The attempted burglary at the American Embassy made quite a stir, not
only in Berlin but in America. That it did not make a greater one was
due to the fact that no one except Rutile and Topham suspected that it
was anything more than the simple attempt at burglary that it seemed;
and both Rutile and Topham had their own reasons for concealing their
suspicions.
The attempt was therefore ascribed simply to a desire for plunder;
that it might have political significance was not even publicly
suggested. So far as Rutile knew, Risdon was the only one to smell
even the smallest rat; and Risdon, having absolutely no information
concerning the letter Topham had brought, knew nothing that connected
Ouro Preto with the incident. He therefore found so little on which to
base a story, that he cabled only a vague surmise that nobody paid any
attention to.
But despite the fact that few people suspected any particular mystery
in the motive, everybody took a very great interest in the crime. The
dead man was plainly not a common thief. His clothing was good and his
person showed evidences of refinement. He was unknown to the police,
and was therefore presumably not a member of the ordinary criminal
classes. Very obviously, too, he had been murdered by his companion to
do away with any chance that he might betray that companion’s identity.
Few criminals go so far as to murder a “pal” under such circumstances,
and from this it was argued that the accomplice must be a man who
had much more than the ordinary at stake. In other words, it seemed
very probable that he was a Raffles in real life. Naturally, such a
suggestion was nuts to the newspaper men and they used it to the full.
Topham and Rutile shrank from discussing the subject with each other,
and from resuming the broken-off conversation of the night before. It
was easy enough to avoid further talk at first. The police had come
promptly and had done what they had to do with neatness and dispatch.
But it all took time and when it was over the dawn was at hand and the
two young men went off to their beds, glad of the excuse to postpone
explanations.
But Topham could not stay away from the Embassy all the next day. He
was leaving in the afternoon and to absent himself would have been more
significant than anything he could say. So about noon he went to the
embassy, uncertain just what he would say but resolved not to shirk any
question that might rightfully be asked of him.
As he approached the door he saw Caesar standing on the steps staring
around him with wildly rolling eyeballs. Evidently he was looking for
someone, but as his eyes passed over Topham without pausing, the latter
did not guess that he himself was the object of the darkey’s solicitude.
Only when he was quite near he spoke. “Well, Caesar!” he questioned,
“Can’t you find him?”
“Find who?” The negro whirled round. “Fore Gord, Massa Topham! Whar
you come from. If I ain’t been a-lookin’ an’ a-lookin foh you! Massa
Rutile’s mighty anxious to see you, suh. Please to walk up to his room,
suh. Please, suh!”
Topham ascended the stairs slowly and pushed open the door of the
secretary’s office.
Rutile was bending over a huge atlas, but when the navy officer entered
he pushed it aside. “Hello! Topham,” he called. “I was getting anxious
about you. Your train goes pretty soon, doesn’t it?”
Topham nodded. “In an hour or so,” he answered, quietly.
“I thought as much. Well! We haven’t much time to waste and I will
come right to the point. I want you to believe that what I am going
to say I say as a representative of the United States to an officer
of the United States Navy. I don’t want to pry into your affairs. But
I do want all the information I can get about the Count of Ouro Preto
and his sister--No! let me go on--Risdon told me of your agitation on
meeting the countess on the street yesterday. I know myself that you
are interested in her. I know, too, that Ouro Preto was trying to pump
you last night. We both know more about your trip across the ocean
than we perhaps care to say. We both suspect much about that so-called
burglary. But the point of it all is that the United States is greatly
interested in this Ouro Preto matter--in anything that concerns
Germany and Brazil for that matter. I have seen Lord Maxwell. He is
positive that Ouro Preto saw the emperor last night and he believes
that the Kaiser has offered to recognize his claims to that dukedom
on conditions. What these conditions are I don’t know, and it may be
important that I should. You are leaving for Japan and will be out of
the way later. Now, can’t you tell me anything that would throw light
on the matter?”
“On the question of the dukedom?” he asked. “Not a thing. Absolutely
nothing!”
Rutile hesitated. “I don’t want to offend you, old man,” he burst out.
“But I must go on. There is a big game afoot, and the Ouro Preto may
well wish to keep in touch with a navy officer. The countess Elsa may
be fooling you and--”
“Stop!” Topham leaned forward. “I don’t misunderstand you, Rutile, my
friend,” he said. “You are quite right from your point of view, and I
will tell you all I may. First, though, I must tell you that today I
asked the Countess Elsa to marry me--”
“Marry you!” Rutile sprang to his feet.
“To marry me,” reiterated the navy man, steadily, “and she accepted
me--provisionally. I am to go away now and come for her in a year.
During the year, I am neither to see her nor write to her. She
said that--that my honor was at stake. I did not know what she
meant. Her words, however, are significant. They may confirm your
suspicions--whatever these are. More, I recognized the man who was
murdered last night outside that door yonder.”
“You did!”
“Yes! He came over on the steamer with me. I smoked a cigarette he had
given me just before I was taken ill. I saw him at the hotel of the
countess yesterday. I do not doubt that he and the count and perhaps
the countess have tried to get those papers from me.”
“And yet--”
“And yet I love her and hope to marry her. That she and her friends
tried to rob me is of no importance. It’s high politics. Murder is
different, but she, of course, had no hand in that and probably none in
the burglary. That would be Ouro Preto’s part.”
Rutile nodded. “Very probably,” he agreed.
“I tell you this,” Topham went on, “because I am an officer of the
United States, sworn to its service. No navy officer has any right to
hold confidential secrets that may be inimical to his country. The
countess herself would be the first to say so. I do not feel called
upon to take my knowledge to the police, but my country is certainly
entitled to it. Of course you are at liberty to use it in any way the
interests of the United States may demand.”
“Of course,” Rutile gasped. Topham’s words seemed to have dumbfounded
him. He had intended to denounce the Ouro Pretos--to show Topham the
instructions he had received concerning them and warn him against them.
But the navy officer’s amazing declaration upset his plans. Topham knew
everything of importance--and did not care. Very well! Let him dream
away his year of probation; he would be far out of reach away off there
in Japan, and at the end of that time the countess could be relied on
to cast him over.
“Have--have you seen the countess today?” he questioned. “Does she know
that--”
Topham’s face flushed. “The countess told me yesterday that she was
leaving Berlin at once,” he said, coldly. “So I was not surprised to
find her gone when I went to her hotel this morning.” He rose. “That is
absolutely all I know,” he finished. “Now I must be off.”
“Not just yet.” Rutile flung out his hand impulsively. “Not until I
have thanked you, old man. I know how hard it is for you to tell me all
this, and I appreciate your doing it. And I want to congratulate you.
The countess is the most beautiful and brilliant woman I ever knew. You
will find yourself much envied when the news is known.”
Topham took the hand the other extended. “Thank you, old fellow,” he
murmured.
“And,” went on the secretary, banteringly, “if I ever suggested that
you were slow, I want to take it all back. You’re the swiftest ever.
To stop over in Berlin two days and carry off the biggest prize in the
matrimonial market sure does break the record!”
Topham grinned. “It was rather quick,” he admitted. “It’s a way we
Tophams have.” Then he glanced at the clock above the desk. “My hour’s
up,” he exclaimed. “Good-by, Rutile. Tell Risdon I’m sorry not to have
seen him again. Good-by.”
When he was gone Rutile stood for a moment gazing out of the window.
Then he swore aloud. “It’s a damned shame,” he muttered. “Topham’s the
most open-hearted fellow I ever knew, the very sort to take a woman’s
word for gospel. Great Scott, how does she do it?” He took a turn or
two up and down the room. “After all, though,” he went on, thinking
aloud. “It isn’t how she does it. It’s why does she want to do it? What
use can Topham be to her in Japan? What possible use can he be to her?”
It never occurred to the secretary that the countess might be in
earnest.