At eleven o’clock the next morning Topham, Rutile and Miss Byrd
were ushered into the presence of the President. No train had been
convenient, and the Watson had brought them all the way to Washington.
Her coming had been wired, ahead, and an automobile had been in waiting
to rush them to the White House.
One by one the President heard their stories, his square jaw growing
squarer and squarer as he listened. Now and then he asked a question,
sharp and pertinent, but for the most part he kept silence--a sure
proof that he regarded the case as very serious.
When at last the stories had been finished, he nodded. “Between you,”
he said, “you seem to have gotten the thing down pretty fine. What you
have told me today confirms what I felt sure of yesterday after I had
heard the story of Commander Topham brought from San Francisco and had
read the dispatch Miss Byrd sent from the Southern Cross. Mr. Rutile’s
information welds it all and makes its inferences unmistakable. Now
that I know, I can checkmate my great and good friend across the water.
In fact, I have checkmated him already.”
The President turned to his secretary. “Have you a copy of today’s New
York Gazette?” he asked.
The secretary handed him a paper, and he reached it out to Topham. “You
heard me promise Mr. McNew a scoop yesterday, Mr. Topham,” he remarked.
“So I called in his correspondent last night and gave him this. It was
quite widely printed this morning. Read it aloud, please! I suppose
none of you have seen the papers.”
Topham read:
“It is officially announced that the President has decided to send
the entire Atlantic fleet on a cruise to the Pacific coast. Sixteen
battle ships will leave Hampton Roads in a few weeks and will steam
southward around Cape Horn to San Francisco. They will probably make
an extended stop at Rio Janeiro and other parts in Brazil. It is hoped
and believed that the present rebellion in southern Brazil will be
at an end by the time the fleet reaches there. Three vessels of the
present south Atlantic squadron will cruise along the coast of south
Brazil until the fleet arrives, when they will come northward if all
is quiet in South America. Then the battleship squadron will go on to
San Francisco and perhaps across the Pacific to Japan.”
There was silence for a moment as Topham ceased. Then the President
turned to Rutile. “Well, Mr. Rutile,” he smiled. “Will that serve?”
“Serve? It will knock the rebellion endways, quiet Japan, and smash the
Kaiser’s plot. And all without firing a shot. Oh! By _Jove_!” Rutile
paused; his feelings were too deep for words.
“Glad you approve,” smiled the President. “I understand that Germany’s
plans depend wholly on the preliminary success of the Brazilian
rebellion. If the dispatch of the fleet crushes the rebellion, as
I feel assured it will, it ends the whole conspiracy. Further, Mr.
Topham, I cabled your report on the San Francisco riot to the Japanese
Government last night. A reply has just come stating that the Japanese
ambassador here will be recalled and another sent in his place. The
inference is that they consider that he was behind the Countess del
Ouro Preto in her plot, and wish to disavow it. I don’t believe he
was, but its about the only thing Japan could do to save her face.
Meanwhile, until the new ambassador arrives all claims against the
United States will be dropped. This, of course, is confidential. I may
add, though--you will see the news in the afternoon papers--that the
governor and the leaders of the California legislature are going to be
more conciliatory, and avoid giving needless offense to Japan. Also the
mayor of San Francisco has promised to prevent any more anti-Japanese
riots. So I think everything is about straightened out.”
Lillian had been listening with wide-open eyes. For a wonder she had
held her tongue. But now she burst out.
“Goody! Goody!” she cried. “Oh! Mr. President, you’re just splendid. I
can tell you so if these men can’t. I’m going to cast my first vote for
you when we get women’s suffrage, even if it isn’t for fifty years!”
The President smiled. “Thank you!” he cried. “I’m sure you won’t
forget.” “Now, gentlemen,” he turned back to the two men. “I’m not
going to thank you for what you have done. You have done your duty,
neither more nor less. For the same reason I’m not going to reward you.
But I am going to tell you that I am delighted to know of two--no,
three--people who are clever and as capable and as courageous as
yourselves. And I’ll add that I am going to use you all to the
extent of your abilities--not as a reward but simply because you are
too capable not to be used. I guess we can find a post as minister
somewhere for you, Mr. Rutile. Please consult with the Secretary of
State about it. Now, Mr. Topham--”
But Miss Byrd interrupted. “Place aux dames, Mr. President,” she cried.
“What do I get?”
“What do you want, Miss Byrd?”
“I want three months leave for Mr. Rutile. You see he wants to get
married and he’s too bashful to tell you.”
The President’s eyes twinkled. “Oh! Ho! So that’s it, is it, Mr.
Rutile?” he asked.
Rutile blushed. “Yes! That’s it, Mr. President,” he admitted.
“Journalism will lose an ornament, but diplomacy will gain one. Mr.
Rutile shall have his vacation by all means, Miss Byrd.” “Now, Mr.
Topham, I have some news for you. It--or rather she--is waiting in the
next room. The Countess del Ouro Preto came to see me this morning. She
had read the news about the fleet in the papers and knew the game was
up. She came to confess, and to tell me a secret or two about herself.
Ahem! You have my permission to go, Mr. Topham! Through the right door
yonder. Yes! That’s it! Good-morning, Mr. Topham.”
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Numerous silent changes have been made to correct punctuation around
dialogue.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected; variant spellings have
been retained.
Hyphenation has been regularized across this ebook.