THE MODERN JOURNALIST
The old diplomatist looked coldly and suspiciously at the speaker. It
was hardly the way for a young man to address a Cabinet Minister, and
one who, moreover, was Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. Varney
saw what was passing through Lord Merehaven's mind and promptly
interfered.
"For heaven's sake, don't stand on ceremony!" he said. "This is an
exceedingly serious matter. Certain important papers are missing from
the Foreign Office. It is alleged that confidence has been betrayed by
Captain Lancing and Mr. Charles Maxwell. The boys are shouting it in the
streets, probably most of your guests know all about it by this time.
Those papers have been sold, or given to somebody who has made use of
them. This is no canard to sell a few miserable papers."
"The documents you refer to were in my hands at seven o'clock," Lord
Merehaven said. "I read them and made notes on the margin of them in my
office not long before dinner----"
"And did you lock them up in your safe afterwards?" Varney asked.
"No, I didn't. There is no safe in my office. I gave the papers to
Captain Lancing and Mr. Maxwell, and asked them to see that they were
securely placed away. Then I came home. Do you mean to say that this
thing has been over London for the past hour and I never knew it?"
"So it seems," Varney said coolly. "How should you know it when you have
not been out of the house all the evening? And none of your guests could
get at you to ask questions, seeing that you have been closeted with one
ambassador or another ever since dinner."
"That's quite true," Lord Merehaven admitted moodily. "But what is to be
done? You don't suggest that the contents of those papers is made
public?"
"I fancy not," Varney replied. "My dear Sir Reginald, you have read that
paragraph. What does it say?"
The stricken man in the armchair looked up with dulled eyes. It was some
little time before he could be made to understand the drift of the
question.
"I am trying to remember," he said, passing his hand over his forehead.
"As far as I can recollect, there were no details given. The paragraph
said that certain important papers had been stolen from the Foreign
Office, and handed over to the enemies of this country. The editor of
the _Mercury_ was supposed to be in a position to vouch for this, and he
hinted very freely at the identity of the culprits. A resume of the
missing papers was promised for the morning issue of the _Mercury_
to-morrow. Then there was a break in the report, and down below a short
history of my son's suicide. This was pointed to as an absolute
confirmation of the news, the suggestion being that my son had shot
himself after reading the nine o'clock edition of the _Mercury_, which
contained the first part of the report."
"There is some foul and mysterious business here," Ronald Hope said
sternly. "It is only twenty minutes ago that I heard what the boys were
calling out. I immediately took a hansom to Maxwell's rooms, to find
that he had gone to Paris in a great hurry. He had left no message
behind him. He had not even taken his man, whom he never travels
without."
"He has fled," Merehaven said promptly. "This thing is absolutely true.
What beats me is the prompt way in which these _Mercury_ people
collected the news."
"That is where I come in," Varney remarked. "We'll get Lechmere into
this, if you don't mind? Sir Reginald had better stay here for the
present. Lechmere shall go and interview Hunt of the _Mercury_. And if
he does not bring back some very startling news, I shall be greatly
mistaken."
Lechmere came into the study cool, collected, and imperturbable as ever.
He had quite relinquished his old pursuits and occupations now, but he
was delighted to do anything to be of service to Lord Merehaven and the
Government; in point of fact, he would rather enjoy this adventure. What
was he to do?
"Find Hunt of the _Mercury_," Varney said. "Run him down in a corner,
and let him know that you are not the man to be trifled with. And when
you have done that, make him tell you the exact time that he got his
information over those missing papers."
Lechmere nodded without asking further questions. He knew that he would
be told everything in time. He would do what he could, and return and
report progress as soon as possible. His first move was to take a hansom
and go down to the office of the _Mercury_ and there ask for Mr. Hunt.
But Hunt was not in; he had gone away about half-past seven and had not
returned yet. Usually he looked in a little after midnight to see that
the evening edition of the paper was progressing all right. So far as
the chief sub-editor could say, Mr. Hunt had gone to the Carlton to
supper.
"Something gained," Lechmere muttered, as he drove to the Carlton. "If
that chap left the office at half-past seven, that sensational paragraph
had already been passed for the Press. No assistant editor would dare to
shove that into a paper on his own responsibility. Very smart of them to
get Lancing's suicide. But I expect some American reporter shadowed the
poor chap."
Mr. Hunt had been to the Carlton; in fact, he had just arrived there,
but he was in a private room with a lady, and had asked not to be
disturbed. Intimating that he would wait, Lechmere took his seat at a
little table in one of the public rooms and asked for something. He had
a sovereign on the table by the side of his glass, and looked
significantly at the waiter.
"That is for you to earn," he said, "if you are smart and do your work
properly. In the first place, do you happen to know Mr. Hunt, the editor
of the _Mercury_?"
The man replied that he knew Mr. Hunt quite well. In fact, he was pretty
intimately acquainted with all the American colony in London. Mr. Hunt
supped at the Carlton frequently; he was supping now with a lady in a
room upstairs. Lechmere began to see his way.
"Did you happen to see the lady?" he asked. "If so, what was she like?"
"I saw them come not many minutes ago. In fact, they looked in here, and
the lady wanted to take the table by the door, but Mr. Hunt said 'No.'
They appeared to be in a great hurry, seeing that it is getting late;
and it seemed to me that Mr. Hunt was not so amiable as usual. The lady
was tall and dark; she had a black wrap, and under it was a dress of
yellow satin."
"Good man!" Lechmere said with genial warmth. "You have earned your
money. All you have to do now is to let me know the moment that Mr. Hunt
is leaving the hotel. In any case it can't be long, because it is nearly
twenty minutes past twelve now."
The waiter came back presently and pocketed his sovereign. Mr. Hunt and
the lady were just leaving the hotel. Lechmere sauntered into the hall
and stood watching the other two. He smiled to himself as he noted the
face and features of Hunt's companion. A hansom stood at the door, and
into it the American handed his companion and raised his hat.
"It will come out all right," Lechmere heard the lady say. "Don't look
so annoyed. Your paper is not going to be allowed to suffer.
Good-night!"
The hansom drove away, and Hunt raised his hat. As he stopped to light a
cigarette, Lechmere crept up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.
The American turned in a startled way.
"Mr. Lechmere!" he stammered. "Really, you gave me a start. If there is
anything that I can do for you----?"
"There is," Lechmere said in a sharp, stern way. "I want to know the
exact time that your office received the unfortunate news of the
Foreign Office business."
The directness of the attack took the American quite off his balance.
The truth broke from him.
"About ten minutes to seven," he stammered. "That is to say---- But,
confound it all, what business is that of yours?"
Lechmere smiled; he could afford to let the other bluster now that he
had learnt everything. He turned the matter aside as a joke. He made
some remark about the beauty of the night, and a minute later he was
bowling back in a hansom to Merehaven House.
"Yes, I have done pretty well," he said in reply to Varney's questioning
gaze. "I have seen Hunt, whom I traced to the Carlton, where he was
supping hastily in company with Countess Saens. I sort of fool-mated him
over that paragraph, and he told me that the information reached the
_Mercury_ at about ten minutes to seven. He tried to bluster afterwards,
but it was too late. At ten minutes to seven Hunt knew all about that
scandal at the Foreign Office."
Lord Merehaven threw up his hands with a gesture of astonishment. Varney
smiled.
"I knew that you would come back with some amazing information," the
latter said. "See how the mystery gets thicker. Lord Merehaven is going
to say something."
"I am going to say this," Merehaven remarked sternly. "The _Mercury_
knew of those missing papers before seven o'clock. _At_ seven o'clock
those papers were in my hands, and the scandal had not begun then. And
yet the _Mercury_ paragraph, written before the robbery, is absolutely
true! What does it mean?"