VIA BERLIN
[Illustration: “With baited breath the two men waited”--Page 103.]
VIA BERLIN
BY
CRITTENDEN MARRIOTT
Author of
“Sally Castleton, Southerner”, etc.
ROBERT J. SHORES
NEW YORK
Copyright, 1917, by
ROBERT J. SHORES, Publisher
New York
VIA BERLIN
PREFACE
The veil of diplomacy screens many secrets--most of them for many
years. But the veil is not impenetrable; from time to time a corner
lifts, disclosing a fact long-suspected but never quite comprehended, a
fact that fits into a history thitherto incomplete.
So of this tale! Its substance is not altogether new. For years rumors
of it have floated in and out of diplomatic antechambers in half truths
and partial explanations that lacked the master key that would give
them form and coherence. Now, now when the event itself is well-nigh
forgotten, comes the great war to supply the key to the puzzle--the
missing fragment, round which all the other fragments range themselves
in one consistent whole.
Fancy? Guesswork? Gossip? Perhaps. The veil has dropped again and
much may still be hidden behind it. But those who read the tale in
the light of later events--of events of yesterday and events still in
progress--are likely to put more faith in it than in many of the solemn
lies of history.
VIA BERLIN
CHAPTER I
The Secretary of State leaned back in his chair and studied the young
man before him. “Sit down, Mr. Topham,” he said at last.
Topham sat down. He was a good-looking young fellow, soldierly and
straight as a ramrod, but without the stiffness that usually goes
with a military carriage. His tanned face and, in fact, his whole
bearing spoke of an out-door life--probably a life on the sea. Such an
occupation was also indicated by his taciturnity, for he said nothing,
though the secretary waited long, as if to give him a chance to speak.
Finally the secretary seemed satisfied. “Mr. Topham,” he said, “I
have asked you to call on me for a purpose not connected, so far as I
see at present, with your mission to Japan. Concerning that, I have
nothing to add to the instructions already given you. Your reports
will, of course, be to the Secretary of the Navy and you will of course
not forget that your duties as naval attaché to our embassy at Tokio
include the sending of any political information you may be able to
pick up, in addition to such naval and military details as you may
consider of importance. You speak Japanese, I believe?”
Topham bowed. “A little,” he replied, modestly.
“More than a little, I understand,” corrected the Secretary. “Doubtless
you will find your knowledge of great advantage to you in your work. It
is not of this, however, but of something quite different that I wish
to speak.”
The Secretary paused, as if to give the young man a chance, but the
latter said nothing. He merely waited courteously until the Secretary
resumed.
“Have you any special preference as to your route to Japan?” he asked.
Topham shook his head. “Very little,” he answered. “I have scarcely had
time. I supposed vaguely that I should go by San Francisco, because
that was the most direct route, but it makes no difference to me.”
“I should like you to go by Europe and the Suez Canal. Have you any
personal reason for desiring to go by Berlin?”
“Berlin? I don’t know! Er--Isn’t Mr. Rutile secretary of embassy
there?”
The secretary’s eyebrows went up a trifle. “Yes!” he answered. To
Topham his voice sounded a little sharp.
“He was at Annapolis with me, but resigned shortly after being
graduated. We were always chums and I should be very glad to see him
again.”
“Very well! That will serve as an excellent excuse for your choice of
route. Kindly indicate to Admiral Brownson of the Bureau of Navigation
your desire to proceed by way of Berlin, and he will issue the
necessary orders. You will find that these will direct you to proceed
with due diligence via Berlin to Brindisi, where you will join the U.
S. S. Nevada as watch officer, relieving Lieutenant Shoreham, who is to
be invalided home. You will proceed on the Nevada to Manila, where you
will be detached, and will proceed at once to Tokio.”
The Secretary paused and picked a long official document before him.
“You might mention your plans to any officer or others whom you chance
to meet. I wish your choice of route to appear as natural as possible.
You understand?”
Topham bowed. “I understand, sir,” he replied.
“Very good. Now, Mr. Topham, permit me to ask whether your mention
of Mr. Rutile just now was purely accidental or whether you had any
information that I wanted you to take a confidential message to him.”
Topham laughed. “Do you really?” he asked. “No! Mr. Secretary! I had no
idea or information to that effect. It was altogether a coincidence, I
assure you.”
“Ah! I was beginning to wonder if there was a leak in my office. Well!
Mr. Topham, I wish you would take this packet and deliver it with
your own hands in private to Mr. Rutile. You must not let even the
ambassador know that you are carrying documents of any kind. No one is
to know, except Mr. Rutile and yourself. You understand?”
“Surely, sir.”
“Very good. Can you leave for New York tonight?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Please do so! I am sorry to curtail your stay in Washington, but
there is no time to lose. Your passage has been taken on the steamer
Marlatic, which leaves for Hamburg tomorrow morning. Make all the speed
you can to Brindisi, remembering, however, that it is better to lose a
day or two than by any undue haste to cast doubt on the credibility of
your visit to Berlin. The Nevada will wait for you, though she is badly
needed at Manila.”
“I understand, sir!”
The secretary cleared his throat. “You will understand, Mr. Topham,” he
went on, “that I do not make a messenger out of you without good cause.
It is very important that these documents should reach Mr. Rutile
promptly and secretly. Probably you will make the trip without the
least misadventure. Remember, however, that there are people who would
be exceedingly anxious to get a look at these papers if they should
learn of their existence. I cannot warn you of them specifically,
because I do not know who they are. We have tried to keep secret
the fact that any papers are being sent, and this is one reason for
choosing you. I think we have succeeded, but one can never tell. If the
fact has gotten out attempts may be made to take the papers from you
either by fraud or violence. I do not know how far the people who want
them would go in their efforts to rob you, but it is quite possible
that they might go to the limit. Be warned, therefore, and be prepared
to frustrate any attempt of any sort whatever. You understand, Mr.
Topham?”
Topham stood up. “I think so, sir,” he replied.
“Very good. Here is the packet.” The Secretary passed it over. “That is
all, Mr. Topham. Good luck.” He rose, and held out his hand.
Topham bowed and took his departure. Obedient to the secretary’s
instructions he went along the corridor to the offices of the Bureau
of Navigation of the Navy Department, and explained to the admiral
in charge his desire to go via Berlin. Evidently the affair was cut
and dried, for his orders were made out and placed in his hands in an
amazingly few minutes.
While he waited for them he mentioned to several navy friends the route
that he would take and his reasons for desiring it, and made inquiries
concerning the officer whom he was to relieve. Later, when, orders in
hand, he made his way to the entrance of the building he met an old
newspaper friend, to whom he casually mentioned his prospective journey.
Under the big portico he stopped and drew a long breath. Events had
moved so fast in the last few hours that he was almost bewildered.
He had only reached Washington about noon on that same day, having
been detached from his ship at Hampton Roads. On his arrival, he had
been questioned concerning his reported acquaintance with the Japanese
language, and had been notified to prepare to leave at once for Tokio
as naval attaché to the embassy there. He had received detailed
instructions, both written and oral, as to the duties of his post; and
then had been sent to the Secretary of State for further confidential
instructions which had taken the shape described.
His watch showed that barely five hours had elapsed since he had
entered the building, with no thought either of Japan or Berlin in his
mind. And now he was practically en route for both. The rapidity of the
thing made his head swim. “Almost like war times,” he muttered. “Great
Scott! I wonder if we really are going to have trouble with the Japs!”
With a shrug of his shoulders he dismissed the matter from his mind. It
was no business of his for the moment at least. Again he looked at his
watch. “Half-past five o’clock,” he muttered, hesitating.
He need not leave for New York before midnight, and the temptation was
strong upon him to spend a few hours in looking up the friends he had
made during his tour of duty at the Capital City two years before. They
were very good friends, many of them, and he would enjoy meeting them.
Only one thing made him pause and that was the thought of Lillian
Byrd--if she still were Lillian Byrd. She had played with him, laughed
at him, and tossed him over for a wealthier man. When she did so, he
had asked for sea duty and had gotten it. He believed that the two
years he had spent afloat had healed the wound, and yet he hesitated to
risk testing it. Everything and every one he would see would remind him
of the days when he lived in a fool’s paradise. Why should he torture
himself with the vain recollection. He would not! He would take the
next train for New York and leave Washington with its friends, foes,
and sweethearts behind him.
An hour later he was speeding northward.