INTRIGUE AND MISCHIEF
Throughout these days Evans maintained vigilant and nerve-racking
watch over the personnel with a view to detecting any leakage of
information by radio which might give the enemy a hint about the code.
For more than one reason he now began to contemplate with increasing
uneasiness the incumbency of Commander Rich as head of the Radio
Division of the Bureau of Engineering in Washington. When Captain
Brigham had told Commander White, the preceding August, about
Commander Rich’s advice to him on the subject of the radio equipment
on the flagship, White had, of course, carefully refrained from
repeating the remarks of his chief to Evans. But when in the autumn he
was relieved by Commander Elkins, White had explained the situation to
his successor and told him how Brigham’s attitude had been responsible
for virtually putting the most important part of the radio equipment
out of commission. In the course of his explanation White had quoted
Captain Brigham’s remark about his conversation with Rich, which
revealed the fact that this high official had actually encouraged the
dismantling of apparatus whose value, though unknown to Brigham, was
well understood by Elkins. In the course of the winter Elkins placed
ever-increasing confidence in Evans as they worked together in the
nerve center of the fleet. One day he told him of this remark of
Captain Brigham’s which White had passed on to him. Elkins mentioned
it as evidence of ultra-conservatism in the Bureau, constituting a
difficulty with which they were obliged to reckon. To Evans it
appeared not merely as a troublesome obstacle, but as a cause of grave
uneasiness.
Another thing which enhanced this feeling was the fact that he had
found several important pieces of radio apparatus, recently shipped
from the navy test shop in Washington, seriously defective. What was
more, the defects did not appear to be such as could be ascribed to
sheer carelessness of workmanship; they were in vital parts of the
apparatus, always where most difficult to discover, and most
inaccessible and troublesome to remedy. The frequency with which these
conditions were found was greater than could be laid to the common
perversity of complex apparatus. Yet nothing of this sort had been
definite enough to arouse in him much more than a vague sense of
uneasiness, nor to make him feel justified in mentioning his fears to
either Elkins or Barton. One night, as he lay in his berth pondering
the significance of these defects which kept coming to light, there
flashed on his mind the recollection that when last in Washington he
had often seen Wellman going to see Commander Rich in his private
office. At the time, this had not added much to his uneasiness about
Rich, for, being already convinced that Wellman was a spy, it seemed
only natural that he should be assiduously cultivating the head of the
Radio Division; but now it began to haunt him. The malignant look he
fancied he had seen in Rich’s face came back to him. At the time, he
had persuaded himself that it was a trick of his imagination provoked
by pique. Now the memory of that look returned and would not be set
aside. Late into the night he tossed on his mattress, devoured by
ominous conjectures. When sleep came at last, the face of Rich, its
malignity horribly intensified, haunted his dreams.
It was near the end of March; the preparations in the fleet were daily
assuming a more momentous import, and efficiency in the flagship’s
center of communication was more vital than ever. Radio Gunner Long
now arrived at Punta Delgada from Washington, and presented himself
aboard the flagship with orders from the Bureau of Engineering to make
certain changes in the radio apparatus, changes which were the result
of secret developments just made in the laboratories of the Bureau.
Evans recalled having seen Long occasionally in the Bureau at
Washington, though he had scarcely made his acquaintance. Now he
received him with cordial attention, and asked him all the news from
Washington, showing especial interest in the new developments which
Long had come to introduce. In this he met a rebuff. Long answered his
questions with generalities, evading any disclosure of the nature of
the changes he was going to make. These were confidential, and his
duty to the Bureau of Engineering constrained him from revealing their
nature to any one.
It was nearing the noon hour when Long first began looking over the
gear in the radio room in preparation for commencing alterations.
Evans and the chief radio electrician were both in the radio room
about their various duties, and offered to help Long at his task. He
declined their offers; the job he was going to do was one that he
could manage better by himself. He spent a good deal of time getting
out pliers and other tools and looking them over; he stopped to
examine this and that piece of apparatus, and altogether seemed to be
very slow in getting to work. Eight-bells struck, and Evans asked Long
if he wasn’t coming down to lunch.
“I think I’ll stay here and work,” said Long. “I’m not very hungry
to-day.”
So Evans went to lunch, leaving Long alone in the radio room except
for the operator on watch. He had not been gone two minutes, however,
before he returned to get a notebook he had left there. Entering
quickly, he saw Long rise hastily from behind one of the receivers at
the sound of the opening door, and on his face an ugly scowl gave way
rapidly to a look of utter indifference. The place where Long was at
work was so concealed from the operator on watch that it was
impossible for him to see anything of the nature of the changes Long
was making without leaving the receiver at which it was his duty to
listen. Evans remarked something about forgetting his notebook,
fumbled for a minute among the papers on the table, then left again
and went to his lunch.
When next he returned, half an hour later, Long was in a different
part of the radio room making some adjustments on the main
transmitter, and took no notice at all of Evans as he entered.
Evans sat down unconcernedly and looked over some recent dispatches,
then began to engage Long in conversation. A few platitudes were
exchanged, and the atmosphere became a bit less tense. Evans began
tinkering with some apparatus, and, opening a drawer, took out a strip
of polished metal and set it down on the bench before him, propped
against the panel of a receiver. Looking intently at the panel and
with his back to Long, he asked in a casual voice, “What do you think
of Commander Rich as an authority on radio?”
The reflection in the metal strip revealed a sudden start and a quick
glance at Evans, but the voice was casual enough as Long replied,
“Why, he’s the greatest radio man we’ve got. Of course, I scarcely
know him personally, but from all I’ve heard, I guess he heads the
list, all right.”
Evans continued to tinker with some odds and ends on the bench in
front of him and to examine the adjustments of the receiver, glancing
now and then at the strip of metal. Long continued to kill time,
fussing ineffectually over some wires. Evans then sat down comfortably
in a chair with his feet up in another, and, taking his slide-rule out
of his pocket, began to seek in it the answer to a mathematical
riddle. He was determined not to leave the room now until Long had
left it, and not then until he had done a bit of looking round. He
made it evident that he was settling down to stay. But the slide-rule
told him nothing more erudite than that two times two equals four; and
even that bit of erudition was quite lost on him, for his thoughts
were tussling with ugly conjectures.
An hour passed; Long kept as busy as he was able doing nothing, while
Evans wielded his slide-rule, and once in a while scribbled a figure
on a slip of paper. At last Long said, “Well, I guess I’ll go to the
machine shop and see if I can find some things I shall need
to-morrow.”
Evans took no notice of him as he went out, but, as soon as the sound
of his steps had died away, he opened the door and looked out to be
sure Long was not still lurking near by. Then shutting it again he
hastened to examine the apparatus. He soon satisfied himself that the
only changes Long had made in the main transmitter were trifling
readjustments whose only effect would be to impair its efficiency a
little without making enough trouble to attract the attention of the
operators. Clearly that was not worth sending a man all the way from
Washington to do. Evans then began examining the gear in the vicinity
in which he had surprised Long when he first returned after his false
departure for lunch. At first everything appeared to be wholly
undisturbed. But on more careful examination he saw the tiny scratch
of a screwdriver freshly made on the woodwork at the back of a
receiver not much used in port, but on which much would depend in
communicating with the fleet in action. Seizing a screwdriver he
hastily opened the receiver. Inside everything appeared as it should
be; not a wire appeared displaced. But as he examined it more closely
with a flashlight something caught his eye. Two wires had been removed
from their terminals and then adjusted so that they rested in contact
with them and would continue to do so as long as the receiver was not
disturbed, but their position was so unstable that the jarring of the
ship under way was certain to shake them loose and leave their ends
dangling in the air. The result of this would be that as long as the
ship remained in harbor the receiver would meet all tests without a
flaw, but as soon as she put to sea this important means of receiving
information from the fleet would be crippled.
The case against Long was proved as far as Evans was concerned, and he
no longer had any doubts as to Commander Rich’s complicity. He must
see Barton at once. He looked at his watch and recalled that Fraser
and Elkins had already gone ashore to meet Barton, and that in less
than an hour these three were to start on a tour of inspection of the
defenses on Saint Michael’s, Santa Maria, and Formigas where were
located the stations with the devices for detecting the approach of
hostile craft to the outer line of nets. They would not return till
late in the afternoon of the following day. It was just time for a
boat with a liberty party to shove off for the shore; there would not
be another for an hour, and that would be too late. He must catch that
boat. He said to the operator on watch and the chief radio electrician
who had just entered, “Keep your eyes open and notice the changes Mr.
Long is making, as far as you can; it will make it easier for him to
teach you anything you will need to know about operating the set when
he gets through.”
Then leaving the room he ran for all he was worth till he came on
deck, and, rushing to the starboard rail, looked over. There was the
big motor-sailer already loaded with sailors and away, swinging round
to her course for the inner harbor; in a minute she would be passing
close to the ladder hanging from the boom off the quarter-deck.
Now every man aboard ship must ask permission to go ashore, and the
officer of the deck is stationed at the gangway when the liberty
parties leave, to grant such permission, but to a man performing such
duties as Evans’s, requiring frequent excursions at all sorts of
times, the mumbling of “Permission to leave the ship” as he steps over
the rail soon becomes an empty form and is relegated to the
subconscious. Furthermore, Evans was quite accustomed to climbing down
into the motor-sailer from the boom in order to rig a temporary
transmitter in her for testing some of the radio gear aboard the ship.
For such a purpose the formal permission to leave the ship was
commonly waived or completely overlooked. Therefore, it was not wholly
unnatural that when Evans came on deck, in his eagerness to convey his
news to Barton he simply forgot all about formalities and made for the
boom. Running nimbly out on it and slipping down the ladder, he hailed
the coxswain of the motor-sailer, who swung in a few feet from his
course to take him aboard. Ensign Coffee was officer of the deck at
the time, and witnessed the performance. This mode of leaving the ship
was not for a moment to be countenanced. Seizing a megaphone this
irate officer called sharply to the coxswain and ordered him to return
at once to the ship, and, when she was at the gangway, ordered Evans
to come aboard, then sent the motor-sailer once more on her way.
“What does this mean?” asked Coffee sternly. “Why didn’t you come and
ask permission to leave the ship?”
“I came on deck after the boat had shoved off,” answered Evans, now in
the position of a schoolboy caught playing truant; “I had an urgent
errand on shore in connection with the radio apparatus, and as I had
always been granted permission so regularly that I had come to take it
as a matter of course, I simply didn’t think of it, but, in my haste,
made for the boat as I saw her go by the boom.”
“Well, you won’t take it as a matter of course any more,” said Coffee.
“That sounds to me like a pretty thin excuse. Go to your room and
we’ll look into this matter a little further.”
Evans looked Coffee squarely in the eyes and said quietly but
earnestly, “May I speak to the Captain first? It is about a matter of
great importance, and there’s no time to lose.”
“I am the officer of the deck,” answered Coffee with great dignity,
“and I represent the Captain as far as you are concerned. I have heard
more than I wish to hear from you already. Go to your room.”
The corporal of the guard and a quartermaster were standing by
watching the scene. Evans hesitated a moment wondering if there were
any way of persuading Coffee that a real emergency existed, but the
look of the man convinced him that he might as well talk to a pumpkin.
A futile attempt would only do harm. Therefore he went to his room and
sat down to think matters over.
Ensign Coffee reported this incident to the executive officer of the
flagship. Fraser and Elkins were already ashore with Barton, and the
executive officer knew nothing of Evans and his duties, but the
incident looked to him suspicious. He therefore started inquiries as
to Evans’s activities aboard the ship. When he learned that he had
been making changes in the radio receiver, the exact nature of which
was not fully understood by any one else on the ship, he concluded
that Evans required close watching, and ordered him confined to his
room with a guard at the door.
Here was a nice situation. Fraser, Elkins, and Barton away for at
least twenty-four hours; Evans locked in his room with little or no
hope of release till they should return. In that time Long might work
untold damage to the radio room; there were hidden parts of the
mechanism that he might break, which would take weeks to repair. Worse
than this, he might by skillful questioning draw valuable information
from the operators; he might even get hold of secret code books, and
then on the pretext of making tests on the transmitter, send out
signals in a code of his own that would divulge vital information to
the enemy. Worst of all, he might find some clue to the secret of the
stolen code and how by its aid the seven submarines had been lured to
their doom. Then all that was hoped for by the further use of this
talisman would be lost. In his agony of apprehension Evans became
almost frantic. He racked his brains to think of some line of action.
When the guard was placed at his door, he realized his utter
helplessness to do anything to avert disaster. He knew that Barton had
confided nothing of his unusual status to any of his colleagues in the
Bureau of Intelligence; it would avail little to communicate with them
even if he were able. After all, what was his status? A radio gunner,
and nothing more. His private conversations with Barton were purely
informal, and gave him no official claim whatever to the consideration
of other officers who were not acquainted with him. Still, if he could
only have an interview with some officer in the Intelligence Bureau he
might be able to secure action; the emergency would justify his
telling things it had hitherto been his rule to mention to none but
Barton.
With an effort at composure he began talking to himself.
“This is a pretty pickle for me,” he said aloud. “I suppose they’ll be
having the Intelligence officers out here to put me through the third
degree. Then what’ll happen?”
The guard heard, and, when relieved, reported his remarks to the
executive officer.
“Well, I think the best medicine for him is to let his fears come
true,” said this officer.
He did not consider it worth while to do anything that evening, but
early next morning he dispatched a note ashore, requesting of the
Intelligence Bureau an officer to investigate some suspicious conduct
on the part of one of the ship’s company. On receipt of this message a
young lieutenant attached to Commander Barton’s office was sent aboard
the flagship to make the investigation.
Now Barton, as is the way of some Intelligence officers, did not
confide all he knew to his colleagues. No one in his entire force knew
the nature of his relations with Evans; few of them even knew of the
latter’s existence. Therefore, when the young lieutenant undertook his
mission he had wholly new ground to break.
The night had been for Evans one of acute mental torture. Visions of
Long’s possible revelations to the enemy kept rising before him.
Suddenly it flashed on his mind that Long was the same radio gunner
that had been on the Sheridan when she was wrecked. Out of the depths
of his subconscious memories came the words of the operator whom he
had questioned on his visit to the wrecked ship in the Boston Navy
Yard:
“He was here in the shack and sent me to get some wire or something
from the main radio room an hour or so before we struck.”
What a dunce he had been not to think of it before! Long had gone
aboard the _Sheridan_ to shift the position of that circular scale,
after first showing the navigator how well the radio compass worked,
so that he would trust it. It wasn’t his own idea, either; Rich had
sent him—Evans would bet his last dollar on that. Of course, it all
fitted in with that gallant officer’s denunciation of radio compasses
in general to Mortimer as soon as the _Sheridan_ went aground. What
about the Gloucester station? Ten to one some one else had been
tampering with that at the same time, only there he had had an
opportunity to cover his tracks by putting things back in their proper
adjustment afterwards, whereas on the _Sheridan_ the operator had
stayed in the shack till they took to the boats, and Long had had no
chance to put the scale back where it belonged.
Now this devil was here in the flagship’s radio room at the behest of
Rich, with a free hand for nearly twenty-four hours. And Evans had
lost his chance to trip him up. Never had he suffered so in all his
life. At last, realizing the hopelessness of attempting to do anything
before morning, he tried to sleep. But sleep would not come. Toward
morning he dozed occasionally only to wake with a start as
apprehension began to assume the reality of a dream image, and the
nightmare sense that his fears had come true roused him again to full
consciousness.
In the morning, when the young officer from the Intelligence Bureau
arrived, he found Evans looking haggard and worn, with deep circles
under his eyes, like one haunted by a bad conscience. Evans welcomed
his arrival and endeavored to explain the situation, but the officer
cut short his explanations, rebuking him sharply for trying to shift
the blame to a fellow warrant officer. It soon became evident that his
investigator had his mind made up that Evans was engaged in some plot,
and could not be made to listen to anything he said. Evans also became
convinced that specific information about Long would not only be
disbelieved, but was apt to be repeated indiscreetly to some one who
would pass it on to others, till Long would hear of it and be put on
his guard. Clearly, then, the less he told this officer the better. He
therefore abandoned his attempt to explain matters and became as
noncommittal as possible.
The Intelligence officer sought to question Evans concerning his
activities aboard the ship. All he could elicit from him was that he
had been sent by the Bureau of Engineering to look after the
efficiency of the radio apparatus in the fleet and to effect whatever
repairs were needed to make it do what was wanted of it. More detailed
questions brought out only technicalities that he did not understand.
He tried frightening him into making confessions, but Evans’s
equanimity remained unruffled.
The lieutenant was stumped, and was debating what his next move should
be, when Evans said:
“Shall you see Commander Barton when you go ashore?”
“Yes. Why?” answered the other, taken aback.
“If you don’t mind, I should be grateful if you would tell him that I
should like very much to see him as soon as possible. You have my
name?”
“I have your name,” said the young lieutenant, astonished. “Perhaps
you’ll see more of Commander Barton than you want.”
Here was a bit of cool effrontery the like of which he had never seen.
What could it mean? Perhaps it might be a clue, but how to interpret
it was beyond him. Perhaps he had better report his interview to
Commander Barton and see if he could make anything of it.
First, he went to the executive officer and told him that the case was
very puzzling, that he thought he had made a little progress, but had
best confer with Commander Barton before going further. It was not
till late that afternoon that Barton returned to Headquarters in Punta
Delgada. As soon as he arrived, the young lieutenant who had
interviewed Evans reported the whole story to his chief. Commander
Barton listened gravely, and at the end said, “You did quite right to
come back and report to me. I’ll go aboard and look into it myself.”
Barton lost no time getting aboard the flagship and down to Evans’s
room. He dismissed the guard, and, entering, found Evans in a state of
mind which showed him that a situation of no ordinary sort had arisen.
Evans hastily told him what had happened and mentioned briefly his
reasons for believing that Commander Rich was at the bottom of the
plot, including what he knew of Long’s part in the Sheridan affair.
Barton listened attentively and thought a moment.
“Some time I’ll tell you something else about that Sheridan business,”
he said; “but now the thing to do is to get this man Long locked up at
once.”
“Do you suppose you could get some useful information by keeping him
under observation awhile without letting him know he’s under arrest?”
asked Evans.
“We might do that; anyway, we must be about it. Wait here till I see
Fraser.”
Fraser and Elkins had returned to the flagship before Barton had come
aboard, but the executive officer had not deemed it worth while
telling the chief of staff about Evans’s conduct and subsequent
confinement. Barton now explained to Fraser what had happened, still
not intimating that Evans was in the habit of having secret
conferences with him, but merely putting his actions on the ground of
his sense of the importance of reporting what he had learned to
Intelligence Headquarters, in the absence of Elkins. Evans was sent
for, and explained to Fraser in detail what had happened in the radio
room. It was then decided that Fraser should tell Long that he was
wanted for certain important duties at Intelligence Headquarters, and
should send him ashore with Barton.
Long was found in the radio room examining some of the newer
apparatus, but apparently not meddling with it at the moment. He was
told that his services had been requested by the Intelligence Bureau,
and that the chief of staff desired him to get his personal effects
and go ashore at once with Commander Barton who was waiting for him.
At Headquarters he was given supper, and then shown to his quarters.
He was to sleep in a room with another warrant officer, and in the
morning his new duties would be explained to him. He turned in early,
and through the night sentries from concealed positions kept watch on
the door and window of his room.
In the mean time on board the flagship, Evans hastened to the radio
room to ascertain, if possible, what mischief Long had been up to. He
questioned the operators who had been on watch, avoiding any
implication that he suspected mischief, merely putting his questions
as if interested only in the amount of progress made. In this way he
was able to get a preliminary idea as to which pieces of apparatus he
had best examine for evidence of tampering. He also contrived, without
arousing their curiosity, to question the operators further as to
Long’s activities. Had he tested any of the transmitters? Yes, he had
sent signals with considerable power for nearly half an hour. Had he
called any station in doing so? Apparently not; he seemed to be just
testing the gear and sending blank signals. Anyway, he had not made
use of any of the codes; all the code books had been locked up all the
time. This latter news, at least, was good; but what were the blank
signals that Long had sent? This was now the main question, and Evans
saw no way to answer it.
Before Barton went ashore with his unwitting prisoner, he and Evans
had agreed that no time should be lost in warning Mortimer of Rich’s
probable complicity in the plot.
“Use your special method of reaching the Secretary,” Barton had said.
“We have no means as prompt and as free from the danger of leakage as
that.”
So now, before waiting to make a thorough search for damage to the
extensive array of apparatus in the room, Evans merely assured himself
that a certain transmitter was in working order, and sat down to make
one of his periodical “tests of its efficiency.” It will be recalled
that two civilian experts in the Bureau of Engineering, Tompkins and
Rand by name, were the men whom Evans had charged Mortimer to keep
ever on the job to apprise him of such messages as Evans might send.
On this particular evening in Washington, Tompkins had the duty. At a
late hour that night, the following message came into his hands:
We have evidence suggesting that the man I warned you
against last spring is involved in treason. Watch him
closely. E.
Tompkins telephoned at once to Mortimer’s house to ask if he could see
him, but was told that the Secretary had gone to bed very tired. He
decided to wait till morning. The next day he went early to the
Secretary’s office, but was told that Mortimer had not yet arrived. He
therefore returned to his own office in the Bureau of Engineering to
attend to some business. As soon as he felt sure the Secretary would
be in his office, he set out again to deliver his message.
Now during the night while Evans was confined to his room under guard,
Long had asked many questions of the operators on watch in the radio
room. Among other things he learned that Evans not infrequently sent
dummy messages to “test the transmitter.” It was after he had learned
this that Long did the same thing himself. Within two hours Commander
Rich in Washington had received a slip of paper with the following
words written on it:
E. has been sending out signals. Watch for delivery to
Sec. L.
When Tompkins left his office in quest of Mortimer, he was confronted
by Commander Rich.
“I understand you were looking for the Secretary this morning,” he
said. “You must understand that no one in the Bureau is permitted to
communicate with any one except through his immediate superior. If you
have anything to communicate to the Secretary, you must do so through
me.”
“I understood,” replied Tompkins, “that as a civilian employee that
rule did not apply to me. I have merely an unofficial message for the
Secretary.”
“As long as you are working in this division of the Bureau you are
under my orders,” said Rich. “If you have a message for the Secretary,
give it to me and I will see that it is delivered promptly.”
Tompkins did not know against whom Evans had warned Mortimer, and had
no reason to suspect Rich of anything more than a desire to assert his
authority, yet he knew that he should entrust this message to no one,
but should deliver it in person.
He therefore replied, “It is the Secretary’s wish that I should
deliver this message to him myself.”
“It is the Secretary’s wish that discipline should be maintained in
the Department, and that orders should be obeyed. It is by his
authority that every one in this division of the Bureau is under my
orders. You will therefore hand over the message to me.”
“I am afraid that I cannot do so without the express authority of the
Secretary,” replied Tompkins.
A dark flush of anger appeared on Rich’s face, but he controlled
himself and took another tack.
“See here,” he said; “I understand about these confidential messages.
You are making an unnecessary fuss over nothing. The Secretary wants
me to keep things going through the regular channels as far as
possible, and cut out some of the irregularities that are apt to
appear if we get too slack about the regulations, that’s all. However,
to set your mind at rest I’ll get him on the telephone and let him
reassure you himself. Come into my room while I call him.”
Tompkins followed Rich into his private office where Rich sat down at
his desk and took up the telephone receiver.
“Give me Secretary Mortimer,” he said. Then in a few seconds, “Mr.
Secretary? Good-morning. Do you recall speaking to me about stiffening
up the regulations and seeing that all communications went through the
proper channels?... Well, Mr. Tompkins, one of our expert radio aides,
has a message for you that he wants to deliver in person. He has
scruples about entrusting it to me; I thought you might like to
reassure him yourself. He’s right here.”
Rich then handed the telephone to Tompkins who was answered by a voice
that he recognized clearly as Mortimer’s, saying, “That’s all right,
Tompkins; give Commander Rich the message. I think it’s a better way;
it will excite less notice if you don’t keep coming to my office.”
There seemed now to be no doubt that he must do as he was told; so he
drew from his pocket the sealed envelope containing the message and
handed it to Commander Rich, who received it graciously, saying, “You
see the Secretary and I are in perfect understanding about all this;
you need have no fears.”
His manner was both authoritative and reassuring, yet as Tompkins left
the room he felt a qualm of uneasiness at leaving the message behind
him. He contemplated talking the affair over with Rand, but their
duties kept them in the midst of other people during the day, and no
good opportunity to do so appeared.
Half an hour after Tompkins left his message with Rich, a messenger
from the Bureau of Engineering called at Mortimer’s office and asked
to see the Secretary, saying he had an urgent message. He was shown
in, handed a sealed envelope to Mortimer and withdrew. Mortimer opened
the envelope and read with amazement the words:
Recall Fraser to Washington at once. Urgent. E.
He examined the handwriting carefully; surely it was that of Tompkins.
But why had not Tompkins delivered it in person? He reached for his
telephone and asked for the Bureau of Engineering. Getting the Bureau,
he asked for Tompkins, but his call was answered by Commander Rich.
“Mr. Secretary? Good-morning,” he said. “Mr. Tompkins received a
confidential message for you this morning just as he was leaving the
office in response to a telegram saying that his wife, who is out of
town, had been taken seriously ill. The poor man was distracted, for
he felt that he must deliver this message to you in person, yet he
hadn’t a moment to spare to catch his train. I told him to go to his
wife, and promised I would deliver the message to you at once. So I
sent it round by a trustworthy messenger. It was just as he handed it
to me with the seal unbroken.”
Mortimer pondered the question. Could there be a mistake? Evans had
assured him that his system was as proof against error as was humanly
possible, safeguarded by a method of double-checking to ensure it
against the misspelling of names. It had never failed. And there
before him was this surprising message in Tompkins’s own hand. Why
should Fraser be recalled? There must be a good reason. Having
excluded every possible source of error he could imagine, he concluded
that he had best maintain his faith in Evans who had never yet failed
him. He therefore arranged to have orders cabled to Punta Delgada
detaching Captain Fraser to return immediately to Washington.
That afternoon, at the end of the day’s work, Tompkins had just
arrived at his rooms when he was called to the telephone. Again he
recognized Secretary Mortimer’s voice.
“Mr. Tompkins, I want to see you about a matter of great importance. I
will send my car to your rooms to bring you to my house. The car will
be there in about ten minutes; please be ready for it.”
In ten minutes a limousine drew up in front of the door. The chauffeur
wore a smart livery. Seated in the tonneau was another man. Tompkins
stepped in and sat down beside him.
“Good-evening,” said the man. “I wonder what this conference is about;
the Secretary merely asked me to come to his house. I’m in the
electrical manufacturing business.”
The car started rapidly and soon turned into an unfrequented street;
there it slowed down. Two men ran out from the sidewalk, jumped on the
running-board, and the car sped on. One of the men got into the
tonneau beside Tompkins, and instantly seized his hands, while the
electrical manufacturer threw a gag over his mouth. He was also
blindfolded, so that thenceforth he knew not where they were going.
For seven hours the car sped on through the night, and toward the end
of the journey the sound of the engine told him it was climbing a
considerable grade. The road became rougher, then rougher still. At
last, some time after midnight, the car stopped, and Tompkins was
taken out and conducted through an overgrown wood road for some
distance to an abandoned lumberman’s shack where the gag and blindfold
bandage were removed, and he found himself surrounded by six armed
men. He had not the remotest idea where he was, but evidently it was
far from Washington. The hut in reality was in the vastnesses of the
Shenandoah Mountains. It would have been a simple matter to seal his
lips for all time, but Rich had instructed that instead he be
carefully guarded in the hope that by appropriate treatment useful
information might be extracted from him. And here let us leave him.
The next morning, early, before any one else had arrived at the
Bureau, Commander Rich was in his office, pacing up and down.
Presently there was a knock at the door, and a man with a sallow face
entered.
“How about it?” said Rich quickly.
“They got him off, all right. I’ve just been talking with Calvani by
long-distance phone. He had just got down out of the mountains, and
says they’ve lodged the beggar where you told ’em to.”
“Good,” said Rich, and lit a cigarette.
“I wonder how many more of these secret messengers there are knocking
round the works,” he continued; then, scowling, added, “We haven’t got
to the bottom of all this business yet. I’d give anything to know
where that man Heringham disappeared to, and what he’s up to. Why in
hell didn’t you get the dope on him while you were there in London?”
“I couldn’t shadow both him and Evans when they separated,” was the
answer; “and I thought Evans was the more important.”
“Remember, hereafter,” muttered Rich savagely, “that I like results a
whole lot better than excuses.”
And with that he sat down at his desk and waved the sallow man away.
At Punta Delgada, Evans, having sent his message of warning about
Rich, proceeded to examine all the apparatus which the information of
the operators led him to suspect that Long had molested. Considerable
damage had been done, always of the same sort as that which he found
in the receiver. The man certainly was ingenious. Inaccessible parts
had been broken or damaged in a manner calculated to do the maximum
harm with the minimum symptoms, so that it would be a long time before
the operators suspected that anything was wrong, and longer still
before they could trace the trouble to its cause. He was relieved to
find that, troublesome as was the breakage, the worst of it could be
repaired within a week. What bothered him most now was the
question—what and to whom had Long been signaling in his half-hour’s
test? His worst fear was that Long might have discovered some clue to
the secret of Wellman’s stolen code book, and passed it on to his
confederates.