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.”