THE LAYING OF THE MINE
Doctor Bersonin lunched at the Tokyo Club.
For three days the rain had fallen steadily, in one of those seasons of
torrential downpour which in Japan are generally confined to the typhoon
season and which flood its low-lands, turn its creeks into raging rivers
and play havoc with its bridges. For three days the sky had been a dull
expanse of pearl-gray, and the city a waste of drenched green foliage
and gleaming tile, whose roadways were lines of brown mud with a surface
of thin glue, dotted with glistening umbrellas of oil-paper and bamboo.
Under their trickling eaves the shop-fronts, dark and hollow and
comfortless, had held the red glow of _hibachi_; teamsters had shown
bristling tunics of rice-straw and loads covered with saffron tarpaulin;
_rick'sha_ had reeled past with rubber fronts tightly buttoned against
the slanting spears of rain, and the foreign carriages that dragged by
had borne coachmen swathed to the ears. This morning, however, the rain
had ceased and wind had supervened.
The Club was cheerful, with a sprinkling of the younger diplomatic set,
Japanese business men and journalists, all men of note. The up-stairs
dining-room was full of talk as the expert arrived and chose a small
table by himself.
While he waited, the boy brought him one of the English-printed
newspapers, and he cast his eyes over the head-lines. He read:
SQUADRON'S SAILING ORDERS
To Leave To-morrow Morning. An
Answer to the Alarmists.
All Differences Between the Two Governments
to Yield to
Diplomacy.
On the other side was the caption in smaller type:
BEAR RAID ON MARKETS
Mysterious Selling Movement
Causes Uneasiness.
He read the latter despatch--an Associated Press wire, under a New York
date-line:
"At noon to-day the bear movement, heretofore regarded as a
natural reaction following an over-advancement, and hence of
purely academic interest, suddenly assumed such proportions as
to make the outlook one of anxiety. It seems significant that
before the Wall Street opening this morning the London market
responded to an attack of the same nature. In an era of
industrial prosperity and general peace such a phenomenon is
alarming, and a serious decline is anticipated in some quarters.
The short sales which were such a factor in to-day's market were
so distributed that it seems impossible to trace them to any
single interest."
Bersonin's face expressed nothing. He folded the crackling sheet and
laid it to one side.
Most of the comment about him turned on the departure of the Squadron.
Since the royal death, whose announcement had so abruptly ended the
festivities, the black battle-ships had lain motionless in the bay. The
appointment of a regent of confessedly more positive policy had given
rise to many speculations, and the apostles of calamity had seized the
opportunity to sow the seeds of disquiet. The great world, however, had
as yet given little thought to their prognostications. The bourses had
gone higher and higher. Only in diplomatic circles, where the mercury is
habitually unquiet, had there been perceptible effect. To-day the
comment showed a sub-tone of relief.
The doctor ate little. He left the _petit verre_ with his coffee
untouched, signed his _chit_ and went down to his automobile.
"Bersonin must be under the weather," one of the men at another table
observed, as he passed them. "He looks like a putty image."
"Curious chap," remarked the other. "Got a lot in his head, no doubt.
Some queer stories afloat about him, but I don't suppose there's
anything in them."
The other lit his cigar reflectively. "I can't somehow 'go' him,
myself," he said.
Bersonin was whirled to his house, and presently was in his laboratory
with its glass shelves, its books and its wall-safe. A cheerful fire
burned in the grate against the dampness.
He began to walk restlessly up and down the floor. To-day his government
contract expired and Japan had not asked its renewal. He thought of this
with a sudden recrudescence of the hatred he had nurtured for the
Empire. This had been based on fancied slights, on his failure to
receive a decoration, on the surveillance he had lately imagined had
been kept on his movements. Well, to-morrow would repay all with
interest! There was no hitch in the plan which chance had aided so well.
The Roost was the one house on the Yokohama Bluff that could have served
his purpose, planted on the cliff-edge and in line with the anchorage.
And it had happened to be in the hands of this weak fool for his
cat's-paw!
His great, cunning brain turned to the future--to that vast career which
his stupendous egotism had painted for himself. His discovery was so
epoch-making, so terrifying in its possibilities to civilization, that
it had nonplussed him. It was too big to handle. He had made the
greatest dynamic engine the world had seen--possibly the greatest it
would ever see--and yet he knew that the Ambassador had laid his finger
on the truth when he had said: "_Humanity would revolt! The man who knew
the secret would be too dangerous to be at large!_"
But with wealth--wealth enough to buy men and privilege--what might he
not do? It would take time, and scheming, and secrecy, but he had them
all. And the great secret was always his, and his alone! It would make
him more powerful than Emperors, for he who possessed it, with the means
to use it, could laugh at fleets and fortifications. Before the machines
that he should build the greatest steel-clad that was ever floated would
vanish like smoke! He clenched his great hands and his massive frame
quivered.
"The future, the future!" he said in a low, tense voice. "I shall be
greater than Caesar, greater than Napoleon, for I shall hold the force
that can make and unmake kings! So surely as force rules the world, so
surely shall I, Bersonin, rule the world!"
A knock came at the door and Phil entered. He was as pale as the doctor
and his clothing was soaked with the rain. Without a word Bersonin
locked the door, wheeled an arm-chair before the blaze, pushed him into
it and mixed him a glass of spirits. Then he stood looking at him.
"It's all right," said Phil. "The tripod fitted to a hair. It can't be
seen from either side, and I've sent the boy away and locked the house."
"Good," said Bersonin. "All is ready, then. The mechanism is set for the
moment of daybreak. Our gains will be enormous, for in spite of the
selling the market is up. There has been a little distrust of the
situation here and there, though the optimists have had their way. And
this latent distrust will add to the _débâcle_ when it comes. We are
just in time, for the Squadron has its sailing-orders for to-morrow.
Strange how near we were to failure! Who could have foreseen the death
of the King? And the rains, too. They say it is doubtful if the trains
will run to-morrow."
Phil's hand, holding the drink, shook and wavered.
"The damned clock-work in the thing!" he said. "I could hear it all the
way--I thought every one would hear it. I can't get the ticking out of
my brain!" He set down the glass and turned a glittering gaze on the
other.
"It's worth all that comes from it," he said. "You play me fair! Do you
understand? You'll play me fair, or I'll settle with you!"
The doctor smiled, a smile of horrible cunning.
"As you settled with your brother?" he said.
Phil shrank into the chair speechless, looking at him with trepidation
in his eyes. The shot had gone home.
"Pshaw!" said Bersonin. "Do you take me for a fool not to guess? Come,
we needn't quarrel. Our interests are the same. Go home, now, to your
Japanese butterfly--and wait!"