_The Invisible Ambassador_
Fredegonde Valmy implicated in the conspiracy! That was the first
thought that flashed into Dick's mind as he recovered consciousness.
He might have suspected it! But the idea that the girl he loved was
bound up with the murderous gang that was attacking the very
foundations of civilization chilled him to the soul.
Dick had been picked up a few minutes after he had been struck down,
identified by Colonel Stopford as he was about to be removed to a
hospital, and carried into the White House. Order had been restored by
the arrival of a detachment of troops from Fort Myers, the severed
cables located and mended, and by midnight the interior of the
Presidential home had been made habitable again.
President Hargreaves was gone--kidnapped despite the utmost efforts to
protect him; and it was impossible to conceal that fact from the
world. But the wheels of government still revolved. All night an
emergency council sat in the White House, and, deciding that in a time
of such grave danger heroic means must be adopted, with the consent of
such of the Congressional leaders as could be summoned, a Council of
Defence was organized.
The whole country east of the Mississippi was placed under martial
law. The fleet and army were put on a war footing. Flights of
airplanes were assembled at numerous points along the eastern
seaboard. To this Council Donald was attached as head of Intelligence
for the Eastern Division. Yet all this availed little unless the
location of the Invisible Empire could be ascertained, and, despite
telegraphic reports that came in hourly, alleging to have discovered
its headquarters, nothing had been achieved in this direction.
* * * * *
The garment taken from the slain soldier had been examined by a
half-dozen of the leading chemists of the East. Pending the arrival
from New York of the celebrated Professor Hosmeyer, it was deposited
under military guard in a dark closet. The result was unfortunate. The
garment exhibited to the assembled scientists was a mere bifurcated
silken bag.
The gas with which it had been impregnated, though it had been heavy
enough to adhere to the fabric for hours, had also been volatile
enough to have disappeared completely, leaving a residue which was
identified as a magnesium isotope.
Equally spectacular had been the disappearance of Mademoiselle
Fredegonde Valmy. A cable from the Slovakian Ambassador had arrived a
few hours later, denying her authenticity. And with her disappearance
came the discovery that she had been at the head of an espionage
system with ramifications in every state department, and in every
statesman's home.
Three days passed with no sign from the enemy. The Council sat all
day. In the executive offices of the White House Dick toiled
ceaselessly, planning, receiving reports, organizing the flights of
airplanes at strategic points throughout his district. From time to
time he would be summoned to the Council. At night he threw himself
upon a cot in his office and slept a sleep broken by the constant
arrival of messengers. And still there was no clue to the location of
the headquarters of the marauders.
But in those three days there had been no sign of them. Hope had
succeeded despair; in the rebound of confidence the populace was
beginning to ridicule the nation-wide precautions against what were
coming to be considered merely a gang of super-criminals. It was even
whispered that President Hargreaves had not been kidnapped at all. The
Freemen's Party accused the Government of a plot to subvert popular
liberties.
* * * * *
Dick received a summons on the third evening. Utterly worn out with
his work, he pulled himself together and made his way into the Blue
Room, where the Council was assembled. Vice-president Tomlinson, an
elderly man, was in the chair. A non-entity, pushed into a post it had
been thought he would adorn innocuously, he had been overwhelmed by
his succession to the chief office of State.
Tomlinson did not like Dick, or any of the hustling younger officers
who, unlike himself, realized the real significance of the danger that
overhung the country. He sat pompously in his leather chair, regarding
Dick as he entered in obedience to the summons.
"Well, Captain Rennell, what have you to report to us this evening?"
he inquired, as Dick saluted and stood to attention at the table.
"We're improving our concentrations, Mr. Vice-president. We've eight
flights of seaplanes scouring the coast in the hope of locating the
stronghold of the Invisible Emperor. We've--"
"I'm sick and tired of that title," shouted Tomlinson. He sprang to
his feet, his face flushed with anger. His nerves had broken under the
continuous strain. "I'll give you my opinion, Captain Rennell," he
said. "And that is that this so-called Invisible Emperor is a myth.
"A gang of thieves has invented a paint that renders them
inconspicuous, has created a panic, and is taking advantage of it to
terrorize the country. The whole business is poppycock, in my opinion,
and the sooner this bubble bursts the better. Well, sir, what have you
to say to that?"
"Have you ever seen any of these men in their invisible clothing, if I
may ask, Mr. Vice-president?" inquired Dick, trying to keep down his
anger. His nerves, too, were badly frazzled.
"No, sir, I have not, but my opinion is that this story is grossly
exaggerated, and that the persons responsible are the reporters of our
sensational press!" thundered Tomlinson.
* * * * *
He looked about him, a weak man proud of having asserted his
authority. Somebody laughed.
Tomlinson glared at Dick, his rubicund visage purpling. But it was not
Dick who had laughed. Nor any one at the council table.
That laugh had come from the wall beside the door. Again it broke
forth, high-pitched, cold, derisive. All heads turned as if upon
pivots to see who had uttered it.
"Good God!" exclaimed Secretary Norris, of the War Department, and
slumped in his chair.
Five feet eight inches from the floor a pair of grey eyes looked at
the Council members out of emptiness. Grey eyes, a man's eyes, cool,
contemptuous, and filled with authority, with a contemptuous sense of
superiority that left every man there dumb.
Dick was the first to recover himself. He stepped forward, not to
where the invisible man was standing, but to a point between him and
the door.
That cold laugh broke forth again. "Gentlemen, I am an ambassador from
my sovereign, who chooses to be known as the Invisible Emperor," came
the words. "As such, I claim immunity. Not that I greatly care, should
you wish to violate the laws of nations and put me to death. But,
believe me, in such case the retribution will be a terrible one."
Suddenly the envoy peeled off the gas-impregnated garments that
covered him. He stood before the Council, a fair-haired young man,
clad in the same fashion of trim black uniform as the bayonetted
soldier had worn upstairs three nights before.
He bowed disdainfully, and it was Tomlinson who shouted:
"Arrest that man! I know his face! I've seen it in the papers. He's
Von Kettler, the murderer who escaped from jail in an invisible suit."
"Oh, come, Mr. Vice-president," laughed Von Kettler, "are you sure
this isn't all very much exaggerated?"
Tomlinson sank back in his chair, his ruddy face covered with sweat.
Dick stared at Von Kettler. A suspicion was forming in his mind. He
had seen eyes like those before, dark instead of grey, and yet with
the same look of pride and breeding in them; the look of the face,
too, impossible to mistake--he knew!
Fredegonde Valmy was Von Kettler's sister!
* * * * *
"Well, gentlemen, am I to receive the courtesies of an ambassador?"
inquired Van Kettler, advancing.
"You shall have the privileges of the gallows rope!" shouted
Tomlinson. "Arrest that man at once, Captain Rennell!"
"Pardon me, Mr. Vice-president," suggested the Secretary for the Navy
blandly, "but perhaps it would be more desirable to hear what he has
to say."
"Immunity for thieves, robbers, murderers!"
"Might I suggest," said Von Kettler suavely, "that, since the United
States has honored my master by placing itself upon a war footing, it
has accorded him the rights of a belligerent?"
"We'll hear you, Mr. Von Kettler," said the Secretary of State,
glancing along the table. Three or four nodded, two shook their heads:
Tomlinson only glared speechlessly at the intruder. Von Kettler
advanced to the table and laid a paper upon it.
"You recognize that signature, gentlemen?" he asked.
At the bottom of the paper Dick saw scrawled the bold and unmistakable
signature of President Hargreaves.
"An order signed by the President of your country," purred Von
Kettler, "ordering your military forces replaced upon a peace footing,
and the acceptance of our conditions. They are not onerous, and will
not interfere with the daily life of the country. Merely a little
change in that outworn document, the Constitution. My master rules
America henceforward."
Somebody laughed: another laughed: but it was the Secretary of State
who did the fine thing. He took up the paper bearing what purported to
be President Hargreaves's signature, and tore it in two.
"The people of this country are her rulers," he said, "not an old man
dragooned into signing a proclamation while in captivity--if indeed
that is President Hargreaves's signature."
* * * * *
There came a sudden burst of applause. Von Kettler's face became the
mask of a savage beast. He shook his fist furiously.
"You call my master a forger?" he shouted. "You yourselves repudiate
your own Constitution, which places the control of army and navy in
the hands of your President? You refuse to honor his signature?"
"Listen to me, Mr. Von Kettler!" The voice of the Secretary of State
cut like a steel edge. "You totally mistake the temper of the people
of this country. We don't surrender, even to worthy adversaries, much
less to a gang of common thieves, murderers, and criminals like
yourselves. You have been accorded the privilege you sought, that of
an envoy, and that was straining the point. Show yourself here again
after two minutes have elapsed, and you'll go to the gallows--for
keeps."
"Dogs!" shouted Von Kettler, beside himself with fury. "Your doom is
upon you even at this moment. I have but to wave my arm, and
Washington shall be destroyed, and with her a score of other cities. I
tell you you are at our mercy. Thousands of lives shall pay for this
insult to my master. I warn you, such a catastrophe is coming as shall
show you the Invisible Emperor does not threaten in vain!"
With complete nonchalance the Secretary of State took out his watch.
"One minute and fifteen seconds remaining. Captain Rennell," he said.
"At the expiration of that time, put Mr. Von Kettler under arrest. I
advise you to go back to your master quickly, Mr. Von Kettler," he
added, "and tell him that we'll have no dealings with him, now or
ever."
* * * * *
For a moment longer Von Kettler stood glaring; then, with a laugh of
derision and a gesture of the hands he vanished from view. And, though
they might have expected that denouement, the members of the Council
leaped to their feet, staring incredulously at the place where he had
been. Nothing of Von Kettler was visible, not even the eyes, and there
sounded not the slightest footfall.
Dick sprang forward to the door, but his outstretched arms encountered
only emptiness. In spite of the Secretary of State's instructions, he
was almost minded to apprehend the man. If he could get him!
The corridor was empty. A guard of soldiers was at the entrance, but
they did not block the entrance. Even now Von Kettler might be passing
them! Why didn't his feet sound upon the floor? How could a bulky man
glide so smoothly?
Perhaps because Dick was undecided what to do, Von Kettler escaped
him. By the time he reached the guards he knew he had escaped.
Suddenly there came an unexpected denouement. Somewhere on the White
House lawn a guard challenged, fired. The snap of one of the silenced
automatics answered him.
When Dick and the guards reached the spot, the man was lying in a
crumpled heap.
"An airplane," he gasped. "Invisible airplane. I--bumped into it.
Men--in it. The damned dogs!"
He died. Dick stared around him. There was no sign of any airplane on
the lawn, nothing but the tents of the guards, white in the moonlight,
and the grim array of anti-aircraft guns that Dick had placed there.
But behind the White House, in hastily constructed hangars, were a
half-dozen of the latest pursuit airships--beautiful slim hulls,
heavily armored, with armored turrets containing each a quick-firer
with the new armor-piercing bullets. One of these ships, Dick's own,
was kept perpetually warmed and ready to take the air.
* * * * *
Dick raced across the lawn, yelled to the startled guard in charge.
The mechanics came running from their quarters. Almost by the time
Dick reached it the ship was ready.
He twirled the helicopter starter, and she roared and zoomed, taking
an angle of a hundred and twenty-five degrees upward off a runway of
twenty yards. Into the air she soared, into the moonlight, up like an
arrow for five hundred feet.
Dick pulled the soaring lever, and she hung there, buzzing like a bee
as her helicopters, counteracting the pull of gravity, held her
comparatively stable. He scanned the air all about him.
Washington lay below, her myriad lights gleaming. Immediately beneath
him Dick saw the guns and the tents of the soldiers, and the little
group that was removing the body of the murdered soldier on a
stretcher. But there were no signs of any hostile craft.
Had the murdered man really bumped into an invisible airship, or had
he only thought he had? Had those devils learned to apply the gas to
the surfaces of airplanes? There was no reason why they should not
have done so.
But surely the utmost ingenuity of man had not contrived to render a
modern plane, with its metalwork and machinery, absolutely
transparent?
* * * * *
And, again, how was it possible to have silenced the sound of engines,
the whir of a propeller, so that there should be no auditory
indication whatever of a plane's presence?
Dick looked all about him. Nothing was in the air--he could have sworn
it. He replaced the soaring lever and banked in a close circle, his
glance piercing the night. No, there was nothing.
Crash! Boom! The plane rocked violently, tossing upon gusts of air. A
huge, gaping hole of blackness had suddenly appeared in the middle of
the White House lawn. The tents were flat upon the ground. Through the
rising smoke clouds Dick saw tongues of flame.
No shell that, but a bomb, and dropped from the skies less than five
hundred feet from where Dick hovered. Yet there was nothing visible in
the skies save the round orb of the moon.
A rush of wind past Dick's face! One of the vanes of the helicopter
crumpled and fluttered away into the night. Dick needed no further
persuasion. The dead soldier had not lied.
Von Kettler had begun the fulfillment of his threat!