“SIT DOWN, YOU DOG!”
As Edestone and Lawrence were coming down the stairs they were met by
one of the German servants, who told them in a rather excited manner
that the Secretary wished to see them both in his library.
Hastening down they were surprised as they arrived in the main hall to
see through the iron and glass grille a squad of German soldiers
standing at the front door.
“This is their last card,” said Edestone in an undertone, “and if it
fails there is nothing left for them to do but kill me. They have
received word from Leipsic and they know that there is no time to lose,
so we can look out now for anything. You had better get our party
together, Lawrence, and see that every man has a pistol. There are two
automatics in my room. When you get back, if you find me standing, or if
I rise, or if I light a cigar, make some excuse and get up to the roof
as quickly as you can and send your S. O. S. call to ‘Specs.’ He can be
here in fifteen minutes after he receives it. Then, lock that grille and
station someone there you can trust.”
“I wonder what they’ll charge me with?” he thought as alone he entered
the room where the Secretary was sitting calmly, although Edestone could
see that he was making a great effort not to show his indignation to the
German officer who was standing in front of him.
Edestone knew him so well that when he saw his mouth fixed as though he
was whistling quietly to himself, the forefinger of his right hand at
his lips as if to assist him in his musical efforts,--he who could not
turn a tune,--he knew that Jones had himself well in hand. In his left
hand the Secretary held a formal-looking paper with which he was quietly
tapping the table in front of him as though keeping time to his
soundless and imaginary ditty. With his chin well down, he was looking
from under his heavy eyebrows with eyes that were dangerously cold.
The officer who had delivered these papers was apparently waiting for
his answer and stood very erect, looking straight ahead of him. He did
not change his position or notice Edestone as he entered the room.
“Good-morning, Count von Hemelstein,” said Edestone on seeing who it
was, and the soldier then condescended to acknowledge the greeting with
a slight bow.
The Secretary leaned forward, and putting both hands flat on the table
while looking straight at Count von Hemelstein, said in a rather
judicial tone, as though delivering an opinion from the bench:
“Mr. Edestone, Count von Hemelstein has just delivered to me an order
for your arrest on the charge of giving assistance to the enemies of
Germany. He also charges Lawrence Stuyvesant with insulting the
Emperor’s uniform and his dignity by impersonating a Prince of the Royal
Blood and rendering that Prince ridiculous. He states, however, in your
case that the Emperor will accept your explanation if you will accompany
Count von Hemelstein quietly and make it to His Imperial Majesty in
person. In the case of Lawrence Stuyvesant, he demands an apology and
has paroled him in my custody until this is received, and as in the
first case he makes a further condition, which is that the Emperor will
accept an apology made by Lawrence Stuyvesant to the Prince himself,
provided only that you agree to accompany Count von Hemelstein quietly
and at once.”
Then turning as if addressing a prisoner on trial before him he said, in
that soft and quiet voice always assumed by a judge in speaking to a
criminal, even though he knows that the culprit has just boiled his
mother:
“In the case against you, Mr. Edestone, in your absence I have flatly
denied the charge. In the case against Lawrence Stuyvesant I deny all
knowledge of, and decline to express an opinion until I have had an
opportunity of looking into, the circumstances of the alleged offence.”
Edestone who had stood during this went over and took a seat at the
Secretary’s side of the table. “It is just as you said it would be,” he
observed to the Count with a mocking laugh as he passed him. “You
Germans are so thorough.”
The Count made no reply, only stiffening up, if it were possible to give
any more of that quality of German militarism to a ramrod in human form.
He stood as if expecting the Secretary to continue, or to hear further
from Edestone, but both men sat perfectly still looking at him. The
Secretary, as if having delivered his ruling, he was waiting for the
case to go on, settled back into his chair, while Edestone, with the
look of a lawyer who is perfectly satisfied with the ruling of the
court, was grinning at his opponent, toying with both hands with a small
bronze paper-weight made in the shape of a ploughshare, recently
received from Washington with the compliments of the Secretary of State.
As neither man seemed to have the slightest intention of breaking the
silence, after a moment which seemed an age, Count von Hemelstein
brought his hand with a snap to a salute.
“My orders are to bring Mr. Edestone with me,” he said, “and if you
decline to deliver him to me, Mr. Secretary, I must use force.”
“That I have no power to prevent you from doing,” said Jones. “You are
now in the Embassy of a friendly nation, on soil dedicated by His
Imperial Majesty to the use of the representative of that nation, whose
safety and that of those he may see fit to protect are guaranteed by the
most solemn promise that it is possible for one nation to make to
another. If His Imperial Majesty intends to break his solemn word, I am
as powerless as the lowest peasant in his domain. As to my word of
honour as to the safe-keeping of Mr. Lawrence Stuyvesant, you have by
your act reduced me to the rank of a simple American citizen, and as
such, and not as representing the Ambassador at the Court of Berlin--for
after this there can be none--I tell you that I will not give my word to
those who do not keep theirs. As to Mr. Edestone, I can simply, for his
own sake, advise him to go with you, but not before I tell him that his
country will resist with all its power the indignity which His Majesty
has seen fit to offer it.”
Lawrence, who had come in during this speech, was standing looking in
amazement from one to the other.
Then Edestone rose. “Mr. Secretary,” he said, “I regret to have been the
cause of putting you in this most trying position, and before I decide
to accompany this officer or detective I must think, so with your
permission I will light a cigar.” He walked over to a table and very
slowly selected one from a box that was there.
Lawrence, as if he had forgotten something, left the room hurriedly.
Edestone very deliberately took his cigar and very slowly lighted it. He
then as slowly walked back to his seat and sat blowing ring after ring,
holding all the time the box of matches in his right hand.
In the meantime Lawrence had walked to the front door, as if looking out
to see why the soldiers were there, and turned the key of the grille so
noiselessly that it failed to attract any attention from the men on the
outside. Then turning to Fred, the Bowery boy, who was waiting for him,
he spoke in an undertone.
“Don’t let any of the servants open that door or even go near it,” he
said, and, satisfied that his order would be obeyed, stepped inside the
elevator and closed the door with a bang.
Edestone, who had meanwhile been doing anything simply to kill time,
heard this. He knew that Lawrence would work quickly, and had had ample
time to carry out the first part of his instructions. As if about to
drop into his pocket the box of matches he was holding, he drew with a
quick motion a .38 automatic, and leaning across the table covered the
Count with it.
“Hold up your hands!” he said without raising his voice. “It is safer.”
There was on his face that unmistakable look of the man who intends to
kill. The other man saw it and understood, and reluctantly raised his
hands above his head after making a half-gesture as if to draw his own
pistol from his belt but thinking better of it.
“This is very foolish, Mr. Edestone,” he said with a disdainful
sneer. “Will you fight single-handed six million men?”
Jones, who when a young man had spent a good many years in a frontier
town, was too accustomed to this method of punctuating one’s remarks and
calling the undivided attention of one’s listener to them, to be much
surprised. At any rate, he showed none, and besides he knew Edestone to
be a perfectly cool man whose trigger finger would not twitch from
nervousness.
“Be careful, Jack,” he contented himself with saying very quietly; “I
suppose you know what you are about.” Then he settled back to wait for
Edestone to explain what he would do next.
“Yes, William,” said Edestone, “I know exactly what I am doing, and in
order to relieve you and your Government from any responsibility, I
here, in the presence of the Emperor’s representative, renounce my
allegiance to the United States of America and to all other countries,
and I now become a law unto myself, accountable to no one but myself--in
other words, an outlaw, a pirate.” He turned then to the emissary of
the Kaiser.
“Count von Hemelstein, as I intend to keep you in that position for some
little time unless you will allow me to remove your arms--not your
sword,” he explained quickly on seeing the look of horror that came over
the Prussian’s face. “I will allow you to keep that barbaric relic of
the Middle Ages and modern Japan, to which you and the Knights k of the
Orient attach so much importance. But that very nice automatic I must
have. I beg that you will allow me to take it without any unnecessary
fuss.” He walked around the table and, gently pulling the pistol out of
its holster, put it into his own pocket, keeping the Count carefully
covered all the while.
“Now you can take down your hands. I know that you can hide nothing more
dangerous in that tight-fitting uniform of yours than a long cigarette
holder and a very pretty box. I am delighted that you have been so
quiet, as no one could come to your assistance. Your soldiers are locked
outside of the iron grille and would have some difficulty in breaking it
down, even if they could hear you; so sit down. I wish to explain a few
things to you.
“It is now exactly a quarter before eight o’clock. By eight the Little
Peace Maker will be over the Embassy, and you with your boastful
knowledge of other people’s business must realize what that means. You
have heard what I just said to the Secretary representing the United
States at the Court of Berlin, and my object in making that statement
before you was to relieve him and the United States of America of the
responsibility of any of my acts. The Little Peace Maker is my own
personal property, and before she fires a gun or drops a bomb I shall
haul down the flag of the United States and run up my own private
signal, which on my yacht, the _Storm Queen_, is well known in all
yachting circles. In short, from now on I declare myself an outlaw.
“If your Emperor will allow me and my men to go abroad peaceably, I will
do so and all may be well, but at the very first act of violence I will
take the necessary steps to protect them. I intend to keep you here
until I am notified that the airship has arrived, and when I leave this
room, my advice to you is not to follow me, but go at once and notify
your superior officer and thereby save the great loss of life that will
otherwise ensue.
“Now, Count, as we will have about ten minutes longer together, I am
quite sure that the Secretary will not object to your joining me with
one of the Ambassador’s extremely good cigars,” and he winked at his
friend Jones.
He walked over to the table as if to get the box, but the moment his
back was turned the Count jumped and started for the door like a
flash. With a quick side step, however, Edestone threw himself between
him and the only exit from the room, and giving the fugitive a good poke
in the stomach with the muzzle of his gun, said:
“I allowed you to do that to show you that you are absolutely in my
power. Sit down, Count von Hemelstein, and if you will give me your word
of honour that you will not move I shall not tie you. Do you accept
these terms?”
The Count nodded his head and sat down, and the Secretary, who all this
time had been sitting perfectly quiet, said with a very little bit of a
smile on about one-half of his mouth:
“Count von Hemelstein, if I were you I should sit still. You must see
that you are powerless to do anything, and whereas I know that
Mr. Edestone does not intend to kill you unless it is absolutely
necessary, I am equally certain that he intends to if it is. In fact, I
do not know that he might not kill me if I stood in his way. He has just
declared himself to be an outlaw, and it is my duty to turn him over to
the authorities, but I should hate to have to try to do it now that he
seems so bent on leaving us.”
Edestone, who quickly caught the idea that the Secretary was trying to
convey to him, turned on his friend.
“If you, my friend, whom I have known for years, desert me now,” he
declared in a loud and apparently much excited tone, “or attempt to
deliver me over to these wild people to kill, I will kill you, if it is
the last act of my life.” He faced about so that one eye was hidden from
the flabbergasted German and gave another significant wink. Then
turning back to the Count he resumed: “I will kill any man who prevents
me from going on board the Little Peace Maker tonight. Now let us talk
about more pleasant things for the few remaining minutes that we are to
have in each other’s company.”
But the Count was in no mood for conversation. He sat staring at the
floor, while Edestone with his watch in his hand waited for word from
Lawrence. It was now eight o’clock and still no response. Could there
be some mistake? Had the Germans been able to prevent his message from
going through? Or was Lawrence waiting to be sure that the airship was
coming before leaving the roof to notify him?
On the outside all was quiet, and as long as the soldiers did not
suspect, everything would be all right. But suppose that the Emperor
should grow impatient and send another messenger? He was just
congratulating himself that the Count did not know what time it was or
that the Little Peace Maker was now overdue, when a clock somewhere
struck eight.
The Count straightened up and his look of k interest changed to hope,
and finally a smile broke over his face as the minutes slipped by.
“Well, Mr. Edestone, your little dream will soon be over,” he taunted,
after sitting for about five minutes longer.
Even the Secretary was growing fidgety. He knew that something would
have to happen soon or the German General Staff, with its usual
thoroughness, would ask the reason why, and this question would be put
in their usual forcible manner.
It was now ten minutes after eight, and Edestone expected every minute
to hear a ring at the front door. Besides, the dusk was coming on and
the servants would soon be in to light the lights. He had decided that
if they did he would retreat to the roof, forcing the Count to accompany
him, and there make a last stand. He formed a mental resolution never to
leave that roof alive except on board of the Little Peace Maker. He had
always said that he had rather be dead than a failure. He did not want
to live to see his life’s work, his beautiful ship, which must finally
come down, used for war, death, and destruction, his dream of universal
peace gone forever; or by his own discovery remove still farther from
the grasp of the long-suffering world that relief which it was vainly
reaching out for in its present desperate plight.
Was this the end? If so, he would meet it calmly, but not until he had
made a fight. Then he would meet Fate with a smile, for she had been
good to him. Perhaps an all-wise Providence had decreed that man must
fight on to the bitter end, and to punish him for his presumption in
attempting to alter an unalterable law had led him on only to destroy
him just as he, with his petty little mind, thought he had reached the
goal.
The Count was now laughing and explaining to Jones what was going to
happen to him, to the United States, and especially to Edestone, and
Jones was beginning to look as if he thought there might be some truth
in what he was saying.
It was nearly half-past eight when the long-expected ring at the front
door came. The Count laughed out loud in triumph.
“Mr. Edestone,” he said, “don’t you think that it is just about time to
ask for terms? It is not too late even now. You are a game man, and I
hate to see you go to destruction when it is not necessary.”
The ring was followed by another longer than the first.
Edestone was leaning well over the table and looking at the Count with a
light in his eyes like that in those of a tiger about to spring.
“I return the compliment,” he said.
There was now heard on the outside much noise and confusion. The bell
was rung again and the sound of someone violently shaking the front door
was followed by the breaking of the glass in the iron grille. Above this
din, which was really not so great as it seemed to the overwrought
nerves of the three men who had sat looking at each other for the last
forty minutes, there came the unmistakable rattle of machine-guns, which
at first was distant and light in volume, but with incredible rapidity
increased until it was a roar that seemed like a great wave rolling up
from the southern part of the city.
Edestone, who knew that this meant that the Little Peace Maker must have
been sighted by the German look-outs on the roofs, ran to the window.
The Count hesitated for just one moment, as if there were two forces
within him fighting for mastery, and then with a quick movement he made
a jump for the door.
“Sit down, you dog!” cried Edestone turning just in time to see him, and
he sent a bullet crashing through the door just above the Count’s hand
where it rested on the knob.
Count von Hemelstein stopped, and turning braced himself to receive the
ball that he thought must certainly follow.
“Come back and sit down, you poor thing. If you cannot keep your word
without help, I will help you next time.”
But the soldiers on the outside, on hearing the shot, redoubled their
efforts to get in, and now could be heard running around the house and
trying the other doors. In the midst of all this uproar, Lawrence came
down, and in imitation of one of his favourite characters, the sailor
who announced to Captain Sigsbee the sinking of the _Maine_, said:
“Sir, I have the honour to report that the Little Peace Maker has been
sighted on our starboard bow.” Then throwing off his assumed character
he added: “Get a move on you, they will be in at the front door in a
minute!
“And what are you going to do with this?” he asked on seeing the
Count. “Don’t you think we had better wing it before we leave? Ish ka
bibble.”
“No.” Edestone pushed him ahead of him out of the room. And to Jones:
“Good-bye, William,” he called over his shoulder. “I am sorry to have
given you so much trouble.”
When he had closed the door they both ran into the elevator and started
for the roof.
“Where are all of those who are going with us?” asked Edestone.
“They are all on the roof. No, by Jove!” Lawrence interrupted himself,
“Fred is still down in the front hall.”
“We must go for him,” said Edestone, halting the car and starting it
down.
“Why not leave him? Mr. Jones can take care of him.”
“No, they won’t stop at anything.” Edestone shook his head.
By this time the car had arrived at the main-floor level, and as Edestone
flung open the door the Count was seen just coming out of the library,
while Fred, who had seen Edestone and Lawrence take the lift, was
running up the stairs. In the dim light the Count saw him, and cried to
the soldiers who had their guns through the grille:
“Shoot that man!”
There was the report of several rifles in quick succession, and the
Bowery boy, who was now at the top of the great monumental stairs, fell
dead. His body rolled to the bottom and lay there perfectly still.