L. P. M.

“In my many years of public life,” he said, “I have often had occasion to admire the dauntless spirit of our young men. But you have forced me to the conclusion that even I, with all my confidence in their power, have failed to realize how inevitably American initiative and independence will demand recognition. It is a quality which our form of government seems especially to foster and develop, and I glory in it as perhaps the chief factor in our national greatness and pre-eminence.

“In what other country, I ask you,” he flung out an arm across the great, flat-topped desk of state, “would a mere boy like yourself ever conceive such a scheme, or have the incentive or opportunity to bring it to perfection? And, having conceived and perfected it, in what other country would he find the very heads of his Government so accessible and ready to help him?”

The young man leaned forward. “Then am I to understand, Mr. Secretary, that you are ready to help me?”

“Yes.” He faced about and looked at his visitor in a glow of enthusiasm. “Not only will I help you, but I will, so far as is practicable, put behind you the power of this Administration.

“Doubtless the newspapers,” his tone took on a tinge of ironic resentment, “when they learn the broad character of the credentials that I shall give you in order that you may meet the crowned heads of Europe, will say that I am again lowering the dignity of my office. But I consider, Mr. Edestone, that I am, in reality, giving more dignity to my office by bringing it closer to and by placing it at the services of, those from whose hands it first received its dignity, the sovereign people. ‘The master is greater than the servant’; and to my mind you as a citizen are even more entitled to the aid and co-operation of this Department than are its accredited envoys, our ministers and ambassadors, who, like myself, are but your hired men.”

His face lighted up with the memory of the many stirring campaigns through which he had passed and his wonderful voice rang out, responding to his will like a perfect musical instrument under the touch of the artist.

“I tell you, sir,” he declared, “I would rather be instrumental in bringing to an end this cruel war which is now deluging the pages of history with the heart’s blood of the people, whose voices may now be drowned in the roar of the 42-centimeter guns, but whose spirits will unite in the black stench clouds which rise from the festered fields of Flanders to descend upon the heads of those who by Divine Right have murdered them,—I would rather be instrumental in bringing about this result, than be President of the United States!”

He had risen, as he spoke, and had stepped from behind his desk to give freer play to this burst of eloquence, but he now paused at the entrance of a secretary for whom he had sent, and changing to that quizzical drawl with which he had so often disarmed a hostile audience, added, “And they do say that I am not without ambition in that respect.”

He turned then to the waiting secretary, and letting his hand drop on Edestone’s shoulder:

“Mr. Williams,” he said, “this is Mr. John Fulton Edestone, of New York, whose name is no doubt familiar to you. He is desirous of meeting and discussing quite informally with the potentates of Europe, a little matter which he thinks, and I more or less agree with him, will be of decided interest to them.”

He chuckled softly; then continued in a more serious tone: “Mr. Edestone hopes, in short, with our assistance, to bring about not only the end of the European war, but to realize my dream—Universal Peace—and his plan, as he has outlined it to me, meets with my hearty approval.

“I wish you to furnish him with the credentials from this Department necessary to give him entrée anywhere abroad and protect him at all times and under all circumstances.

“And, Mr. Williams,” he halted the retiring subordinate, “when Mr. Edestone’s papers have been drawn, will you kindly bring them to me? I wish to present them in person, and I know of no more appropriate occasion than this afternoon, when I am to receive a delegation of school children from the Southern Baptist Union and the Boy Scouts of the Methodist Temperance League. I will be glad to have these young Americans, as well as any others who may be calling to pay their respects—not to me but to my office—hear what I have to say on peace, patriotism, and grapes.”

With the departure of the secretary he unbent slightly. “Well,” he smiled, “you cannot say, as did Ericsson with his monitor and Holland with his submarine and the Wrights with their aëroplane, that you could not get the support of your Government until it was too late. In fact, my dear fellow, when I think of the obstacles so many inventors have to contend with, it strikes me that you have had pretty easy sailing.”

“Perhaps,” Edestone raised his eyebrows a trifle whimsically, “it has not been so easy as you think, Mr. Secretary.”

“Oh, I know, I know!” the other replied. “You still must admit that in comparison with most men you have been singularly fortunate. You have had great wealth, absolute freedom to develop your ideas as you saw fit, and finally the influence to command an immediate hearing for your claims. Do you know that perhaps you are the richest young man in the world today? It is this which, I must confess, at first rather prejudiced me against you.”

Edestone laughed good-naturedly. “It is lucky that my photographs were able to speak for me.”

“Yes,” the Secretary assented. “As you probably have recognized, I am not a scientist, and all your formulae and explanations were about as so much Greek to me, but those photographs of yours were most convincing, and prove to me how simple are the greatest of discoveries. I fancy,” he added slyly, “that they will penetrate even the intelligence of a monarch.”

“Ah!” He rubbed his hands together. “I can imagine the chagrin and fury of those war lords when they find themselves so unexpectedly called to time, while your device is held over the nations like a policeman’s club, with America as its custodian. What a thought! Universal dominion for our country; Universal Peace!”

Some sense of opposition on the part of his companion aroused him, and he levelled a quick and searching glance at the other.

“That is your intention, is it not, Mr. Edestone?” he demanded. “That, upon the completion of your present mission, the Government shall take over this discovery of yours?”

Edestone moved uneasily in his seat. He had naturally anticipated this question, and yet he was unprepared to meet it.

The Secretary frowned and repeated his question. “That is your intention, is it not?”

Hesitating no longer the inventor answered quietly:

“Mr. Secretary, I yield to no man in my devotion to my country, but I am one of those who believe that the highest form of patriotism is to seek the best interest of mankind, and standing on that I tell you frankly that I cannot at this time answer your question. Just now I look no farther than the end of this brutal war. After that is accomplished it will be time enough for me to decide the ultimate disposition of my invention. Its secret is now known to no living soul but myself, and is so simple that it requires no written record to preserve it, and would die with me. It is the result, it is true, of many years of hard work, but the finished product I can and often do carry in my waistcoat pocket.

“Do not misunderstand me,” he lifted his hand as the Secretary endeavoured to break in. “I thoroughly realize the responsibility of my position and that my great wealth is a sacred trust. Upon the answer to the question you have just put to me depends the destiny of the world, whether it is answered by myself at this time or by others in the future. Exactly what I will do when the time comes I cannot say, but I will tell you this much, that in reaching a decision I will call to my assistance men like yourself and abide by whatever course the majority of them may dictate.”

“But, my dear young fellow, that will not do.” The Secretary shook his head. “You are called upon to answer my question right here and now.”

He dropped his bland and diplomatic manner as he spoke, and with his jaw thrust forward showed himself the unyielding autocrat, who, in the rough and tumble of politics, had ruled his party with a rod of iron. This man whose wonderful talents and personality had fitted him for his chosen position of champion of the plain people, and whose great motive power, against all odds, that had forced him into the first place in their hearts, was his sincere and honest love of office.

He had now assumed a rather boisterous and bullying tone, showing that perhaps his great love for the rougher elements of society was due to the fact that in the process of evolution he himself was not far removed from the very plain people.

“You have been talking pretty loud about using the ‘big stick’ over on the other side,” he went on sternly, “but that big-stick business you will find is a thing that works two ways. Suppose then I should tell you, ‘No answer to my question, no credentials.’ What would you have to say?”

“I should say,” Edestone’s face was set, “simply this, Mr. Secretary, if I must speak in the language of the people in order that you may understand me: ‘I should like very much to have your backing in the game, but if you are going to sit on the opposite side of the table, I hold three kings and two emperors in my hand, and I challenge you to a show-down.’ I should further say that, credentials or no credentials, I am leaving tomorrow on the Ivernia, and that inasmuch as I have a taxi at the door, and a special train held for me at the Union Station, I must bid you good-day, and leave you to your watchful waiting, while I work alone.”

He rose from his seat, and with a bow started for the door.

“Hold on there, young fellow, keep your coat on!” the Secretary shouted, throwing his head back and laughing loud enough to be heard over on the Virginia shores. “You remind me of one of those gentle breezes out home, which after it has dropped the cow-shed into the front parlour and changed your Post-Office address, seems always to sort of clear up the atmosphere. When one of them comes along we generally allow it to have its own way. It doesn’t matter much whether we do or not, it will take it anyhow. I never play cards, but what you say about having a few kings in your pants’ pocket seems to be pretty nearly true. You are made of the real stuff, and if you can do all the things that you say you can do, and I believe you can, nothing will stop you.”

“In that case,” said Edestone, resuming his seat, “I suppose I may as well wait for my credentials.”

And in due time he got them, the presentation being made by the Secretary to the edification of the Baptist School children and the Methodist Soldiers of Temperance and a score of adoring admirers. Then with a hasty farewell to the officials of the State Department, this emissary of peace started on his hurried rush to New York.

His taxi, which he had held since seven o’clock that morning, broke all speed regulations in getting to the station, and the man was well paid for his pains.

Edestone found his Special coupled up and waiting for him. He always travelled in specials, and they always waited for him. In fact, everything waited for him, and he waited for no one. When he engaged a taxi he never discharged it until he went to bed or left the town. It was related of him that on one occasion he had directed the taxi to wait for him at Charing Cross Station, and returning from Paris three days later had allowed his old friend, the cabby, who knew him well, a shilling an hour as a pourboire. He claimed that his mind worked smoothly as long as it could run ahead without waits, but that as soon as it had to halt for anything—a cab, a train, or a slower mind to catch up—it got from under his control and it took hours to get it back again.

To him money was only to be spent. He would say: “I spend money because that calls for no mental effort, and saving is not worth the trouble that it requires.”

A big husky chap, thirty-four years old, with the constitution of an ox, the mind of a superman, the simplicity of a child: that was John Fulton Edestone. He insisted that his discovery was an accident that might have befallen anyone, and counted as nothing the years of endless experiments and the millions of dollars he had spent in bringing it to perfection. He was a dreamer, and had used his colossal income and at times his principal in putting his dreams into iron and steel.

Upon arriving in New York he was met by his automobile and was rushed away to what he was pleased to call his Little Place in the Country. It was one of his father’s old plants which had contributed to the millions which he was now spending.

It was nothing more nor less than a combination machine shop and shipyard, situated on the east bank of the Hudson in the neighbourhood of Spuyten Duyvil.

It was midnight when he arrived. The night force was just leaving as he stepped from his automobile and the morning shift was taking its place. At eight o’clock the next morning this latter would in turn be relieved by a day shift; for night and day, Sundays and holidays, winter and summer, without stopping, his work went on. It got on his nerves, he said, to see anything stop. Speed and efficiency at any cost was his motto, and the result was that he had gathered about him men who were willing to keep running under forced draft, even if it did heat up the bearings.

“Tell Mr. Page to come to me at once,” he said, as he entered a little two-story brick structure apart from the other buildings. This had originally been used as an office, but he had changed it into a comfortable home, his “Little Place in the Country.”

CHAPTER II. — THE ONE-MAN SECRET

With the giving of a few orders relative to his departure in the morning, the brevity of which showed the character of service he demanded, Edestone permitted himself to relax. He dropped into an arm-chair, after lighting a long, black cigar, and pouring out for himself a comfortable drink of Scotch whisky and soda.

For a few minutes he sat looking into the open fire, while blowing ring after ring of smoke straight up into the air. The well-trained servant moved so quietly about the room that his presence was only called to his attention by the frantic efforts of the smoke rings to retain their circular shape as they were caught in the current of air which he created and were sent whirling and twisting to dissolution, although to the last they clung to every object with which they came in contact in their futile struggle to escape destruction.

Edestone loved to watch these little smoke phantoms, their first mad rush to assume their beautiful form and the persistency with which they clung to it until overtaken by another, were brushed aside, or else drifted on in wavering elongated outlines and so gradually disappeared.

They suggested to his fancy the struggling nations of the world, battling with the currents and cross-currents near the storm-scarred old earth, and continually endeavouring to rise above their fellows to some calmer strata, where serene in their original form they could look down with condescension upon their harassed and broken companions below.

The little rings were, however, more interesting to him for another and more practical reason. It was their toroidal movement around a circular axis which moved independently in any direction that first suggested to him the principles of his discovery.

Before him the fire upon the hearth sang and crackled as it tore asunder the elements that had taken untold ages to assemble in their present form, and with the prodigality of nature was joyfully rushing them up the chimney to start them again upon their long and weary journey through the ages.

The bubbles coming into existence in the bottom of his glass, rushing in myriads through the pale yellow liquid to the top and obliteration, set the thin glass to vibrating like the sound of distant bells.

From his workshop came the soft purr of rapidly moving machinery, punctuated now and again by the roar of the heavy railroad trains that thundered past his little flag station.

Had he seen then what the future had in store for him, had he realized that he was in that well-beloved environment for the last time, he would not have hesitated to have gone on along the road that he had marked out for himself. It would simply have made the wrench at parting a little bit more severe.

His musing was interrupted by his man, who had attracted his attention by noiselessly rearranging on the table the objects that were already in perfect order.

“Mr. Page is outside, sir.”

It was a call to action. Edestone, without changing his position, said: “Tell him to come in.” And then taking two or three deep puffs at his cigar, he blew out into the clear space in front of him a large and perfectly formed ring. Rising he followed it slowly as it drifted across the room, twisting and circling upon itself. Then with a low laugh, which was almost a sigh, after sticking his finger through its shadowy form, with a sweep of his powerful hand he brushed it aside.

“Good-bye, little friend,” he said, “we have had many good times together, and whatever you may have in store for me, I promise never to complain. Let us hope that I shall use wisely and well the knowledge which you have given me.”

Turning quickly at some slight sound, which told him that he was no longer alone, he threw his shoulders back, and with his head high in the air there came over his clean-shaven face a look of quiet determination, a look before which those who were born to rule were so soon to quail.

Then, with a complete change of manner, upon seeing his old friend and fellow-workman, his face lighted up, and he laughed:

“Well, old ‘Specs,’ I’m back, you see, and the ‘Dove of Peace’ is safely caged. He came to hand with scarcely even a struggle.” Then as he looked down into the other’s worn and haggard eyes which peered up at him through their round, horn-rimmed spectacles, his voice softened and he spoke with a touch of compunction.

“By Jove, old chap, you look all in. I’ve been driving you boys a bit too hard; but don’t you worry. I’m off in the morning, and then you’ll have a chance to take it easier. Soon our beautiful Little Peace Maker,” he winked, “will be tucked safely away in some quiet corner, and you scientific fellows can devote all your attention to your beloved bridge, while I bid up The Hague Conference for a no-trump hand.

“But to business now. How did the films for the moving pictures come out?”

“Splendidly.”

“Good. I’ll have you run them over for me presently. I don’t want to show too much when I give my performances for Royalty, you understand; just enough to scare them to death. And how about the wireless? Did you test that out, and tune it to my instruments, as I asked you?”

With a satisfactory answer to this also, he ranged off rapidly into a dozen other inquiries.

“Does Lee understand exactly where he is to go, and what he is to do, if by any chance he is discovered there? He does, eh? Well, I don’t think he need anticipate the slightest trouble in that regard; but we’ve got to be prepared for every emergency.

“Now, ‘Specs,’ I want you to get off tomorrow night. Leave enough men about the plant, and have sufficient work going on, so that your absence may not excite comment. Go by way of Canada, and as soon as you are safely out of here, take your time and run no unnecessary risks. As soon as you are settled, communicate with me, once only every day at exactly twelve o’clock Greenwich time, until I answer you. I shall then not communicate with you again until this peace game is up and we are forced to show our hands.”

He paused a moment as if to make sure that he had overlooked nothing; then resumed his instructions.

“Captain Lee’s men all understand, I believe, that we are playing for a big stake, and that the work we have on hand is no child’s play; but it will do no harm to impress it on them again. I sincerely hope that no rough work will be required; but they may as well realize that I intend to have absolute obedience, and shall not hesitate at the most extreme measures to obtain it. They must be drilled until every man is faultlessly perfect in the part he is to play. We may all be pronounced outlaws at any time with a price upon our heads, and therefore, before leaving here, I wish that none be allowed to join the enterprise except those who willingly volunteer for the sake of the cause. The men who are unwilling to volunteer, and yet know too much, must be taken and held incommunicado in some perfectly safe place until such time as I notify you.

“I think that is all,” he reflected. Then, while the other man watched him curiously, he stepped to the safe, and opening it brought back a small, hardwood box about six inches square.

“I have never explained to you, Page,” he said, “the exact construction of the instrument that is contained in this box. As you know, there is but one other instrument like this in the world, and that you know is in a safe place. My reason for not taking anybody into my confidence was not from any lack of faith in you or my other trusted associates, but simply in order to be absolutely sure at all times and under all circumstances that I was the only one in possession of this secret.”

And turning to the fireplace he threw the box with its contents directly on to the burning logs.

Page gave a slight gasp as he saw the wooden receptacle catch, and half stepped forward as if to rescue it, but Edestone quickly raised an interposing hand. Then he turned to his companion with a smile.

“That was my first very clumsy model. The actual mechanical construction of this instrument is so simple,” he said, “that I can at any time construct one which will answer all purposes that I may require of it until I see you. I intend to amuse myself on the Ivernia during the crossing constructing a new smaller and more compact instrument, combining with it one of the receivers which you have attuned to your wireless. See that these as well as the following,” handing “Specs” a list of electrical supplies, “are put in Black’s steamer trunk. And now, let’s have a look at those films.”

He followed this with a tour of inspection of the entire establishment, although the latter was largely perfunctory in character, since he knew that for days everything had been in readiness for his orders, waiting only for his return from Washington; then returning to his quarters, he tumbled into bed to catch a few hours of sleep before again whirling off at a sixty-mile-an-hour gait to board his steamer at the dock.

His plans were completed. His men, down to the lowest helper, were fellows of tested experience and education, many of them college graduates, while his “commissioned officers,” as he called them, numbering sixty, were all experts in their respective lines. They had been drawn from all ranks of life, from the college laboratory, the automobile factory, and the war college. There were among them bank clerks, former commanders of battle-ships, doctors, lawyers, soldiers, and sailors. In fact, his little world was a perfectly equipped and smoothly running community with all the departments of a miniature government, save only a diplomatic service, and that he combined with his own prerogatives as Executive and Commander-in-Chief.

One thing he did not have in all his company, so far as he knew,—and that was a weakling. So thoroughly had he sifted them out, and applied to each of them the acid test, that he was sure he could rely on them, as he liked to say, “to the last ditch.”

For the rest, although he had taken only a few of them into his confidence as to his real purposes and intentions, he had assured each recruit that he would be required to do nothing that was contrary to his duty to his fellow-man, his country, or his God.

And tomorrow the wheels would be set in motion. The undertaking to which he had dedicated his life and colossal fortune would be launched.

It was characteristic of Edestone that no sooner had he laid his head upon the pillow than his eyes closed, and he slept as peacefully as a tired child.

CHAPTER III. — CROSSING WITH ROYALTY

After a perfectly uneventful voyage, the Ivernia, with Edestone and his three men aboard, swung slowly to her dock. As the big vessel had approached the coast the few cabin passengers were at first a little nervous, but the contempt in which the officers held, or pretended to hold, the submarine menace made itself soon felt throughout the ship, and but for the thinness of their ranks all went as usual. It is true that the little group of army contract-seekers and returning refugees seemed to enjoy constituting themselves into special look-outs, and regarded it as their particular duty, as long as it did not interfere with their game of bridge, or might cause them to lose a particularly comfortable and sheltered corner of the deck, to notify the stewards if they happened to see anything which to them looked like a periscope or floating mine.

Throughout the voyage Edestone kept very much to himself and in his quarters occupied himself constructing a new instrument, and to the hard-rubber case that had been provided for it he attached a wireless receiver. In some of this work he was assisted by Stanton and Black, two electricians he had brought with him, who, with James, his valet, made up his party.

He had little time and less inclination to observe his neighbours, who occupied the corresponding suite just across the passageway; but his man James, who had been formally introduced to their servants, insisted upon telling him all about them. They were, James said, the Duchess of Windthorst and her daughter, the Princess Wilhelmina, who were returning from Canada, where they had been visiting the Duke of Connaught at Toronto.

But, if Edestone was preoccupied, the Princess, on the contrary, being a girl of nineteen, with absolutely nothing on her mind, had not failed to note the handsome young man across the passage. Unconsciously answering to the irresistible call of youth, which is as loud to the princess as to the peasant, she had watched him with a great deal of interest, and had been fascinated by his faultless boots and the fact that he failed to notice her at all.

Yet Edestone, it may be remarked, was not the only person on board favoured with the royal regard. The Duchess, with the propensity of her kind on visiting the States, had selected for her rare promenades on deck a Broadway sport of the most absurd and exaggerated type, known as “Diamond King John” Bradley.

This vagary is explained by the fact that the social chasm separating them from all Americans is, to their limited vision, so infinitely great that it is impossible for them to see and to understand the niceties that the Americans draw between the butcher of New York and the dry-goods merchant of Denver; and since it is impossible to see nothing from infinity, they content themselves by selecting those who are, in their opinion, typical, in order that in the short time they can give to this study they may learn all of the characteristics of this most extraordinary race, who on account of the similarity of language have presumed to claim a relationship with them. They will not accept as true what much of the world believes: that Old England is in her decadence, and that her only hope is in those sons who have left her and who, away from the debilitating influence of the poisonous vapours arising from the ruins of her glory, are developing the ancient spirit of their ancestors and are returning to her assistance in her time of need.

As to the Princess, Edestone, although he noted that she was extremely attractive in face and figure, did not give her a second thought. He was amused at the attitude of the Duchess and her class, and was willing to accept it, but it did not arouse any desire on his part to follow the lead of the gentleman from Broadway and seek their acquaintance. As a matter of fact, he had always found the young women of the upper classes of England either extremely stupid or perfectly willing to appear so to an American of his class.

Still, as it happened, he did meet the Princess. One night after dinner he found her struggling with the door into the passage which led to their adjoining apartments. She was, or pretended to be, helpless in the wind that was blowing her down the deck as she clung to the rail, and, quietly taking her by the arm, he pulled her back to the door, where he held her until she was safely inside. This was all done in a perfectly matter-of-fact manner, and she might as well have been a steamer rug that was in danger of being blown overboard. Then before she had time to thank him, the door was blown shut, and he had resumed his solitary walk along the deck.

The next time that the Princess saw him, although she felt sure that he must have known that she had looked in his direction, there was no indication of any desire on his part to continue the acquaintance. He had apparently entirely forgotten the episode or her existence, and the pride of a beautiful young girl was hurt, and the dignity of royalty offended—but the first was all that really mattered.

And so the voyage ended. The passengers all seemed perfectly willing to go ashore, notwithstanding their assumption of indifference to the German blockade. Edestone, as usual, was met by the fastest form of locomotion, and before the trunks and bags had begun to toboggan down to the dock, he was whirling up to London in the powerful motor car belonging to his friend, the Marquis of Lindenberry. Edestone had notified him by wireless to meet the steamer, and they were now being driven directly to the Marquis’s house in Grosvenor Square. Stanton and Black were left behind with James, who condescended with his superior knowledge to assist them in getting the luggage through the custom-house.

“Well what in the name of common sense has brought you over to England at such a time as this?” demanded Lindenberry, after the automobile had swept clear of the town and with a gentle purr had settled down to its work. He leaned over as he spoke, to satisfy himself that the chauffeur, having finished adjusting his glasses with one hand while running at top speed, finally had both hands on the wheel, and then turned expectantly to his companion.

“Oh, I see,” Lindenberry nodded when he found that he got no satisfactory answer to this or the other inquiries he put; “you evidently do not propose to take me into your confidence. Still, I would not be so deucedly mysterious, if I were you. I call it beastly rude, you know. Here I have come all the way from Aldershot, and am using the greater part of my valuable leave in response to your crazy wire. Tell me, is it a contract to deliver a dozen dreadnoughts at the gates of the Tower of London before Easter Sunday?” and his eyes twinkled, “or have some of your young Americans enlisted and the fond parents sent you over to rescue them?”

Edestone smiled. “Well, the first thing I want, Lindenberry, is a little chat with Lord Rockstone.”

“Oh, is that all?” with a satiric inflection. “Well, why in the name of common sense didn’t you say so at first? I do not know, however, that I can positively get you an appointment today. You must not mind if His Lordship keeps you waiting for a few minutes if he happens to be talking with the Czar of Russia on the long-distance telephone. You know, we over here are still great sticklers on form. We are trying hard to be progressive, but we still consider it quite rude to tell a King to hold the wire while we talk to someone else who has not taken the trouble that he has to make an appointment. You must remember that he has perhaps dropped several shillings into the slot, and would naturally be annoyed if told by the girl that time was up and to drop another shilling.

“Or Lord Rockstone may perhaps be just in the midst of one of his usual twenty-four-hour interviews with an American newspaper representative,” he continued his chaffing. “Now if he does not invite Graves and Underhill and Apsworth to have tea with you, you might drop in at Boodles’ on your way back from the city, and we will just pop on to Buckingham Palace and deliver to Queen Mary the ultimatum from the suffragette ladies of the Sioux Indians.”

Edestone laughed so heartily that the footman nearly turned to see if something had happened. “And they say that you Englishmen have no sense of humour. The trouble with you though, old top, is that your joke is so deucedly good that you don’t see the point yourself.”

They were just passing through one of Rockstone’s military camps, where England’s recruited millions were being trained, and cutting short his badinage Edestone gazed at the scene with interest.

“It does seem a pity that all these fine young fellows should be sacrificed in order to settle a question which I could settle in a very short time,” he said, becoming more serious.

“Settle it in a very short time?” repeated Lindenberry. “I would like to know how you propose to do it. I know you are full of splendid ideas, and invent all kinds of electrical contrivances to do things that one can do perfectly well with one’s own hands. I suppose you would take a large magnet and with it pull all of the German warships out of the Kiel Canal, and hold them while you went on board and explained to Bernhardi and von Bülow the horrors of war, and if they did not listen to you, you would, like the Pied Piper of Hamelin lead them off with all the other disagreeable odds and ends, submarines and Zeppelins, to an island, way, way out in the ocean, where they would have to stay until they promised to be good little boys?”

“Well, wouldn’t that be better than killing a lot of these fine young fellows you have here?” demanded Edestone, although he smiled at his friend’s fantastic idea.

“You Americans are developing into a nation of foolish old women,” taunted Lindenberry, “and the sooner that you get into a muss like this one we’re in, the sooner you will get back that fighting spirit which has made you what you are. You are fast losing the respect of the other nations by your present methods, always looking after your own pocket-books while the rest of the world is bleeding to death.”

Edestone was thoughtful, and appeared to have no answer for this, and Lindenberry reverted to his request.

“If you really want to have an interview with Lord Rockstone, Jack, I think I can possibly arrange it. I will telephone to Colonel Wyatt, who is on his staff, and find out what he can do for you.”

And so they chatted until coming to Grosvenor Square where they got out of the automobile in front of an unpretentious red brick house with an English basement entrance, trimmed with white marble and spotlessly clean.

Lindenberry at once telephoned to Colonel Wyatt, who said that Lord Rockstone was in and that if Edestone would come around at once he would see to it that his letters were presented. As to an appointment, he could promise nothing, but he did say to Lindenberry, not to be repeated, that the Department was not at that time very favourably disposed toward Americans.

With his usual promptness, Edestone jumped into his automobile and started for Downing Street, not stopping even to wash his face and hands nor to brush the dust from his clothes.

At the door he was met by an officer in khaki, was told that Colonel Wyatt was expecting him, and was asked if he would be so kind as to come up to the Colonel’s office. There he was told that his credentials and letters could be presented that afternoon, but there was practically no chance of an interview, as Lord Rockstone was leaving the War Offices in a few minutes.

Word was finally brought in that Lord Rockstone would see Mr. Edestone and receive his letters, but regretted that he would be unable to give him an appointment, as he was leaving for the Continent in a few days and affairs of state required his entire time—which translated into plain English meant: “Come in, but get out as soon as you can.”

Shown into a large room, he saw seated at a big desk the man who is said to have said that he did not know when the war would end, but he did know when it would begin, and fixed that date at about eight months after the actual declaration—after millions of pounds had been expended and hundreds of thousands of English dead.

Cold, powerful, relentless, and determined, Edestone knew that it was useless to appeal to a sense of humanity in this man who, sitting at his desk early and late, directed the great machine that slowly but surely was drawing to itself the youth and vigour of all England, there to feed and fatten, flatter and amuse these poor boys from the country, and with music and noise destroy their sensibilities before sending them across the Channel to live for their few remaining days in holes in the ground that no self-respecting beast would with his own consent occupy.

To appeal to a sense of duty so strong in him as applied to England, was one thing; but to convince him that Edestone as an American had a sense of duty to the nations of Europe was something quite different. This man of steel had no imagination, he was convinced, and to ask him to follow him in his flights would be as useless as to request him to whistle Yankee Doodle.

He had a chance to decide all this while Rockstone, who had risen and received him with courtesy, was reading the letters he presented. The great soldier’s face never changed once as he read them all with care.

“Your credentials are satisfactory,” he finally said, “but I do not quite understand what it is you wish. Your letters say that you do not want to sell anything, which is most extraordinary; I thought you Americans always wanted to sell something.” And his face assumed the expression of a man who, having no sense of humour, thought that he had perhaps made a joke.

“If you have drawings and photographs of a new instrument of war,” he caught himself up abruptly, “I should greatly prefer that you submit these to the Ordnance Department; but since your Secretary of State has been so insistent, I will look at them tomorrow. I will give you an appointment from 9 to 9:15.”

And he rose and bowed.

CHAPTER IV. — THE FIRST REBUFF

At exactly a quarter past nine the following morning, Lord Rockstone with military precision rose from his desk.

“I fear that my time is up, Mr. Edestone,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I have enjoyed this opportunity of meeting you and listening to your presentation of your theory. Your drawings are most interesting; your photographs convincing, if—” he paused, his lip curling slightly under his long tawny moustache,—“if one did not know of the remarkable optical illusions capable of being produced in photography. Our friends, the Germans, have become particularly expert in the art of double exposure.”

Then, as if he thought he might have said too much, he added less crisply:

“Please do not understand that I doubt either your sincerity, or that of the Government at Washington in this matter; you may have both perhaps been deceived. I hope that your stay in England may be pleasant, and I regret that this war will prevent you from receiving the attention to which your letters and your accomplishments would entitle you.”

With an expression on his face that said plainer than words: “This is the last minute of my most valuable time that I intend to give to this nonsense,” he bowed formally, and reseating himself at his desk, took up papers.

Then without looking up, “Good morning, Mr. Edestone.”

The American did not allow himself to show the slightest trace of annoyance at the brusque dismissal.

“You will at least permit me to thank you for your kind intentions, sir,” he said; and standing perfectly still until he had forced Lord Rockstone to look up, he added with a smile, “We may meet again, perhaps.”

There was something about his perfect ease of manner as he stood waiting which showed that although he would not condescend to notice it, he was both conscious of the War Minister’s unpardonable rudeness and intended to make him acknowledge it.

Rockstone hesitated a moment; then with a belated show of courtesy came from behind his desk, and stiffly extended his hand.

“You Americans are the most extraordinary people,” he said; “I must admit, I never quite understand you.”

“Then you must grant us a slight advantage,” rejoined Edestone evenly; “because we believe we do understand you Englishmen. If there had been the same clear understanding on your side in the present instance it would have been more to your interest, I am satisfied; for then instead of merely disturbing you I should have aroused you.”

“It is not a question of arousing me as you call it. You are dealing with the Government of the Empire, and, as you know, England moves slowly. The suggestion that I invite His Majesty to see a lot of moving pictures of an impossible machine, if you will pardon me, is preposterous. If you really wish to sell something to the War Department, although I understand you to state that you do not, nothing is simpler. Ship one of your machines to England, give a demonstration, and whereas I cannot speak with authority, I am confident that England will pay all that any other Government will pay. As to our friends, the enemy, our ships will attend to it that nothing goes to them that can be used against us.” His jaws snapped, and his cold greenish-grey eyes flashed, as he gave another curt bow of dismissal.

Edestone had no alternative but to leave; but as he turned to rejoin Colonel Wyatt, who had stood stiffly at attention throughout the entire interview, he could not resist one parting shot.

“Do not forget, Lord Rockstone,” he said, “that England six months ago spoke lightly of submarines.”

The War Minister pretended not to hear; but no sooner had the door closed upon his offensive visitor than he caught up the telephone. “Get me the Admiralty, and present my compliments to Mr. Underhill,” he directed sharply. “Tell him I would like to speak to him at once.”

He turned back to a tray of letters left upon his desk to sign, but halted, his pen held arrested in air.

“Suppose,” he muttered, “the fellow should actually have—? But, pshaw! It’s simply a mammoth Yankee bluff. That Foreign Department at Washington is just silly enough to believe that it can frighten us with its manufactured photographs. They are so anxious over there to stop the war, that they would resort to any expedient—anything but fight.”

The telephone tinkled.

“Ah! Are you there Underhill? Yes, this is Rockstone. I called you up to warn you against a madman who is now on his way to see you. You can’t well refuse to give him an audience, for he has such strong letters from the American Government that one might imagine he was a special envoy sent to offer armed intervention and to end the war. But in my opinion he is merely a crank or an impostor, who has succeeded in obtaining the support and endorsement of their State Department.

“What is that? Oh yes; he’s an American. His name? How should I remember! I wasn’t interested either in him, or what he had to say. He pretends to have discovered some new agency or force, don’t you know, and tries to prove by a lot of double-exposed photographs that he has broken down the fundamental laws of physics, neutralizing the force of gravity, or annihilating space by the polarization of light, or some such rot.

“Do not kick him out. He has letters not only from his Government, but from some of its most prominent men whom it would be unwise to offend at this time. Just listen to his twaddle about universal peace and that sort of thing, and then pass him on to Graves with a quiet warning such as I have given you.”

Meanwhile Edestone, having taken leave of Colonel Wyatt, was making his way out of the building, when he found himself accosted in the dimly lighted corridor by a man in civilian clothes whom he recognized as a New York acquaintance of several years’ standing.

“Well, look who’s here!” he greeted Edestone lustily as he extended his hand. “What brings you into the very den of the lion? Is it that, like myself, you are helping dear old England get arms and ammunition with which to lick the barbarians on the Rhine?”

Glancing around cautiously he lowered his voice. “Make her pay well for them, my boy; she would not hesitate to turn them on us, if we got in her way.”

Edestone laughingly disclaimed any interest in army contracts, but at the same time avoided divulging the actual mission upon which he was engaged.

There was something in his companion’s manner that put him rather on his guard; he remembered smoking after dinner not more than three or four months before in the house of one of the most prominent German bankers in New York, and listening to this man, who had expressed himself in a way that might have suggested somewhat pro-German sympathies. Edestone had at the time attributed this to a consideration for their host and to the fact that the German Ambassador was present; but he recalled that, although the speaker was most violent in his protestations of neutrality, someone had suggested at the time that he was of a German family, his father having been born in Hesse-Darmstadt. He was a man of wealth, with establishments in New York and Newport, at both of which places Edestone had been entertained. His loud and hearty manner stamped him as a typical American, but his large frame, handsome face, and military bearing showed his Teutonic origin.

“You surprise me Rebener.” Edestone’s eyes twinkled slightly at these recollections. “I should have supposed, if you had anything of the kind to sell, that it would be to your friend, Count Bernstoff. However,” he laid his hand on the other’s arm, “it’s an agreeable surprise to run across a fellow-countryman, no matter what the cause. Are you going my way?”

“No,” Rebener told him, he had an appointment on hand with one of the bureau chiefs in the Ordnance Department.

“Well then suppose you dine with me tonight,” suggested Edestone. “I am stopping at Claridge’s and shall be awfully glad if you can come. I am entirely alone in London, you see; my cronies, I find, are all dead or at the front.”

“Delighted, my boy. But listen! Don’t have any of your English swells. Let’s make this a quiet little American dinner just to ourselves, and forget for once this ghastly war.”

“At eight o’clock, then,” Edestone nodded.

“And a strict neutrality dinner, remember. That is the only safe kind for us Americans to eat in London.”

“All right, Rebener, as neutral as you please. A bientôt.” And with a wave of the hand he passed on down the corridor and out of the building. His appointment with Underhill, Chief of the Admiralty, was not until 11:30, so he put in the time by sauntering rather slowly along the Thames Embankment.

He regretted now that, in talking with Lord Rockstone, he had not made a little more show of force, for had he assumed a more dictatorial manner he would have at least aroused the fighting spirit in his stern antagonist, who might then have taken some interest in crushing him under his heel; whereas now he saw plainly that Rockstone considered him beneath his notice, and thereby much valuable time had been lost. Yet he did not wish to make any show of force until he knew positively that his men were all at their stations, and that the Little Peace Maker was near at hand. He must be in a position to use force before playing his last card, and he had not as yet heard from “Specs.” Although he knew that their instruments were perfectly attuned, he had not, up to twelve o’clock of the day before, received a single vibration.

At this point he was interrupted by encountering another American who also insisted upon stopping and shaking hands. This was a young architect from New York, who had from time to time done work for his father’s estate and who had also made some alterations at the Little Place in the Country for Edestone himself. He was a tall, lank young man of about twenty-seven, with little rat-like eyes, placed so close to his hawk-like nose that one felt Nature would have been kinder to him had she given him only one eye and frankly placed it in the middle of his receding forehead. His small blonde moustache did not cover his rabbit mouth, which was so filled with teeth that he could with difficulty close his lips.

“What has brought you to London, Schmidt? Aren’t you afraid that these Englishmen will capture you and shoot you as a spy?”

“Sh! Not quite so loud please, Mr. Edestone; these English are such fools. They think that because a man has a German name he must be a fighting German, when you know that I am a perfectly good naturalized American citizen. My passport is made out in the name of Schmidt, and that’s my name all right, but I call myself Smith over here to keep from rubbing these fellows the wrong way.”

“Well, Mr. ‘Smith,’ you have not told me what you are doing in London.”

“I have been sent over by a New York architectural paper to make a report upon the condition of the cathedral at Rheims. I stopped over in London to get my papers viséd by the Royal Institute of Architects.” Then, lowering his voice, and keeping his eyes on a policeman who was apparently watching them with interest: “I am sorry to see you here, Mr. Edestone. This is no place for us Americans, and my advice to you is to get out of here as soon as you can, and don’t come back again until the war is over.”

Edestone felt that he would have said more but they were interrupted by the policeman who said: “Excuse me, gentlemen, but these be war times, and me ordhers are to keep the Imbankment moving.”

CHAPTER V. — ECHOES FROM THE WILHELMSTRASSE

After leaving the War Offices, Rebener went directly to the nearest public telephone.

“Hello, Karlbeck,” he called, after satisfying himself by mumbling a jumble of unintelligible words and numbers that he had the man he wanted on the wire. “Is Smith there? What? Thames Embankment? What did you say is the number of that officer? Oh, my old butler, Pat! That’s all right. Now listen; if I should miss Smith and he comes in, tell him to call me at my hotel at once. I have made an engagement for dinner with our man for eight o’clock tonight, but you and H. R. H. need not be at my rooms until half-past eight. You understand, eh? Good-bye.”

He strolled out, following Edestone’s course with the air of a man wishing to enjoy this beautiful spring morning, and approaching the officer who had interrupted the interview between Edestone and Smith, he said, with a little twinkle in his eye: “Will you tell me which of these bridges is called the London Bridge?”

The blue-coated Pat, with Hibernian readiness, caught the humour of the situation. “Shure, I would gladly, but ‘tis a strhanger I am here mesilf,” he grinned as he smothered the entire lower part of his face with his huge paw of a hand, and significantly closed one eye.

“Pat, your fondness for joking will get you into trouble yet. Did Smith turn Edestone over to you?”

“He did, and I mesilf took him up to the Admiralty where he is now. 4782, I think they called him, takes him up from there, and will keep him until he hears from either you or Smith.”

“Where has Smith gone?”

“Shure he’s up at Claridge’s, bein’ shaved by Count von Hottenroth.”

“Now, now, Pat, if you don’t stop that joking of yours I’ll certainly report you to the Wilhelmstrasse.”

“And they said I was to be the first King of dear old Ireland!” as with a broad grin on his face he raised his hand as if drinking. “Der Tag!” he cried, thereby causing several passers-by to laugh at the idea of a London bobby giving the sacred German toast.

Rebener, leaving him, went directly to his rooms at The Britz where he was received with the greatest consideration by everybody about the place. He was shown to the royal suite by the proprietor himself, who after he had carefully closed the door upon them stood as if waiting for orders.

“Call Claridge’s on the ‘phone, and tell Smith who is being shaved,” he smiled at the recollection of Pat’s jest, “to meet me here at once. I do not want him seen in the hotel, so tell him to come in by the servants’ entrance, and you bring him up on the service elevator and in here through my pantry and dining-room.”

The proprietor retired to attend to this, but was soon back, and Rebener continued his instructions.

“Luckily Edestone invited me to dine with him tonight before I had a chance to invite him,” he said, “but I will persuade him to come here and dine with me.”

“So, Mr. Bombiadi,” he turned to the proprietor, “I shall want dinner here for four at 8:30. See to it yourself, will you, that my guests are brought through my private entrance, and one especially—you know who—who will be incognito, must not be recognized. Not that there could be any objection to these men dining with me here—a common rich American, who loves to spend his money on princes and things—but by tonight this man Edestone will be watched by at least twenty men from Scotland Yard, and they suspect anyone of being a German spy, be he prince or pauper.”

Their conversation was interrupted at this point by the arrival of Smith, who came in very much excited. Sniffling and rubbing his nose with the back of his forefinger, like a nervous cocaine fiend, he broke out agitatedly:

“Mr. Rebener, I’m getting sick of this job. When I undertook to find out for you what was going on at the Little Place in the Country, I was working for Germany as against the world, and anything that I can do for her I am glad and proud to do, but that Hottenroth talks like a damn fool. Excuse me, Mr. Rebener, but he don’t want to stop at anything. He says that if he pulls off this thing the Emperor, when he gets to London, will make him Duke of Westminster, or something, and six months from now he will appoint me Governor-General of North America. I tell you, Mr. Rebener, that fellow is plumb nutty.”

“Pardon me, Mr. Rebener,” interposed the proprietor, “it is true that Hottenroth is excitable, but he is faithful to the Fatherland and an humble servant to His Imperial Majesty. He has been in charge of a fixed post in London for fifteen years. He was one of the very first to be sent here, and he was in Paris before that. He would die willingly for the Fatherland, as would I, and if this Schmidt, I mean Smith, thinks there is any sin too great to be committed for the Fatherland, he is not worthy of a place among us, and the sooner we get rid of him the better.” And he looked at the unfortunate Smith in a way that showed he was willing to do this at any moment.

But Rebener, who had lived all his life in America, and like Smith did not thoroughly agree with the philosophy of German militarism—before which everything must bow—hurriedly raised his hand.

“Come, come, you are both getting unnecessarily excited. Don’t let us try to cross our bridges until we get to them. What did von Hottenroth have to report?”

“It was not very satisfactory, to tell you the truth, Mr. Rebener,” said Smith; “they searched through all of his things and they found nothing but a drawing of a Zeppelin of our 29-M type, with some slight changes, which Hottenroth said don’t amount to anything, and some photographs of Mr. Edestone himself, doing some juggling tricks with heavy dumb-bells and weights, but we learned afterwards from the porter that an expressman had left two large and heavy trunks marked, ‘A. M. Black and P. S. Stanton,’ at No. 4141 Grosvenor Square East.”

“Well what is the report,” demanded Bombiadi, “on No. 4141 Grosvenor Square?”

Smith read from a memorandum book: “Lord Lindenberry, who is a widower, lives there with his mother, the Dowager. The old lady is now up at their country place, in Yorkshire, and the Marquis went on to Aldershot last night after having dined with Edestone at Brooks’s and dropping him at Claridge’s at 12:15 A.M. The house is only partially opened; there are only a few of the old servants there.”

“And do you think these trunks contain the instrument which you reported to us from America was always kept in the safe at the Little Place in the Country?” snapped the hotel proprietor.

“I don’t know,” whined Smith. “Mr. Edestone probably has it with him.”

“Well, we must get hold of it before he shows it to Underhill,” frowned the proprietor, “that is, if it has not been shown already, and in that case we must get hold of Edestone himself.”

“Now that is exactly what is troubling me,” Smith’s voice rose hysterically. “I’m not going to stand for any of that rough stuff, Mr. Rebener. Mr. Edestone and his father have both been mighty good to me, and if anything happens to him I’ll blow on the whole lot of you.”

“So?” The proprietor’s pale fat face was convulsed with a look of hatred and contempt. “Then we are to understand, Smith, that if we find it necessary to do away with Edestone you wish to go first? You dirty little half-breed,” he growled in an undertone. “Your mother must have been an English woman.”

“Here, here, you two fools!” Rebener broke in with sharp authority, “there is no question of ‘doing away’ with Edestone, as you call it. What we’re after is the invention and not the man himself, and we’ll not get it by ‘doing away’ with him. I am, like Smith here, opposed to murder, even for the Fatherland.”

“But it is not murder, Mr. Rebener,” interrupted the proprietor, “if thereby we are instrumental in saving thousands of the sons of the Fatherland.”

“That would not only not save the sons of the Fatherland, but would put an end to our usefulness, both here in London and in America, especially if Edestone has already turned the whole thing over to England. The very first thing for us to do is to find out how the matter stands. If the Ministry knows nothing, we must work to get him to Berlin, and then even you fire-eaters may safely trust it to the Wilhelmstrasse. If it should happen, however, that the British Government has the invention, His Royal Highness tonight will try to get enough out of Edestone to enlighten Berlin, and in that way we shall at least get an even break. That is, always provided that Edestone has not a lot of the completed articles, whatever they may be, at the Little Place in the Country. That would put us in bad again, and it will be up to Count Bernstoff to attend to it from the New York end.”

“Of course, Mr. Rebener,” said the proprietor, “we can do nothing until we hear from His Royal Highness, but I am satisfied that he will say Edestone must not be allowed to go to Downing Street tomorrow to continue his negotiations, unless in some way we can get hold of this secret tonight.”

“Well, I’ll be damned if I’ll—!” started Rebener angrily, when he was interrupted by the proprietor, who holding his finger to his lip, said:

“Please, Mr. Rebener, please! Always remember that the service on which we are engaged has no soul and a very long arm.” Then dropping into the persuasive and servile tone of the maître d’hôtel: “I propose, Mr. Rebener, that you allow me to send you up a nice little lunch, some melon, say, a salmon mayonnaise or a filet du sole au vin blanc and a noisette d’agneau and a nice little sweet, and you must try a bottle of our Steinberger Auslese ‘84.

“And Smith,” he turned to the humbler agent, “you had better get in touch with 4782, who is reporting to His Royal Highness every hour. His last message was that Edestone is still with Underhill, so you get down to the Admiralty and report to me here as often as you can. Edestone will probably lunch quietly alone somewhere, as I know that all of his friends are at the front, but don’t lose him until you turn him over to Mr. Rebener tonight at 8 o’clock.” His eyes narrowed as they followed the skulking figure of the architect out of the room.

“That fellow needs watching,” he muttered to Rebener. “He has lost his nerve. He is not a true German anyhow. But if he makes a false step, 4782 knows what to do and you can depend upon him to do it. We do not know who he is, but he is a gentleman, if not a nobleman, and he will kill or die for his Emperor.”

Smith, in the meantime, had gone down the service stairs and out at the rear of the hotel. He was thoughtful, and when he was settled in his taxi, after having directed the chauffeur where to drive, he said to himself:

“They are going to kill him tonight unless they get that machine, or else can fix it so that Rockstone doesn’t get it tomorrow, that is if Underhill hasn’t got it already. I wish I’d never started this business; I never thought it would go so far, and what do I get out of it? A German decoration which I can’t wear in America, and God knows I don’t want to live in Germany, and seventeen dollars a week. I’m not going to stand for it, and that’s settled.”

Arriving in front of a little restaurant he entered and sat down at a table near a window looking out on Whitehall Place. The proprietor, who was another German, came over to him, and while ostensibly arranging the cloth spoke to him in an undertone in his own language.

“Edestone is still with Underhill,” he said. “The taxi driver on the stand opposite, the one who looks as if he were asleep, is 4782. In that way he keeps the head of the line, you see, and when Edestone comes out, if he doesn’t take that cab, 4782 can follow him until he alights again, and then he is to telephone His Royal Highness. So you sit here and have lunch, where you can see what is going on.”

Then, turning to a group of his regular customers at another table, the jovial host in a loud voice and in perfect English took a violent pro-Ally part in the war discussion that was going on.

CHAPTER VI. — A RUSTY OLD CANNON-BALL

Edestone had met the Honorable Herbert Underhill before, both in America and in the country houses of England. The two were about the same age, and as Underhill’s mother was an American, Edestone had hoped that he would not have quite so much trouble in getting him to look at the matter from an American point of view.

Underhill, however, was just on that account a little bit more formal with the cousins from across the sea than were most of the men of high position in Europe. He was undoubtedly taken aback and thrown off his guard when he found that Edestone was the dangerous American lunatic of whom he had been warned. In the first place, he knew that there was not the slightest chance of his being an impostor, and he also knew exactly how much of a lunatic he was. He knew, in fact, that he was a hard-riding, clear-thinking, high-minded Anglo-Saxon of the very best type to be found A Rusty Old Cannon-Ball anywhere, and he smiled as he thought of Rockstone’s advice not to kick him out of the Admiralty.

With considerable show of cordiality, he invited his visitor into a small room adjoining his large office, and sat him down at the opposite side of a wide table.

“Lord Rockstone told me you were coming, but did not mention your name. He is quite a chap, that Rockstone. Not what you Americans would call a very chatty party, however. Now what can I do for you? Lord Rockstone tells me that you have some new invention, or something of the sort, that will help us to finish up this little scrimmage without the loss of a single Tommy. Well, that is exactly what we are looking for, and you American chaps are clever at thinking out new ideas. He tells me, however, that you do not wish to sell it. Now I can understand better than he why that part would be of no especial interest to you; but can’t we deal with a Syndicate, or a Board of Underwriters, a Holding Company, or some of those wonderful business combinations that you Americans devise in order to do business without going to jail? Is the poor starving inventor some billionaire like yourself, who works only for honour and glory? In that case we might get an Iron Cross for him. In fact, we might get one blessed by the Emperor himself, by Jove!”

Edestone laughed. “Well, Mr. Underhill, you cannot deny inheriting a certain amount of American wit. I have so often heard the older members of the Union Club tell stories of Billy Travers’s witty sayings. He must have gone the pace that kills. One of the old servants used to tell that whenever Travers and Larry Jerome and that set came in for supper, they expected the waiters to drink every fifth bottle; it made things more cheerful-like—but revenons à nos moutons. Lord Rockstone is right, I do not want to sell my discovery, for mine it is. I am the penniless inventor. I only want an opportunity of showing it to the heads of the Powers that are now at war, and of demonstrating to them the stupendous and overwhelming force that is now practically in the hands of the greatest of the neutral governments, and thus try, if possible, to convince them of the uselessness of continuing this loss of life and treasure.

“If I could demonstrate to you, Mr. Underhill, that I could, sitting here in your office, give an order that would set London on fire and send every ship in the English navy to the bottom in the course of a few weeks, would you not advocate opening negotiations for peace? And were I to show the Emperor of Germany that his great army could be destroyed in even less time, would he not be more receptive than we now understand him to be?”

“Why, Mr. Edestone, I most certainly should,” the First Lord of the Admiralty granted with a smile, “and I think that perhaps the German Emperor would be amenable under the circumstances, but as they say in your great country, ‘I am from Missouri, you must show me.’”

He changed his position and glanced at Edestone as if he were beginning to think that possibly Rockstone might be right in his estimate after all.

“Very well, Mr. Underhill; it is now five minutes to noon, and I think that I will be able to show you in exactly five minutes.”

He took from his pocket a leather case, such as a woodsman might use to carry a large pocket compass, and removing the cover set out upon the table an instrument that was entirely enclosed in vulcanized rubber. On the top, under glass, was a dial, with a little needle which vibrated violently, but came to a standstill soon after being placed on the table. Two small platinum wires, about twelve inches long and carefully insulated, issued from opposite sides of the hard rubber casing.

Underhill’s face at first bore only an expression of mild amusement, but as Edestone evidenced such a deadly earnestness, he showed more interest and said with a rather nervous laugh: “Look here, old chap, don’t blow the entire English navy out of the water while you’re closeted here with me. I must have some witness to prove that I didn’t do it or I might have to explain to the House of Commons.”

Edestone, a hard and drawn look about his mouth, paid no heed, but taking his watch out of his pocket fixed his eye on the little needle of the instrument and waited as the last few seconds of the hour ticked off. As the second hand made its last round, and the minute hand swung into position exactly at twelve, he leaned over the table as if trying by mental suggestion to make the instrument respond to his will. But it remained perfectly quiescent, and with a half sigh and a tightening of the lines about his mouth, he closed his watch. Could it be possible, he thought, that “Specs” had forgotten his instructions always to use Greenwich time?

He was about to replace the instrument in its case, when he was startled by a clock on the mantel, which began to strike the hour of twelve. Involuntarily he counted the strokes as they chimed slowly, and as the vibrations of the last stroke faded away the little needle swung an entire circuit of the dial, returning to its original position. This was repeated three times.

Underhill, although still interested in what was going on, seemed a bit relieved when nothing more startling happened.

“Oh, I say, you know, you gave me quite a start,” he jested. “I thought that you were going to set London on fire, and you simply seem to be taking your blood-pressure.”

Edestone still paid not the slightest attention to him, but after glancing about the room walked over to the mantelpiece where he picked up an old twelve-inch cannon-ball, which with considerable difficulty he brought back and placed on the table by the side of his instrument. His eyes once more roved about the room as if he were seeking something, and stepping deliberately to a passe-partout photograph of King George V., he ripped off the binding with his pocket-knife and tore from it the glass.

“Oh, I say, now, Mr. Edestone, those cow-boy methods don’t go here in London, and if you cannot behave a bit more like a gentleman, I’ll have you shown to the street.”

“We have more important matters on our hands just now, Mr. Underhill, than whether or not I am a gentleman,” snapped the American, his face set and serious as he with nervous fingers laid the glass on the table.

Rolling the cannon-ball to him, he lifted it very gently on to the glass plate, and then taking a key from his pocket he appeared to wind up on the inside of the instrument some mechanism which gave off a buzzing sound. Next he drew on a pair of rubber gloves with vulcanized rubber finger tips, and moistening with his lips the ends of the two platinum wires, pressed them to either side of the ball, first the one and then the other. A spark was given off when the second contact was made, and the room was filled with a pungent odour as of overheated metal which caused both men to cough violently.

Following this, with great care, and using only the tips of his fingers, he lifted the glass plate with the ball on it. When he had raised it his arm’s length above the table, like a plum pudding on a platter, he took the glass away, leaving the ball hanging unsupported in the air.

He sat down and smiled across the table into the astonished, almost incredulous, face of his companion.

“And now, Mr. Underhill, I hope you will pardon my rudeness,” he apologized lightly; “but I get so interested in these little tricks of mine that sometimes I forget myself. If you will permit me, I shall, when I go to Paris, order from Cartiers’s a more befitting frame for His Majesty, and shall beg you to accept it from me as a little souvenir of our meeting today.”

Underhill made no reply. His whole attention was riveted on that amazing ball, and Edestone, a trifle mischievously, added: “If you have a perfectly good heart, and think you can stand a bit of a shock, touch that ball lightly with your finger.”

“My heart’s all right, and I am prepared for anything,” Underhill surrendered, as he reached up and touched the innocent looking rusty old cannon-ball, whose only peculiarity seemed to be its willingness to remain where it was without any visible means of support.

The room was suddenly filled with a greenish light, as if someone had just taken a flash-light photograph. Underhill was thrown violently back into his chair, and the ball crashed down on the table, splitting it from end to end.

Without moving a muscle of his face, and taking no notice of the gestures of pain made by Underhill as he sat rubbing his arm and shoulder, Edestone resumed:

“Mr. Underhill, I will not take any more of your valuable time to show you my drawings and photographs, but I beg you to say to Sir Egbert Graves that you do not think with Lord Rockstone that the American Secretary of State has been deceived, and that you hope he will, when he sees me tomorrow, try to forget for a while that he is an Englishman and be a little bit human. You know, Underhill, confidence and pigheadedness are not even connected by marriage; much less are they blood relations. By Jove,” he grinned, “you can tell him I’ll stick him up against the ceiling if he insists upon handling me with the ice tongs and leave him there until you take him down; that is, if you care to take another little shock.”

Underhill, although he might have thought at another time that it was his duty to resent such light and frivolous reference to the heads of His Majesty’s Government, was now, however, occupied with more serious reflections, and overlooked the offence.

“I am sure,” he said, rousing himself, “that if Sir Egbert is convinced that you are working for the sake of humanity he will be most happy to make use of your talents.”

“That is exactly what I want him to do,” returned Edestone, “but not in the way in which you mean. I wish to be given authority to open negotiations for peace with the Emperor of Germany. Now, Mr. Underhill, do we understand one another?”

He rose to leave with this, but Underhill, stepping quickly forward, laid a hand upon his arm.

“You don’t suppose for a moment, Mr. Edestone, that we will allow you to leave England and go to Germany to sell them your invention and have it used against us?”

“You have my word, Mr. Underhill, and that of the American Secretary of State, that it is not my intention to sell to any government. With that assurance, unless your Ministry wishes to risk the chances of war with the United States, I think it will allow me to leave England and go anywhere I please. Good-morning, Mr. Underhill. I am sorry to have taken up so much of your valuable time, even more sorry to have broken His Majesty’s beautiful old oak table.”

CHAPTER VII. — DIPLOMACY WINS

Underhill, left alone, sat for some moments looking from the broken table to the cannonball and then back again. Finally he picked up a fragment of glass, for the Royal face protector had likewise been broken, when the good old English oak had met its defeat at the hands of this Hun of the world of science, and with it, very gingerly, he tapped the iron ball—this rusty old barbarian which had set at naught the force of gravity, had violated all the established laws of nature, and had like the Germans in Belgium smashed through.

Finding that nothing happened, he hesitated for a moment, and, then, bracing himself against the shock, he touched his finger gently to this rude old paradox. There was no shock, and, reassured, he leaned across the table and tried with both hands to lift the cannon-ball.

“That part is genuine there is no doubt,” he granted. “That old cannon-ball must have been here since—?” He gave a start as his eyes caught the inscription pasted upon it, which was:

“A freak cannon-ball, made at the Forge
and Manor of Greenwood, Virginia, 1778.
Presented in 1889 to Lord Roberts by
General George Bolling Anderson, Governor
of the State of Virginia.”

“How extraordinary!” he exclaimed. “These Americans are popping up at every turn.”

He passed out into the large outer office, and, glancing at his watch, summoned an undersecretary.

“It is now just a quarter after twelve,” he said, “and the Cabinet lunches at Buckingham Palace at two. Present my compliments to Lord Rockstone and Sir Egbert Graves, and say that I should like to see them both here for a few minutes on a matter of the greatest importance, and that much as I regret to trouble them it is absolutely necessary that this meeting be held in my office and before they go on to the Palace.”

To another attendant who, moved by curiosity, was going in the direction of the smaller room, he said: “Place a sentry at that door when I leave. No one is to be allowed to enter that room until I give further orders.”

A telephone orderly came in a few minutes later to say that his message had found Lord Rockstone and Sir Egbert Graves together, and that they both would be with him within the half-hour.

Underhill was now fully convinced that Edestone possessed some wonderful invention or discovery which the United States intended to use as a final argument for peace, and, with the aid of this discovery, render untenable any position in opposition to its will taken by England or any of the other Powers. Had he dreamed that the United States was as ignorant as to the nature of this invention as he himself was, the history of the world might have been changed.

When Graves and Rockstone arrived, he greeted them with serious face and at once drew them into private conference.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I am sorry to have to trouble you to come to me, but I am confident that you will forgive me when you understand my reasons for insisting upon a meeting here.” Keeping both men still standing he continued: “I have a strange story to tell, so strange in fact, that you gentlemen would be justified in doubting not only my word but my sanity, had I nothing to show you in corroboration.”

Both men stood like graven images; one like a soldier at attention; the other, his hat and cane in his right hand and the tips of his two first fingers resting lightly on the table behind which Underhill was standing, his thin, clean-shaven, mask-like face as expressionless as if it belonged to a head that had been stuck on the end of a pike and shoved out across the table for Underhill to look at, instead of to one well placed on his broad athletic shoulders. They both knew that Underhill was young and had inherited from his beautiful American mother a nervous and temperamental disposition. They also knew that this was tempered by the crafty cleverness of the blood of the hero of Blenheim. They had come prepared for one of his excitable outbursts, although they knew he would not have been so insistent had there not been good cause.

“Will you be so kind as to walk into this room with me?” He pointed toward the door of the small room.

Still with that show of utter imperturbability the two complied, continuing to gaze stolidly as their associate, closing the door behind them, called their attention to the cannon-ball and broken table.

“Exhibits A and B”; he waved his hand toward the two objects. “I wanted you to see these in order to convince you that I have neither been dreaming, nor am I the victim of an aberration.”

Then with great care and endeavouring to maintain a semblance of self-possession, he described his recent experience, omitting no single detail that he could recall. He showed them exactly where and how he had been sitting, and followed every movement made by Edestone, even to the ripping of the glass from the portrait of the King, until finally, as if overcome by the strain that he had put upon himself to appear perfectly calm, he ended with a nervous little laugh.

“Will you look at the inscription on that blooming old cannon-ball? It really seems quite spooky.”

Graves moved forward and thoughtfully examined the split table and the rusty old relic of Valley Forge, but Rockstone did not offer to stir. With what was almost a sneer on his face he met the challenging glance of his younger confrère.

“I would not have believed, Underhill,” he said impatiently, “that you with your experience with the fakirs of India could have been taken in by so old a trick.” He half-closed his eyes as if to indicate that for him at least the incident was closed.

Underhill frowned. “You are wrong, Rockstone,” he exclaimed impulsively. “This man is no faker, nor am I so easily imposed upon as you seem to think. I tell you that we are called upon to deal with a new agency that can neither be disputed nor sneered away, and unless we can contrive some way to oppose it, the United States will step in and force a peace upon us—a peace that will leave Europe exactly where it was before the war—and keep it so, while she herself can go ahead unchecked and take possession of the whole Western Hemisphere. Don’t you see the scheme?”

“Where is this extraordinary individual?” inquired the Foreign Minister, completing his inspection of the table. “What has become of him?” His thin voice was as evenly modulated as if he were asking where he had put his other glove.

“Oh, probably at Boodle’s or Brookes’s lunching with some of his friends,” Underhill answered indifferently. “He left here only a short time ago. And you need not be afraid, Sir Egbert,” with a significant glance. “A very careful eye is being kept upon his movements. We can get him at any moment if we want him.”

Graves nodded, and then went on meditatively.

“It is of course entirely irregular,” he said, “but from what both of you gentlemen tell me as to the nature of his credentials, there can be little doubt that the man is here with the approval of his Government, if not as an authorized representative. The sole question, therefore, is whether or not he does possess such an invention or discovery as he claims——”

“But can you doubt that?” demanded Underhill hotly.

“And whether,” proceeded Sir Egbert without change of tone, “granting that the contrivance is of value, the United States will permit its purchase for use in the present war.

“On the first proposition, I can only say that if he has this invention, as my young friend of the Navy stands so firmly convinced, it is tantamount to admitting that the United States has a new and terrible instrument of war, in which case it would be most unwise to offend her. If he has not, there certainly can be no objection to allowing him the opportunity of offering to our enemies something that is of no value. Therefore, that seems to settle the question as to the advisability of detaining him, as has been suggested. I should strongly favour letting him go when and where he pleases.

“Assuming that he has in his possession facts or mechanisms that would give to one nation such stupendous advantages over the others as he claims, we must not forget that the United States has had these facts and mechanisms for some time. Therefore, it would be ill-advised to detain him forcibly, for the United States’ answer to this would be a declaration of war in which the superiority of her position would be overwhelming.

“I’m inclined to believe that the reason he does not wish to sell his discovery is because he has not obtained permission from his Government to do so. They intend to dispose of it to the country with whom they can make the most favourable bargain. I think indeed that under all circumstances the best policy for this Government is to treat this man with the greatest possible consideration. If he has the power to do us harm, we must put him in such a position that he will not wish to do it; and if he has not, our treatment of him will have a tendency to draw the United States nearer to us than she is at present. We must, at least, pretend to take the American Secretary of State at his word. Whereas I do not think that there is any doubt that America is influenced entirely by selfish motives, she is now our friend, and as long as this war goes on it is to the interest of Great Britain to keep her so.”

“A very good idea, Sir Egbert,” agreed Underhill. “That is absolutely the only way to deal with this man. He says that he is almost a pure Anglo-Saxon, you know, and he is as proud of it as if he were an Englishman. He is the ninth in direct line from the original old chap, or rather young chap, who went from England to Virginia in 1642. Think of it! Say what you may, blood is thicker than water. That fellow is at heart an Englishman; he has been away from home nearly three hundred years.”

Graves gave a little bow of comprehension. “When Mr. Edestone calls on me tomorrow,” he said, “I shall not even touch on the question of the purchasing of this alleged invention, but shall offer to facilitate in every way his mission as peacemaker. I shall take him at his word that he does not intend to sell to any one, and try to persuade him that, if he is bent on coercing any people, the English are not the ones that require this, as they are in perfect accord with him, and that he would accomplish his purpose much more quickly if he would bring force to bear upon the German Emperor.”

“But, Sir Egbert,” broke in Underhill excitedly, “he says that he wants us to authorize him to open peace negotiations with the Kaiser, and I think he rather intimated that if we should refuse he would use force, which of course means the United States.”

“Well upon my word!” Rockstone’s eyes flashed, and an indignant expression took the place of the rather bored look with which he had been listening. “That is pretty strong language to use to His Imperial Majesty’s Government, and for my part I think that this young gentleman and his little trick box should be shipped back home with a very polite but emphatic note to the effect that when England wishes the good offices of the United States in bringing this war to a close, she will call for them. As to the young man himself, I should say to him that if he were caught trying to get into Germany he would be looked upon as a spy endeavouring to render assistance to the enemy, and would be treated accordingly.”

“But wait a moment, Rockstone,” said Sir Egbert. “You are forgetting that this Mr. Edestone is in some measure at least the representative of his country. We cannot afford to offend the United States of America, even though his manners are bad.”

“To the contrary,” muttered Underhill, “his manners are surprisingly good.”

Sir Egbert slightly inclined his head in acknowledgment of the correction. “There is the point too,” he went on, “as to whether or not he is an impostor. If he is, why should we allow the American comic papers to put us in the same category with their own Secretary of State, at whom they have been poking fun for years, when they discover that this exceedingly clever young man has taken us in also?

“No, no, to me the matter seems very simple. Uncle Sam has got something he wants to sell. Good or bad it makes no difference; he wants to sell, and sell it he will to the highest bidder. Why refuse to consider his offer on the one hand, or why appear to be too anxious to close with him on the other? Let him offer it to the enemy; he will certainly come back for our bid before closing with them.”

“Do you know, Sir Egbert,” Lord Rockstone somewhat reluctantly allowed himself to be won over, “since you put it that way I think that perhaps you are right. Diplomacy is probably the strongest weapon with which to deal with this young man. He did not impress me as one to be easily bluffed by show of force.”

“Nor should I be bluffed, even by you, Rockstone,” said Underhill somewhat ruefully, rubbing his arm, “if I had the power that this chap has locked up in that little rubber box and stored away in that long head of his.”

“Well, let us make a decision: does His Majesty go to Washington or shall the Chautauqua lecturer extend his professional tours to include London?” Graves gave his sly secretive laugh. Then as if ashamed of his momentary levity, and changing his entire manner, he said: “Well, gentlemen, what do you propose?”

“I rather think we are unanimous,” said Underhill, “in considering that Mr. Edestone should be given a fair hearing. The final answer to his proposition can be given, of course, only after it has been discussed in full cabinet.”

“That would perhaps be the best way to leave the matter,” approved Rockstone.

“We are agreed then, it seems,” said Graves, and they left together for Buckingham Palace.

CHAPTER VIII. — THE SPY-DRIVEN TAXI. —

On coming out of the Admiralty, Edestone, a trifle preoccupied, was about to take the taxi with the rather sleepy driver which stood at the head of the line. But the thought came to him, where shall I go? As he had told Rebener, none of his pals were in town and he had absolutely nothing to do until dinner at eight o’clock. Why not take lunch at some quiet little place in the neighbourhood?

“I say, cabby, is there any sort of a decent restaurant around here where one can get a very nice little lunch?”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir”; the chauffeur rather abruptly came into full possession of his faculties. “There is a very neat little place right across the road, sir, thank you, sir,” and he pointed in the direction of the window at which Schmidt was sitting.

“Ah, thank you, cabby,” said Edestone in his usual kind manner with people of that class. He was rather struck by the handsome face of the man, although it was covered over with grease and grime. “Here is a shilling. Don’t you think I might be able to walk that far this beautiful day?”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir.” The man showed no appreciation of the humour. “Would you be wanting a cab later on, sir? If so I’ll just hang about, sir. Times is hard in these war times, sir.”

“Certainly, wait by all means,” said Edestone with a jolly laugh. “Set your clock. Now open your door and drive me to that restaurant over there, and then wait for me till I have had my lunch. By the time that I get through with you I think you will find that you have done a good day’s work.”

“I am sure of it, sir.” The chauffeur hid a surreptitious chuckle with his very dirty hand.

On entering the restaurant the first person Edestone saw was Schmidt, and he gave a little nod of recognition.

“Well, Mr. Schmidt, we seem to be meeting quite often this morning. I hope that I am to infer from your presence that I will be able to get some of your delightfully greasy German dishes.”

But at this point he was interrupted by the proprietor, who came bustling up, trying to force him to take a seat at a table in another part of the room.

“German dishes?” stammered the restaurant keeper. “Not at all. That was when the place was run by Munchinger, but he went back to Germany last July, and this place is run by me, and I am a Swiss. Still, sir, if you are fond of the German dishes I think I might be able to accommodate you, sir.”

“Well, suppose I leave that entirely to you. I can’t by any chance get a large stein of Münchener beer?”

“No, sir, I am sorry. I can get you some French beer though, which we think is much better. You know that Admiral Fisher has got those Dutchmen bottled up so tight that they tell me the beer won’t froth any more in Germany.” And he burst into a roar of laughter in which he was joined by a chorus of adoring customers sitting about at the different tables.

Edestone sat down while the proprietor in person took his order to the kitchen. In a very short time, the man returned and put down before him a gemüse suppe, following this with schweine fleisch, sauerkraut, and gherkins—a luncheon which might have been cooked in a German’s own kitchen—and set before him a glass of beer which Edestone would have sworn had not been brewed outside of the city of Munich.

The proprietor bustled about, laughing and cracking clumsy jokes with everyone who would listen to him, and his jokes seemed to Edestone to be almost as German as his beer. In this way he finally worked over to where Smith was sitting, and as he pretended to arrange something on the table whispered sharply: “Go to the lavatory.”

Smith, unable to eat, sat toying with his food. He gulped his beer as if it choked him. He turned around several times to look at Edestone, but the latter after his perfunctory greeting took no further notice of him. At last, paying his check, the man walked to the rear of the restaurant and into a small, dark, badly ventilated room under the stairs. The place was so dimly lighted that he could scarcely see in front of him a wash basin, but as he was wondering what he was expected to do next he heard a voice that seemed to come from a little partially opened window that looked out into a dark ventilating shaft to the left of the basin. “Pretend to wash your hands,” the voice whispered cautiously. Smith did as he was directed and found that he thus brought his left ear close to the window opening.

“Now listen,” said the voice, speaking rapidly in German. “God is with the Fatherland today! 4782 has been engaged to wait. Hottenroth has telephoned that our man undoubtedly has his instrument with him. The order is for you and 4782 to get it from him this afternoon at any cost. 4782 knows what he is to do.” And the window closed softly.

Smith broke out into a cold perspiration. He knew that he was looking death straight in the face, and in a twinkling his mind carried him back over his entire life. He clutched at his throat as he realized his horrible situation. His present position in the grip of this relentless but invisible master had come about so gradually that he had not realized how firmly he was caught until now it was too late. Not being borne up by the hysterical exaltation of the true-born Prussian, he resented that he should be the one selected to do this ghastly thing.

He staggered back into the restaurant where the proprietor, laying a hand upon his arm, and laughing loudly and winking as if he were telling a risqué story, muttered some further directions into his ear.

“He is preparing to go now. Join him and don’t leave him until—” he broke off and rushed over to Edestone who had risen from the table and was taking his hat and cane from the waiter.

“I hope, sir, you found everything perfectly satisfactory?” he bowed.

“Very nice indeed,” said Edestone, handing him a half-crown. “I am glad to have discovered your place and I shall come again.”

At the door he encountered Smith, who was lingering about as if waiting for him.

“Oh, Mr. Edestone,” he forced himself to say, swallowing and fumbling with his mouth. “I remember when I was fixing up your Little Place in the Country for you that you took a great deal of interest in old English prints. Well, I have just found an old print shop over in the Whitechapel district with some of the most wonderful old prints, and if you have the time to spare I would like to take you over and have the old man show them to you.”

“I should like to very much,” said Edestone. “I have just been wondering what I should do with myself this afternoon.”

“The Kaiser and God will bless you for this,” the restaurant keeper whispered into Smith’s ear, after he had bowed Edestone out to the sidewalk.

“Mr. Smith, will you please give the address to the driver,” said Edestone as he stepped into the taxi. Smith leaned over and gave some mumbled instructions to the chauffeur, who had remained upon his box; then he took his place at the side of his friend and patron.

But no sooner had the motor started than he turned to Edestone. “Mr. Edestone,”—his voice trembled so violently that he could scarcely speak,—“please do not move or seem surprised at what I am going to say.”

Edestone drew back slightly and looked at him. He thought at first that the man had suddenly lost his reason. Smith was perfectly livid and his little eyes were starting from his head. His mouth was open and he seemed to be vainly trying to draw his blue lips over his great dry yellow teeth on which they seemed to catch, giving him the appearance of a snarling dog as he cringed in the corner of the cab. One hand was pulling at his collar while with the other he clutched at the seat in a vain effort to restrain the tremors which were shaking him from head to foot. “Don’t speak. I must talk and talk fast,” he said.

Edestone leaned forward as if to halt the car, but the fellow caught him by the knee in a grip almost of desperation.

“For God’s sake don’t do that!” he pleaded. “He will kill both of us. Oh, don’t you understand? He is a German spy. I am German, Rebener is German, we are all Germans—all spies. We have been watching you for the past six months. This man is now driving you to a place where they will certainly kill you unless you turn over that instrument which you have in your pocket.”

At this Edestone started. Although he could scarcely control himself and felt like strangling the chicken-hearted wretch, he recovered himself in time to say with a look of disgust, “You poor miserable creature.”

“I know, Mr. Edestone, but please keep quiet. I may save you if you will do as I say. I don’t know about myself. I am a dead man for certain, though, if you let him once suspect,” and he motioned in the direction of the chauffeur. Then continuing he gasped out: “Stop the taxi anywhere along here: get out and go into some shop. When you come out again say to me that you have decided you will look at the prints some other day, and that you will walk to the hotel. Discharge and pay him. I will re-engage him and as soon as we get out of sight you take another taxi and drive straight to your hotel. But you must be careful; he knows that you have the instrument with you. They are desperate enough to do anything. Your life is in danger.”

Edestone, thoroughly enjoying the excitement of the situation, had absolutely no fear either for himself or for the instrument, since as a matter of fact he knew that he could destroy that at any moment. He felt sorry for Smith, however. He pitied him for his weakness but realized that he was risking his life to save him, so he did as he was urged.

While he was in the shop 4782 got off the box, and, looking into the cab, said sternly to Smith in German: “If you are playing me any of your American tricks, you half-breed, you will never see the sun set again.”

Also, when Edestone returned and discharged him with a very handsome tip, he did not seem especially gratified, and when poor Smith in a trembling voice re-engaged the taxi, the driver almost lost control of himself. Had he done so, Edestone, who was watching him closely, would have been delighted, since he would have liked nothing better than to have forced the fellow to show his hand then and there. He was again struck with the chauffeur’s appearance as he stood talking to Smith for he had the air of a gentleman and even through his dirt looked above his position. Leaving them there, the American strolled along, and, after a block or two, hailed another cab and ordered it to drive to Claridge’s. He really did not think to look about him, but had he done so he might have discovered that he was being followed by the first taxi with its woebegone passenger and its handsome chauffeur.

Arriving at the hotel he was interested to see standing in front of the door a carriage with men in the royal livery, and he was met at the entrance by the proprietor himself in a frightful state of excitement.

“Mr. Edestone, one of the King’s equerries is waiting in the reception room to see you. I have been calling you up at every club and hotel in London.”

Edestone went into the reception room where he was met by an officer in the uniform of the Royal Horse Guards, who after going through the formality of introducing himself delivered his message:

“His Majesty, the King, instructs me to say that he will receive you and inspect your drawings, photographs, etc., at Buckingham Palace this afternoon at half-past four o’clock.”

CHAPTER IX. — BUCKINGHAM PALACE

To nearly every man, especially if he happened to be an Englishman, the fact that he had received a Royal Command would have been sufficient to make him, if not nervous, at least thoughtful. Edestone was, however, so incensed at Rebener and so disgusted with Schmidt and so angry with the entire German Secret Service, that it came to him as a relief, like an invitation, from a gentleman older and more distinguished than himself, to dine, or to see some recently acquired painting or bit of porcelain, after he had been all day at a Board meeting of avaricious business men. It was no affectation with him that he felt he was going into an atmosphere in which he belonged. “I always assume that Royalties are gentlemen,” he would say, “until I find that they are not; and as long as they conduct themselves as such I am perfectly at ease, but as soon as they begin to behave like bounders I am uncomfortable.”

He was not one of those Americans who insist at all times and under all circumstances that he is as good as any man, simply because in his heart of hearts he knows that he is not, but hopes by this bluster to deceive the world. On the contrary, he was a firm advocate of an aristocratic form of government, and did not hesitate to say that he considered the Declaration of Independence, wherein it refers to the absolute equality of man, as a joke.

He was a most thorough believer in class and class distinction and said that he hoped to see the day when the world would be ruled by an upper class who would see that the lower classes had all that was good for them, but would not be allowed to turn the world upside down with their clumsy illogical reforms and new religions, Saint-Simonianism, humanitarianism, or as a matter of fact with any of the old established isms. They already have several hundred forms to choose from, he would say; they should not be allowed to make any more new ones until one single one of these has been universally accepted. The glamour of royalty had no effect upon him. Its solidity, dignity, and gentility did.

When he saw the royal livery standing before the hotel, he had rather surmised that it was being used by some Indianapolis heiress who had married a title which carried the privilege of using it and was getting her money’s worth. He therefore took no interest in looking into the carriage, but he would have been glad to have gone up to the men and said: “A nice pair of horses you have there. How well they are turned out, and how very smartly you wear your livery.”

The equerry, Colonel Stewart, was very simple and direct. He treated Edestone with consideration, but did not forget to let him understand that the King was showing great condescension in inviting him so informally.

“A carriage will be sent for you at four o’clock, and if there is any apparatus and you have men to install it they will be looked after by an officer of the Royal Household who will call in about an hour.”

He said that the King wished to have it understood that he was not receiving Edestone in any way as representing the United States of America, since no credentials of any kind had been presented, but simply as a gentleman of science whose achievements warranted the honour.

In the course of their conversation, Edestone referred to his recent unpleasant experience in the spy-driven taxi, and he was assured by Colonel Stewart that he need entertain no further apprehensions on that score as thorough protection would be given him and every single one of these men would be and already were under espionage. Bowing then, the equerry left as quietly as he had come.

Edestone went up to his apartment and issued his instructions to James, his valet.

“Send Mr. Black and Mr. Stanton to me at once. Then fix my bath, send for the barber, and lay out my clothes. I am going out to tea”—he paused—“with His Majesty, King George V. of England,” while he enjoyed the effect on his snobbish English servant.

“Mr. Black,” he said when his electrician and operating man came in, “will you and Mr. Stanton go to Grosvenor Square and bring over the boxes with the apparatus and films. They will have to be back here by 3:15, as there will be an officer of the Royal Household here at that time. Go with him to Buckingham Palace and install the instrument and screen where he directs you; then wait there until you hear from me.”

While he was dressing and being shaved he ran over in his mind what he should say to the King. He knew that either Rockstone or Underhill had engineered this audience, and he wondered whether it foreboded good or evil. At any rate it was progress, and that was all-important.

Colonel Stewart had certainly been most cordial, and the fact that he was to meet the King without the delay of presenting credentials through the American Embassy, rather argued that England felt the necessity for prompt action.

The barber almost cut his ear off when James came to announce the fact than an officer of the Royal Household was downstairs and that Mr. Black and Mr. Stanton had returned from Grosvenor Square with the apparatus and films, and when Edestone stopped him long enough to say through the lather: “Tell Mr. Black that I will be at the Palace and shall want everything in readiness by 4:30 at the latest,” the man gave such a start that he almost dropped the shaving mug. He set it down with a bang on the marble washbasin.

“I go,” he said. “My nose bleeds. I will send you another barber.” And he rushed out of the room.

“What is the matter, James?” exclaimed Edestone indignantly. “Why didn’t you insist on their sending up the head barber instead of that fool? Come finish this thing up yourself, I can’t wait.” Recovering his equanimity he added: “Time flies and the King waits.”

James, who in his time had valeted princes, after he had finished shaving him and had turned him out as only a well-trained English valet can, glanced with satisfaction at his work. “I think, sir, when His Majesty sees you, sir, he will ask, sir, who is your tailor, sir. A buttonhole, sir?”

And so with a light step and buoyant spirit the American went down, when word came up that Colonel Stewart had called for him.

“Mr. Edestone,” said the Colonel, “I am glad to tell you that your apparatus has arrived safely and has been installed in the Green Drawing Room. The King is deeply interested, and judging from a mysterious pair of curtains in the gallery I think that other members of the Royal Family intend to see this wonderful American with his wonderful invention. As to your friends, the German spies, I made due report of the matter and shall probably have something to tell you later.”

It was a beautiful spring day and as Edestone was driven through Berkeley Square, up Piccadilly, and down Grosvenor Place he saw London at its best. Then, as he crossed the park with its beautiful old trees and lake and flower-beds, approaching Buckingham Palace from an entirely different angle than he had ever seen it before, he realized for the first time that it was in the midst of a beautiful sylvan setting. The Buckingham Palace that he knew had always suggested to him one of the Department Buildings in Washington in their efforts to look as much like a royal palace as possible.

When he stopped under a porte-cochère simple little entrance, he felt that he might be making a call at some rich American’s country home rather than on the King of England in the middle of London. There were no soldiers and no extraordinary number of servants. He had seen as many and more at some of the houses at Newport. He was shown into a long, low, and rather dark room on the ground floor, where a lot of young officers were lounging about. Colonel Stewart introduced him to several of them and a smarter lot of young fellows Edestone had seldom seen.

He had not been waiting more than fifteen or twenty minutes when he heard Colonel Stewart’s name called. His pulse quickened for he knew that this was a signal for him. Colonel Stewart, bowing to the other officers, said to him: “Will you please come with me, Mr. Edestone?”

Passing out of the room and up a short flight of stairs they came to a broad corridor about twenty feet wide which ran around three sides of a court, opening out upon the gardens to the west. They were conducted around two sides of the square and taken into a large reception room in the opposite corner where there were perhaps a dozen officers of high rank, ministers and statesmen, standing about in groups. They spoke in voices scarcely above a whisper and when the door on the left, which evidently led into a still larger room, was opened there was absolute silence.

Colonel Stewart, who up to this time had been quite affable, now seemed suddenly to be caught by the solemnity of the place, and stood like a man at the funeral of his friend.

In one of the groups, Edestone saw Colonel Wyatt, who gave him a little nod of recognition. In a few minutes the door to the larger room opened and Lord Rockstone coming out walked straight up to where he and Colonel Stewart stood.

“His Majesty wishes to waive all form and ceremony, and has ordered me to present you to him at once,” he said. But when he saw the cool and matter-of-fact way in which Edestone received this extraordinary announcement his expression said as plainly as words: “These Americans are certainly a remarkable people.” He merely bowed to Colonel Stewart, however, and continued: “Will you please come with me,” and leading the way to the door, spoke to an attendant who went inside. In about five minutes the man returned, and announced to Lord Rockstone: “His Majesty will receive you.”

CHAPTER X. — HE MEETS THE KING

The room into which they were shown was large and well-proportioned, but was furnished and decorated in the style of the middle of the nineteenth century—that atrocious period often referred to as the Early Victorian, a term which always calls forth a smile at any assembly of true lovers of art and carries with it the idea of all that is heavy and vulgarly inartistic. But on the whole the room had an air of comfort, flooded as it was with warm sunlight that streamed through the four great windows on the right and those on each side of the fireplace at the opposite end.

Around the large table, sat a gathering of the most distinguished men of the Empire drawn from the Privy Council. They had evidently finished the work of the day, as was shown by the absence of all papers on the table and the precise manner in which the different cabinet ministers had their portfolios neatly closed in front of them. One would say that they had settled down to be amused or bored as the case might be. They looked like a company of well-bred people whose host has just announced that “Professor Bug” will relate some of his experiences among the poisonous orchids of South America, or like a lot of polite though perfectly deaf persons waiting for the music to begin. Some were talking quietly, while others sat perfectly still. The servants were removing writing materials, maps, etc., and a cloud of clerks and undersecretaries were being swallowed up by a door in a corner of the room.

At the end of the table opposite the door through which Edestone had entered, sat the King. He looked very small as he sat perfectly still, his hands resting listlessly on the arms of his great carved chair of black walnut picked out with gold. His face with its reddish beard, now growing grey, bore an expression of deep sadness, almost of melancholia. His expression became more animated, however, when Edestone entered, and he sat up and looked straight at the American as he stood at the other end of the table.

“Your Majesty,” Lord Rockstone bowed, “I beg to be allowed to present to you Mr. John Fulton Edestone of New York of the United States of America.”

The King rose and, as his great chair was drawn back, walked to the nearest window and stood while Rockstone brought Edestone up to him. Extending his hand he said:

“Mr. Edestone, Mr. Underhill tells me that you are from New York. It has been a source of great regret to me that I have never been able to visit your wonderful country. I recall very distinctly, though, a stay of several weeks that I made in Bermuda, and of the many charming Americans whom I met there at that time. I was, then, the Duke of York,” he sighed.

His manner was cordial and he seemed to wish to put Edestone at ease, assuming with him an air rather less formal than he would have shown toward one of his own subjects of the middle class—the one great class to which the nobility, gentry, and servants of England assign all Americans, although the first two often try hard to conceal this while the last seem to fear that the Americans may forget it.

“I am rather surprised to find you so young a man after hearing of your wonderful achievements in science,” the King went on, adding with rather a sad smile: “It seems a pity to take you from some charming English girl with whom you might be having tea this beautiful spring afternoon and bring you to this old barracks to discuss instruments of death and destruction.” And his face seemed very old.

After a pause he turned to Rockstone and directing him to introduce Edestone he went back to his seat and with a slight gesture ordered the rest to resume their places. He fixed his eyes on Edestone, who had been taken back to the other end of the table where he stood perfectly still. Not once had the American spoken since coming into the room. He had acknowledged the King’s great kindness with a bow which showed plainer than words in what deep respect he held the head of the great English-speaking race. This seemed to have made a good impression on some of the older men, who up to this time had not deigned to look in his direction. One of the younger men murmured in an undertone: “Young-looking chap to have kicked up such a rumpus, isn’t he? He has deuced good manners for an American.”

Meanwhile Lord Rockstone, bowing to the King and then to the rest of the company, was proceeding with the introduction, briefly explaining that Mr. Edestone had requested to be allowed to appear before His Majesty and explain certain inventions which he claimed to have made.

The King, however, seeming determined to make it as easy as possible for the American, chose to supplement this formality.

“Mr. Edestone,” he said with a smile, “since this meeting is to be, as you say in America, ‘just a gentlemen’s meeting,’ you may sit down while you tell us about your wonderful discovery.”

Edestone acknowledged the courtesy with a slight bow but declined. “Your Majesty, with your kind permission, I should prefer to stand,” and, then, without the slightest sign of embarrassment, he continued:

“I thank Your Majesty for your kindness. I will as briefly as I can explain that to which you have so graciously referred as my wonderful discovery, but before doing this, I beg to be allowed to set forth to you my position relative to Your Majesty and Your Majesty’s subjects. Should I in my enthusiasm at any time violate any of the established rules of court etiquette, please always remember that it is due to my ignorance and not to any lack of deep and sincere respect or that affection which I and all true Anglo-Saxons have for your person as representing the head of that great people and the King of ‘Old England.’”

A thrill went through the room. The King was evidently affected. One old gentleman, who up to this time had taken absolutely no notice of Edestone, turned quickly and looking sharply at him through his large eyeglasses, said: “Hear! Hear!”

The speaker acknowledged this and then proceeded. “I am an American and I am proud of it. Not because of the great power and wealth of my country, nor of its hundred and odd millions of people made up of the nations of the earth, the sweepings of Europe, the overflow of Asia, and the bag of the slave-hunter of Africa, which centuries will amalgamate into a cafe au lait conglomerate, but because I am proud of that small group of Anglo-Saxons who, under the influence of the free air of our great country, have developed such strength that they have up to this time put the stamp of England upon all who have come in contact with them. And while it is not my intention to sell my invention to England, I will give you my word that it shall never be used except for the benefit of the English-speaking people.”

He then raised his right hand as he added very slowly and distinctly: “In your presence and that of Almighty God, I dedicate my life to my people, the Anglo-Saxons!”

This was received with a general murmur of applause, although there were a few dark-skinned gentlemen with curly beards and large noses who seemed uncomfortable. Edestone had caught that group of unemotional men and against their will had swept them along with him, and it was only with an effort that some of the younger men could refrain from giving him three cheers.

Underhill, who was smiling and gesticulating at Rockstone and Graves, applauded violently, while the King made no effort to hide his pleasure. There was something about this man that left in no one’s mind any doubt of his sincerity, and on looking at him they felt that he was not the kind of a man who would so solemnly and in the presence of the King and all of the greatest men of England dedicate his life to a purpose if he did not know that therein lay a real gift to mankind. His sublime confidence was as convincing as his simplicity was reassuring.

Seeing that the ice was broken he turned now to the serious business of the afternoon.

“Mr. President,” he commenced, “now that I have shown you how I stand on international politics, I shall proceed——”

He was astonished to see the King put his head back and laugh, while the rest, made bold by the royal example, joined in heartily.

The King seeing that Edestone was innocent of any mistake and was blankly searching for an explanation of their mirth leaned forward and not altogether lightly said:

“The King of England accepts the Presidency of the Anglo-Saxon people!”

“I beg Your Majesty’s pardon. I am sorry. I have forgotten myself so soon: what shall I do when I get into the intricacies of mathematics, physics, and mechanics to explain to you my invention?”

“Mr. Edestone,” said the King, “we understand perfectly. Go on.”

Recovering himself quickly and assuming a thoroughly businesslike air, snapping out his facts with precision, speaking rapidly without notes or memoranda, he said:

“The physical properties of electrons form the basis of my invention, and it cannot be understood except by those who have studied the electron theory of matter, according to which theory the electron or corpuscle is the smallest particle of matter that had, up to my discovery, been isolated. They are present in a free condition in metallic conductors. Each electron carries an electric charge of electrostatic units and produces a magnetic field in a plane perpendicular to the direction of its motion. This brings us to the atom, which may be described as a number of electrons positive and negative in stable equilibrium, this condition being brought about by the mutual repulsion of the like and attraction for the opposite electrification so arranged as to nullify each other. Having thus established the law of the equilibrium of electrons, corpuscles, atoms, and molecules, I found that the same law applies to the equilibrium of our solar system, and, in fact, of the universe, and, by the elimination of either the positive or the negative electron, this equilibrium is altered or destroyed.

“I then sought to nullify the attraction of gravity by changing the electrical condition of the electrons of an object, which until that time was attracted by the earth, as is shown by the formula, V equals the square root of (s times 2g) for falling bodies, and by using the formula Y equals the square root of mx divided by (pi times g) I found——”

But at this point he was interrupted by the King, who said, with a gesture of supplication: “Please! Please! Mr. Edestone do not go so deeply into science, for, for my part, I regret to say that it would be entirely lost on me. Save that for my men of science,” and he waved his hand in the direction of his rough and rugged old Sea Lord, Admiral Sir Wm. Brown. “Just tell us what you have accomplished and then show us some of these marvellous things that Mr. Underhill has told us you can do. Besides, I understand that you are to show us moving pictures of the actual working of your machine, boat, or whatever it is.”

The inventor was disappointed; for he had wished to set all minds at rest and to establish the fact that he was no trickster but a scientist. With a deprecating smile he said: “As Your Majesty pleases.”

Then, without the slightest sign of condescension, and selecting with the greatest care only words that the man in the street could understand, he proceeded with his exposition.

“I have discovered that gravitation is due to the attraction that two bodies in different electrical condition have for each other, and that by changing the condition of one of these bodies so that they are both in the same electrical condition this attraction no longer exists. I have also discovered that the earth is, so to speak, as far as the laws of gravity are concerned, in a state of what we might call for lack of a better name, ‘positive electrical condition,’ and that all objects on the earth, as long as they are not in contact with it, are in what we may call ‘negative electrical condition.’ These remain in this condition so long as they are not in actual electrical contact with the earth and are separated from it by a non-conducting medium such as the atmosphere, glass, hard rubber, etc., and are attracted by it, as is shown by the formulae which I will gladly explain to your gentlemen of science.” And he turned with a bow to Admiral Sir William Brown, who was leaning across the table frowning at him and who with his scrubbing-brush hair, long upper lip, and heavy brows looked more like a Rocky Mountain goat than ever.

“I have invented an instrument,” continued Edestone, “which I call a Deionizer. With this, so far as regards any phenomena of which we are conscious, I am able to change the electrical condition of an object, provided this object is insulated from electrical contact with the earth. That is, I can change it from the so-called minus condition, which is attracted by the earth, to the plus condition, which being the same condition as the earth, is therefore not attracted by it. The object in that state can be said to have no weight, although frankly for some reason which I have not yet discovered it does not lose its inertia against motion in any direction relative to the earth.”

He then took from his pocket the leather case which Underhill readily recognized, and, turning to Lord Rockstone, he said with a slightly quizzical expression:

“If your Lordship will be so kind as to stand on a glass plate or block of hard rubber I can with this little instrument which I have in my hand alter your electrical condition from its present minus to that of plus. I can then place you anywhere in this room and keep you there as long as you do not come in contact with any object that, electrically speaking, is in contact with the earth.”

This caused Lord Rockstone to give a grim but thoroughly good-natured smile, and Edestone, feeling as if he had somewhat settled scores with the “Hero of the Nile,” continued: “As a less valuable object than one of the most brilliant stars in Great Britain’s crown will answer my purpose just as well, may I ask that one of the servants fetch the glass plate that was brought to the Palace this afternoon with my apparatus.”

The glass plate having been brought in by a flunkey, he repeated the experiment with which he had so astonished Underhill at the Admiralty, using the flunkey however in place of the cannon ball, and leaving the poor unfortunate creature suspended in mid-air while he himself replied to the many questions that were put to him.

Finally he touched the man’s hand, and taking the shock through his own body let him drop to the floor. The fellow remained there in an almost fainting condition, but, recovering and finding that he had sustained no injuries except to his dignity, which in his state of great excitement had fallen away from him, he rushed out of the room without asking for or receiving permission to do so. His panic-stricken exit would at any other time have been most amusing, but the audience just then was in no humour for levity.

Edestone next repeated the same experiment, utilizing different small objects that were handed to him by the gentlemen about the table, and soon had suspended above the glass plate an assortment of pocket-knives, watches, and a glass of water, while he chatted with those who were nearest to him, and handed to the scientific members of the council diagrams and mathematical formulae which he hastily scribbled on bits of paper.

CHAPTER XI. — THE DEIONIZER

After the different objects had been returned to their respective owners, the King by a slight gesture called the meeting to order, for all had left their seats and were crowding around Edestone in what, for Englishmen, was a state of violent excitement. Even the more self-contained were unable to conceal the fact that they were impressed by these experiments as well as by the quiet dignity of this young man. They seemed to realize that he had them figuratively if not literally in the palm of his hand. The dullest and least imaginative saw the endless possibilities in the application of his discovery to the arts and sciences. During all of this time the young American had kept himself under perfect control and had answered all questions in the most deferential and respectful manner; and now, having received from the King permission to continue, he went on:

“The secret of my discovery lies in this little instrument, the construction of which is known only to myself. The application of this newly-discovered principle can be best understood by viewing my moving pictures, which show it in actual operation. Now, with your most kind permission I should like to inspect my apparatus to see that everything is all right.”

And then, as if some sudden impulse which pleased him had flashed across his mind, like the big healthy-minded boy that he was, and with an irresistible smile on his face, he dropped into a more familiar tone than he had allowed himself up to this time.

“And to show you what I think of Englishmen,” he said, “I will leave this Deionizer in your keeping until I return. A gentle tap or two on that hard-rubber shell and you will know its secret.” He laid the instrument with its little case beside it on the table in front of the King and left the room escorted by a member of the Royal Family, young Prince George of Windthorst, who insisted upon acting as his guide to the Green Drawing Room.

As the door closed upon them, the King rose, saying as he did so, “Please remain seated.” He walked into one of the windows and stood for some minutes looking out over the park. Whatever it was that was passing through his mind, it was not a pleasant thought, as was shown by his hands, which were clasped behind his back so tightly that the fingers were perfectly white; and the veins of his neck swelled, while the muscles of his jaws were firmly set. No one dared to move. The silence in the room was so intense that the men about the table, as if caught by a spell, sat with unfinished gestures, like the figures in a moving picture when the film catches. The clock on the mantel seemed suddenly to have waked up and to be trying by its loud ticking to fool itself into thinking that it had been ticking all the time. When the time came for it to strike five o’clock, it went at it with such resounding vim that Admiral Sir William Brown, who had served his apprenticeship in the turrets, seemed to think that he had better open his mouth to save his ear-drums.

“War is war! All is fair! War is war! All is fair!” it seemed to say.

The King finally turned, and walking back to the table picked up the innocent-looking instrument. He turned it over and over in his hand and then slowly and carefully wound the platinum wires about it as a boy winds a top and placed it back into its leather case. As he put it down on the table, he said, almost as if to himself:

“We have come today to one of the turning points in the history of the world. This is a remarkable man.”

After a moment, he turned to Underhill: “I think you have done your country a great service today in averting what might have been an appalling catastrophe. Do you not agree with me, Sir Egbert?” he glanced toward the Minister of Foreign Affairs.

“I do, Sire,” the minister acquiesced thoughtfully. “If this man represents the United States of America, it will not be long before she will insist that this war be brought to an end upon her own terms, and it would have been almost suicidal on our part to antagonize him. She doubtless controls this instrument whose practical application will probably be shown us by his pictures.”

“But what this man has just said to you, Sire,” suggested Underhill, “does not seem to bear out the idea that he is acting under instructions from the present State Department at Washington.”

“If it please Your Majesty,” interposed one of the statesmen of the old school, “should we not make some formal representation to the United States of America before this man be allowed to go to Berlin?”

“I should not approve of that,” dissented the King. “In the first place, as far as we know, Mr. Edestone may have already communicated with Berlin, Paris, and Petrograd. I do not think he would put himself so completely in our power if he thought he was risking the destruction of his entire scheme.”

“I believe, Your Majesty,” said another sneeringly, “that this melodramatic exit is just another Yankee bluff. You will probably find in looking into it that the fellow has palmed the real instrument and has forced this one on us by clever sleight of hand.”

“I disagree with you entirely,” said the King, frowning and bringing his hand down on the table as if to put an end to the discussion. “I believe this man to be a gentleman and a thoroughly good sportsman.”

CHAPTER XII. — FIRST SHOW OF FORCE

On entering the room, when he returned, Edestone, although he was aware that the King had been notified and the attendants been given orders to admit him, did not advance, but took his stand near the door, looking neither to the right nor to the left. He permitted the young Prince, his escort, who had discovered that they had many friends in common, and whose sister it was that had been his fellow-passenger on the Ivernia, to inform His Majesty that everything was in readiness for the exhibition of the moving pictures.

The King immediately beckoned the inventor forward and, picking up the little instrument from the table, thrust it into Edestone’s hands, almost with an air of relief.

“We appreciate the compliment you have paid us in believing that we still play fair.” There was in both his tone and action a touch of the bluff heartiness of the naval officer, which was natural to him, and showed that he had thrown off all restraint. “But do not, I beg of you, do this again, even in England. These are desperate times; and nations, like men, when fighting for their very existence, are quite apt to forget their finer scruples.

“My cousin in Berlin, I am convinced,” and there was perhaps a hint of warning in his smile, “would give the souls of half his people to know what that little box contains; and, in his realm, it is the religion of some of his benighted subjects to give him what he wants.”

Bowing slightly, Edestone took the little case, and, without even looking at it, slipped it carelessly into the inside pocket of his coat.

“I knew that Your Majesty would understand me,” he said in a tone intended for the Royal ear alone, and with more emotion than he had yet displayed. As he spoke, too, he lifted his hand in obedience to an involuntary and apparently irresistible impulse.

The King met him more than half-way. Reaching out, he grasped the extended hand in his own, and standing thus the two men looked straight into each other’s eyes.

The suppressed excitement which the scene created was so intense that some of the spectators seemed to be suffering actual pain; and when, after a fraction of a moment which seemed an age, the King released the American’s hand and spoke, there was an audible sigh of relief that pervaded the entire room.

“We will now look at the pictures,” said His Majesty simply, and, leading the way, he set out in the direction of the Green Drawing Room.

Edestone fell back and bowed respectfully in acknowledgment of the pleasant glances which were thrown in his direction, as the Lords, Generals, Admirals, and Ministers of State took their places in line, clinging with an almost frantic tenacity, in response to the teachings of the Catechism of the English Church, to their position “in that state of life unto which it had pleased God to call” them.

Thoroughly amused at the situation which compelled him to bring up the rear of the procession like the piano-tuner or the gas-man, Edestone marched along at the side of an attendant in livery, who evidently looked upon him as a clever vaudeville artist that had been brought in to entertain the company. He told the visitor, with a broad grin, that he had frightened the other flunkey almost out of his wits with his magic tricks. Edestone, his sense of humour aroused, thereupon gravely offered to give a show in the servants’ hall at two shillings a head, half the receipts to be donated to the Red Cross, provided he was given a guarantee of ten pounds; and when the fellow promised to consider the proposal, pretended carefully to take down his name.

The King, who, in the meantime, seemed to be in a sort of brown-study, passed down the corridor with the long file of dignitaries following him in order of precedence. But when His Majesty reached the Green Drawing Room and, looking around, saw nothing of the American, he gave a slight frown of annoyance. Immediately he directed that Edestone be brought up and placed in a chair near himself, while the attendants drew the curtains and extinguished the lights.

After the room had been made perfectly dark, and the buzzing of the cinematograph in its temporary cabinet indicated that everything was in readiness, Edestone’s operator, in response to a word from his employer, threw upon the screen two or three portraits of the King and various members of the Royal Family. This was not only by way of compliment, but also to give assurance that the machine was in proper working order. Edestone proposed to run no chances of a bungling or incomplete presentation of his pictures.

Satisfied at length, he rose and faced about toward his audience.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said, after addressing the King,—for from the gallery had come sounds which showed that, as Colonel Stewart had suggested, some of the ladies of the Court were taking an interest in the exhibition,—“I shall not trouble you to listen to a long, scientific discourse on the theory of my discovery, nor how I have made practical application of it. I shall simply throw the pictures on the screen, letting them speak for themselves; and then, with His Majesty’s kind permission, shall be glad to answer any questions that may be put to me. The first picture I shall show you is one of my workshop in New York.”

There appeared on the screen a dark, somewhat indistinct interior, which seemed to have been photographed from high up and looking down through a long, shed-like building lighted from the roof. The immense height of this roof was not at first apparent until it was compared with the pigmy-like figures of the workmen who were busily engaged about a great, black, cigar-shaped object, which had the general appearance of a Zeppelin. In the dim light, there was nothing about its aspect to distinguish it from the latest models of the German air-ship, save that it seemed to be of heavier construction, as shown by the great difficulty with which the men were moving it toward the farther end of the shed, which was entirely open.

“I would especially call your attention to the track upon which moves the cradle that carries the large black object in the centre of the picture,” said Edestone. “The tires are made of hard rubber, and the rails which are of steel rest on glass plates attached to each of the tires. Thus, any object placed in the cradle becomes absolutely insulated, and has no electrical connection with the earth, which, as I have explained, are the requisite conditions to permit of ‘Deionizing’ by the use of an instrument similar to the one I have in my pocket. Of course, though in actual operation we use a much larger ‘Deionizer’ than the little model I have shown you, and run it with a hundred horse-power motor, instead of with a small spring and watchworks. This track and cradle at which you are looking, although they weigh many tons, can be easily taken apart and transported in sections, as I stand ready to demonstrate.”

The film ended as he finished, and for a moment the screen was blank; then with a little splutter from the cabinet, another picture appeared.

This was of a great open space, the most desolate and lonely stretch of country that could well be imagined, a broad, open plain that stretched on for miles and miles, perfectly flat, treeless and uninhabited. The wind apparently was blowing violently, judging from the way it tossed Edestone’s hair about as, hatless, he walked back and forth in the near foreground, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand while he looked into the lens and called his directions to the man who was working the camera.

“That disreputable-looking individual is myself,” he confessed. “My hat had blown away, a circumstance quite inconvenient at the time, but not without a certain element of present interest, as showing that a high wind was blowing at that time.”

Behind him in the middle distance was a track and cradle similar to the one shown in the first picture. The machine in the cabinet buzzed, and clicked, and made a noise like that of a small boy rattling a stick along a picket fence. A draught from some open window blowing against the linen screen caused the flat, deserted plain to undulate like the waves of the sea. The horizon bobbed up and down, showing first a great expanse of sky, and then the foreground ran up to infinity. The cradle was seen first at the right, and then at the left of the picture. The clouds in the sky kept jumping about, as if the operator was trying to follow some object aloft, but was unable to get it into the field of his camera.

The audience began to grow impatient. Had the apparatus got out of order, they wondered, and were they to be cheated of the promised sensation? But just then the screen steadied, and there appeared in the upper left-hand corner of the picture a faint, far-away dot which gradually assumed the form of a dirigible. Across the desolate landscape it sailed, growing more and more distinct as it drew nearer. It circled, turning first to the right and then to the left, rising and descending, as if responding willingly to the touch of its unseen pilot, until with a majestic swoop it hovered like a great bird exactly over the cradle, and came to a standstill.

To those among the spectators who had witnessed the evolutions of the great battleships of the air over Lake Constance, there was nothing notable about either the vessel or its performance, except that it seemed larger, more solid, and had four great smoke stacks. In the gale which was blowing, the volumes of inky smoke which poured from the four great funnels were tossed about and flung away like long, streaming ribbons; yet the ship itself was as steady as a great ocean liner on a summer sea.

On closer inspection, too, it was seen that on the upper side of the craft there was a platform or deck running its full length, where men were working away like sailors on a man-of-war, and from portholes and turrets protruded great black things which looked like the muzzles of guns.

All at once, as if acting under an order from within, these were trained on the spectators and simultaneously discharged, belching out great rings of smoke. There was a stifled scream from the gallery at this, but immediately the room grew quiet again, and the audience sat as if spellbound awaiting further developments. A small door in the starboard side now opened, and the figure of a man came running down a gangway to a platform suspended under the ship, where, silhouetted against the sky, he occupied himself in signalling to some one on the ground. He was joined from time to time by others of the crew as the vessel settled slowly toward the earth.

When it was about one hundred and fifty feet above the cradle, Edestone was seen to walk out with a megaphone in his hand, and through it communicate instructions to the man on the bridge, in evident obedience to which the airship settled still lower, until it was not more than twenty feet above the top of the cradle.

A ladder having then been lowered to Edestone, he climbed up it, ascended the gangway, and disappeared into the interior of the great cigar-shaped object, it all the time remaining absolutely stationary. But he was not long lost to view. In a few minutes he re-appeared on the top deck and a man by his side energetically waved a large flag.

And as the two stood there, the airship began to move.

Slowly at first, but gradually gaining momentum, it soared away across the wastes, and soon was lost to sight.

There was a moment after that when the room was dark, while horizontal streaks of light chased each other from bottom to top across the screen, and disappeared into the darkness from which they had come.

Another picture followed, taken from the same viewpoint as the last.

“Here she comes!” cried Edestone, seeming to forget for the moment where he was, as a small speck which represented the approaching airship disclosed itself. “This time in the upper right-hand corner of the picture. See! I am on board, and I am driving her at one hundred and ten miles.” And he followed with his pointer the swift course of the vessel, as it shot down the screen like a great comet, leaving a long tail of smoke behind it. To the overwrought nerves of the audience, the buzz and splutter of the moving-picture machine seemed to increase in volume, and thus lend a semblance of reality to the monster as it swept nearer and nearer.

Straight for the camera it was headed, grim, threatening, irresistible, as if it were preparing to rush out of the screen and destroy Buckingham Palace. The spectators with difficulty kept their seats, and when the formidable thing dashed by and disappeared at the side of the picture, they settled back in their chairs with an unmistakable sigh of relief.

It appeared again, after making a great circle, returning slowly now, and dropping lightly as a feather to the cradle, where it remained perfectly still, while the black smoke enveloped it in a veil of mystery.

The machine in the cabinet stopped, and some one was heard to say in a loud whisper, “Lights!” Admiral Brown was the first of the assembly to recover. He sprang to his feet and like a wounded old lion at bay stood glaring at Edestone. His rugged weather-beaten face convulsed with suppressed rage, which but for the presence of the King would have exploded upon Edestone after the manner of the old-fashioned sea-dog that he was, but holding himself in check he said loudly and challengingly:

“If there is no objection I will ask the young man to repeat the last picture, and I would also like to inquire with what material the framework of this ship is covered, and what is the calibre of those large guns—if they are guns?”

“Will you please be so kind as to answer the Admiral’s questions, Mr. Edestone?” said the King.

“The material which I used through her entire length of 907 feet, both top and bottom, is Harveyized steel, six feet thick; and the largest gun is sixteen inches,” replied Edestone slowly, enjoying the look of blank amazement which spread over the Admiral’s face as he dropped back into his chair gasping and mopping his brow.

“This is the end of everything. I wish I had never lived to see the day!” The old sailor sat like a man who had seen a vision so appalling that it robbed him of his reason.

CHAPTER XIII. — “THE KING IS DEAD; LONG LIVE THE KING!”

The King, of all the company, seemed to be the only one who had remained perfectly cool. He was like a man who realizing the gravity of the situation yet had nerved himself to meet it.

“Mr. Edestone,” he said, as if speaking to one of his own naval officers, “you will please show the last two pictures again, and for the benefit of Admiral Brown you might give us some further details in regard to the ship’s equipment and armament. May I also ask you where these pictures were taken?”

“On the flat plains in the centre of the island of Newfoundland,” Edestone informed him, “between the White Bear River and the east branch of the Salmon, and from fifty to seventy-five miles from the seacoast on the south. If Your Majesty will look into the middle distance when the second picture is again thrown on the screen you will see some small, dark objects; these are one of those immense herds of caribou, which happen to be moving south over this vast barren at the time of year that these pictures were taken—that is, in October.”

He observed that the face of the King took on an expression blended partly of astonishment and partly of resentment when he mentioned the name of one of the Colonial possessions of the Empire, and hastened to add:

“You will find, Sire, if you inquire of the Governor of that Province that I was there with the full knowledge and consent of Your Majesty’s Government to carry on certain scientific experiments. I selected this deserted spot, so far removed from all human habitation, because there I should not be disturbed. Until I showed these pictures here today no one outside of my own men knew the nature of these experiments. The guns were loaded with nothing more harmful than several hundred pounds of black powder to produce the display of force which you have just seen. I will admit,” he granted with a smile, “that if the newspapers had got word of what was going on there they might have made some excitement; I can assure you, however, that no act of mine could be construed even by our most susceptible and timid State Department as a violation of neutrality.”

“But where is your ship now?” asked the King, while the rest of the company held their breath, awaiting the answer.

“That, Your Majesty, for reasons of state, I regret I cannot at this time tell you, but you have my word and that of our Secretary that wherever she may be, her mission is one of peace.”

“Peace!” snorted Admiral Brown. “With a six-foot armour-belt and sixteen-inch guns! It is a ship of war, Your Majesty. We have the right to demand whether or not it is now on or over British soil, and if it is, to make such representations to the United States Government as will cause her to withdraw it at once and apologize for having violated the dignity of Great Britain.”

“And if they should refuse, Sir William,” asked the King, with a weary smile, “would you undertake to drive it off?

“No, Admiral,” he continued, “up to this time we have no official knowledge of this airship’s existence. Until we have, we will take Mr. Edestone’s assurance that his own and his country’s intentions to us are friendly.”

A wave of hot indignation had swept over the entire assembly, and it was with some difficulty that the King was able to restore order.

“Please continue with your pictures, Mr. Edestone,” he said in a tone of authority.

The lights again went out, the machine in the cabinet began to turn, and as the dramatic scene was re-enacted before them his audience sat in perfect silence while Edestone, as though he were recounting the simplest and most ordinary facts, gave out the following information:

“This ship has a length over all of 907 feet. Its beam is 90 feet. Its greatest circular dimension is described with a radius of 48 feet. She would weigh, loaded with ammunition, fuel, provisions, and crew, if brought in contact with the earth, 40,000 tons. Her weight as she travels, after making allowance for the air displacement is generally kept at about 3000 tons, which automatically adjusts itself to the density of the surrounding atmosphere, but can be reduced to nothing at pleasure. Its full speed has never been reached. This is simply a matter of oil consumption; I have had her up to 180 miles. Her steaming radius is about 50,000 miles, depending upon the speed. She carries twelve 16-inch guns, twenty-two 6-inch guns, sixteen 4-inch anti-aircraft guns, eight 3-pounders, four rapid-fire guns, six aerial torpedo tubes, and six bomb droppers, which can simultaneously discharge tons of explosives. She has a complement of 1400 officers and men. She required three years and eight months to build at a cost of $10,000,000. In action her entire ship’s company is protected by at least six feet of steel, and there is no gun known that can pierce her protection around the vital parts. As you have seen, she can approach to within a few feet of the surface and remain perfectly stationary in that position as long as she is not brought in electrical contact with the earth.”

The machine in the cabinet had stopped. As the lights were again turned on, Edestone, glancing in the direction of the gallery and seeing that there was no one there, bowed merely to the company before him. “I thank Your Majesty, Lords, and Gentlemen for your very kind attention,” he said. He then stood quietly, waiting respectfully for the King to speak.

“Mr. Edestone,” said the King as he rose, “you have certainly given us a most instructive afternoon, and you must be exhausted after your efforts.” He turned to Colonel Stewart, “Please insist upon Mr. Edestone taking some refreshments before he leaves Buckingham Palace.”

He grasped the inventor firmly by the hand. “Good-bye, Mr. Edestone. I shall probably not see you again,” and bowing to the rest of the company he left the room deep in conversation with Sir Egbert Graves.

Edestone immediately became the centre of attraction.

“The King is dead; long live the King!” expresses the eagerness with which man adapts himself to a new order of things. The older men were stunned and seemed unable to throw off the gloom that had settled upon them. They bowed to the inevitable fall of the old and its replacement by the new. They were not buoyed up by the elasticity and confidence of youth; they seemed to realize that their race was run and that it were better that they step aside and give to younger men the task of solving a new problem in a new way. They sat perfectly still with dejected faces that seemed to see only dissolution.

The younger men were quicker to recover, and as they felt the old foundations crumbling under their feet, saw visions of a new and greater edifice. They gloried in the development of the age as they did in their own strength to keep abreast of it, and rushed to meet progress, to join it, and to become one with it. They did not stop to think what the future might have in store for them, but seemed to be intoxicated by its possibilities.

Crowding around Edestone they probed him with questions which he answered with the greatest patience and in the most modest, quiet, and dignified manner. When asked a question almost childish in its simplicity, he appeared to acknowledge the compliment in the assumption that he knew the answer, and gave it with the same precision as one which called for the most complicated mathematical calculation and reference to the most intricate formulae of the laws of mechanics and physics. He was rescued and borne away by Colonel Stewart who announced that, acting under His Majesty’s order, he was obliged to give him some refreshments, whether he wanted them or not, and if he did not come at once to his quarters and have a drink he would be forced to order out the Guards. Drawing him aside the Colonel whispered, “I must see you alone before you leave the Palace.”

Edestone turned and slowly left the room, bowing to each of the separate groups.

“Now,” said Colonel Stewart, “come to my quarters first, as I have something rather confidential to tell you. You can come back and join the others afterward, if you care to.”

When they were comfortably seated in the Colonel’s private apartments, and had provided themselves with drinks and cigars, the equerry leaned toward his charge a trifle impressively.

“Mr. Edestone,” he said, “you do not look like a chap who would lose his nerve if he suddenly found himself in a position that was more or less dangerous. Indeed I rather gather that you are like one of your distinguished Admirals—ready at all times for a fight or a frolic.”

Edestone smiled.

“The facts are, Mr. Edestone, that you are in a pretty ticklish position, and had not Mr. Underhill notified Scotland Yard when he did, I do not know what might have happened. These German spies who have been following you all day are well known to them, and when our men picked you up, which was when you left the Admiralty and were talking to the taxi-chauffeur, they were convinced that you were in real danger. Then when you were directed to the German restaurant and afterward left it in the taxicab with this man Smith they had your cab followed, at the same time notifying Mr. Underhill, and covering your hotel.”

“This is most interesting,” said Edestone; “but if the business of these men is known why are they not arrested?”

“Mr. Edestone,” said Colonel Stewart, “we Englishmen are not credited with any sense by our friends the enemy, and relying upon our supposed stupidity their work, which they take so much pride in, is by no means as secret as they suppose it to be. There have been in London thousands of what the Germans term ‘fixed posts.’ These are men who have established places of business and have lived in the community from ten to fifteen years. They receive a salary from the German Government running from two pounds to four pounds a month and all incurred expenses. The ‘fixed post’ men report to men higher up, who, in turn, report to the Diplomatic Service. Under them, too, are all of the patriotic emigrants from Germany, who act as spies without being conscious of the fact that they are doing so. These receive no pay for bringing in the bits of scandal or other information which is all carefully noted and kept on file in Berlin under a system of card indexes.

“That man Munchinger who keeps the restaurant where you lunched, and the barber Hottenroth at your hotel, are both of them ‘fixed post’ men. This American architect was new and had not been quite placed as yet. The chauffeur also seems to be one of them, although he is entirely unknown to Scotland Yard.

“When you discharged your first taxi and took another, Smith and the chauffeur spy followed you until they were frightened off by seeing my carriage with the royal livery in front of your hotel. They drove off then with such a rush that the chauffeur must have lost control of his car, for it plunged into the Thames with Smith inside it, and before he could be reached and rescued he was drowned. The chauffeur was either drowned or ran away, as nothing has been seen of him since.”

Edestone rose, his face stern as he learned the news of Smith’s fate. “Colonel Stewart,” he declared sharply, “that poor devil was murdered.” And to support his accusation he told briefly of Smith’s confession and behaviour in the cab.

The Colonel bowed. “I shall see that these facts are turned over to the authorities,” he said, “but at present I am more concerned in regard to you. These men are fanatics, you must understand, whose faith teaches them to do anything that is for the benefit of the Fatherland. We know most of them. We do not arrest them because they are more useful to us as they are. As soon as one is arrested he is immediately replaced by another, and it takes some little time before we can pick up the new one. We have received reports to the effect that a small army of them have been around Buckingham Palace all afternoon, as well as at your hotel; so it is evident that Smith’s story was no fancy and that these men are after you in desperate earnest. Would you mind telling me, Mr. Edestone, what are your plans for the future?”

“Not at all. My movements are extremely simple. I shall return to my hotel, where I expect to remain until I retire. A friend of mine, an American, Mr. Rebener, whom I have known for a great many years, will dine with me there this evening.”

“An old friend of yours you say?” The Colonel’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Yes,” replied Edestone. “I have known him for fifteen years.” For reasons of his own he had made it a point not to include Rebener’s name among those mentioned by Smith in his confession, nor did he refer to it now.

Colonel Stewart hesitated a moment. “Of course, Mr. Edestone,” he said finally, “you Americans are neutrals and are at liberty to select your friends where you please, but my advice to you would be not to take London as the place to entertain people with German names. You will probably understand that we cannot take any chances.”

“I have known Mr. Rebener,” repeated Edestone, “for years. He is one of our most prominent men, and I am confident that he would not lend himself to any of these Middle-Age methods.”

“You can never tell,” said Colonel Stewart darkly. “Germany holds out to the faithful the promise of great rewards at the end of this war, which she has convinced them cannot fail to end successfully for her.”

“No,” the American insisted stubbornly. “Mr. Rebener might readily sell to Germany a few million dollars’ worth of munitions of war, and likewise tell his friend, Count Bernstoff, anything that he might hear. I will even go so far as to say that he might make an especial effort to pick up bits of gossip here in London; and he will almost certainly endeavour to use his influence with me in favour of Germany. But that he would take part in a plot to kill, kidnap, or rob me is incredible.”

“I see you are determined to have your own way, Mr. Edestone,” the Colonel smiled, “so I come now to the most difficult part of my mission. What do you propose to do with that instrument which you now carry so carelessly in your coat pocket? You can readily understand that it is not safe in your hotel, or, in fact, at hardly any other place in London outside of the vaults of the Bank of England. We are put in the delicate position of having to protect it without having the privilege of asking that it be put in our charge.”

“I appreciate all that you say and have considered destroying it, but have now come to the conclusion to keep it always with me, for, after all that you tell me, I think that I am in pretty safe hands in London.”

“But think, my dear fellow,” cried the Colonel jumping up, “what might happen if this thing falls into the hands of the Germans! To prevent that it would be my duty to shoot you on the spot.”

“Good work! Right-o!” laughed Edestone. “You have my permission to shoot whenever it goes to the Germans. Don’t worry. They’ll not murder and rob me in the middle of dear old London with all your fellows about, and I do not expect to leave the hotel tonight.”

CHAPTER XIV. — THE ROYAL TEA-TABLE

As Edestone and Colonel Stewart were leaving the Palace, they were met by the young Prince of the Blood, who seemed bent upon renewing his acquaintance with his American friend.

“I say, Edestone,” he greeted him, “you really must not leave before giving me an opportunity of presenting you to some of the ladies of the Court. You are the lion of the day and they are anxious to meet you. My sister, Princess Billy, is almost in tears and hysterical. She insisted upon seeing your pictures because she said that you were an old friend of hers she had met on the steamer coming over from America.”

Accepting, Edestone smiled as he thought of the undignified manner of their meeting, and was taken in charge by the young man.

Colonel Stewart made his excuses when the invitation was extended to him, saying: “Mr. Edestone, I shall wait for you in the Guards’ Room,” and, turning to the young man, he added: “I deliver him into your hands, and I hold you responsible for his valuable person which must be delivered to me there.”

Edestone was then taken in charge by the young Prince, who proudly bore him off to deliver him into the hands of the ladies. He was rather bored with the idea, and would have preferred to have gone directly to his hotel, as he had had an eventful day and he did not feel in the humour for the small talk of the tea-table.

He was taken into one of the smaller rooms where several ladies and young officers in khaki were just finishing their tea. The atmosphere of the room was offensively heavy with the strong odour of iodoform. His pity was aroused when he suddenly realized that almost every man in the room bore the unmistakable mark of service in the trenches. It was the first time that he had been brought violently into contact with the far-reaching and horrible devastation of this cruel war. One pitiful figure, a young man of about twenty-two who sat apart from the rest, so affected him that he scarcely recovered himself in time to acknowledge the great kindness of the Duchess of Windthorst, who was receiving him in the most gracious manner. This boy was totally blind. Edestone was filled with admiration for these descendants of the Norman conquerors, who in their gallantry and patriotism responded so quickly to the call of their country, while the miserable swine whose homes and families were being protected by these noble men were instigating strikes and riots under the leadership of a band of traitors who hid their cowardice behind labour organizations, or attempted to mislead the disgusted world by windy speeches on the subject of humanitarism into which position they were not followed by the very women that they were giving as their excuse for their treasonable acts.

The Duchess presented him to Princess Wilhelmina and the others. In the soft and rich voice of the Englishwoman of culture and refinement, which always charmed him, she said:

“Mr. Edestone, my daughter tells me that you came over on the Ivernia with us.”

“No, no, mamma!” interrupted the Princess, with a frown and nervous little laugh. “I said that Mrs. Brown said that she thought that Mr. Edestone was on board.”

The Duchess acknowledged this correction, and with the cool effrontery that only a woman can carry off to her entire satisfaction, she then pretended that this was the first time that she had ever laid eyes on him, when as a matter of fact she and the Princess had discussed this remarkable, independent individual, who had so quietly and alone occupied the large suite adjoining theirs.

“Do sit down, Mr. Edestone,” she smiled, “and tell us about your wonderful electrical gun or ship. I really know so little about electricity that I could not understand what my daughter has just been telling me.” And then, as if to save him from the great embarrassment of speaking, which she felt that he must have in her presence, she hastened to continue: “I am really so sorry that I did not know you were a fellow-passenger or I should most certainly have had you presented. I am very fond of you Americans, I find them most charming and so original, you know.”

Edestone bowed.

“I really became quite attached to your Mr. Bradley, who was on board. I think you call him ‘Diamond King John.’ He was most attractive,” and, with a charming smile, “he showed me his diamond suspender buttons; and he dances beautifully, my daughter tells me. I understand that Mr. Bradley is one of your oldest Arizona families—or was it Virginia?—I am so stupid about the names of your different counties. But I agree with him that family is not everything, and that clothes make the gentleman. He tells me that he gets all of his clothes from the same tailor as the Duke. Do you get your clothes in London, Mr. Edestone?” And then, seeing an expression on Edestone’s face which indicated to her that he was going to be bold enough to attempt to enter into the conversation, hastily added: “No, of course not, you would naturally get yours in New York, where Mr. Bradley tells me that the finish of the buttonholes is much better on account of the enormous salaries that you very rich Americans are able to pay your tailors. No tea, Mr. Edestone? How foolish of me to ask! You would like to have one of those American drinks; what is it you call them? Cockplumes? My son could make one for you. Madame La Princesse de Blanc taught him how to make one.”

Edestone smilingly declined.

The Duchess, who by this time was beginning to feel that perhaps Mr. Edestone would not insist upon taking off his coat or squatting Indian fashion on the floor, continued:

“My son tells me that it was at her house in Paris that he had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”

“Yes, Duchess,” nodded Edestone.

“She is a most delightful little American,” continued the Duchess. “So bright, natural, unconventional, and original. And she chews tobacco in the most fascinating manner.”

Edestone all this time had been debating in his mind whether this silly prattle was the result of real ignorance, snobbishness, or kindness of heart. He gave her the benefit of the doubt, however, and, wishing to show her that she might put her mind at rest as to his ability to overcome any embarrassment that he might have had, said with a perfectly solemn face:

“You should have asked your friend, Mr. Bradley, to show you his suspenders themselves, Duchess. They are, I am told, set with rubies, sapphires, and diamonds, and cost, I understand, $10,000.”

“How very odd,” said the Duchess.

“And I am sure,” he continued, “that he feels as proud of having danced with the Princess as she could have been at having been the recipient of so much attention at the hands of ‘King John,’ who apparently is also a Prince Charming.”

And then ignoring their pretence of having just seen him for the first time, in a most natural manner Edestone referred to the episodes of the crossing.

Turning to the Princess, who all this time had vainly endeavoured to check her mother, and changing his manner out of deference for her youth and inexperience, and assuming a more humble demeanour, he continued:

“I sincerely hope, Princess, that I did not hurt you when I was forced to handle you so roughly, but it was blowing almost a hurricane.”

“I forgive you, Mr. Edestone,” she said with a charming smile, “for hurting my arm; but,” with a little pout, “I don’t think I can forgive you for hurting my feelings. Why did you not ask Mr. Bradley to present you? He said that he knew you very well.”

“Oh, I was rather afraid,” laughed Edestone, “to suggest this to him. You know we do not move in exactly the same set, and I did not wish to give him an opportunity to snub me. Now that he does speak so familiarly of his royal friends, I thought that he might consider me a bit presumptuous.”

“You don’t mean to say,” snorted the Duchess, “that that creature would dare to speak of me as a friend?”

“Well,” said Edestone, “I shall do him the justice of saying that I am quite certain he would not if he did not believe that you were, and did not think that it was perfectly natural that you should be.”

The Princess, who was looking at Edestone with an intense look, of which however she was absolutely unconscious, broke in impatiently:

“Oh, mamma, do stop talking about that dreadful man and ask Mr. Edestone to tell us something about his wonderful work.” A light came into her eyes which would have alarmed an American mother had she seen it in the eyes of her daughter at a mixed summer resort.

Edestone was anxious to get away as he took absolutely no interest in this particular phase of life; yet he did not wish to appear unappreciative of the great honour that had been conferred upon him by these ladies of such high rank. However, an opportunity soon presented itself which permitted him to retire, and he bowed himself out of the room, but not, it must be admitted, until he had answered a number of questions which the Princess insisted on putting to him. He did this with perfect deference, yet in such a businesslike way that she was convinced, should a year elapse before he next saw her, he would probably not recognize her.

CHAPTER XV. — SURROUNDED BY SOLDIERS

As Edestone left the Palace in company with Colonel Stewart, and the two took their seats in the waiting carriage, he was amused to see a troop of cavalry, which had been drawn up before the entrance, fall in about them as an escort. The men were all dressed in khaki, and, judging from their equipment, they were fixed for business more than a mere guard of honour. A smart, young officer rode up and, saluting the Colonel, asked: “Where to, sir?”

“To Claridge’s.” The Colonel saluted in return.

The carriage started, and the troopers, clattering out of the courtyard, closed up about it in a fashion which showed that they were going to take no chances with their valuable charge.

Edestone laughed at himself with his high hat and frock-coat as a centre for all this military panoply. It recalled to him an old-fashioned print he had seen when a boy, representing Abraham Lincoln at the front.

“You don’t mean to tell me that you really consider this necessary?” he chaffed his companion.

Colonel Stewart nodded gravely. “They will make no attempt on your life, Mr. Edestone,” he added reassuringly, “except as a last resort; but they are determined to have your secret. They prefer to get it with your co-operation and assent. If not, they want it anyhow. Finally, they stand ready to accomplish its destruction and your own rather than permit England to obtain it.”

Arriving at the hotel, the soldiers were drawn up in line while he entered the door. To his surprise, moreover, the Colonel and two of the cavalry-men accompanied him to the door of his apartment.

“Mr. Edestone,” said the Royal Equerry, “I am sorry, but my orders are to place a sentry at your door. You are not of course to consider yourself in any sense a prisoner, but an honoured guest whose safety is of paramount importance. Should you at any time wish to leave your apartment, notify Captain Bright by telephone at the hotel office where he will be stationed, and he will act as your escort. My advice, however, is that you remain in the hotel.” Giving a military salute, he retired, leaving the two soldiers posted in the corridor.

A moment later, Edestone was summoned to the door to find that the sentries had halted Black and Stanton whom he had directed to report to him immediately on his return to the hotel.

A word from him proved sufficient to secure the admission of his moving-picture experts; nevertheless, the three gazed at one another uneasily as they stood within the room.

“What is it, Mr. Edestone?” Black’s eyes rounded up. “They haven’t placed you under arrest, have they?”

Edestone shook his head. “Apparently not. At least they tell me I am under no restraint, and, as they might say to a little boy about to be spanked, that this is all for my own good. Whether or not this is merely a polite subterfuge, and they intend to postpone my departure from London from time to time in a way that can give no offence to our Government, yet would spoil all my plans, I am still uncertain.”

“By Jove, it might be worth while trying to find out,” flared up Stanton, bristling at the very suggestion of an indignity to his adored chief. “If they’ve got anything of that kind up their sleeves, we could soon show them that——”

“No.” Edestone spoke up a trifle sharply. “I have decided to let the situation develop itself.”

His manner indicated that he wished the subject dropped; but, after he had given the two men the orders for which he had summoned them, and dismissed them, he fell into a rather perturbed reverie.

After all, might it not be well, as Stanton had urged, to assure himself in regard to John Bull’s honourable intentions? His mind reverted to an expedient which he had already considered and cast aside. It was to communicate with the American Ambassador, get his passports, and start for Paris at once. Then, if he were halted, the purpose of the British Government would be made plain and its hypocrisy exposed.

But, to tell the truth, he rather shrank from such a revelation. Suppose he forced their hand in this way, and they should retaliate, either by attempting to detain him in England, or insisting upon his return to his own country? Was he prepared to——?

As Underhill had said, blood is thicker than water; and there were in his nature many ties that bound him to the mother-country.

No, he concluded; if there was cause to worry, he would meet the emergency when it arose. Anyhow, he was not of the worrying kind. He threw himself down upon the sofa, since even for him it had been a rather strenuous day, and soon was fast asleep.

He was awakened by James. “It is 7:30, sir, and you are dining at 8 o’clock.” Then with a perfectly stolid face: “I beg pardon, sir, what clothes will you take to the Tower, sir? The hall porter says, sir, that with all these soldiers around, they are certainly going to stand you up before a firing squad. And Hottenroth, the barber, says as how every American that comes to London is more or less a German spy. But he is a kind of a foreigner himself, sir. A Welshman, he says he is, and he talks in a very funny way.”

“No, they are not going to stand me up before a firing squad,” Edestone halted this flood of intelligence, as he sprang up from the sofa; “but I shall turn myself into one, and fire the whole lot of you, if you don’t stop talking so much. Now hurry up, and get me dressed. I don’t want to keep Mr. Rebener waiting.”

Yet even with James’s adept assistance, he found the time scant for the careful toilet upon which he always insisted; and it was almost on the stroke of the hour when at last he was ready.

Snatching his hat and cane from James, he started hurriedly out of the door, but found himself abruptly challenged by the sentry just outside whose presence he had for the moment completely forgotten.

“Excuse me, sir,” the soldier saluted, “but my orders are to notify Captain Bright, if you wish to leave your rooms.”

He blew a whistle, summoning a comrade who suddenly appeared from nowhere.

“Notify Captain Bright,” he directed; then, in response to Edestone’s good-humoured but slightly sarcastic protests: “I’m sorry, sir, but those are my orders.”

“Has England declared war on the United States?” said Edestone.

“I don’t know, sir,” the sentry grinned. “We seem to be taking on all comers.” Then standing at attention, he waited until the soldier, who had returned from telephoning, came forward to announce that the Captain presented his apologies and would be right up.

A moment later Captain Bright himself came panting down the corridor. He expressed profound regret that any inconvenience should have been caused, but explained, as Colonel Stewart had already done, that he was held personally responsible for Edestone’s safety, and had instructions to accompany him wherever he might go.

“Very well, Captain; I bow to the inevitable. May I trouble you to conduct me to the dining-room?” And he strolled toward the lift at the side of the tall cavalryman.

But in the office they encountered Rebener himself writing a note on the back of his card.

“Oh, there you are, Jack?” he hailed Edestone. “I was just sending you a note asking you if you wouldn’t come and dine with me at the Britz instead of here. It is too damn stupid here. Not that it’s very bright anywhere in London at present, but at least there’s a little bit more life at the Britz.”

“Who is stopping here anyhow? Royalty?” he interrupted himself. “There are soldiers all over the place.”

“Yes; I am the recipient of that little attention,” laughed the young American. “Let me introduce Captain Bright here, who is acting as my especial chaperon.”

“What? You surely haven’t run afoul of the War Department?” Rebener rolled his eyes. “That sounds more like our friends, the barbarians, than Englishmen. But, say, you are joking of course; you’re not really in trouble? Seriously is there anything you want me to do for you? I have quite a little pull over at the War Offices, you know.”

“No, thank you; I am leaving for Paris tomorrow.” He looked straight into Rebener’s eyes, without giving the slightest hint in his expression of the disclosure which had been made to him by the unfortunate Smith. “It is simply that Captain Bright thinks there are some people who might do something to me. I don’t know exactly what it is, but he insists on preventing them anyhow; so there you are. How about it, Captain? Am I permitted to dine with Mr. Rebener at the Britz? I think the Britz is a perfectly safe place for two American business men.”

“As you please, Mr. Edestone.” The Captain drew himself up. “My orders are to escort you, though, wherever you go.” He raised his hand toward a sergeant who was standing just inside the door.

“What! You are not going to take all the ‘Tommies’ along too?” expostulated Rebener. “Oh, I say; you come along yourself, Captain, and dine with us, but leave the men behind. I will see that Edestone doesn’t come to any grief.”

“Sorry.” The officer’s tone ended any further argument. “I shall keep my men as much out of sight as possible; but it will be necessary for them to accompany us.”

“You see.” Edestone smiled somewhat ruefully. “I can’t even go out to buy a paper, without turning it into a sort of Fourth of July parade.”

On going to the door they found that one of the royal carriages was waiting for them, and after the two men were seated, and the Captain had given the directions to the coachman, they dashed off in the midst of a cavalcade.

“By the way,” Rebener vouchsafed as they drove along, “I have taken the liberty of inviting Lord Denton and Mr. Karlbeck, two friends of mine, to dine with us tonight, and as Lord Denton is in mourning, he has asked that I have dinner in my apartment. I hope that is all right?”

“Certainly,” assented Edestone. “Lord Denton, you say? I don’t think I have ever met him, have I? And isn’t he just a little supersensitive to raise a scruple of that sort? It seems to me that practically everybody over here is in mourning. Fact is, I don’t feel like going to a ball myself.” His face saddened, as he thought of the many good fellows he had met on former visits to London who now lay underneath the sod of Northern France and Belgium.

But by this time they were at the Britz and the proprietor was bowing them inside, apparently so accustomed to receiving men of distinction with military escort that he did not even notice the lines of trim cavalrymen which drew themselves up on either side of his entrance.

“Will you gentlemen dine in the public restaurant?” asked Captain Bright, stepping up to Edestone.

“No,” Rebener took it upon himself to answer. “We are going to have a little partie carrée in my apartment.”

“In that case,” said the Captain, “I regret that I shall have to station men on that floor.”

Rebener frowned as if he were about to voice a protest, but at that moment the proprietor called him over to consult with him in regard to the menu.

For a moment or two they discussed it calmly enough; then as the proprietor began to gesticulate and wax vehement, Rebener spoke over his shoulder to his guest.

“Excuse me, Jack,” he said, “but M. Bombiadi insists that I hold a council of war with him over the selection of the wines. He declines to accept the responsibility with such a distinguished personage as you seem to have become.” Then lowering his voice, he added with a wink: “He is evidently impressed with that military escort of yours, for all that he pretended not to notice it. I won’t be away a minute.”

He was hurried by the proprietor through the office and into one of the small duplex apartments on the main floor. Passing through the pantry and dining-room of the apartment out into the little private hall with its street door on Piccadilly, and up a short flight of marble steps with an iron railing, he was ushered into a handsomely furnished little parlour.

There, standing in front of the mantelpiece was a man who did not look like an Englishman, but more like a German Jew. He was perfectly bald and had a black beard which was rather long and trimmed to a point. His nose was unmistakable, and taken with his thick, red lips showed pretty well what he was and whence he came. Talking to him very earnestly was another man, who was much smaller, and who was also German to the finger-tips.

Pausing on the threshold, M. Bombiadi with the servile and cringing tone always assumed by those frock-coated criminals, European hotel proprietors, asked humbly: “May we come in, Your Royal Highness?”

But Rebener, with the air of a man who was not accustomed to, or else declined to consider, such formalities, unhesitatingly brushed the proprietor aside, and walked up to the two men.

“I am sorry to be late,” he said in a thoroughly businesslike manner, “but Bombiadi here has doubtless explained the reason for it.” Then, as if he purposely refused to acknowledge the high rank of either of the two men by waiting for them to speak, he said brusquely, even with a slight touch of contempt: “Bombiadi tells me that you want to speak with me, before we meet at the table.”

“Yes, Mr. Rebener,” said the smaller man, bowing with exaggerated ceremony. “If it is not asking too much of you, I am sure that His Royal Highness will appreciate your kindness.”

The silky smoothness of his manner seemed to disgust Rebener.

“Now, look here, Karlbeck, don’t try to get friendly with me,” he drew back as the other attempted to lay a hand upon his arm. “I am not in love with this business, anyhow. I am German, and I am proud of the Fatherland, as she stands with her back against the wall, fighting the entire civilized world—and some of the barbaric;—but you two fellows are Englishmen, and——”

“Pardon me, Mr. Rebener,” the man with the beard broke in angrily. “You seem to forget to whom you are speaking.”

“No, that is just the trouble,” cried Rebener with a loud laugh. “I can’t seem to forget it. And if Your Royal Highness insists upon keeping on your crown, you had better let Mr. Edestone and myself dine alone.”

“Please, Mr. Rebener. Please not so loud,” cautioned the proprietor, pale with terror. “One never knows who may be listening.”

“I have a word for you too.” Rebener turned, and shook a threatening finger in his face. “If I find that you cut-throats have murdered Schmidt, I will turn you over to the London police, and let you be hanged as common murderers without having any of the glory of dying for your country. I distinctly told you, that I would not stand for that sort of thing. He was a miserable creature, but he was an American, and we Americans, even if we have got German blood, are not traitors to the country of our adoption.” And he looked with a sneer at the two Englishmen. “Now, if any of you are planning to indulge in any of your pretty little tricks with Mr. Edestone tonight, I give you fair warning. I will call Captain Bright in, and turn the whole lot of you over to him. I think he would be rather surprised to find His Royal Highness in such company.”

The man with the beard was literally white with rage. The thick veins swelled along his neck, and his lower lip was trembling. But he controlled himself with an effort, and endeavoured to speak calmly.

“Now, now, Mr. Rebener,” he said, “you are unnecessarily excited, and I therefore overlook your disrespect toward me. There is no intention whatever of doing any violence to Mr. Edestone. We hope merely to prevail on him to talk.”

“What good will his talking do?” cried the smaller man before his associate could silence him. “We know all that he said today at Buckingham Palace. What we want is his instrument, and if we’re not going after that, what use is this dinner, I would like to know?”

“I can’t tell you,” rejoined Rebener, “unless His Royal Highness would be willing to show his hand, and try to persuade Edestone to take our view of the matter.”

A sharp retort trembled on the lips of the Jewish-looking man, but just then he caught sight of Bombiadi out of the corner of his eyes gesticulating and making signs to him from behind Rebener’s back.

“I suppose that is the only chance left us,” he pretended to consider. “We can try it at any rate. I suppose, too, we had better come to your apartment immediately. Remember, though, we are to remain incognito until I give the word. In the meantime, we are simply ‘Lord Denton’ and ‘Mr. Karlbeck.’”

On that agreement, Rebener left; but the proprietor, after following him far enough to make sure that he was out of earshot, returned to the little parlour where the other men waited.

“We will have to leave him out of our calculations,” he shook his head. “He is not heart and soul in the cause as is your Royal Highness. However, it can be managed without Rebener.

“Hottenroth has telephoned me that he thinks Edestone has the instrument on his person, but cannot make sure, as his rooms at Claridge’s are too closely guarded to permit of a search. We must go upon the assumption that he has it with him, however, and get it away from him. That plan of Your Royal Highness’s will work perfectly, I am sure. I will call Edestone to the telephone while you are at dinner, and since the rest of you will all remain at the table, how can Rebener suspect either of you gentlemen any more than he would suspect himself.

“Now, I will return in a few minutes, and take you up to Mr. Rebener’s apartment. No one knows of your presence in the house so far, I can assure you, and the servants on that floor may be thoroughly depended upon.”

CHAPTER XVI. — A DINNER AT THE BRITZ

When Rebener got back to the entrance hall he found Edestone standing talking with an American newspaper correspondent, and as he came up heard the inventor say: “Well you can say that if I sell my discovery to anyone it will be to the United States, and that rather than sell to any other nation I would hand it over to my own country as a free gift.”

“Here, here,” Rebener joined in laughingly as he came up, “don’t you offer to give away anything. Just because your father left you comfortably well off is no reason that you shouldn’t sell things if people want to buy. Sell and sell while you’ve got the market, and sell to the highest bidder. Look at me, I am selling to both sides; that is my way of stopping this war.” He turned to the young newspaper man. “Is there anything new, Ralph?”

“Nothing, Mr. Rebener, except that there is a story out in New York that Mr. Edestone here has been sent over to act as a sort of unofficial go-between to bring England and Germany to terms; but he denies this. Then there is another story that he is trying to sell this new invention of his to England and that the German agents are trying to get it away from him before he does. You’ve just heard what he has to say on that subject, so I seem to have landed on a ‘Flivver’ all around.

“Say, Mr. Edestone, you’ll give me the dope on this lay-out won’t you, before the other boys get to it?” he wheedled. “We all know that something is going on, and she’s going to be a big story when she breaks, and it would be the making of me with the ‘old man’ if I could put it over first.

“I saw you, sir, this afternoon coming home from the Palace,” he chuckled, “and the President, going out to the first ball game of the season, surrounded by the Washington Blues, to toss the pill into the diamond, certainly had nothing on you.”

“You’ve struck it,” said Edestone, with a good-humoured laugh at himself. “I have been trying all day to think what I looked like, and that’s it.”

Rebener laid his hand upon his arm. “Well, Jack,” he said, “hadn’t we better be getting up to my place? I don’t want to keep the other gentlemen waiting, and these Europeans have an awful habit of coming at the hour they are invited, and do not, as we do in America, in imitation of the ‘Snark,’ ‘dine on the following day.’

“Good-night, Ralph,” he waved his hand to the correspondent. “Drop around tomorrow; I may have something for you.”

Then as they were going up in the elevator he confided to Edestone: “I am not so crazy about these two chaps that are coming to dinner tonight, but you know most of the good sort are at the front, or, if they happen to be in London, are too busy to waste their time on us Americans. Do you know, Jack, there is at this time quite a bit of feeling against us in England? Exactly what it is they resent it is hard to say. I certainly do not understand how they can expect us to take any part in this war with our population composed of people from every one of the countries that are engaged.”

They had scarcely had time to take off their coats when Lord Denton and Mr. Karlbeck came in through the private entrance. Edestone was introduced, and after the two Americans had had their cocktails, both Englishmen having declined to indulge in this distinctly American custom, the four sat down to dinner. Rebener put “Lord Denton” on his right, Edestone on his left, while “Mr. Karlbeck” took the only remaining seat. The conversation was general, and Edestone found that both the Englishmen were evidently making an effort to be agreeable.

“You are quite like an Englishman,” said “Lord Denton” addressing him. “I have known so few really nice Americans that I must say it is a most delightful surprise. When I was told that you were a great American inventor, I was prepared to see a fellow with the back of his neck shaved, who, while chewing gum, would seize my lapel and hold on to it while he insisted on explaining how I could save time and money by using his electrical self-starting dishwasher or some such beastly machine. When I visited New York two years ago, a committee had me in charge for three days. Their one idea seemed to be to force large cigars and mixed drinks on me at all hours of the day and night. One of these charming gentlemen, a particularly objectionable fellow, although he seemed to be very rich, was covered with diamonds and wore the most ridiculous evening clothes topped off with a yachting cap fronted with the insignia of some rowing club of which he had been admiral. He always referred to his one-thousand-ton yacht as his ‘little canoe,’ and took delight in telling exactly what it cost him by the hour to run, invariably adding that this amount did not include his own food, wines, liquors, and cigars. ‘We always charge that up to profit-and-loss account,’ he would say with a roar of laughter, in which he was joined by a group of his satellites.”

“I’ll bet I can call the turn, eh, Jack?” Rebener glanced across the table to Edestone, with a twinkle in his eye. “Didn’t the chap also tell you with great seriousness, ‘Lord Denton,’ that he had pulled off more good deals in his ‘little canoe’ than in all the hotel corridors put together?”

“Well, I sincerely hope it’s the same,” said ‘Lord Denton’. “You can’t have two such creatures in your country?”

“Was that the chap, ‘Denton,’” broke in “Karlbeck,” “who said to you, the day that he slapped you on the back, that he was not so strong for making all this fuss over Princes and things, as in his opinion it wasn’t democratic?”

“Yes, that was when I was on board his yacht, but he said I was all right and he didn’t mind spending money on me. ‘This is my pleasure today,’ he said, ‘although the Boss did say he wanted you treated right, and his word goes both ways with me. See!’”

“Tell them about your experience with the New York newspaper men,” suggested “Karlbeck.”

“Oh, that was very amusing! The whole committee would stand around and laugh while the ‘boys,’ as they called them, had a chance, which consisted in my being asked the most impertinent questions by a lot of objectionable little bounders whom they constantly referred to as ‘the greatest institution of our glorious country,’ at times allowing also that the country was ‘God’s own.’

“When I objected, some of your most powerful men would say: ‘You had better tell the reporters something or they’ll get sore on you and print a lot of lies about your women-folk.’

“The particularly offensive gentleman of whom I have spoken, after telling me what he thought of the British aristocracy, which was not always flattering, though I seemed to be exempt, said as he bade me good-bye: ‘By the way, don’t forget that my wife and two daughters will be stopping in London next spring.’”

“Well,” inquired Edestone with a faint smile, “you did forget that his wife and two daughters were stopping in London in the spring, I am quite sure, and sure that he is convinced you got the best of it.”

“Oh, I say, Mr. Edestone, that was a nasty one! You really would not have expected me to introduce that fellow at my clubs, would you?” “No,” said Edestone, toying with something on the table to hide the smile that played across his lips. “No, no, not at all. The Lord Mayor of London would have satisfied him.”

He would have dropped the subject there, but pressed by the other man he continued rather seriously: “Since you ask me, ‘Lord Denton,’ I do think that you should not have accepted that man’s hospitality unless you were prepared to return it to a certain extent.”

“Well, what would you have expected His Royal Highness to do—I mean ‘Lord Denton?’” “Karlbeck” corrected himself hastily. Edestone set his glass down, and looked at the man for a moment. When he finally spoke it was with a touch of asperity. With a sarcastic smile he said:

“The quiet way in which you Europeans accept everything from us and return nothing, is being resented, not by the lower classes for they read in our papers how the King shook hands with Jack Johnson; not by the nouveaux riches, for they are perfectly satisfied with the notoriety they get at the hands of your broken-down aristocracy who spend their money,—no not by these classes, but by our ladies and gentlemen.”

“Then why do you entertain our Princes so lavishly?” sneered “Karlbeck.”

“It is our sense of humour, which allows us to be imposed upon. That sense of humour is often mistaken for hysterical hospitality by the distinguished stranger. We—and when I say we I mean people of breeding which does not include the vulgarian who knows nothing and may be the son of your father’s ninth gardener—we know that the more ridiculous we appear to you, the better you like it. Not to appear ridiculous offends you, as it arouses a feeling of rivalry to which you object, but with your lack of that same sense of humour, this you deny.”

Again he would have willingly dropped the subject, but “Lord Denton” once more insisted upon keeping up the discussion.

“You must remember,” said he, “Prince Henry’s visit to America. You don’t mean to tell me the Americans were not complimented and pleased at a visit from a Royal Prince?”

Edestone laughed. “You mean when Prince Henry of Prussia came over to bridge the chasm which had formed between the German and American nations over the Manila episode, by the interchange of courtesies between the two ruling families, the Hohenzollerns and the Roosevelts?

“I was surprised that the Kaiser was so poorly informed as not to know our attitude toward him and his Divine Right and mailed fist. Why, everybody laughed except the Kaiser and the President—they were the only ones who were fooled: the Kaiser, because he could not help himself, it was in his blood; and Roosevelt, because he was at that time in a most septic condition and was suffering from auto-intoxication at the hands of that particular form of microbe.”

“Edestone entertained Prince Henry himself at his Little Place in the Country,” said Rebener, who saw that “Lord Denton” was losing his temper.

“Yes, I did,” said Edestone. “Not that I thought he would enjoy it, but somebody—and now when I come to think of it, you were the man, Rebener—insisted that he would like to visit my machine shops. And he did seem to enjoy seeing them very much, and Admiral Tirpitz and his staff took all kinds of notes while asking all kinds of questions.” The reminiscence seemed to make the three other men a trifle uncomfortable.

“Oh! what difference does it make after all?” said Rebener. “Let’s get down to business.

“Now, Edestone,” he turned to the inventor, “you know me, and I’m not much for beating about the bush. When I want something, my motto is, ‘Go to it.’ My object in inviting you here to meet these gentlemen tonight was to see if we can’t get together. As I understand the situation, Jack, you have something that you think is pretty good. You have lots of money, and you don’t want to sell it. You don’t have to, but you want to get England to use it, and if she won’t, you will try Germany. Now is not that just about the size of it?”

“To a certain extent, yes,” replied Edestone.

“Then why in the name of common sense don’t you let ‘Lord Denton’ and me have it and we will guarantee to have it used where it will do the most good. He has more pull with the Government than any man in England. I think you know pretty well now who he is,” he added with a wink. “If it is the war you want stopped, he is the best man outside of the King or Kaiser.”

“Well, yes, Mr. Rebener,” said Edestone, “I do know who ‘Lord Denton’ is and had the pleasure of seeing him this afternoon at Buckingham Palace, but I thought perhaps he would prefer that I should preserve his incognito and, following the example of his most charming Duchess, permitted myself to forget. I shall be most happy to——”

He halted and turned as a waiter stepped up behind his chair to interrupt him.

“I beg pardon, sir, but the Marquis of Lindenberry wishes to speak to you on the telephone.

“I am sorry, sir, but you will have to go to the booth in the room behind the stairs. Mr. Rebener’s telephone is out of order.”

“What do you mean, ‘my telephone is out of order’?” Rebener glanced up sharply. “I used it not twenty minutes ago.” And going into the adjoining room he tried to speak to the floor switchboard.

“The fellow’s right,” he admitted on returning to the table. “You’ll have to use the booth, Jack. Waiter, show Mr. Edestone where to go.”

“This way, sir,” said the waiter, and he conducted Edestone down the long corridor, passing one of Captain Bright’s cavalrymen at almost every turn. Just around the foot of the stairs the waiter showed him a door.

“There it is, sir,” he pointed.

Edestone went in and found himself in a room that was almost dark. It was lighted only by a shaded electric bulb used by the man at the switchboard, who sat facing the door but hidden from anyone entering by the high instrument in front of him. Edestone walked over to him, finding him almost obscured by the huge green shade pulled down over his eyes, and seemingly very much occupied with both incoming and outgoing calls.

“Is there a call for Mr. Edestone?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” said the man without looking up from his plugs. “The second booth from this end, No. 2.”

Edestone, turning, saw in the dim light a row of booths against the wall over beyond the door. It was quite dark in that corner, but he could see that the door of the second booth was open. He went inside, muttering as he did so, “I think they might give a fellow a little more light.”

As he sat down and took up the receiver, he put out his hand to stop the door from slowly closing, apparently by itself. It was one of those double-walled, sound-proof, stuffy boxes, and he did not want the door shut tight, so he put out his foot to hold it open. But he was just a moment too late. The door shut with a little bang, and when he tried to open it again, he found that it seemed to have jammed.

CHAPTER XVII. — THE VOICE IN THE TELEPHONE

Edestone waited. He thought he heard, or rather he felt, a vibration as if someone were moving in the next booth. He tried the door again, but found that it held fast.

He was about to signal the switchboard operator and tell him to come and open up the booth, when an, “Are you there, Mr. Edestone?” came to him from across the wire, and caused him for the moment to forget the refractory door.

“Hello!” he answered. “Yes; I am Mr. Edestone. Who is this?”

The voice, instead of replying directly, spoke as if to another person with an aside. “Mr. Edestone is on the wire.”

A moment, and then a second voice spoke. “Are you there, Mr. Edestone?”

It was not the voice of his friend, and he answered a trifle impatiently: “Yes. Who are you? Are you speaking for the Marquis of Lindenberry?”

“No, I am not,” came the reply. “And I must apologize for having used his name.”

The voice bore the unmistakable intonation of an English gentleman.

“I am the Count Kurtz von Hemelstein. I regret that circumstances compel me to force myself upon you in this caddish manner. But my duty as a soldier in the service of His Majesty, the Emperor of Germany, demands it. I shall not delay you long, however, if you will only do what I ask.”

There was a moment’s pause. Involuntarily Edestone drew back slightly from the instrument.

“Count Kurtz von Hemelstein, did you say?” He spoke with a touch of sternness. “I do not think that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting you, sir. I did meet a Count Heinrich von Hemelstein last summer.”

“Yes; that was my brother. He has often spoken of you, Mr. Edestone. If I am not mistaken, you were rivals for the attention of a pretty, young matron with a good-natured husband?”

“Not rivals, Count von Hemelstein.” Edestone laughed, but under the laugh he was doing some rapid thinking. “Your brother was the favoured one, and when the war broke out, and he had to leave for the front, the lady was almost inconsolable.

“But, Count von Hemelstein,” he continued, “what can I do for you? We Americans, you know, do not always insist upon a formal introduction. As we say, ‘Any friend of a friend of mine.’”

“Also, you are wrong on one point,” said the Count, with a little chuckle. “I have had the pleasure of meeting you. It was a trifle informal, I must admit, but you were just as charming as you are now, and I think I am indebted to you to the amount of several shillings. In the end, you did leave me rather abruptly, and seemed offended at something I had done; but I trust you have recovered from that by this time.” Edestone could hear him laughing heartily.

“You have met me?” repeated Edestone, completely mystified. “When and where?”

“Today; in London. Indeed, I am in London now.”

“In London, Count von Hemelstein?” Involuntarily Edestone lowered his voice. “But I say, isn’t that taking a bit of a chance for a German officer? Where are you speaking from now, may I ask?”

The Count was laughing so, that just at first he could not answer; but after a moment he managed to control his amusement.

“I am in the next booth to you,” he said.

When he spoke again, his tone had lost all trace of levity and become hard and direct like that of a man charged with a distasteful duty, yet with which he was determined not to let his feelings interfere.

“In regard to our meeting today,” he said; “I was in disguise. In short, I was the taxi-driver whom you gave the slip this afternoon by the aid of that cur, Schmidt. And now, Mr. Edestone, you must realize what it is I want.” In a more conciliatory tone, he added: “I can see no reason, however, why we should not settle this matter as between gentlemen.”

“Please be more explicit,” returned Edestone, quietly.

“In brief, then, I am authorized by my Government to meet, and even double or quadruple any offer for your invention made by the English Government. I will take your word of honour. All that you have to do is to say now, on your word as a gentleman, that you will sell it to my Government, and you can return to your friends. My Government will then communicate with you, and close with you at your own price.”

“And if I decline the proposition?” said Edestone.

“Then I fear I shall be compelled to use force; and much as I may regret to do so, I will tell you that I am prepared to stop at nothing.

“You are now,” he went on, “locked in that solid oak booth, with its strong double doors, perfectly sound-proof. The operator at the switchboard is my man. He can by pulling a wire uncork a bottle which is concealed in your booth and asphyxiate you in one half minute.”

But if he had expected the American to show any trepidation as a result of his threats, he soon found out his mistake. Edestone’s reply was as insouciant as if he had been merely commenting on the weather.

“Really, this is quite interesting, Count von Hemelstein,” he said. “I might almost call you a man after my own heart. That bottle trick is so simple and yet effective that I, as an inventor, cannot help but compliment you. I am wondering just what chemical you have employed. There are of course a dozen or more that would answer your purpose; but as their action varies greatly in the effect upon the victim, I am naturally curious.”

“Does that mean that you are about to decline my offer?” demanded the Count sharply. “Have a care, Mr. Edestone. I am not merely trying to frighten you, as you may suppose. The facts are just as I have stated them, and I shall not hesitate to——”

“Assuredly, my dear Count,” Edestone broke in. “I have never doubted that for a moment. Nor am I going to refuse your proposition—that is, not definitely. Instead, I have been so pleased by the charming manner in which you have presented this little matter that I desire to submit a counter-proposition. Only, I must beg you to urge your modest friend with the weak eyes out there at the switchboard to be a little careful with that wire. Judging from the atmosphere in this booth, his bottle has been leaking for some time.”

“Come, come, Mr. Edestone.” The Count’s voice rose nervously, showing the strain under which he was labouring. “I have already told you that this is no joke. If it is your game to play for time, in the hope that some one may come to release you, or that you may discover the manner in which the bottle is secreted, you are going to be disappointed. I must do my work quickly. If I do not have your answer at once, I will give the signal and take your instrument away from you by force.”

“It is not time I want, but air.” Edestone gave a little gasp. “You yourself have spent more time than I, with your kind explanations as to how I may avoid what would be to me a most distressing accident. However, since celerity is what you want, I hasten to say that I have not my instrument, nor indeed any instrument with me.”

“Not with you?” snapped the Prussian angrily. “Where is it, then?”

“Ah! That is my counter-proposition. Count von Hemelstein, if I promise to tell you, on my word of honour, where you may find this instrument of mine that contains the entire secret of my invention—and it is near at hand where, if you are a brave man, you can easily get it,—if I do this, will you, on your side, give me your word as a gentleman, that you will immediately open this booth?

“I may add,” he went on, as von Hemelstein seemed to hesitate, “that this is my last and only proposition, and you can take that or nothing. I will die here in this box before I will sell my invention to any European Government; but you may have it as a free gift, Count, if you have the nerve to go after it. There is a challenge to your boasted Prussian valour! Are you a sport, Count von Hemelstein, or are you not?”

Von Hemelstein wavered no longer. From what Edestone told him, he argued that the inventor must have left his instrument with some of his subordinates, probably Black and Stanton, and relied upon them to protect it; and it stung him to think that the American should believe a German officer would falter at such odds—a couple of electricians, mere Yankee artisans.

“Yes,” he growled hoarsely. “I accept your terms. It is a bargain.”

“On your honour?”

“On my word of honour as a Prussian officer and a gentleman.”

“Well, then, hurry up and open this door. It is getting stifling in here; and, besides, Rebener will be growing anxious about me.”

“But, first, your information. Where is the instrument?”

“Oh, the instrument?” It was now Edestone’s turn to laugh. “Why, that is lying on the floor under the table in Mr. Rebener’s dining-room. I dropped it there, when I came out to answer your telephone call, and I also gave instructions to the sentries on guard at the door of the apartment to shoot any one who attempted to pass in or out during my absence. You are doubtless a brave man, but I do not think you are prepared to tackle a whole company of British cavalry.

“And now,” he concluded, “I have kept to my bargain. Will you kindly open the door?”

A muttered German imprecation, like a snarl of baffled chagrin, was his only answer. But a moment later the door to his booth swung open, and he was free.

As he stepped out, he found the lights in the room turned on, and the man at the switchboard gone. He also noticed that the door to the adjoining booth was shaking, as if someone had just jerked it open and had passed out hurriedly, and, as he came out into the corridor, he thought he glimpsed the figure of a man hastily disappearing down the staircase. So far as any other evidence went, except for his wilted collar and heaving lungs, the whole experience might have been a dream.

He returned quietly to the dinner table, and stooping over, as if to pick up his napkin, recovered the instrument and slipped it into his trousers pocket.

“Lord Denton” and “Karlbeck” kept staring at him with puzzled, almost incredulous faces.

“Did you find your friend on the wire?” finally ventured “Lord Denton,” leaning across the table toward him.

“No; it was another gentleman speaking for him,” smiled Edestone, “a mere visitor to England like myself. I took the liberty of asking him to join us, but he declined. He is, I fancy, leaving the country very shortly—probably going to Berlin.”

A little gasp from behind him caused him to turn in his seat. It came from the hotel proprietor who, entering the room by the rear door, stood rooted in amazement at the sight of Edestone, his jaw dropping, his eyes as big as saucers.

Edestone regarded him a moment; then turned to his host.

“What silly-looking waiters you have in this hotel, Rebener,” he said. “That fellow yonder doesn’t appear to have brains enough to be even a German spy.”

The real waiter, overhearing this compliment to his employer, clapped his hand over his mouth and dived for the pantry, just managing to get through the swinging door before he exploded.

The self-satisfied Bombiadi also overheard, and although he endeavoured to appear unconscious, a dull red flush crept up over his cheeks, and after shifting for a moment from one foot to the other, he left the room.

“Lord Denton” and “Karlbeck” exchanged glances out of the corners of their eyes; and Rebener, although he made out to grin at the speech, shifted a little uneasily in his chair.

But Edestone, who, under his quiet exterior, possessed a rather mischievous spirit, was not yet through with them.

“As I was saying when I was called to the telephone,” he leaned across the table toward the incognito Royal Duke, “the desire of Your Royal Highness—pardon me, I mean, of ‘Lord Denton’—is of course to see England victorious in this contest; but that may mean years of fighting and an appalling loss of men and money. Such true patriots as yourself and ‘Mr. Karlbeck’ must see that it would be far better to end the war now, provided that a lasting peace can be ensured, and that I think I can guarantee with my discovery. I should be delighted, therefore, to co-operate with you gentlemen to that end, and if you would advocate the proposition that England allow me to go to Berlin with something to show that she is willing to enter into pour parlers, I shall bring pressure to bear on Germany to make some liberal answer.”

“Lord Denton,” however, seemed no longer interested in the matter, and was unable to concentrate his attention; while “Mr. Karlbeck” made no attempt to hide the fact that he was disgusted gusted with the evening, and wished to see it end as soon as possible.

Rebener, seeing his dinner a failure, although not quite understanding the cause, like many a nervous host compelled to face a tableful of distinguished guests who do not hesitate to show that they are bored, did the silliest thing possible under the circumstances, and drank more than he should.

Presently he began to talk in such unrestrained fashion that “Mr. Karlbeck” looked as if he would faint with apprehension, while His Royal Highness sought by every possible means to divert Edestone’s attention from the broad hints and imprudent revelations that were thrown out.

They were still engaged at this, when suddenly the door was thrown open, and some one announced in a loud voice, “The King’s Messenger!”

“Karlbeck” and “Lord Denton” sprang to their feet, their faces ashy pale, as they stood grasping the backs of their chairs. When, a moment later, Colonel Stewart, the Equerry, appeared on the threshold, they both crumpled up, and dropped into their chairs, fit subjects for the starch-pot.

The Colonel stared at them in undisguised surprise, a slow frown gathering between his eyes.

“Your Royal Highness did not mention to me this afternoon that he was dining with Mr. Edestone tonight,” he drew himself up stiffly. And it was in his mind that, on the contrary, His Royal Highness had inveighed against the American inventor as a fraud and a fakir, and had loudly urged that no attention be paid to him or his claims.

Neither did Colonel Stewart forget that certain ugly whispers had been in circulation regarding the loyalty of these two high-born Englishmen with the Teutonic names. What did it mean, then, when he found them here in the apartment of a man practically known as a German agent, and in conference with the possessor of the secret which Germany was seeking so eagerly to obtain?

Whatever his suspicions, though, he said nothing further at the time, but turned to Edestone.

“I am sorry to disturb you, Mr. Edestone, but His Majesty, the King, has ordered that certain messages be delivered to you without delay, and I should appreciate it, if you would give me a few minutes of your time.”

Then, when Edestone, after requesting Rebener’s permission, had withdrawn with him into the salon, he explained that the King had instructed Sir Egbert Graves to call the following morning at nine o’clock and to state the decision of the Government in answer to the inventor’s proposition.

“Will that hour be convenient to you?” asked the Colonel.

“Perfectly,” Edestone assented. Then on an impulse, he added: “I do not leave for the Continent until eleven.”

The Equerry extended his hand. “In that case, I shall probably not see you again. Good-bye, Mr. Edestone; I trust you will have a pleasant journey and good luck when you reach Berlin.”

It was evident that he was not to be detained. He was in no sense a prisoner, but free to go or stay as he chose. With a smile of gratification, he responded to Colonel Stewart’s parting salute, and returned to the dining-room.

There he found the two discomfited members of the nobility just taking their leave; while Rebener, his earlier ill-humour put aside, was playing the rather too strenuous host, and with his flushed face and over-loud manner urging them to stay and “have another.” Wouldn’t they try one of his wonderful cigars? Just one pony of his marvellous brandy?

But His Royal Highness, pale as death, was bent on getting away, and turned a deaf ear to all these hospitable suggestions; and although “Mr. Karlbeck” did consent to gulp down a large glass of Rebener’s very fine brandy, he immediately hurried off in the wake of his royal associate.

Edestone left almost immediately, and his “guard of honour,” to which he was getting quite accustomed by this time, having been duly assembled, he was escorted back to the hotel and a sleepy-eyed James.

CHAPTER XVIII. — IN THE HANDS OF THE GERMANS

The next morning Sir Egbert Graves called. He touched first upon the occurrences of the evening before at Rebener’s dinner, and Edestone was surprised to learn how fully the Government was informed concerning all that had transpired.

“His Majesty begs that you will, if possible, forget the whole distasteful episode,” Sir Egbert said, with a stern face, and a flash of contempt in his eye. “His Royal Highness has been relieved of his commission and is in retirement, and the Duchess of Windthorst together with Princess Wilhelmina is leaving to join the Princess Adolph, in Berlin. By these means, and of course with your silence, upon which he counts, His Majesty hopes to keep England in ignorance of the fact that such rottenness exists in his immediate household.”

“And so that pretty young girl who crossed with me on the Ivernia is in the mire too,” thought Edestone; for it seemed to him that the King’s order of exile against the Duchess and herself could mean nothing else. Yet somehow his feeling of disdain and aversion for the traitor did not extend to the feminine members of the family. For them he had only sorrow and sympathy.

Meanwhile, Sir Egbert, as if glad to be rid of so disagreeable a subject, had taken up the direct purpose of his call.

He said that, whereas the King was unwilling to offer any terms of settlement that Germany in her present mood would be apt to consider, His Majesty thought that after she understood the position of the United States, and after her spies had reported the nature of Edestone’s reception in London, and especially after the inventor should have had an interview with the Emperor, the Berlin Government might suggest something which could serve as a basis upon which to open negotiations. In such a case, His Majesty was of the opinion that Edestone, if he were willing to undertake the delicate task, would be the most suitable person to act as a go-between.

The Foreign Minister made it plain that England could promise nothing at that time; but that he had her friendly interest upon his mission, and that she would listen in the most conciliatory spirit to any proposition he might bring back.

He brought letters to the President of France, General French, General Joffre, and others, which would guarantee Edestone’s safety up to the German line; but suggested that it would be well not to show the French too much, since they were such a volatile nation that they might readily decide to retire from the field and allow the United States and England to settle the matter. On account of the long and sincere friendship which had existed between the French people and those of the United States, France might feel that she could depend upon the United States to recover her lost territory, together with Alsace and Lorraine, and that was all she wanted.

In leaving, Sir Egbert, upon behalf of the King, insisted on placing a torpedo boat at Edestone’s disposal. Then, with the assurance that anything he might have to communicate to the British Government would be given most careful consideration, the Foreign Minister bowed himself out.

Edestone could not but compare this interview with the one he had held with Lord Rockstone—the opening gun of his campaign. Verily, twenty-four hours had made a vast change in the attitude of the British Cabinet.

His journey to Paris was uneventful except for one incident.

In the middle of the Channel, as he leaned against the rail, gazing back toward the white cliffs of Dover, he drew the Deionizer from his pocket and quietly dropped it overboard. With scarcely a splash the little instrument, for which the warring nations were willing to barter millions and commit almost any crime, disappeared beneath the waves.

He did not, however, intend giving any further demonstration until his arrival in Berlin, and there he thought he might have a larger and better one; while, in the meantime, and especially since his encounter with Count von Hemelstein had shown him how far the Germans were prepared to go, he did not feel like taking any unnecessary chances.

At Calais, he was received by the representative of the President and other high officials, and when they had seen some of his photographs, and had heard an outline of his plans, they readily followed the lead of England in accrediting him as a sort of unofficial peacemaker. Indeed, the Frenchmen looked upon Edestone as someone almost superhuman—a being who had come to establish on earth the dream of their philosophers, “Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité”—and they gloried in the good fortune of their sister Republic in having produced and sent to their rescue such a son.

When he left for Berlin, he was conducted to the Swiss frontier like a conquering hero, and, with prayers that he would be careful while in the land of the Huns, was turned over to the Swiss Government. The latter also accorded him every consideration and courtesy; but when he finally left their outposts behind and arrived on German soil, he found a different story.

Here, he was immediately taken in charge by the frontier military authorities, and practically held a prisoner for three days under the excuse that instructions in regard to him had to be asked for from Berlin.

He was incensed at the petty annoyances to which he was subjected by his jailer, a fat old German martinet.

Under one pretext or another he and his men were constantly being interrogated, and his baggage, which they insisted upon opening, was thoroughly and repeatedly searched.

When they discovered among other things something that suggested a miniature wireless plant, they would not let him or any of his men out of their sight. His letters were so strong, however, that they would not dare to do anything with him without instructions.

He let it be known that he had absolutely nothing hidden on his person by taking off all of his clothes and going to bed, and would apparently sleep while watching the spies go through them. They seemed to enjoy this little game so much that he would sometimes play it once or twice a day, varying it by taking a bath or having James give him massage.

They never seemed to suspect that he was playing with them, but would stand around and pounce down on his clothes, each time searching them thoroughly as if they had discovered something entirely new, when they had just turned the same things inside out within an hour.

While waiting here, too, he came to learn how intensely bitter was the feeling against Americans among Germans of all classes. They regarded themselves as superior beings, he found, and when they first noted his splendid physique, would not believe but that he must have German blood in his veins. When he convinced them, however, that he was of pure Anglo-Saxon stock, Virginia bred—a thorough-paced “Yankee,” as they called it—even the peasants treated him as the dirt beneath their feet.

But at last word came from the German General Staff. He was “sealed, stamped, and marked, ‘not to be opened until after delivery in Berlin.’” He was shown greater consideration now; but it was a consideration which rather unpleasantly reminded him of that shown by the keeper to a condemned prisoner in presenting him with his new clothes in which to be executed.

He and his men and all his belongings—the latter carefully listed in triplicate—were put into a private car, and locked in, like a rich American with the smallpox whom they were sending out of the country; while, to add to his comfort, he was told that Count von Hemelstein was to act as his escort.

As they started on the journey, Edestone had an opportunity of seeing in his true character for the first time the man whom he had so cleverly outwitted in the telephone booth, and he found it hard work to identify the smart cavalry officer as the grimy London taxi-driver of a few days before.

The Count was a big, splendid-looking fellow, who rather affected an American manner in order to hide the fact that he had been educated both at school and college in England. Without his uniform, he would have been taken anywhere for an Englishman, blond, blue-eyed giant that he was, with as beautiful a moustache and as winning a smile as was ever given to the hero of a love story. He wore the uniform of a Colonel of Uhlans, which well set off his handsome figure. In fact, he was as noble-looking an Uhlan as ever, either before or after marriage, broke the heart of a rich brewer’s daughter.

“Delighted to meet you again, Mr. Edestone,” he grasped the American’s hand, with a hearty laugh. “Ever since our last encounter, I have been wanting the opportunity of asking how you knew that I would keep my word and release you, when you divulged to me the whereabouts of your instrument there in the telephone booth? Didn’t you realize that, by ‘putting you out,’ and then having the switchboard man raise an alarm, I could in the resultant confusion, easily have secured the instrument?”

“But I also realized that I was dealing with a soldier, not a burglar; and I took a chance,” said Edestone with a smile.

“Well,” said the Colonel, “now that you are safe in Germany what difference does it make? We mean to keep you here.”

“The United States might have something to say to that,” suggested Edestone.

“The United States? Bah! One more country to fight; what difference would it make to Germany, especially one that could make so little showing? You have no army. Your navy could do no more than England is already doing. We are at present cut off from your supplies as much as if we were at war with you. Finally, the German-Americans would put the brakes on you, now that another Presidential election is approaching.

“No, Mr. Edestone,” he shook his head triumphantly; “you are making a bad mistake, if you are relying on the protection of the United States, now that you have stuck your head into the tiger’s mouth.”

“Do I understand, Count von Hemelstein, that Germany proposes to hold me a prisoner? Are you telling me that she would dare do such a thing?”

“Ah, do not put it so crudely.” The Count raised his hand a trifle mockingly. “Let us say, rather, that we expect you to become so convinced of the righteousness of our cause that you will gladly turn over your instrument and render us any other aid you can toward the crushing of our enemies.”

The smile faded from his lips, and for a moment he, “showed his teeth.”

“Take my advice, my friend,” he said sharply. “Don’t try to frighten the Wilhelmstrasse with your moving pictures and your covert threats of intervention by the United States as you did at Buckingham Palace. We are made of sterner stuff here. We know the nature of your invention, and just what you can accomplish with it; and our gifted men of science are now hard at work in the effort to duplicate your achievement.

“My brother brought back word a year ago,” he disclosed, “that you were building a super-dreadnought 907 feet long, 90 feet beam, 35 feet draught, 40,000 tons displacement. We also know that you are now working full blast night and day at your ‘Little Place in the Country.’ We know about the tricks you played with that flunkey in your audience with the King. A hint to us Germans is all that is needed.

“We know further,” he went on in a sterner voice, “the sentiments of love and devotion toward England that you expressed to the English King, and we know the tenor of the answer that was returned to your proposition.

“But do you imagine that you can come here, sir, and dictate terms to our Emperor, or arrange a peace for us, which would mean anything less than the absolute humbling of England? Do you think we would run the slightest risk of letting this invention of yours fall into England’s hands?

“Your question was expressed very undiplomatically, Mr. Edestone, for one who is arrogating to himself the prerogatives of an envoy and ambassador. Nations in speaking to one another use language that is lighter than fairy’s thought, and sweeter than a baby’s dream, but more deadly than a pestilence. But I will answer you on this occasion just as bluntly and baldly.

“We do propose to hold you virtually a prisoner on German soil until such time as our men of science have completed their labours. If they succeed in solving the secret of your discovery, we shall be ready to try conclusions with the United States, and shall deal with you personally as may seem most advisable, dragging you by force from the very Embassy itself, if you attempt to take refuge there. If, on the other hand, our men of science fail, your position will be in no way preferable. We will simply compel you to disclose your secret to us, and, as I told you once before, we stop at nothing to gain our ends. Your best plan, therefore, and I believe I am your sincere friend when I tell you this, is to sell to my Government at once.”

A slightly amused smile flitted over Edestone’s lips from time to time as he listened; but when he spoke it was quite seriously.

“I have no doubt,” he said, “that everything you tell me is absolutely true. Germany is undoubtedly thorough, whether her thoroughness take the form of the destruction of Louvain, or of sewing two buttons where only one is needed on the trousers of her soldiers. But I pity her for not finding a larger way to gain her ends in the first place, and for her conceit in thinking that a lot of little thoughts and extra buttons when added together make a great nation. Germany may know exactly how many gold and how many amalgam fillings there are in the teeth of the German army, but she does not know that thousands of men leave Germany and come to the United States simply because they do not want their teeth counted. Germany may know what I have done and am doing at my place on the Hudson, but she does not know that she has so incensed me by her methods of obtaining this information that it were better for her if she had never known, or you so boastful as to have told me of it.

“Yes,” and he spoke almost with the fervour of an inspired prophet; “Germany may know her alphabet of war from end to end, forward and backward, but she does not know that she and it are doomed to destruction, because she thinks that she can drive the intelligent modern world with a spear, as her forefathers did the wild beasts of the Black Forest.”

Von Hemelstein started and laid his hand indignantly to the hilt of his sword. His instructions to bring Edestone safely to Berlin alone prevented him from punishing then and there such insult to his country and his Emperor.

“My orders prevent me from killing you!” he said hoarsely, as he straightened up and, drawing his heels together with a click, turned and stalked away.

He took a seat at the other side of the car, and as if utterly oblivious that such a creature as Edestone existed, produced and deliberately adjusted the two parts of a very long and handsome cigarette holder, and with much straining of his very tight uniform restored the case to the place provided by law for its concealment on his glittering person. He then took out his cigarette case, and after selecting a cigarette, he gently tapped it on the gold cover, glaring all the time quite through and beyond the unspeakable American. With more absurd contortions the cigarette case was disposed of, and matches produced. Then, stretching out his beautiful patent-leather boots, he finally lighted his cigarette.

He took a deep inhalation, and blew from the very bottom of his lungs a thin cloud of smoke in Edestone’s direction, while with much rattling he unfolded a newspaper, and pretended to read it.

Edestone, who was with difficulty keeping a straight face, sat all this time solemnly watching him with the expression of a schoolgirl looking at her matinee idol at about the juncture in the last act when that hero puts on his kingly robes which have been hidden for a hundred years in the moth closet of his twenty-story apartment house on upper Riverside Drive.

When the Count finally peeped cautiously over the top of his paper to see what effect he was producing, he felt almost tempted to applaud and blow him a kiss.

“Count von Hemelstein,” he said lazily, when finally the Prussian had put down his paper, and was sitting glaring in front of him, “I was just thinking what a stunning book-cover you would make for a cheap novel, or how many thousands of bottles of beer your picture would sell in Hoboken. Hoboken, you know, is the headquarters of the German-American standing army, and your second largest naval base. Or you might serve as——”

He halted in some anxiety, for it seemed as if the Count were about to choke to death.

CHAPTER XIX. — THE GERMAN POINT OF VIEW

They sat this way for some time, Edestone looking thoughtfully out of the car window and rather disgusted with himself for having lessened his dignity in the eyes of the other man.

He was broad enough to be able to put himself in von Hemelstein’s place. He knew that by birth, education, and example the man’s attitude to him, in fact to the rest of the world, was that of a superior being looking down upon those immeasurably beneath him. For him, a Prussian nobleman, to be spoken to in this way by one of a lower sphere was bad enough, but when that one was of the very lowest of spheres, an American, it was acute pain. He looked upon Edestone as a low comedian rather than as a gentleman in the hands of a chivalrous enemy, which the officer considered himself to be.

Edestone himself felt no resentment but the sort of pity that he would feel for one who was born with an hereditary weakness that he could no more control than the colour of his eyes. He was as sorry as he would have been, had he been guilty of laughing at the irregularity of another man’s teeth which were not so perfect as his own.

He got up and walked slowly over toward his travelling companion. The handsome warrior quickly let his hand fall to his loaded automatic as if he expected to be attacked, but when he saw Edestone standing quietly before him, and with a rather sad smile on his face, he turned back to his reading and refused to look up, even after Edestone had begun to speak.

“I am sorry, Count von Hemelstein,” said the inventor, “to have offended you, and I beg that you will accept my most humble apology. We Americans, I fear, are too much inclined to let our sense of humour run away with us.”

The soldier raised his eyes with a threatening look, not knowing but that Edestone was still poking fun at him, or else, fearing the consequences of his rashness, was trying to ingratiate himself with his jailer. But after that glance at Edestone’s face he felt confident that his apology was sincere. The Prussian’s pride was too deeply wounded, however, for him to give in at once.

“I am glad, Mr. Edestone,” he replied stiffly, “that you realize that it is not customary to speak lightly of Germany in the presence of one of her officers.”

“I know,” exclaimed Edestone, “it was extremely bad taste for me to criticize a civilization so much older than my own, but you will,” he smiled, “forgive the cowboy I am sure when he tells you he is sorry.” Then seeing by the expression of the officer’s face that he had won the day: “Come now, Count von Hemelstein, let’s be friends. I would not have liked you had you not resented my remarks, and I was a cad to take advantage of your absolutely defenceless position.”

The Count broke out into a hearty laugh, and jumping up took Edestone’s extended hand.

“You Americans,” he vowed, all traces of his ill-feeling gone, “are the most remarkable chaps. I never saw a cowboy, but if they are anything like you they must be descended from some branch of the Hohenzollern family.”

“No, I cannot claim that distinction,” laughed Edestone; “but I think perhaps there are many cowboys who if they knew and knowing cared to could boast of as distinguished a lineage. Did you ever breed dogs, Count? Well, if you have, you would know that the good points of the champion do not always appear in the oldest son of the oldest son, but spring up where we least expect to find them. And so it is I think with men; the good points are in the blood and will appear long after the man has lost his family tree. Sometimes they appear in individuals who show so strongly the traits of the champion that they scorn the existence of musty documents to tell them who they are.”

“Then, Mr. Edestone, you do not believe in our method of keeping our best blood where it belongs—at the top?”

“Yes, I do most thoroughly approve of some of your methods. They are perhaps the best that have yet been devised, but you have not yet found the true method of following the centre of the stream. You sometimes dip from an eddy, simply because you believe that at some time it might have been in the middle, and you allow the deep dark red torrent to carry its saturated solution by you.”

“Well, Mr. Edestone,” the Count smiled, “whether you are descended from a cowboy king or a business baron, you are deuced good company. I am glad that if I am to be cooped up here for two days it is with you instead of some conceited English duke, whose English grandfather was a fool and whose American grandfather was a knave—oh, I beg pardon. I am like poor little Alice in Wonderland when she was talking with the mouse. I seem always to insist upon talking about cats.”

Edestone laughed.

“And now, Mr. Edestone, that you have been such a brick and apologized to me, I shall have to admit that I was rather rude in what I said to you. I think that the German Government has every intention of treating you fairly, and if you will only listen to reason, you will find that they are as anxious to bring this war to a close as is the United States. I know, however, that Germany intends to have her fair share of the earth; we are righting for our national existence, and we will not, and in fact we cannot afford to, stop at anything. If you really do not intend to sell your invention to any of the countries of Europe, you can at least use your influence with the United States to keep out of this muss, and let us settle our little difficulties in our own way.”

Edestone became serious. “My sole object, Count von Hemelstein,” he said, “is to stop this war and settle these ‘little difficulties,’ as you call them, without further loss of life. If your Government will allow me to take back to England some assurance that it is now willing to discuss a settlement, I know that my Government will keep out of the discussion.”

The conversation was interrupted at this point by the stopping of the train at a station where the Count said he expected to take on the lunch baskets. With a comfortable lunch between them, and a bottle of wine to divide, they soon forgot their differences and laughed and joked like old friends.

“It is a great pity, Mr. Edestone,” said the Uhlan, “that you are not a German. I am sure the Kaiser would like you. He might even make you a Count, and then you could marry some woman of rank and with all your money you could be one of the greatest swells in Europe. He might make you an officer, too, so that you could wear a uniform and carry the decorations which he would confer upon you. Then when Americans came over to Kiel in their big yachts, you could tell the Emperor which were the real cowboy families and which were the Knickerbocker noblemen.”

“Well, that is exactly what I was thinking about you, Count von Hemelstein,” Edestone chuckled. “If you would only come over to America I would get you a nice position in one of our large department stores, where your knowledge of German would be of the greatest assistance to you and soon put you at the top. Your German-Jew boss would invite you to his palace at Long Branch to dinner some night before a holiday and you would meet his beautiful daughter. She would take you into the big parlour, which would be open that night, and say to all her friends: ‘I want you to shake hands with Count von Hemelstein, who is head salesman in Pa’s M. & D. Department.’ And she would be corrected by Ma, who would say: ‘No, dearie, you mean the M. & W. Department.’

“With your military training you would, by this time, have undoubtedly become a second lieutenant in one of our exclusive National Guard regiments, and after marrying ‘Dearie,’ you would come over to Germany and visit me at one of my castles on the Rhine. I would now have gambled away my entire fortune, and my son, the Baron von Edestone, would marry ‘Dearie’s’ daughter.”

So they passed the time with good-humoured chaffing, carefully avoiding more serious subjects, and when they reached Berlin they had become fast friends.

But as the train pulled into the German capital the Count leaned forward a trifle persuasively. “Now, Mr. Edestone,” he said, “we have had a deuced good time together, and to tell the truth I am sorry to turn you over because I do not believe these old fellows on the General Staff will understand you as I do, but don’t be an ass, I beg of you, and stand up against these wise old chaps. Do what they want you to do—they know better than you how to handle this complicated European situation. You will get no thanks for your trouble if you do not, and you may get your fingers rapped or even pretty severely pinched. My orders are to see you to some comfortable hotel, any that you may select. I would suggest the Hotel Adlon as perhaps the most comfortable.

“After that I am to take you to call on General von Lichtenstein, who will hear what you have to say, and if in his judgment you should go higher he will pass you on.”

“I am to see nothing more of you?” asked Edestone.

“My duty finishes when General von Lichtenstein takes you up. You will, of course, be watched and your every movement will be recorded, but that will not be my duty, nor here in Berlin will you be at all annoyed by it. Now that you are in Germany, you will be looked upon as a friend and treated accordingly, unless you are found not to be. I have given you my card, and I will take great pleasure in introducing you at the clubs or helping you in any way so long as it is consistent with my duty.”

“You are extremely kind, and I appreciate it very much, Count von Hemelstein.”

“Now above all things,” warned the Count, and his tone was very impressive, “if by any chance you should be ordered to appear before His Imperial Majesty, please be careful what you say. You have said things to me in the last two days which, understanding you as I do, I could overlook, but I would no more think of repeating them while you are in Germany than I would think of flying. They were not of a nature that would make it my duty to report them, but they might get you into no end of trouble. For instance, you would not be so foolish as to intimate that the Hohenzollern family is not in the middle of the ‘big stream.’” He smiled in spite of himself.

Then as the train rolled into the station he took Edestone’s hand and said: “Auf wiedersehen, my friend. I must now assume my other role of your escort of honour. Speak German,” he suggested quickly as the guards came into the car; “you will be less apt to be annoyed.”

Edestone was conducted hastily through the station, where automobiles waited to whisk him and his entire party off to the hotel. At his request, the trunks containing all his apparatus were sent to the American Embassy. He was not as familiar with Berlin as he was with the other capitals of Europe, but if he had not known that Germany was engaged in a most desperate war, and millions of her sons were being sacrificed, there was nothing that he saw as he rushed through the city that would have suggested it.

He was received at the hotel with extreme politeness, but it was the politeness that was insulting. The proprietor, waiters, and even the bell-boys treated him with poorly concealed contempt, and though he spoke to them in perfect German, would always answer in English, as if to show him that they knew he was of that despised race.

Count von Hemelstein left him with the understanding that he would call for him in the morning and conduct him to General von Lichtenstein.

CHAPTER XX. — GENERAL VON LICHTENSTEIN

That afternoon, Edestone took occasion to call at the American Embassy, where he found that Ambassador Gerard, broken down by the strain of the first few months of the war, during which he had accomplished such wonderful work, had been forced to go to Wiesbaden for a rest.

The Ambassador had left in charge Mr. William Jones, First Secretary of Legation, who with his wife was occupying the Embassy and representing the United States. The doctors had warned the Secretary that the Ambassador’s condition was such that he must have absolute quiet, and that he should under no circumstances be troubled or even communicated with in regard to affairs of state. Jones was, therefore, to all intents and purposes the Ambassador.

This suited Edestone’s plans perfectly, for Jones was only a few years older than himself and he had known him intimately since boyhood.

His friend received him with almost the delight of a man who has been marooned on a desert island and was pining for the sight of a friendly face.

“Well, well, Jack,” he said, “what foolish thing is this that you are up to now? We have received the most extraordinary instructions from the State Department—I gather that the Secretary of State has either lost his mind or that you have got him under a spell, and then with your hypnotic power have suggested that he order us to do things which we could not do in peace times and which are simply out of the question now. Don’t you people over home understand that these Germans, from the Kaiser to the lowest peasant, are all in such an exalted state of Anglophobia that they regard everyone with distrust, and are especially suspicious of us. My advice to you, as Lawrence would say,”—referring to one of his under-secretaries, a college mate and intimate friend of Edestone’s,—“is to ‘can that high-brow stuff’ and come down to earth.”

“Now, speaking for myself as your friend, I advise you to go and see General von Lichtenstein, whom you will find a delightful old gentleman but as wise as Solomon’s aunt. Talk to him like a sweet little boy, and then come back to the Legation and stop with us while you see something of the war. I can take you to within one hundred and fifty miles of the firing line and show you the crack regiments of Germany looking as happy and sleek as if they were merely out for one of the yearly manoeuvres. I would have difficulty, though, in showing you any of the wounded, as they are very careful to see that we are not offended by any of the horrors that one reads of in the American papers.”

“Berlin is being forced to fiddle, eh, while Germany is burning?”

“Yes, she suggests the hysterical condition of Paris just before the Reign of Terror, while I, like Benjamin Franklin, in ‘undertaker’s clothes’ in the midst of barbaric splendour, wait for the inevitable.”

“Is your face, like his, ‘as well known as that of the moon’?” asked Edestone.

“Yes, but a thing to be insulted, not like his to be painted on the lids of snuff-boxes, as souvenirs for kings.

“Or if that does not amuse you, Mrs. Jones can introduce you to some of the prettiest girls you ever saw.”

“Big, strong, fat, and healthy, I suppose, with red faces looking as if they had just been washed with soap and water.”

“Well, then we might have some golf, and if you will give me half a stroke, I will play you $5 a hole and $50 on the game. Or if that is too rich for your blood, I will play you dollar Nassau. In fact, Jack, I will do anything to get this foolish idea out of your head. These people can’t see a joke at any time, but to try one now might put you into a very serious if not dangerous position. Now you go along and see Lawrence, as I have to look after some American refugees who are waiting in the outer office. You will dine with us tonight, of course.”

Lawrence Stuyvesant, to whom the Secretary had referred, appeared at the door at that moment and beckoned to Edestone. He was one of those irrepressible Americans, born with an absolute lack of respect for anything that suggested convention, at home in any company and showing absolutely no preference. He would be found joking with the stokers in the engine room when he might be walking with the Admiral on the quarter-deck, flirting with a deaf old Duchess when he might be supping with the leader of the ballet. With a sense of humour that would have made his fortune on the stage, he spoke half-a-dozen languages and a dozen dialects. He could imitate the Kaiser or give a Yiddish dialect to a Chinaman. Light-hearted to a fault, he would make a joke at anyone’s expense, preferably his own. An entertaining chap, but a rolling stone that could roll up hill or skip lightly over the surface of a placid lake with equal facility. He had already run through two considerable fortunes, and had been almost everything from a camel driver to a yacht’s captain. Now he imagined himself to be a diplomat.

“Behold the dreamer cometh,” he said in Yiddish dialect as Edestone approached, and grasping the inventor by both hands, dragged him into the other room, and began to ask questions so fast that a Chicago reporter, had he heard, would have died of sheer mortification.

After he had gotten all the information that he could pump, pull, and squeeze out of Edestone, he shook his head discouragingly.

“I am darn glad to see you, old chap,” he said, “but I am sorry to hear that you have come over to try and reason with this bunch of nuts. Don’t you know they are so damn conceited that if you were to tell them that every time you look at a German you see two men, they would believe you; and then as if they hated to lie to themselves, they would say perhaps it was an optical illusion. Tell them that God did not create anyone but the Germans and that he left the rest of the world to the students in his office, and they will give you a smile of assent.” Edestone smiled indulgently. “Tell them that when the Kaiser frowns every wheel in the United States stops and refuses to move until reassured by the German papers that it is but the frown of an indulgent father and not the thunder of their future War Lord, and they will give a knowing look. Tell them that only German is taught in our public schools, and that any child who does not double-cross himself at the mention of the name of any of the North German Lloyd steamers is taken out and shot, and they will say, ‘Ach so?’

“But just you pull something about what a hit Brother Henry made in the United States, especially with the navy, and what a swell chance he would have of being elected Admiral when Dewey resigns, then look out! Get under your umbrella and sit perfectly still until the storm passes. Keep well down in the trenches and don’t expose anything that you do not want sent to the cleaners. For when one of these Dutchmen begins to splutter, there is nothing short of the U-29 that can stand the tidal wave of beer and sauerkraut which has been lying in wait for some unsuspecting neutral in their flabby jowls like nuts in a squirrel’s cheek. They back-fire, skip, short-circuit, and finally blow up, and if you don’t throw on a bucket or two of flattery quick, you’ve got a duel on your hands, which for an American in this country means that you get it going and coming.”

Edestone, knowing Lawrence well, took what he said largely as a joke; but from his own observations and from what Jones had told him he felt convinced that there did not exist the kindest feeling for Americans in Berlin. Brushing all this aside, he turned to Lawrence with a businesslike air:

“Where are the trunks that I sent to the Embassy?” he asked. “Have they got here yet?”

“Down in the basement,” Lawrence nodded.

“I’d like to get something out of them.”

“Well, why look at me?” inquired Lawrence. “I’m no baggage smasher.”

“It’s a pity you’re not,” rejoined Edestone. “You would be better at that than you are at diplomacy. However, all I want is for you to have someone show me where they are.”

“Fred, show the King of America where his royal impedimenta await his royal pleasure,” Lawrence directed a young man with the manners of a Bowery boy, who appeared in answer to his summons.

With him Edestone went down to the trunks and took from one of them a small receiving instrument with a dial attachment similar to the one on top of the Deionizer, which he had dropped into the Channel. Then after a few words with his other friends in the Embassy, he went back to the hotel.

The next morning Count von Hemelstein called, and it was quite like meeting an old friend. Edestone was really sorry when, the Count leaving him at the door of General Headquarters said: “This is where I turn you over to my superiors. These are times that try men’s souls, and you are now dealing with men who must win.”

They had arrived on the stroke of the hour, and Edestone was quickly taken in charge and shown without a moment’s delay into the presence of General von Lichtenstein. The General was a man whose age was impossible to tell. He was over sixty, but how much over one found it hard to estimate. He was erect and rather thin, and he wore his uniform with the care of a much younger man. The lines about his mouth and chin, which are such a sure index, were hidden by a full beard, white as snow and rather long. His high forehead was half covered by a huge shock of hair, also perfectly white, which was parted neatly on the side. His steel-blue eyes, looking out through a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, were bright, but were set so far back under his heavy brows that they looked very old, very wise, and almost mysterious.

When Edestone was brought into the room without any form of introduction, the General rose and greeted him in the most kind and fatherly manner.

“Good-morning, Mr. Edestone,” he said in English with a marked accent. “I am very glad to see you,” and, putting out his hand with an air of simple kindness as if to lead him to a chair, he said: “Won’t you sit down, sir?

“You must not mind if I treat you like a boy,” he went on with a gentle smile; “you are about the age of my own son who was killed at Ypres. I am too old to fight any more, so they keep me here to entertain distinguished strangers like yourself,” and he laughed quietly to himself, looking at Edestone as he might at a little boy whom he had just told that he had on a very pretty suit of clothes.

He picked up from his desk, a box of very large cigars, selected two, and, after looking very carefully at one to see that it was absolutely perfect, handed it without a word to Edestone. After he had watched with great interest to see that Edestone had lighted his cigar properly, he lighted his own.

“I see by the way you smoke that you are a good judge of tobacco. I have always understood that you Americans like very fresh cigars and smoke them immediately after they are made. I like them old myself.”

“You are thinking of Cuba, perhaps,” suggested Edestone.

“Oh, that is true,” admitted the old gentleman. “The Americans live in the United States and you do not allow the other inhabitants of the hemisphere to the north or to the south of you to use that name. You are perfectly right; you are—what do you call it?—the boss,” and again he smiled his gentle smile.

“I get all my cigars from England,” he continued. “The English and I have very similar tastes—in cigars. I have a very old friend, Professor Weibezhal, who lives in England, and he sends them over to me. I just received these a few days ago. He is not having a very good time over there now, he writes me. He can’t get what he wants to eat, and he says he misses his German beer.”

Edestone could scarcely realize that he was sitting in General Headquarters, the very heart of German militarism, talking to General von Lichtenstein, the most powerful and astute man in all Europe. But for the German accent and magnificent uniform it might have been in the Union Club in New York, and he himself talking to a very nice, rather simple-minded old gentleman, who was flattered by the attention of a younger man.

After the General had inquired about a friend of his who lived in America—he said he did not know exactly where, not in New York, but some town near there, Cincinnati or perhaps St. Louis. This struck Edestone as strange when he thought of the springs on his father’s old place which were marked on a German map that he had seen, although he himself did not know of their existence, and he had spent his entire childhood roaming all over it.

Finally, when he had told him one or two stories about an American woman whom he had been quite fond of when he was a young man, the General said in a most apologetic manner:

“Now I must not keep you. I suppose you would like to go out with some of the younger officers and see something of this war, now that you are over here. Or, by the way, it was about some discovery or invention you have made that you called to see me, was it not? What is this invention, tell me, and exactly what is it that you want the German Government to do? If you will explain to me and I can understand, I will be glad to help you in any way I can. Of course you know that I am a very small part of the German Empire. I am, however, in a position to bring your wishes to those who are above me and are all-powerful.”

Then, while Edestone explained to him everything in regard to his mission except the actual construction of the Deionizer, the old General sat quietly smoking, smiling occasionally and listening with the attention that a man might show who was being told of an improvement in some machine in which he had no personal interest but was glad to be enlightened, although up to that time the matter had been something he had never thought much about.

He would now and then say, “How very interesting!” “Can that be possible?” “Is that so?” Not even when Edestone described the pictures shown to the King of England did he manifest any feeling except that of kindly interest in a most charming young man, who was taking a great deal of trouble to explain his youthful hopes to a rather slow-thinking old one.

He allowed Edestone to talk on, not even interrupting him, to ask a single question, and when the visitor had finished by expressing the hope that he might be instrumental in bringing the war to a close, General von Lichtenstein replied with apparent sincerity:

“I really see no reason why you should not. You are a brilliant inventor, apparently a hard worker, and above all you seem willing to give your talents to the world for the benefit of your fellow-men. The only thing that you lack is age and experience. I am not an inventor, I cannot work hard any more, and I am not known as a philanthropist, but I have age and I have experience, so I think that you and I might make a good combination. Leave this to me, and I think I can show you how all that you wish to accomplish can be accomplished, if not exactly in your way, in a way which I think you will agree with me is a better way. Whereas I should not dare to speak for His Imperial Majesty, the Kaiser, I believe I am perfectly safe in saying that he will see you and inspect your photographs, drawings, and anything else that you may wish to show him. I will see him and let you know when and where.”

He laid his hand on Edestone’s shoulder and walked with him as far as the door.

“You are a fine young fellow,” he said with a hearty grasp of the hand as he bade him goodbye, “and all you want is an old head on your broad young shoulders. Let the old man help you, and everything will be all right.”

When Edestone was on the outside and thought over all that the General had said, he would have been delighted with the turn things had taken had he not been warned by Jones and did he not recall what Count von Hemelstein had said.

Being so straightforward himself, he could not understand deceit in others, and when he recalled the almost inspired expression on the kind old gentleman’s face when he spoke of his son so recently killed in battle, he could not bring himself to believe that this was the trained diplomat of iron who covered with that gentle exterior a determination to crush and kill anything that came between him and the accomplishment of the great purpose, the great cause to which he had gladly sacrificed his first-born and the heir to his name and title.

It was nearly noon, Greenwich time, now, so Edestone hurried back to his hotel to receive from “Specs” the daily signal: “Awaiting orders. All is well.”

With the forethought of a good general he wished to be prepared for any emergency, and when the needle of the receiver, which he had taken from the trunk at the Embassy, recorded the reassuring message, Edestone thoroughly satisfied with the work of the morning returned to the Embassy to keep his appointment with Lawrence.

CHAPTER XXI. — HE INSTALLS HIS WIRELESS

Lawrence was on the lookout for him when he arrived at the Embassy, and conducted him at once to his own private quarters, where they could be absolutely alone.

“Now, Lawrence,” said Edestone, when they had made themselves comfortable, “I want your assistance. Are you game?”

“Well I ask you, you old simp! Did you not initiate me, in my freshman year, in the Ki Ki Ki, and do you think that I have forgotten the oath that I took while sitting with my naked back within a foot of a red-hot stove, my fingers in a bucket of red ink, and you branding me with a lump of ice?” He went through with some ridiculous gesticulations to prove the honours that had been bestowed upon him.

“I know, old man, but this is no college boy performance. Before you commit yourself I want you to understand that you are running great danger. Besides, I don’t think that the Acting Ambassador would exactly approve, as it might involve the United States. Desperate situations, though, have to be met sometimes with desperate measures.”

“Yours is a noble heart, Lord Reginald Bolingbroke, and the child is safe in the hands of Jack Hathaway, the Boy Scout. Go on, I listen. Your story interests me strangely,” said Lawrence.

Edestone paid no attention to this, but went on in the same manner: “I can assure you that, except as a last resort, you will not be called on to do anything that will be an actual violation of our neutrality, and not even then until I have obtained the permission of the Secretary of the Embassy. But from now on, Lawrence, you will be looked upon with great suspicion, and you may have trouble explaining yourself out of a German prison, if not from in front of a firing squad.” He eyed the younger man keenly as if questioning whether or not he could rely upon him, and upon seeing this, Lawrence altered his light tone and for once spoke soberly.

“Jack Edestone, you know perfectly well that you can depend upon me, while I know that you will not do anything that is not strictly on the level, so what’s the use of saying anything more. I’m with you. What is it you want?”

“Well, take me up on the roof,” said Edestone.

“Say, Bo, is that all?”

“Now be quiet, Lawrence; do what you are told. You will get a good run for your money, so for Heaven’s sake do be serious.”

The roof, which was reached by elevator, was flat, covered with cement, and but for the chimneys, a few skylights, and the penthouse over the elevator shaft, was unencumbered.

Edestone first went over and examined this penthouse with great care. He found as he expected a small free space over the machinery which was entirely hidden from view and could be reached only from the roof of the car when it was run to the top of the elevator shaft, and then by climbing over the big drum around which the cable ran. It was perfectly dark inside and one could remain there for days without being discovered.

After thoroughly inspecting this, the inventor went over and examined the tall flag-pole, first saluting the stars and stripes which were waving from it. Finally, appearing satisfied, he led Lawrence to the edge of the roof and stood for a moment looking over the coping wall at the city below. He seemed to be establishing his bearings, but seeing one of the soldiers who was stationed in the street near the Embassy, he stepped back quickly.

“Come below,” he drew Lawrence back. “We must not be seen.”

Lawrence, who by this time was satisfied that there was going to be some real excitement, led the way back to his apartments.

“Little did I think,” said Edestone with a smile when they were once more settled, “when I used to chase you out of the wireless room on board the Storm Queen, Lawrence, that I would some day make use of the information which you got there, and which cost me a new instrument and one of the best operators I ever had, but that is the reason I am calling on you now.”

“Good,” cried Lawrence. “I am the best little sparker that ever sent an S. O. S. over the blue between drinks of salt water, while swimming on my back around the wireless room chased by a man-eating shark. And as for a catcher, why, my boy, I can receive while eating a piece of toast.”

“All right,” said Edestone with a laugh; “as your references from your last place are so good you shall have the job. You took charge of my trunks, did you not?”

“Yes,” replied Lawrence.

“Well, in the one marked ‘Black,’ there is a small wireless instrument. The Germans know that I have it, and I realize that they let it get through in the hope of picking up any messages I may send out. They do not know, however, that I intend to send but two, and these will be both of but one word each. If they can make head or tail of these, they are welcome. Still, on Jones’s account, I want them not to know that I am sending from here, nor do I care to have Jones know that this instrument is in the Embassy. I want you to install it in the penthouse above the drum, and I will assure you that if I ask you to send out my two messages, it will not be until after Jones has given his consent. Do you think that you can do this?”

Lawrence pondered for some moments. “Of course I can send the messages, and I can install the instrument too, but how to do it without letting the Secretary know or keeping the damn German servants from catching on I don’t quite see.”

“I have thought of all that. The elevator is an electric one and any person can run it by pushing the button. All you have to do then is to unpack the wireless instrument here in your room, and after you have adjusted it you can certainly arrange in some way to get it on top of the elevator car?”

“Yes,” Lawrence nodded.

“Now my Mr. Black, who is at the hotel, is one of the best electricians in America. He can install the instrument easily, and I will tell you how. In the other trunk I sent up is a moving-picture machine——”

“Oh, I say, come now!” said Lawrence. “I suppose you are going to tell me next that you’ve got a setting hen in another trunk and that you are going to bribe Fritz and Karl with fresh eggs. And that’s no merry jest; we haven’t seen a fresh egg in Berlin in six months.”

“No, Lawrence, I’m not joking. I mean exactly what I say. I have a moving-picture machine with me and lots of films, interesting ones too, and I propose to give a show right here in the Embassy. I will ask the Secretary to allow every servant in the house to come in and see it. I can keep them quiet for an hour, and during that time you can get Black, who will be acting as my helper, into the elevator shaft and run him up to the top of the penthouse. You can depend upon him to do the rest, and all you will have to do after that is to see that he gets down before I turn up the lights, when your absence might be remarked. Isn’t that simple enough?”

“But how am I to get up there to send the messages when the time comes?” asked Lawrence.

“I have not thought of that yet. You may not have to send any messages at all, and if you do, it will not be for some little time, so perhaps it’s just as well that you can’t get up there without my assistance.”

Then with a jolly laugh, which showed that although he was pitting his strength and wits against the great General Staff, the most wonderful machine on earth, he was as light-hearted as a boy, he said:

“You might, as you did on the yacht, want to see the wheels go ‘round, or else you’d be sending messages off to a lot of girls.

“Now, make haste,” he directed, “send for the trunk marked ‘Black.’”

With the arrival of the trunk the machine was soon adjusted, and Edestone having tested Lawrence’s knowledge, and explained to him again exactly what he was to do, gave him orally all that was necessary for him to know about the code that was to be used.

A little later, when they rejoined Jones, the Acting Ambassador, he wanted to know what they had been up to. “Has Lawrence been giving you the telephone numbers of some of these prospective war brides,” he asked, “or does he want you to take tea with some Royal Princess? You know, Jack, Lawrence seems to be quite a favourite in the very smart army set. It appears that they have heard that his grandfather was the military governor of New York. That makes him eligible. And besides, he is teaching the entire royal family the latest American dances.”

“Well, if you care to know what we have been up to,” said Edestone, “I don’t mind telling you that we have been arranging for a little moving-picture entertainment here at the Embassy. Have we your permission to go ahead with it? It would be a little treat for the people here in the house.”

“Certainly,” consented Jones. “Go as far as you like. I myself will be glad to see something beside battles and dead men. But why in the name of common sense have you lugged a moving-picture machine all the way over from America when you might have brought us some potatoes? I suppose, of course, it has something to do with your fool scheme. Well, as long as it doesn’t get us into trouble, and helps to take our minds off this war, I haven’t any objection. When do you propose to have your show?”

“I can’t exactly say as to that,” Edestone answered. “It all depends upon Lawrence, who is to be my trap-man. He had better fix the date.” He looked at the other conspirator with a questioning glance.

“We’ll have it tonight then,” said Lawrence. “I think I can get up my part by that time.” He made significant faces at Edestone behind the Secretary’s back.

“Tonight’s the night, eh?” said Jones with a smile. “Very well, we’ll all be on hand.”

Edestone, after his experiences on the frontier, and his two days’ journey shut up in the railroad car, greatly enjoyed these evenings with his old friends, the Joneses; and found pleasure in meeting some of Mrs. Jones’s young friends, who were delighted when they heard of the moving-picture show.

Later, while the Secretary of Legation and Edestone were alone, Lawrence having insisted upon helping Black install the moving-picture machine, Jones turned to his guest.

“I saw General von Lichtenstein at the club this afternoon,” he said. “He seemed to be delighted with you, Jack. Said you were a fine young man, and will not believe that you are not of German descent. He hopes to present you when the Emperor returns to Berlin, which he says will be in a few days. When I told him that you had not told me what your invention was he merely laughed. I know he did not believe me. He seems to think that the United States has something to do with sending you over here. He is a sly old fox and I tell you to look out for him.”

He might have added more but Lawrence appeared just then and, imitating a barker in a sideshow, announced that everything was ready for the performance.

The entertainment proved a brilliant success. Edestone showed some scenes from America which he had brought over to amuse the distinguished audiences he had expected to meet in Europe. The pictures showing him tossing great weights and men about the room delighted the servants, but the Secretary only looked bored and Mrs. Jones did not hesitate to say that she thought Edestone must be losing his mind, travelling all around the world with such silly things.

But it answered his purposes. Lawrence soon came in and whispered to him that Mr. Black and the wireless machine were safely up in the penthouse, and if Edestone could hold his audience for a half-an-hour longer the work would be finished.

Edestone then threw on the screen all the crowned heads of Europe, taking tea, playing tennis, and laying corner-stones. He had some especially fine pictures of the German Emperor. He was getting a little nervous though as he found his supply of films running short, but at that moment he spied Lawrence entering the door, who gave the signal “All is well.”

The Secretary, after the entertainment, pressed Edestone to tell him something more about his invention, but Edestone shook his head.

L.P.M. : The End of the Great War

L. P. M.

THE END OF THE GREAT WAR

By J. Stewart Barney

1915

{Illustration: “COUNT VON HEMELSTEIN,” THE AMERICAN SAID LAZILY,“I WAS JUST THINKING WHAT A STUNNING BOOK-COVER YOU WOULDMAKE FOR A CHEAP NOVEL.” Drawn by Clarence F. Underwood.}(Illustration not available in this edition)

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATEDTO MY REAL FRIENDS, WHO MAY LOVE IT.WHILE THE OTHERS IT MAY BORE;TO MY ENEMIES, GOD BLESS THEM,THO’ THEY SPLUTTER, MORE AND MORE.

L. P. M.

CHAPTER I. — THE MAN AND THE HOUR

CHAPTER II. — THE ONE-MAN SECRET

CHAPTER III. — CROSSING WITH ROYALTY

CHAPTER IV. — THE FIRST REBUFF

CHAPTER V. — ECHOES FROM THE WILHELMSTRASSE

CHAPTER VI. — A RUSTY OLD CANNON-BALL

CHAPTER VII. — DIPLOMACY WINS

CHAPTER VIII. — THE SPY-DRIVEN TAXI. —

CHAPTER IX. — BUCKINGHAM PALACE

CHAPTER X. — HE MEETS THE KING

CHAPTER XI. — THE DEIONIZER

CHAPTER XII. — FIRST SHOW OF FORCE

CHAPTER XIII. — “THE KING IS DEAD; LONG LIVE THE KING!”

CHAPTER XIV. — THE ROYAL TEA-TABLE

CHAPTER XV. — SURROUNDED BY SOLDIERS

CHAPTER XVI. — A DINNER AT THE BRITZ

CHAPTER XVII. — THE VOICE IN THE TELEPHONE

CHAPTER XVIII. — IN THE HANDS OF THE GERMANS

CHAPTER XIX. — THE GERMAN POINT OF VIEW

CHAPTER XX. — GENERAL VON LICHTENSTEIN

CHAPTER XXI. — HE INSTALLS HIS WIRELESS

{Illustration: “COUNT VON HEMELSTEIN,” THE AMERICAN SAID LAZILY,
“I WAS JUST THINKING WHAT A STUNNING BOOK-COVER YOU WOULD
MAKE FOR A CHEAP NOVEL.” Drawn by Clarence F. Underwood.}
(Illustration not available in this edition)

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
TO MY REAL FRIENDS, WHO MAY LOVE IT.
WHILE THE OTHERS IT MAY BORE;
TO MY ENEMIES, GOD BLESS THEM,
THO’ THEY SPLUTTER, MORE AND MORE.