Produced by Eric Casteleijn, Cam Venezuela, Charles M.
Bidwell, Thomas Hutchinson, Suzanne L. Shell, Charles
Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
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 WOULD
MAKE FOR A CHEAP NOVEL.” Drawn by Clarence F. Underwood.]
_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.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I.--THE MAN AND THE HOUR
II.--THE ONE-MAN SECRET
III.--CROSSING WITH ROYALTY
IV.--THE FIRST REBUFF
V.--ECHOES FROM THE WILHELMSTRASSE
VI.--A RUSTY OLD CANNON-BALL
VII.--DIPLOMACY WINS
VIII.--THE SPY-DRIVEN TAXI
IX.--BUCKINGHAM PALACE
X.--HE MEETS THE KING
XI.--THE DEIONIZER
XII.--FIRST SHOW OF FORCE
XIII.--“THE KING IS DEAD; LONG LIVE THE KING!”
XIV.--THE ROYAL TEA-TABLE
XV.--SURROUNDED BY SOLDIERS
XVI.--A DINNER AT THE BRITZ
XVII.--THE VOICE IN THE TELEPHONE
XVIII.--IN THE HANDS OF THE GERMANS
XIX.--THE GERMAN POINT OF VIEW
XX.--GENERAL VON LICHTENSTEIN
XXI.--HE INSTALLS HIS WIRELESS
XXII.--KAFFEE KLATSCH
XXIII.--THE TWO-WHEELED MYSTERY
XXIV.--DER KAISER
XXV.--THE MASQUERADER
XXVI.--TWO REMARKABLE MEN
XXVII.--ALL CARDS ON THE TABLE
XXVIII.--WHERE IS IT?
XXIX.--THE DIFFERENCE OF THEIR STATIONS
XXX.--THEY CALL FOR ASSISTANCE
XXXI.--“SIT DOWN, YOU DOG!”
XXXII.--L. P. M.
XXXIII.--YACHTING IN THE AIR
XXXIV.--THE ULTIMATUM
XXXV.--A LYING KING MAKES A NATION OF LIARS
XXXVI.--THINK OF IT! WHY NOT?
L. P. M.
CHAPTER I
THE MAN AND THE HOUR
The Secretary of State, although he sought to maintain an air of
official reserve, showed that he was deeply impressed by what he had
just heard.
“Well, young man, you are certainly offering to undertake a pretty
large contract.”
He smiled, and continued in a slightly rhetorical vein--the Secretary
was above all things first, last, and always an orator.
“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.”