmerlein, pacing the floor. - </p> - <p> - “You ought to know. He's your protégé,” said Scarf succinctly. - </p> - <p> - “Better dead than alive, I'd say,” said Thorsensel unfeelingly. “Go on.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, from all I could learn, two of them waited outside the building and - two of 'em were inside—I don't know just where. I think one of them - was running the front elevator. All I know is that Ruddy and I barely had - time to get out of the window and onto a little balcony and drop down to - the one below, before they smashed in the door. Twelve foot drop, too,—and - the balcony wasn't more than three feet wide. If we'd missed—Lord!” - </p> - <p> - “You were in his room?” cried Thorsensel. - </p> - <p> - “Sure. We got in through the building next door, sneaked up ten flights of - stairs to the top. Got out on the roof through the 'dog-house,' and - dropped down to the other roof. Sort of penthouse arrangement up there. - Very simple after that. We had his apartment pretty well marked. Ninth - floor front. It's closed except when he comes up occasionally from camp - for a night or two. Family in the South somewhere, servants dismissed. We - didn't waste any time. Had it all doped out. Went to his door and rang the - bell. Pretty soon he came and opened it and asked what we wanted. We told - him right off the reel that we were in the secret service and had to have - a talk with him at once about a certain party he knows. He told us to go - to hell. Then I showed him my badge and mentioned a name that bowled him - over. He said: 'My God!' and drew back into the room. We went in and - closed the door. - </p> - <p> - “I asked him first if there was anybody in the apartment—anybody - that would be likely to hear our conversation. He said he was alone,—his - people were out of town for the winter. Ruddy asked him point blank just - what he knew about a certain party,—all of it. He came back with a - question. 'Has there been an arrest?' 'Yes,' says I. He sat down, limp as - a rag. 'My God, it's terrible—horrible,' he says. 'Who put you wise? - How much is actually known?' That was enough for Ruddy. He stuck the gun - under his ear and let him have it. He never knew what hit him. Ruddy - dropped the revolver on the floor beside the chair,—just where he - would have dropped it himself,—and then we started out to see if we - could find anything in the apartment that oughtn't to be lying around - loose. I forgot to say there was a Maxim silencer on the gun. We had just - entered the first bed-room when his door bell rang. Two hearts stopped - beating right there and then. For a minute we were paralysed. Then there - was pounding on the door, and we heard some one say, 'Open up, or we 'll - smash it in!' - </p> - <p> - “No use wasting time on minor details. After we got onto the balcony - below, we opened the French windows, and sneaked into a big apartment,—darker - than Egypt except when the light from a big electric sign down the street - flashed every few seconds. We got out into the hall without rousing - anybody and started down the stairs. Of course, we thought it was the - elevator man pounding on the door up there,—he might have heard the - muffled report if he happened to be near that floor. God was with us. We - got down to the ground floor all right, but there we struck something - worse than a stone wall. Two men were standing right in front of the - passenger elevator. We jumped behind a curtain they have hanging there to - hide the stairway. They didn't hear us. They were talking about Blechter. - We knew in a second what they were. There was a cubby hole under the - stairs where they keep mops and brooms and such stuff. We got in there, - leaving a crack through which we could hear. After awhile the front - elevator came down. We heard 'em all talking. They said he had shot - himself, and they cursed their luck because they hadn't been able to take - him alive. He must have been warned that they were after him. That's what - they were roaring about. After a while we got out of the mop-hole and - sneaked down to the basement. The doors were locked, and there were men in - the engine room—a night fireman and a friend of his who was drunk - and had come in to sleep it off. Somebody was walking up and down in the - little court outside. We didn't dare risk a dash for it, so we hid under a - pile of last summer's awnings for a couple of hours. When we couldn't - stand it any longer, we decided to put on a bold front and pass ourselves - off as plainclothes-men. It was dead easy. The employes about the place - were scared stiff. All we had to do was to look hard at the head porter - and the back elevator man, and tell 'em not to let anybody go near the - storeroom for apartment E 9,—not on their lives. Here's the evening - paper. You can read what it says.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ouise Hansbury did - not go out for her customary “constitutional” that morning. She arose, - tired and depressed after a sleepless night. Soon after she had her - breakfast,—chocolate and toast and a prescribed porridge,—she - complained of a sudden and violent nausea. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Carstairs went in to see her, and was alarmed. She took the girl's - temperature and then called up the doctor. - </p> - <p> - “You have a fever,” she said. “You must go back to bed. It's nothing, I - daresay, but we have to be on the safe side, dear.” - </p> - <p> - Louise betrayed her agitation. She pleaded to be allowed to dress and go - out for her walk. There were moments when actual fear lurked in her dark - eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I will be all right in a little while, Aunt Frieda. Don't be cross with - me. I must have eaten something last night that disagreed with me. The - lobster,—I ate a tiny bit of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Very likely,” said her aunt calmly. “All the more reason for being - careful today. No, my dear, I must insist on your remaining in bed,—at - least until Dr. Browne has seen you.” - </p> - <p> - “When is he coming?” - </p> - <p> - “The attendant said she could locate him and would send him here as soon - as possible. He is out making his calls.” - </p> - <p> - “The chocolate tasted queerly this morning, Aunt Frieda,” said the girl, - feverishly. - </p> - <p> - “Imagination. Nothing tastes right when one's stomach is upset.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I want so much to get out for a breath of fresh air. It is a - perfectly lovely day. I am sure Dr. Browne will say it's the best thing in - the world—” - </p> - <p> - “Dr. Browne doesn't know everything,” interrupted Mrs. Carstairs. She laid - her hand on the girl's hot forehead. “You <i>must</i> go back to bed,—just - for a little while,” she said, and there was an inexorableness in her tone - that roused swift resentment in Louise. A rebellious, angry light - smouldered in her eyes. “I know what is best for you. If it should turn - out to be ptomaine poisoning—” - </p> - <p> - “It can't be ptomaine if it came from the chocolate I drank,” sad Louise, - excitement causing her voice to tremble and to take on a certain - shrillness. - </p> - <p> - “I am confident it is all due to nervousness,” said Mrs. Carstairs. She - spoke in a patient, consoling manner. “Dr. Browne will give you something - to straighten out your digestion, and you will be all right by tomorrow. - You are not strong yet, you know. Just be patient, my dear. It takes - time.” - </p> - <p> - “I should like to telephone, Aunt Frieda,” said the girl abruptly. - Submissive to the gentle but unyielding authority of the older woman, who - dominated as one with the power to scourge if resistance continued, she - had begun to divest herself, rather helplessly, of the gay peignoir in - which she had breakfasted. With feverish haste, she slipped her arms - through the loose folds, and faced her aunt. There was defiance in her - glance. For an instant it held. - </p> - <p> - The calm smile and the tolerant shake of the head, as to a pleading child, - shattered her resolve; she saw that argument was useless. The robe fell - from her shoulders as she turned away with a sob in her throat. - </p> - <p> - “Is it important?” inquired the older woman. - </p> - <p> - “I—this afternoon will do as well, I suppose,” replied the girl, - without turning her head. - </p> - <p> - “Let me call up for you, dear. It is no trouble at all. I can explain that - you are ill.” - </p> - <p> - “No, thank you, Aunt Frieda. It—it doesn't matter.” - </p> - <p> - She hesitated about confiding to Mrs. Carstairs that she was going out to - meet her lover. Something told her that it would be the wrong thing to do,—something - that for want of another name would have to go as cunning. She shared a - vague, disturbing secret with Steele.... - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Carstairs tucked the bedclothes about her. - </p> - <p> - “The doctor will be here soon, I am sure,” she said. “Do you feel any - better? Are you more comfortable?” - </p> - <p> - “I am in no pain,—if that's what you mean. Just this wretched - nausea. What do the morning papers say about the loss of the <i>Elston</i>, - Aunt Frieda?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing, I believe. Your uncle says there was no mention of it. I daresay - the news has been held up for the time being. Waiting for full details. - Wasn't it fortunate,—wasn't it providential that the transfer to the - <i>Campion</i> was so cleverly accomplished?” - </p> - <p> - A maid-servant came to the door. - </p> - <p> - “You are wanted on the telephone, Mrs. Carstairs. Shall I say you are - engaged?” - </p> - <p> - “Who is it, Wrenn?” - </p> - <p> - “A gentleman. I couldn't catch the name, Mrs. Carstairs.” - </p> - <p> - “I will see who it is.” - </p> - <p> - After she had closed Louise's door behind her, Frieda Carstairs stood - stockstill in the long corridor. She put her hand to her breast and held - it there lightly, as if to transmit its vital strength to the organ which - pounded so violently. Her tall figure was tense; her face took on the - pallor of death and its rigidity. For as long as fifteen or twenty - seconds, she remained motionless. Then her lips moved stiffly; they - twitched as in a spasm of pain. The two words they formed hut did not - utter were: - </p> - <p> - “Poor girl!” - </p> - <p> - Once, as she covered the short distance to her own sitting-room, her - figure swayed slightly. She even put out a hand to steady herself against - the wall,—a needless precaution, for she instantly regained command - of herself. - </p> - <p> - She closed the door, and, before taking up the receiver, threw in the - device which cut out the instrument from other extensions in the - apartment,—those in the butler's pantry, her husband's study, and - the one that stood on the night-table at the head of his bed. Her knees - suddenly became weak; they trembled as with the palsy. She sat down at the - writing table and dropped her elbow heavily on the top. Again she feared - that she was going to faint. - </p> - <p> - “Yes?” she murmured thickly into the transmitter, and, instantly realizing - that her voice betrayed nervousness and even alarm, repeated the word - firmly, crisply. “Yes,—this is Mrs. Carstairs.” - </p> - <p> - “I am speaking for the <i>Evening——</i>” (the name of the - newspaper was indistinctly pronounced)—“and I called up, Mrs. - Carstairs, to ask if it is true that Captain Derrol Steele was engaged to - be married to your niece, Miss Louise Hansbury?” - </p> - <p> - She did not reply. Her lips parted but no sound issued forth. - </p> - <p> - Again the voice spoke in her ear. “Are you there?” - </p> - <p> - The “yes” she uttered in reply was little more than a hoarse gasp. And - then: “I hear you quite distinctly.” There was a click at the other end. - Slowly, as in a daze, she hung up the receiver. Not another word passed. - </p> - <p> - She did not leave the apartment that day, but spent most of the time with - her niece, whose indisposition was promptly diagnosed as an acute attack - of indigestion by the learned and complacent physician, who dosed her and - went his way. He ordered her to remain in bed; he would run in and see her - in the morning. If anything, ah!—a—alarming turned up, he - murmured to Mrs. Carstairs, she was to call him at once. Not likely, of - course, said he, nothing to be apprehensive about, but—well, you - never can tell. Resistance not yet fully restored,—and, “after all, - as I've said all along, Mrs. Carstairs, one's own resistance is the best - chemistry going, and one has to fill his own prescription when it comes to - that sort of thing, don't you know.” - </p> - <p> - Being a very fashionable doctor he gave her pyromedan to bring down the - temperature in a hurry, and codeine to quiet the pain. - </p> - <p> - Davenport Carstairs seldom reached his home before six or half-past. It - was his custom,—if business happened to be indulgent,—to drop - in at his favourite club about four in the afternoon. On this afternoon, - however, he drove straight home from the office. The clock in the hall was - striking four as he entered the apartment. The afternoon newspapers were - under his arm,—four or five of them. - </p> - <p> - “Has Mrs. Carstairs come in, Hollowell?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Carstairs did not go out today, sir. Miss Hansbury is ill.” - </p> - <p> - Ordinarily Carstairs would have been disturbed by this information. He had - been gravely worried over his niece's condition. Hollowell's supplementary - statement, however, appeared to have fallen on deaf ears. - </p> - <p> - “Say that I'm home, Hollowell, and in my room.” - </p> - <p> - “Very good, sir. Is there anything I can do, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Do? What do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - “I thought perhaps you might be ill, sir. I—” - </p> - <p> - “Not at all, not at all,” somewhat irascibly. “Ask Mrs. Carstairs to come - to my room—Wait! Have you had any news here today?” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir,—nothink as I am aware of, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “No—er—commotion?” - </p> - <p> - “I think not, sir. It isn't serious. Sort of—ah—what you might - call stomach—ah—although cook says it can't have been anything - she ate last—” - </p> - <p> - “<i>By</i> the way, what made you think I was ill?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,—since you ask, sir,—you do look a bit seedy, sir,—that - is to say pale and—” - </p> - <p> - “I wish to see Mrs. Carstairs alone. Please avoid mentioning my return in - Miss Hansbury's presence.” - </p> - <p> - He went at once to his study, where, moved by the remark of the butler, he - stared long and hard at his features in a mirror. His face was ashen grey, - and suddenly, strangely old. - </p> - <p> - He had tossed the newspapers on the rare old Italian table in the centre - of the room. After a few moments of complete abstraction, his dull, - frowning gaze was raised from the floor to sweep the room,—which, - for some strange, almost uncanny cause, seemed almost unfamiliar to him. - And yet it was the same,—nothing had been changed. Only he had - altered—his own perspective had undergone a vast, incomprehensible - change. His eyes falling upon the papers, he took them up, one by one, and - stared again at a certain headline in each,—a raw caption that - fascinated him and hurt him like the cut of a knife. - </p> - <p> - It did not occur to him until long afterwards, and then only in - retrospective contemplation of events that filled the most important day - in his life, that his wife was a long time in appearing. She came into the - study at last, and, as was her unvarying custom, pressed her lips to his - cheek. He noticed that her lips, always moist and soft and alive, were hot - and dry and as dead as parchment. Before he spoke a word to her, he - crossed the room and closed the door into the hall. - </p> - <p> - She was staring at him in amazement as he turned toward her again. - </p> - <p> - “What has happened, Davenport! You—you look so strange,—so—Oh, - something dreadful has happened! Is it—is it Alfred! Tell me! For - God's sake, don't—” - </p> - <p> - “It isn't Alfred, my dear,” said he. There was a dull, hollow note in his - voice,—a note that held to one key. “Where is Louise!” - </p> - <p> - “In bed. She hasn't been well—” - </p> - <p> - “We must manage somehow to break this thing gently to her. It might—there - is no telling what it may do to her, Frieda.” - </p> - <p> - She steadied herself against the table. Her face now was as white as his. - It had been pale before; now it was livid. - </p> - <p> - “What is it, Davenport?” He looked searchingly, anxiously into her eyes - for a moment, and then said: “It will be a shock to you too, Frieda,—but - I know you. You can take it like a soldier. Derrol Steele shot himself - last night. He is dead. He—There, there, dearest! I shouldn't have - blurted it out like—sit down here, Frieda! That's right! Poor old - girl! Curse me for a blundering fool! I might have known it would be a - dreadful shock to you. You were devoted to him. He—” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me,—tell me everything, Davenport,” she broke in, her eyes - fixed on his lips. She did not look into his eyes. He was leaning over - her, clasping one of her hands,—a hand that suddenly became limp - after the utmost rigidity. “Just a moment. Compose yourself. Pull yourself - together, dear. It's—it's a cruel story—an incredible story. I - would have staked my soul on Derrol Steele. I've known him since he was a - little boy. If I had been asked to name the most honourable, the most - loyal man in the—but, Frieda, I was wrong—I was deceived in - him,—just as you were—and Louise. Louise! God, how this will - crush that poor, innocent, loving—” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me!” she insisted, her fingers tightening on his, her voice scarcely - more than a whisper. - </p> - <p> - For answer, he placed the newspaper in her hands, and pointed to the - headline at the top of the page. - </p> - <p> - “Read it, Frieda. Read this first.” - </p> - <p> - He sat on the edge of the table, his arms folded across his breast, and - waited for her to finish. At last the paper fell from her fingers and she - looked up into his face. Her eyes were bleak. - </p> - <p> - “I can't believe it, Davenport,—I will not believe it of Derrol - Steele.” - </p> - <p> - “As soon as I saw the paper,—about two o'clock, I should say,—I - hurried over to the United States Attorney's office. The story is true, - Frieda. It appears that a secret service agent—'gad, how marvellous - they are!—an agent overheard scraps of a conversation between two - men late last night,—in front of a little French restaurant, I think - it was. Steele's name was mentioned two or three times. He was not - interested, however, until he heard them speak of a man long suspected by - the department. Then he pricked up his ears. The marshal did not repeat - the name, for obvious reasons. The man heard enough to convince him that - this suspect and one or two other men were to be at Steele's apartment - before three o'clock this morning. The address was carefully, precisely - given by one of the men, who was very greatly agitated. Captain Steele had - vital information in his possession,—that much, at least, the - listener was able to grasp. One sentence he heard distinctly. I recall it - clearly. 'Tomorrow will be too late,' This was enough for the agent. He - was too clever to arrest these men on the spot. The way was clear for the - seizure of at least four or five men, including an officer in the United - States Army. So he—are you listening, dear?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes!” she replied, as if waking from a dream. - </p> - <p> - “This agent had been set there to watch for a man and a woman, posing as - French people, who are under surveillance. As soon as the speakers parted, - he rushed up the street to an hotel, and called up headquarters. This was - too big a thing to be sidetracked for the French couple. Several - operatives were dispatched immediately to assist him. They went to the - building where Derrol lives—or lived. They seized the driver of the - taxi-cab, but the others evidently got wind of the raid, for when they - went up to Steele's apartment, hoping to catch them in the place with him, - they found him alone. He had slipped a bath gown over his pajamas and was - undoubtedly waiting for his fellow-conspirators. He realized in an instant - that he was trapped. They smashed in the door. While the violent noise was - going on, he shot himself. They did not hear the report, however, due to - the clatter and to the fact that there was a silencer on the revolver. - There was the faintest sign of a pulse, indicating that the shot had been - fired only a minute or two before they burst in and discovered him sitting - in a chair not twenty feet from the door.” - </p> - <p> - The tears rolled down the cheeks of Davenport Carstairs. His voice broke. - </p> - <p> - “I can't believe it of him, Frieda,—I can't believe it.” - </p> - <p> - Her face was ghastly. “We have the proof, Davenport,—the - indisputable proof,” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - “The proof? What proof have <i>we?</i>” - </p> - <p> - “The best proof in the world. He shot himself. Only a guilty man would - have taken his own life in the circumstances. We—we must believe it - of him, Davenport. That poor, sick girl! How are we to tell her?” - </p> - <p> - Of the two, she was now by far the more composed. Except for the - colourless lips and an almost lavender-like hue that stole slowly into her - cheeks just below the temples, indicative of the vast effort she had been - called upon to exert in order to regain command of her nerves, she was - visibly calm and self-contained. Her husband had sunk dejectedly into a - chair. For many minutes no word passed between them. It was she who spoke - first. - </p> - <p> - “You say they caught one of the men—one of the others, I mean?” she - inquired. - </p> - <p> - “The taxi-driver.” - </p> - <p> - Her lips parted to form another question. She withheld it. With her - handkerchief she wiped away the moisture that suddenly appeared at the - corners of her mouth—oozing from between close-pressed lips. - </p> - <p> - She read the accounts in the other papers, her face absolutely - emotionless. After a while he looked up, and, unobserved, watched her - face. - </p> - <p> - “You are a very wonderful woman, Frieda,” he said as she laid the last of - the papers on the table. Her answer was a faint smile and a shake of the - head. - </p> - <p> - She arose and started resolutely toward the door. As she neared it, she - faltered, and then turned back to him. - </p> - <p> - “Davenport, I have just had a most disturbing thought. It also may have - occurred to you. Derrol Steele was a trusted and familiar guest in this - house. He heard many important,—let me go on, please,—I can - see revulsion in your eyes. Whether we like it or not, we must look at it - squarely from every point of view. Last night, for example, he heard the - Admiral; he heard what the Countess had to say about the Italian - situation. Going farther back, you yourself spoke in his presence of the - sailing of the <i>Elston</i> with all those men on board.” - </p> - <p> - “I see what is in your mind, Frieda,” he said slowly. “You mean we may be - dragged into it?” - </p> - <p> - “Not at all,” she said rather sharply. “We need not be drawn into it in - the slightest degree unless we volunteer information that concerns no one - but ourselves. Why should any one know that he came into possession of - facts here in our home?” - </p> - <p> - “Such things are bound to leak out, my dear. The investigation will be - thorough. They will go to the bottom of this. Of course, I can manage it - so that we sha'n't come in for any publicity, but we can't escape - questioning.” - </p> - <p> - “And are we to admit that we discussed these very grave and important - matters in his presence?” - </p> - <p> - “We are to tell the truth, Frieda. You should not forget that we spoke of - them in the presence of an officer in the United States Army.” - </p> - <p> - After a moment she said: “I daresay you are right, Davenport. You are - always right. I was only thinking that in view of the fact that there is - no proof against him except the few words overheard by that man in front - of the café,—well, it is possible, don't you see, that there may - have been some horrid, appalling mistake. They have no other proof,—unless - the United States Attorney withheld something from you.” - </p> - <p> - “They have the best proof in the world. He shot himself, as you have - said.” - </p> - <p> - She half closed her eyes. A queer little spasm twisted her lips apart. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she said unsteadily, “yes, he shot himself.” - </p> - <p> - Her hand was on the door-knob. - </p> - <p> - “Are you going in to tell her now, Frieda?” - </p> - <p> - “I must have a little time,—just a little, dear. I am more shaken - than you think. I must have time to collect myself. It will be very - difficult, Davenport. Stay here. Do not come unless I call to you.” - </p> - <p> - “I leave it all to you, Frieda,—God bless you and God give you - strength.” - </p> - <p> - The door closed behind her. He sat motionless for a long time, wondering - whether he could hear her call to him with that door and doubtless another - intervening. Strange that she should have closed it. He would wait a - little while,—a few minutes only,—and then he would open it - and—listen. - </p> - <p> - She went straight to her own room.... Presently she lifted the telephone - receiver from the hook. The next moment she replaced it, but did not - release it from her tense fingers. - </p> - <p> - She sat rigid, staring at the instrument, resolve and indecision - struggling for mastery. At last she pushed the instrument away and sank - back in the chair as if exhausted. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE doctor arrived - at eight. He could not afford to disregard the summons of such a man as - Davenport Carstairs. So he told his wife to go on to the Opera without - him; he would join her as soon as possible,—in fact, it might be - possible to get there before the overture was ended, or, at the very - latest, soon after the curtain went up. Make his apologies, and all that. - This was an urgent case. - </p> - <p> - Close on his heels came two men to see Mr. Carstairs.... - </p> - <p> - Miss Hansbury was in a pitiable condition. For the better part of two - hours, Frieda Carstairs had been with her. Every one else, not excepting - her uncle, was denied admission to the room. From time to time, the sound - of voices came through the closed door,—one shrill and rising to the - pitch of frenzy, the other firm, gentle, soothing—one that seemed to - croon. A sharp-eared listener outside would have caught an occasional - sentence wailed in the despairing treble, but he would have made little of - it, for it dwindled away into a smothered, inarticulate jumble of words. - He might have distinguished the oft-repeated cry: “You know it isn't true! - You know it! You know it!” - </p> - <p> - Carstairs grasped the doctor's arm the instant he entered the apartment. - </p> - <p> - “For God's sake, Doctor, give her something to quiet her immediately. I—I - cannot endure it. We should have waited. I had no idea it would be like - this. Mrs. Carstairs hasn't left her for an instant. I can hear her - moaning and—” - </p> - <p> - “Is it this—ah—news about young Steele?” inquired the doctor - blandly. He rubbed his hands. - </p> - <p> - “Yes—yes! We thought it best to tell her before she got it from the - servants, or the papers, or—” - </p> - <p> - “Dreadful affair,—most shocking. I knew him very slightly, but he - seemed a most delightful chap. By Jove, it is really distressing, the way - the Germans have undermined our very—” - </p> - <p> - “She is in a most deplorable condition, Doctor. Don't delay an instant, - please,—and do not leave her until you are convinced there is no - danger of—” He broke off abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “Ahem! Yes, yes,—ah,—I'll remain as long as—ah,—I - feel the least bit uneasy about her.” - </p> - <p> - “All right, Doctor,—if there is the remotest danger of—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I fancy there isn't any real danger of <i>that</i>, Mr. Carstairs. - Compose yourself. We 'll have her sleeping like a baby in no time at all. - Had you an inkling that Steele was that sort of a—” - </p> - <p> - “And will you please send Mrs. Carstairs out of the room at once?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,—immediately. Leave it to me, leave it to me,” and off he - went, with a sprightliness that would have, surprised his dignity if he - had had the slightest notion at that moment that he still possessed such a - thing. - </p> - <p> - But Mrs. Carstairs refused to be sent out of the room. She remained - steadfast at the girl's side, holding and stroking her hand. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot,—I will not leave her, Doctor Browne,” she said, - compressing her lips. - </p> - <p> - The butler apologetically stuck his head into Mr. Carstairs' study a few - minutes after the doctor's arrival. - </p> - <p> - “Sorry, sir, but there's two gentlemen asking to see you.” - </p> - <p> - “I told you I was not at home to any one, Hollowell. Is it necessary for - me to repeat your instructions?” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir,—thank you, sir. But these gentlemen say they must see you, - sir. They are outside, sir,—in the hall. I asked—” - </p> - <p> - “Who are they? What is their business?” - </p> - <p> - “I asked both those questions, sir,” said the butler, in evident distress. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,—well, and what did they say?” - </p> - <p> - “They simply said 'Never mind,'” said Hollowell, with a great deal of - feeling. - </p> - <p> - Carstairs stopped suddenly in his tracks. - </p> - <p> - “I thought you said they were gentlemen.” - </p> - <p> - His brow darkened. He had sensed the truth. Secret service men. - </p> - <p> - “My mistake, sir,—my mistake,” mumbled Hollowell. “Ahem! I can only - add, Mr. Carstairs, that they seem to think you <i>are</i> at home, and—ah—” - </p> - <p> - “Conduct them to this room,” said Carstairs. A few minutes later: “Come - in, gentlemen, and be seated. I suppose you are here to ascertain if I can - throw any light on the Derrol Steele affair. It is no secret, of course, - that he was my niece's fiance, and that he was a constant visitor here. I - am afraid, however, that I can be of no assistance to you. Captain Steele—” - </p> - <p> - “Pardon me, Mr. Carstairs,” said one of his visitors, a sharp-eyed, - clean-cut man of forty, “but, as a matter of fact, our business here is - really with Mrs. Carstairs. Will you be good enough to ask her to step - into this room?” - </p> - <p> - His companion had closed the door, and both remained standing. - </p> - <p> - “I assure you she knows as little as I do about this distressing affair. - My niece is very ill. She cannot leave her. You must allow me,—for - the present, at least,—to speak for Mrs. Carstairs.” - </p> - <p> - “Deeply as I regret it, Mr. Carstairs, I must insist that your wife—” - </p> - <p> - “You heard what I said, didn't you?” demanded Carstairs coldly. Two vivid - red blotches shot into his cheeks. - </p> - <p> - The two men looked at each other. Then the spokesman gave a significant - jerk of his head. His companion opened the door and stepped quickly into - the hall. As the door closed, the one who remained drew nearer to - Carstairs. - </p> - <p> - “In the first place, Mr. Carstairs, you cannot speak for your wife. I am - not here to make inquiries, sir, but to escort her to the offices of the - United States Attorney, who will—” - </p> - <p> - Carstairs started up from his chair. “What infernal nonsense is this?” - </p> - <p> - “I am afraid it isn't nonsense,” said the other quietly. “My instructions,—my - orders, I may say,—are to confront Mrs. Carstairs with certain - charges, in your presence, by the way,—and to remain in this - apartment until further orders. There is no alternative.” - </p> - <p> - “Charges?” gasped Davenport Carstairs, incredulously. “What do you mean? - What charges have been brought against <i>us?</i>” - </p> - <p> - “There is nothing against <i>you</i>, sir. I am instructed to exercise the - greatest consideration for you. A great deal, I may add, is left to my - discretion, after all. Your wife, I am compelled to inform you, is charged - with a very serious offence. In plain words, we have indisputable proof - that she is and has been for several years in direct communication with - the German Government through—” - </p> - <p> - “It is a damned, outrageous lie!” shouted Carstairs, furiously. “How dare - you come here—” - </p> - <p> - “Just a moment, please,” interrupted the other sharply. “My instructions - are to treat you with the utmost respect and consideration. I must ask you - to accord me the same treatment. Will you send for your wife, or must I - resort to the authority that—” - </p> - <p> - “For God's sake, man,—wait! Let me get this thing through my head. I—I—-will - try to control myself. There has been some terrible mistake. Let us - discuss the matter calmly. I can explain everything. We must spare her the - mortification, the humiliation of being—Why, my dear sir, it would—kill - her. She would not survive the—” - </p> - <p> - The agent held up his hand. “There is no mistake. It may be possible to - spare her the disgrace, the ignominy of public exposure. That, sir, rests - with her—and with you. We recognize your position, Mr. Carstairs. - There is a disposition on the part of the authorities to protect you. With - that object in view, I am instructed to grant Mrs. Carstairs the privilege - of remaining in her own room until tomorrow morning. We are to take no - definite action tonight, unless, of course, you and she decide that it is - best for her to accompany me to the—er—to headquarters. It is - up to you and Mrs. Carstairs, sir.” - </p> - <p> - Davenport Carstairs was a strong, virile character. He possessed the - arrogance born of power and a confidence in himself that had never been - shaken. His home was his stronghold, his wife its treasure. In his serene - strength he could not conceive of discredit falling upon either. Instead - of faltering, now that the first shock had been weathered, he drew himself - up and faced the situation with a courage that excited the wonder and - admiration of the man who came with evil tidings. - </p> - <p> - “Be seated,” said he, indicating a chair. The man sat down. “You may be - partially if not entirely ignorant of the nature of these charges. Am I - right in assuming that you are not at liberty to discuss them with me?” - </p> - <p> - “On the contrary, Mr. Carstairs, I have been advised to do nothing until I - have talked the matter over with you. I am in possession of all the - facts.” - </p> - <p> - “Is the department content to allow me to pass judgment on my wife?” - inquired Carstairs, with a touch of irony. He maintained a calm exterior,—at - what cost no one but he will ever know. The secret service man made no - response. “In any case, I shall have to ask you to explain everything to - me before permitting you to approach my wife.” - </p> - <p> - The agent, who shall be called Jones, nodded his head, and then leaned - forward in his chair. - </p> - <p> - “A man named Hodges was in your employ as a butler up to a fortnight ago. - He had worked for you exactly seven weeks and one day. Do you know where - he came from and who he really was, Mr. Carstairs?” - </p> - <p> - “No. Mrs. Carstairs engages the servants here. Are you going to tell me - that he was a German spy?” - </p> - <p> - “Far from it, sir. 'He was a British secret service agent. His name was - Bridgeford. He was killed by an automobile, but not accidentally as you - have been led to believe. We have been looking for the driver of that car - for two weeks. Last night we got him. He has confessed. Since six o'clock - this evening three other men have been arrested,—all subordinate - figures in the game. Before morning we expect to land at least one or two - of the principal members of the shrewdest gang of spies operating in the - name and interest of the Kaiser.” - </p> - <p> - “Including my wife,” said Carstairs, lifting his eyebrows. - </p> - <p> - Jones allowed the remark to pass without comment. - </p> - <p> - “Bridgeford,—or Hodges, as you knew him,—was sent to this city - from London. For a long time he worked independently. A few days before - his death, we received instructions from Washington to get in touch with - him. That was the first we knew of him, I'll confess. The British Foreign - Office advised our department that he had finally got hold of something - big and tangible. But evidently the German Foreign Office also was wise to - him. He reported to us on the afternoon of the day he was killed. He said - that the time was not yet ripe to take positive steps, but that he would - soon have the goods on four or five prominent people. He gave us the names - of these people. Two of them he was sure about, the others were in doubt. - Believe me, they <i>were</i> prominent. We were to hold off till he said - the word. That night he was killed. But they didn't do it soon enough. We - had all his data, incomplete as it was, and we've followed it up. That's - why I am here this evening.” - </p> - <p> - He paused; and Carstairs said, harshly: “Well, go on,—why do you - hesitate?” - </p> - <p> - “We know now, beyond all possible doubt, that information of the most - vital character has reached the German Admiralty and the Foreign Office - through Mrs. Carstairs,” said Jones deliberately. - </p> - <p> - “I may be pardoned if I repeat that it is a damned lie,” said Carstairs, - gripping the arms of his chair. - </p> - <p> - “You have said just what you were expected to say, Mr. Carstairs. Before I - have finished, however, you will realize that it is not a damned lie. I am - authorized to exhibit certain memoranda from the Department. You will then - agree with us that the information came from this house,—from this - apartment, in fact.” - </p> - <p> - “In the light of what happened last night, I may go so far as to concede - that such may have been the case. Permit me to remind you of the suicide - of Captain—” - </p> - <p> - He broke off abruptly, struck by the expression in the other's face. Jones - shook his head slowly. There was genuine distress in his voice when he - spoke. - </p> - <p> - “Captain Steele was murdered, Mr. Carstairs,” he said. “He did not kill - himself.” Carstairs sprang to his feet. For an instant a flash of joy - transfigured his face. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0169.jpg" alt="0169 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0169.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - “By 'gad, I knew it,—I knew it! I would have staked my soul on that - boy's honour. Murdered? My God! And for what hellish purpose is his name - blackened by the foul reports given to the press by your—” - </p> - <p> - “A very grave injustice has been done an honourable gentleman,” - interrupted Jones, with real feeling. “Captain Steele was murdered by - assassins in the employ of persons connected with the German Government. - When I have finished my story,—I shall make it brief,—you will - understand that, far from being a traitor to his country, Derrol Steele - was a patriot who would not have hesitated to denounce—” He withheld - the words that rose to his lips in vindication of the maligned officer. “A - careful search of his rooms today resulted in the discovery of a document - in his own handwriting, written after he left your apartment last night, - and put under lock and key some time prior to the arrival of the - assassins. I have a copy of it with me. You will observe that he does not - make definite accusations against any one, and that he employs initials - only in designating the persons involved. He goes no farther than to - express his own misgivings, his suspicions and certain observations that - prove how keenly alive he was to the—real situation. Sit down, Mr. - Carstairs, and look over these papers. Begin here, sir,—with the - data obtained by the man you knew as Hodges. I beg to assure you, in - advance, that my superiors entertain no thought that you were at any time - cognizant of what has been going on in your own home, and there is the - profoundest desire on their part to spare you—” - </p> - <p> - “Enough, sir! Let me see the papers.” - </p> - <p> - “Just a moment, please. There is one gap in the sequence of events leading - up to the death of Captain Steele. We are confident that the leaders of - this great conspiracy were warned late last night that Captain Steele - suspected a certain person, but we have been unable to discover by what - means, or through whom, this warning was delivered. The men under arrest, - with the exception of the chauffeur, absolutely refuse to make a statement - of any kind, and he, we are confident, does not know who the go-between - was. All he knows,—or thinks, at least,—is that he and his - pals were double-crossed last night by—well, by Mrs. Carstairs.” - </p> - <p> - Davenport Carstairs read the papers placed in his hands by the Secret - Service man. One by one, they fell from his stiff, trembling fingers, - fluttering to the floor, each in its succeeding turn. At the end, he - looked not into Jones's eyes, but past them, and from his own the light - was gone. - </p> - <p> - “Will you ask your wife to come in now, Mr. Carstairs?” said Jones, a - trifle unsteadily. - </p> - <p> - Carstairs stared at him for a moment, unseeingly. Then he passed his hand - over his eyes as if to clear them of something revolting. The moment was - tense, spasmodic, prophetic of approaching collapse. The strength and - courage and confidence of the man had sustained a shock that made ruin of - them all. He wondered dumbly whether he would ever have the power and the - desire to lift his head again and look into the eye of this man who sat - there with him. The whole fabric of existence was torn to shreds by the - merciless revelations contained in the papers he had read with the steel - in his heart. They were complete, irrefutable indictments. There was no - such thing as going behind them. Steele's blighting conjectures suddenly - became truths of the most appalling nature; the astonishing record of - Hodges the butler laid bare a multitude of secrets; the brief, almost - laconic summing-up of facts in the possession of the Department took the - heart out of his body and scorched it with conviction,—for he knew - that the Secret Eye had looked into the very soul of the woman he loved - and cherished and trusted.... - </p> - <p> - “If you do not object, I will speak with her—alone,” said he, - lifelessly. He struggled to his feet, and, by the mightiest effort of the - will, lifted his head and fixed his haggard eyes upon the face of the man - who had cast the bomb at his feet:—a far more potent agent of - destruction than any that Germany herself had ever hurled! It was to - destroy heaven and earth for him. - </p> - <p> - Jones, cleared his throat. “That is for you to decide, Mr. Carstairs,” he - said, and there was something significant in his voice and manner. “Will - you take these documents—” - </p> - <p> - “No. I do not wish her to see them. Be good enough to step into the - drawing-room,—and wait. This way—through this door. And please - call your companion. It is not necessary for him to stand guard over her. - You have my word that she shall not escape.” - </p> - <p> - “We are to respect your wishes in every particular, Mr. Carstairs. The - authorities appreciate your position. It is their desire to spare you, if - possible, the disgrace, the pain—” He stopped. - </p> - <p> - “I think I understand,” said Davenport Carstairs slowly. A moment later - he was alone. - </p> - <p> - Presently he unlocked and opened a small drawer in his desk. He took out - something that glittered, examined it carefully, and then stuck it into - his coat pocket. His jaws were set; in his eyes lay the hard, cold light - of steel. - </p> - <p> - He did not falter. - </p> - <p> - She had not been fair with him, but he would be fair with her. He would - stand by her to the end.... She should have her chance. He would see to it - that the newspapers,—and the world,—dealt kindly with her. He - had loved her. - </p> - <p> - If possible, he would see to it that he was the only one in all the world - to hate her. - </p> - <p> - He went to her room. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">F</span>AR in the night he - said to her: “It is the only way. I shall leave you to yourself now, - Frieda. The rest is with God and you. Tomorrow morning they will take you - away. They may—they probably will shoot you as a spy. I cannot save - you,—nothing that I can do will be of avail in turning aside or - tempering the wrath of Justice.” - </p> - <p> - She sat, limply, with bowed head. Her fine body seemed to have shrivelled; - emptied of its vitality, it had shrunk as with age before his eyes. - Everything that had fed her blood for years seeped away, leaving a waste - of sunken flesh: pride, arrogance, defiance, and, last of all, fury,—all - had gone out of the house of her soul. There was nothing left but the - pitiful thing called life. - </p> - <p> - She raised her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot take <i>your</i> way out, Davenport,” she said dully. - </p> - <p> - He pointed to the revolver he had laid on her dressing-table. - </p> - <p> - “<i>That</i>, Frieda, is the only friend you have in all this world - tonight.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, my God! Are you heartless? Have you no pity, no love, no—” - </p> - <p> - “I have pity,—nothing more. Love? I have given you love for twenty - years and more. You have defiled it. Do not speak of love!” - </p> - <p> - “You know I love you—you know I would die for you a thousand times - over. You are my man,—my master, my—” - </p> - <p> - “Enough, Frieda! You have played a great game,—but an ignoble one,—and - you have lost. You have begged me to—to become your executioner. You - ask me to kill you. You—” - </p> - <p> - “I do not ask it now,” she broke in, looking him full in the eye. “Go, - Davenport. Leave me to myself. Thank you for—for being kind to me - tonight,—after all. I have told you the truth,—you know - everything that my conscience permits me to reveal. You know more than - that man who sits out there like a vulture, waiting for—waiting for - <i>me</i>. What I have confessed to you I would die a thousand times over - rather than confess to another living soul. They could take me away - tonight and torture me till I died, and not one word of what I have said - to you would pass my lips. They know enough, but you alone know all. You - say the world will never know what I have done. I do not care. Let the - world know. I am proud of my blood—I rejoice in the little I have - been able to do for——” - </p> - <p> - “Hush! Do not say it.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well. It hurts you. I do not want to hurt you now, husband. The - world is to believe that I—that an accident—a sudden—” - She buried her face in her hands. Her body shook. - </p> - <p> - “I would spare your son, Frieda,” said he. - </p> - <p> - She looked up, dry-eyed. A quick flash,—could it have been of joy?—lighted - her haggard face. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,—he must be spared,” she cried. A deep, inscrutable - expression came into her eyes. She drew a deep, full breath. “Thank God! - He is young,—he has a long and useful life to live. I gave it him. - That is the best, the biggest thing I have done. Now, go, Davenport. Shall - we say—good-night?” - </p> - <p> - The following day,—in the noon issues—all of the New York - evening papers printed, under varied headlines, the details, so far as - available, of the shocking accident which resulted in the death of Mrs. - Davenport Carstairs. She had fallen from a window in her bed-chamber to - the brick-paved courtyard ten stories below. Death was instantaneous. - “Accidental,” was the prompt decision of the coroner. - </p> - <p> - Deduction readily established the fact. Mrs. Carstairs must have become - ill in the night. A bottle of smelling salts was found on the floor near - the window which was open to the full. Evidently, she had gone to the - window for air. After opening it wide, a sudden faintness or dizziness - caused her to topple forward.... Before retiring for the night, she had - complained to her husband of a dull, throbbing headache, due, no doubt, to - anxiety over the alarming illness of her niece, Miss Hansbury.... Sometime - after one o'clock, Mr. Carstairs, in the adjoining bed-room, heard her - moaning as if in pain. He arose instantly and opened the connecting door. - She was lying on her bed, and, in response to his inquiry, begged him not - to worry about her. Dr. Browne, called in to attend Miss Hansbury, had - decided to remain for the night. He was lying down in a guest-chamber, and - had fallen asleep. - </p> - <p> - Uneasy over his wife's condition, Mr. Carstairs awoke the physician and - together they returned to her room. A knock on the door brought no - response,—but some relief in the thought that she was asleep. The - husband opened the door slightly and listened. There was no sound. He - entered the room, which was dark, and approached the bed. Then, he called - out to the doctor to switch on the lights.... A cold icy draft,—the - Night-Wind,—rushing into the room through the open window.... - </p> - <p> - Continuing, the papers spoke profoundly of the great loss to society, of - the qualities that made Mrs. Davenport Carstairs one of the most sincerely - beloved women in all the great city, of her prominence in the conduct of - important war charities and reliefs, of her unswerving devotion to the - cause for which America and her sons were fighting, of her manifold charms - and graces. Her untimely death created a void that could never be filled. - Eulogy upon eulogy! - </p> - <p> - Among the hundreds of telegrams of condolence received by Davenport - Carstairs was one from Mr. Paul Zimmerlein, couched in most exquisite - terms, conveying tribute to the dead and sympathy to the living. It was - sent on the second day from the smart club to which he belonged; on the - third flowers went up with his card. - </p> - <p> - As business went on as usual at the offices of Mr. Paul Zimmerlein, it - would be sheer presumption to even suggest that this unhappy chronicle has - reached - </p> - <h3> - THE END - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Shot With Crimson, by George Barr McCutcheon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHOT WITH CRIMSON *** - -***** This file should be named 54099-h.htm or 54099-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/0/9/54099/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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