After Lillian Byrd and Topham had left Berlin, their relative
importance in Rutile’s eyes underwent a gradual change. Anxious at
first to hear from Miss Byrd chiefly because he hoped she might be able
to discover something that might aid him to rescue his friend from
what he felt sure was a dangerous entanglement, he soon became anxious
to hear from her for her own sake. Therefore, he eagerly welcomed the
letters she wrote him even before she left for Brazil, and he spent
much time and used up much midnight oil in preparing answers.
Both the Ouro Pretos had left Berlin and with their departure, the
possible political aspect of the affair was relegated to the back
of his mind, especially as he could get no information concerning
their interview with the Emperor. The question of restoring the duchy
seemed to have entirely dropped out of sight, the general impression
prevailing that the Emperor had denied the request and that the
discomfited claimants had gone back to Brazil. And the murdered robber
had been forgotten!
The whole affair was brought sharply back to Rutile’s mind, however, by
the contents of a letter he received from Miss Byrd about three months
after she had left England.
After the usual preliminaries, the letter proceeded:
“I know you must think I have been neglectful of your request to
investigate the Ouro Pretos; but I have not really been so. The
information you wanted was not altogether easy to obtain; and in
getting it I chanced on some things that roused keen interest in me as
a newspaper woman.
“You have, of course, heard of the rebellion that has broken out in the
southern provinces of Brazil, but I doubt whether you have any accurate
information as to its real strength. The Government naturally minimizes
it. But it is really very serious.
“Briefly, it is organized and maintained chiefly by the 1,000,000
German immigrants, who form two-thirds of the population of the three
southern provinces. With these are a few excitable Brazilians of the
class that is always ‘agin the government’, partly because they hope to
gain something for themselves by success and partly because they are
naturally prone to fly off the handle.
“The revolution has two prominent leaders; the Count of Ouro Preto, and
his son. In Berlin we somehow got an idea that the old man was dead,
but he isn’t. He is very much alive! It is his wife, the daughter of
the duke of Hochstein, through whom your friends claim the duchy, who
is dead.
“The old count is all sorts of a man. Like Castro of Venezuela he was
a cattle-thief in early days--or so his enemies say--and graduated,
through a period of banditism, to political prominence and enormous
wealth. He has organized the rebellion and has it working like
clockwork.
“You want to know, of course, whether this rebellion has any connection
with Germany and with the request of Ouro Preto to the Kaiser. I think
it has! So far as I can find out, there was no rumor of rebellion
among the Germans here till young Ouro Preto got back two months ago;
there was some discontent, of course, but not enough to account for an
outbreak. This fact, however, by itself amounts to little. Nor is the
prominence of the Ouro Pretos in the movement particularly significant,
although of course, it is cumulative. What is more important, however,
is that half a dozen German officers, whose names I will add at the end
of this letter, are here training and leading the rebels. You might
find out whether they are still carried on the rolls of the German
army, and if not, why not?
“Another significant fact is that the rebels are being supplied with
munitions of war from Germany. At least three steamers recently arrived
from Hamburg loaded with all sorts of war materials. I know this to be
a fact. You know how strict the Germans are when they want to be and
how impossible it would be for three vessels to get away from German
ports on filibustering expeditions without the connivance of the
authorities. It would be interesting if you should be able to trace
those arms and should find out that they came from government stores,
wouldn’t it?
“Taken separately, you see these things prove nothing; taken together,
they indicate that something is up. Just what it is, I don’t know. Do
you?
“Being on the inside, so to speak, you may know why the Kaiser might
want to cause trouble in Brazil. I confess I can’t see his object. And
I can’t see what difference it makes to the United States--except as
a basis for a newspaper story, which, by the way, I have not written.
There’s self sacrifice for you.
“(N. B. If things get a little more exciting, I’ll have to use it, so
watch out.)
“By the way, the countess seems not to be in Brazil and I can’t find
out where she is. She didn’t come back with her brother.”
After Rutile read this letter, he made inquiries as to the German
officers whose names Miss Byrd had added, and found that they had all
resigned from the German army about three months before--two days after
Ouro Preto’s interview with the Kaiser. Returning to his office after
ascertaining this fact, he sought the ambassador and laid the facts
before him.
His Excellency was a tall, polished, elderly gentleman, who dressed
immaculately and walked very straight. He had been a professor of
dead languages in a fresh-water college in early youth, had inherited
a fortune, and had used it so shrewdly that a grateful president had
selected him as minister to a small European power. After three years
in that post, a new president had come into office and was about to
dispense with his services, when he calmly requested to be transferred
to Berlin as ambassador. Before the President had gotten over his
amazement the would-be ambassador brought such influence to bear that
the President hastened to make the appointment requested--lest a worse
thing befall. Since then His Excellency had let Rutile run the business
of the office while he himself had bettered the American record by
spending more than ten times his salary and allowance in keeping up
the dignity of his office. Rutile knew all this and knew that his
Excellency would be the last man in the world to be rude enough to
pry unnecessarily into the secrets of the government to which he was
commissioned.
But he also felt reasonably sure that if he could convince the
ambassador that there was real need of action, His Excellency
would revert to the shirt-sleeve methods of the early American
representatives, let the consequences to his social standing be what
they might. But he would be hard to convince.
Rapidly Rutile recited the facts as he knew them. When he had finished,
he paused for an instant.
“Well?” demanded His Excellency, placing his finger tips together and
leaning back in the professorial attitude he had never lost. “Well,
Mr. Rutile! You have stated your premises clearly. Now draw your
deductions.”
Rutile reached out his hand and spun on its axis the great globe that
stood by the desk. “Here is the danger spot,” he said, placing his
finger on a particular spot.
The ambassador leaned forward. “Brazil?” he inquired.
“Southern Brazil,” corrected the secretary. “To speak exactly, the
state of Rio Grande do Sul. The total population of that state is
2,000,000 of whom half are Germans or the children of Germans. Your
Excellency understands that Brazil is Wilhelm’s last chance for a great
German colony. All the rest of the valuable world had been collected
and labelled by one or the other of the other great powers before
Germany felt the need of expansion. Think a minute. What has Germany
got? She’s got a slice or two of Africa, populated chiefly by niggers,
mosquitoes, and soldiers. There aren’t any colonists there! She’s got
a few miscellaneous islands about as big as a Kansas kitchen garden
and good for nothing but naval stations. She’s got a few square miles
of China, good enough for trade but no good at all for settlement.
And year after year she sees millions of the best people the Lord
made--I’m part German myself and I know--pouring into the United States
and into Brazil just because they haven’t got any German colony to
go to. Don’t you know it gravels the Kaiser? Wouldn’t it gravel us?
Wouldn’t we conspire and work and bluff and fight if need be to get
the last piece of territory going before it was too late--But your
Excellency knows all this as well as I do.”
The ambassador nodded. “Of course I know Germany needs real colonies,”
he agreed. “Everybody knows that. Witness how near she came to fighting
France over Morocco. Of course she’d like to have Brazil, or part of
it. But she can’t have it. The Monroe Doctrine keeps her out unless she
is willing to fight, and it’s too absurd to suppose that the Kaiser
would deliberately go to war with the United States. Do you really
think he would?” The ambassador’s tones were incredulous.
Rutile shook his head slowly. “I’m not so sure,” he declared. “What is
she building all these dreadnoughts for?”
“England! Of course! At least England thinks so.”
“Of course she does! Is there anything in the world that Britain does
not take to herself? She thinks Wilhelm is aiming at her and he lets
her think so. He doesn’t mind. But why on earth should he be aiming at
her? What has he to gain?”
His Excellency smiled. He was enjoying himself mightily. Nothing in
his experience with Rutile had led him to suspect that personage of
this sort of thing. He had always looked upon the secretary merely as
a perfectly trained automaton who always knew the right thing to do
and did it without fuss, and he had been content to leave official
business altogether in his capable hands, and to confine himself to
the promotion of that cordiality between the two nations that follows
a well-cooked dinner. And here was this perfectly trained automaton
lecturing him like a schoolboy.
“Doesn’t she want territory?” he asked.
“Territory!” Rutile was growing excited. “Just think what Your
Excellency is suggesting!” he cried. “Germany today has a fleet less
than half as powerful as that of England, and it will be many a long
day before she can match her. England is wailing today, not because
Germany is overtaking her on the sea, but because she fears she may not
be able to remain as powerful as Germany and the second strongest sea
power combined. So the result of any war that Germany may wage against
England will be more than doubtful. And if she wins she will gain only
worthless territory or territory settled by English. On the other hand
suppose she is aiming at Brazil. In a few months she will be as strong
on the sea as the United States, which alone stands between her and
Brazil. Does your Excellency see no significance in a German rebellion
in South Brazil aided by German officers and German filibusters?”
The ambassador smiled. “Not much, I’m afraid,” he replied, indulgently.
“You are more excitable than I supposed, my dear fellow. The Emperor
wants Brazil, of course; there’s nothing new in that. I’ve read a dozen
newspaper stories about it. But none of them ever came true. And none
ever will.”
“But--”
The ambassador rose. “What do you want me to do, Rutile?” he asked,
seriously.
The secretary hesitated. “I wanted you to send a scarce-story to
Washington,” he answered at last. “But I see you wouldn’t care to stand
for it. So I should like permission to run down to Hamburg and see
what I can learn about those shipments of arms. Mr. Cox can easily
attend to my duties while I am gone. May I have your permission, sir?”
“Certainly! Certainly! Act on your best judgement. And if you can bring
me any definite proof, my boy, I’ll act on it. You can rely on me.”