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.”