IN THE RAIN
He went straight to the writing-room. Only one or two of his
fellow-passengers were up, and he had the place to himself.
He wrote first:
W. A. Churchill, Esquire,
British Consulate,
Plantage Middenlaan 20,
Amsterdam,
Holland
SIR:
The following items of information should be immediately
transmitted to your home Government. The importance of the
matters in question admit of no delay.
1st. It has come to my knowledge that German spies in England
have discovered the whereabouts of a British fleet--presumably
the first line battle fleet--and have attempted to communicate
the intelligence to Berlin. One document in cipher embodying
this intelligence has been intercepted and translated. But other
communications in cipher may get through.
2d. Another document of the same sort advises the Berlin
Government to send from Cuxhaven a cruiser (parent ship) as
convoy to three submarines for the purpose of attacking the
British armoured ships.
The rendezvous of the British ships, as given in the cipher
message, is Lough Swilly, North Irish coast.
The route suggested for the German cruiser and submarines is
around the north coast of Scotland.
3d. Still a third document in cipher informs the German
Government that the light cruiser, _Schmetterling_, at or off
Valparaiso, is being pursued by the Japanese ship _Geisha_ and
the French gunboat _Eventail_.
4th. The fourth and last item of information to be transmitted
to your Government concerns an actuality witnessed by myself and
by the majority of the passengers of this steamer, now docking
at Rotterdam.
Last night, somewhere between eleven o'clock and midnight, and
somewhere off the Belgian coast, H. M. S. _Wyvern_ was blown up,
whether by mine or torpedo or by a bomb from some unseen
air-craft I do not know. She was using her searchlight on the
clouds at the time.
The ship was tilted out of the water at an odd angle when the
red glare that suddenly enveloped her made her visible. It
appears to me as though some submarine convulsion had heaved her
up out of the sea.
There was one of her officers aboard our liner when the
catastrophe occurred--Lieutenant Jamison. A boat's crew lay
alongside of us. With these exceptions it does not seem probable
that anybody aboard the _Wyvern_ could have escaped death,
although other ships were in the vicinity and their searchlights
played upon her, and I saw small boats on the way to her before
she finally blew to pieces.
This is the information which both duty and inclination impel me
to place at the disposal of the British Government.
Permit me to add that I am leaving in the hands of the United
States consul, Henry H. Morgan, Esquire, a separate packet of
papers containing full corroboration of the foregoing details.
The packet is addressed to you in his care, but he will be
instructed to give you this letter, only, and not to deliver the
packet to you until a week from today for reasons which I cannot
explain.
The packet contains--
1st. Three pages of cipher and pictographs employed by the
German spy system in London.
2d. A key to the cipher.
3d. A key to the pictographs.
4th. A full translation of the cipher.
5th. A translation of the pictographs.
6th. A map.
The German personage to whom the packet was originally
addressed, the names and addresses of those who sent it from
London, the circumstances under which it was intercepted, will
be written out with what detail is necessary, and will be
contained in the packet with the original cipher.
In one week from today the American Consul, Mr. Morgan, will
deliver to you this packet, but under no circumstances is it to
be delivered before a week from today.
I have the honour to be, sir, with great respect,
Your obt. serv't,
KERVYN GUILD.
Union square, New York.
This letter he sealed, addressed, and laid aside.
He then wrote to the American Consulate, addressing the note to the
Consul and Vice-Consul, saying that he committed to their care--
1st. A letter to be called for immediately by the
British Consul in person, and so marked.
2d. A packet addressed to the British Consul,
but not to be delivered until a week had expired.
3d. A letter to be sent to the United States
Consul General in London with all speed.
4th. A telegram to be sent to Edmeston Automobile
Agency in London.
5th. A letter to the same agency.
He then wrote out his telegram, wondering whether the United States
Consul could put it through:
Edmeston Agency,
White Hood Lane,
London, E. C.
Business of instant importance requires you all
to leave for Holland immediately. Lose no time.
Signed--RIDER.
Holland Line S. S. _Feyenoord_.
The letter was directed to the Edmeston Agency:
DEAR SIRS:
Grätz and Bush must leave at once if they wish to enjoy the
fishing here. The _pike_ are biting. _Four have been caught. The
shooting, also, is excellent. Eight birds were killed
yesterday._ If Grätz and Bush do not leave within a week
business in London is likely to detain them indefinitely and
they will miss their holiday with little chance for another.
Tell them to take the urgent advice of a sportsman and clear out
while they have the chance.
Yours with good intentions,
D. BROWN SATCHELL.
While Guild was busy writing and consigning what he had written to
separate envelopes, he was aware of considerable movement and noise
outside on deck--the passing to and fro of many people, whistle blasts
from other craft--in fact, all the various species of bustle and noise
which, aboard any steamer, indicate its approach to port.
He raised his head and tried to see, but it was still raining and the
air was dull with fog.
Passengers, stewards, and officers came and went, passing through the
writing-room where he sat in a corner sorting and sealing his letters.
Twice, glancing up over his shoulder, he noticed a steward cleaning up,
dusting and arranging the pens, ink, and writing paper on the several
tables near by--one of those too busy and officious functionaries whose
zeal for tips usually defeats its own ends.
And so it happened this time, for, as Guild, intent on what he was
writing, reached out absently for another envelope, a package of them
was thrust into his hand with a bustling, obsequious--"Paper, sir! Yes,
sir"--Beg pardon, sir! I'm sorry!"--For somehow the inkwell had been
upset and the pile of letters scattered over the floor.
"Damn it!" said Guild savagely, springing back to avoid the streaming
ink.
The steward appeared to be overwhelmed; down he flopped on his knees to
collect the letters, hopping up at intervals to sop the flowing flood of
ink from the desk.
Guild took the letters from him grimly, counted the sealed envelopes,
then without a word went to the neighbouring desk, and, sitting down
there, wrote on the last sealed envelope not yet addressed--the envelope
which contained the cipher code, translation, and the information
concerning the Edmeston Company. When he had written on it: "To be
delivered to the British Consul in a week," he gathered all the letters,
placed them in his breast pocket, buttoned his coat, and went out. For
half an hour he walked to and fro under the shelter of the roofed deck,
glancing absently across the rail where there was nothing to see except
grey mist, grey water, and rain.
After he had enough of this he went below.
Karen was not in the cabin, but her luggage stood there beside his own.
He had plenty of time to make a decent toilet; he bathed, shaved, chose
fresh linen, brushed his wrinkled tweeds as thoroughly as he could,
then, leaving the luggage there he went away in search of Karen with a
view to breakfast.
He found her on the starboard deck very comfortably established. The
idiot deck steward who had upset his ink-well and scattered his letters
was serving her obsequiously with marmalade.
As Guild approached Karen looked up at him coolly enough, though a
bright colour surged into her face. The steward bustled away to find
more coffee and rolls.
"Do you feel rested at all?" asked Guild pleasantly.
"Yes, thank you."
"May I take the next chair and have breakfast with you?"
"Yes, please."
He seated himself. She said nothing, ate nothing. Suddenly it occurred
to him that in her quaint way she was waiting for his breakfast to
appear before beginning her own.
"You are not waiting for me, are you?" he asked. "Don't do that;
everything will be cold."
With an odd air of old-fashioned obedience, which always seemed to make
her more youthful to him, she began her breakfast.
"We'll be docking presently," he remarked, glancing out into the fog and
thinly falling rain.
"Yes."
He lay back in his chair, not caring for her monosyllables, but
good-humouredly receptive in case she encouraged conversation.
Neither the freshness of her clothes nor of her skin seemed to have
suffered from the discomforts of the night; her hair was lustrous and
crisply in order. From her hat-crown to the palms of her gloves rolled
back over her wrists, she seemed to have just left the hands of a clever
maid, so fresh, sweet, fragrant and immaculate she appeared to him, and
he became uncomfortably conscious of his knickerbockers and badly
wrinkled tweeds.
The same fool of a steward brought his coffee. And as Karen offered no
encouragement to conversation he breakfasted beside her in silence.
Afterward he lighted a cigarette, and they both lay back on their
steamer chairs watching the fog and the drizzle and the promenading
passengers who all appeared to be excited at the approaching process of
docking and over the terrible episode of the previous night.
In all languages it was being discussed; Guild could catch fragments of
conversation as groups formed, passed, and repassed their chairs.
Another thing was plain to him; Karen had absolutely nothing to say to
him, and apparently no further interest in him.
From time to time he looked at the pure profile which never turned in
response. Self-possessed, serene, the girl gazed out into the fog as
though she were quite alone on deck. Nor did there seem to be any effort
in her detached interest from her environment. And Guild wondered in his
depressed heart whether he had utterly and hopelessly killed in her the
last faint glimmer of friendly interest in him.
The docking of the _Feyenoord_ in the fog interested him very little;
here and there a swaying mast or a black and red funnel loomed up in the
fog, and the air was full of characteristic noises--that is all he saw
or heard where he lay silent, brooding on fate and chance and on the
ways of a woman in the pride of her youth.
The idiot steward reappeared and Guild sent him below for their luggage.
On the gang-plank they descended with the throng, shoulder to shoulder
in silence. Inspection did not take long; then a porter who had been
following took their luggage.
"Karen, do you speak Dutch?" asked Guild, mischievously.
"Yes--a little."
"I supposed you did," he said smilingly. "Please ask him the shortest
way to the United States Consulate."
She turned indifferently to the porter: "Wat is de Kortste weg naar----"
She hesitated, then with a dainty malice indescribable--"--Naar the
Yankee Consulate?" she added calmly.
Guild reddened and strolled a few steps forward, thoroughly incensed.
The porter smothered a smile: "Mejuffrouw--" he began, "ga recht uit
links, en den de derde Straat rechts----"
"Hoe ver is het?"
The porter glanced sideways and cunningly after Guild, then sank his
voice: "Freule--" he began, but the girl's haughty amazement silenced
him. He touched his cap and muttered in English: "Madam is known to me.
The chain is long from London to Trois Fontaines. I am only another link
in that chain--at madam's service."
"I _am_ served--sufficiently. Find a motor cab and tell the driver to
take us to the United States Consulate."
The porter's visage expressed sullen curiosity: "Why," he asked in
German, "does the gracious, well-born young lady desire to visit the
_American_ Consulate when the German Consulate is possibly expecting
her?"
At that she straightened up, staring at the man out of coldly insolent
eyes.
"That is enough," she said. "Take our luggage to a motor cab."
"To the Yankee Consulate?"
"_To the Consulate of the United States!_ Do you hear? Move, then!" she
said crisply.
It was raining torrents; Guild held the sullen porter's umbrella while
Karen entered the cab; the luggage was stowed, the vehicle wheeled out
into rain-shot obscurity.
Karen turned impulsively to the man beside her: "Forgive my rudeness; I
am ashamed to have insulted your Consulate."
He flushed, but his lips twitched humorously; "I am sure that the United
States very freely forgives Fräulein Girard."
"Do _you_?"
"Does it matter?" he asked lightly.
"Yes. Are my amends acceptable to _you_?"
"Of course. But what am I--Karen----"
"You are--amiable. It was very common of me."
"It might have been rather common in anybody else. You couldn't be
_that_. Somehow," he added, smiling, "as we say in America, you seem to
get away with it, Karen."
"You are very--amiable," she repeated stiffly.
And constraint fell between them once more, leaving him, however,
faintly amused. She _could_ be such a _little_ girl at times. And she
was adorable in the rôle, though she scarcely suspected it.
At the American Consulate the cab stopped and Guild turned up his coat
collar and sprang out.
While he was absent the girl lay back in her corner, her eyes fixed on
the rain-smeared pane. She had remained so motionless for some time when
a tapping at the cabin window attracted her attention. A beggar had come
to the street side of the cab and was standing there, the rain beating
on his upturned face. And the girl hastily drew out her purse and let
down the window.
Suddenly she became rigid; the beggar had said something to her under
his breath. The English shilling fell from her fingers to the floor of
the cab.
His hand still extended in supplication, the man went on in German:
"Your steamer swarmed with English spies. One of them was your
stewardess."
The girl's lips parted, stiffly: "I don't understand," she said with an
effort.
"The stewardess spied on the deck steward, Ridder. They were all
watching each other on that ship. And everybody watched you and the
American. Ridder told me to follow you to the American Consulate."
"Who are _you_?"
"I served as one of the waiters in the saloon. Grätz knows me. If you
are carrying any papers of value be careful."
"What do you mean?"
"Ridder gave you some papers. The stewardess saw him. She came ashore
and watched you while your luggage was being inspected. She knows you
have driven to the American Consulate. Your porter told her--the fool!
Do you know what she is up to?"
"I--I can--guess. I think you had better go--quick!" she added as the
Consulate door opened and Guild came out. And she fumbled in her purse
for a coin, thrust it hastily through the window, and turned in
confusion to meet the young man's sternly questioning eyes.
"What are you doing?" he asked bluntly.
"A man--begging."
"For what, Karen? For money or information?"
The girl winced and avoided his gaze. The cab wheeled in a short circle
and moved off through the rain again.
"Which was it he wanted, Karen?" repeated Guild quietly. "Was it money
or--something else he wanted?"
"Does--it--concern you?" she stammered.
"Yes. Because I have just learned over the Consulate telephone that
German agents are now attempting to do what you refrained from doing
last night."
"What?"
"Steal the papers I had of you."
"Do you mean the papers you _stole_?"
"I mean the papers I took by highway robbery. There is a difference," he
added. "But both are robbery, and I thought _you_ were above such
things."
"I am!" she said, flushing.
"No, you are not!" he retorted sternly. "What you were too fastidious to
do for yourself last night--take the papers when you thought I was
asleep--you had done for you this morning by a steward!"
"I did _not_!"
"Why do you deny it? What do you mean? Don't you know that while I was
busy in the writing-room a steward upset my ink, scattered my papers,
stole the envelope containing the papers I took from you, and left me a
sealed envelope full of tissue paper?"
"It isn't true!"
"It is true."
"How do you know?"
"Your stewardess told me over the telephone a few moments ago. Karen,
you are untruthful!"
She caught her breath; the tears flushed in her eyes:
"I am _not_ untruthful! It does look like it but I am not! I did not
know that the deck steward had robbed you. He came to my door and gave
me the papers, saying that he had picked them up in the corridor outside
our--my--door! I did not engage anybody to steal them--if it _is_
stealing to recover--my own--property----"
"That deck steward is a spy, but I don't understand how he could have
known that I had taken the papers from you."
"I don't know either," she said excitedly. "But everybody knew
everything on board that ship. It was a nest of spies."
His grim features relaxed. "I'm sorry I charged you with untruth, Karen.
I never shall again. But--what was I to think?"
"When I tell you a thing--_that_ is what you are to think," she said
crisply.
"Yes.... I realize that now. I am sorry. May I ask your forgiveness?"
"Yes--please."
"Then--I do ask it."
"Accorded."
"May I ask a little more?" he continued.
"What?"
"May I ask you to tell me what you did with those papers after the deck
steward gave them to you?"
"I shall not tell you."
"Then I am afraid that I shall have to tell you how you disposed of
those papers. You first went to the stewardess and borrowed a needle and
thread and then asked permission to sit in her room and do a little
necessary sewing----"
The girl blushed hotly: "The contemptible creature!" she exclaimed.
"A little sewing," repeated Guild, coolly. "And," he continued, "you
sewed those papers to your clothing. The stewardess saw you do it."
"Very well! Suppose I did."
"You have them on you now."
"And then?"
"Why it was a silly thing to do, Karen."
"Silly? Why?"
"Because," he said calmly, "I must have them, and it makes it more
awkward for us both than if you had merely put them back into your
satchel."
"You--you intend--to----" Her amazement checked her, then flashed out
into wrath.
"Do you know," she said, "that you are becoming impudent?"
"Karen," he retorted very quietly, "a man of my sort isn't _impudent_.
But, possibly, he might be _insolent_--if he chooses. And perhaps I
shall choose."
Checked, her lips still quivering, the girl, despite her anger,
understood what he meant--knew that she was confronting a man of her own
caste, where insolence indeed might happen, but nothing more plebeian.
"I--spoke to you as though you were an American," she said slowly. "I
forgot----"
"I am answering you as an American!" he interrupted drily. "Make no
mistake about that country; it breeds plenty of men who have every right
to answer you as I do!"
She bit her lip; her eyes filled and she averted her face. Presently the
cab stopped.
"We're at the station," he said briefly.
* * * * *
Whether Guild had paid for the entire compartment or whether it happened
so she did not inquire, but they had the place to themselves, so far.
Guild paid no further attention to her except to lay a couple of
Tauchnitz novels beside her on the seat. After that he opened a
newspaper which he had brought away with him from the Consulate, and
began to read it without troubling to ask her permission.
As the paper hid his perfectly expressionless face she ventured to
glance at it from time to time. It was the _New York Herald_ and on the
sheet turned toward her she was perfectly able to read something that
interested her and sent faint shivers creeping over her as she ended it:
PASSPORT REFORM STIRS AMERICANS
ABROAD AND DEALS HARD
BLOW TO SPIES
CITIZENS OF THE UNITED STATES RECOGNIZE NECESSITY
FOR NEW ORDER, BUT DEMAND TO
KNOW WHO WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR
ISSUANCE OF FRAUDULENT PAPERS
[Special Cable to the Herald]
Herald Bureau,
No. 130 Fleet Street,
London, Tuesday.
The United States Government's sweeping new order requiring every
American travelling in Europe to go through a cross-examination
before an American diplomatic or consular officer came as a bolt
from the blue today. It caused widespread comment, though it is
recognized that the measure is necessary to checkmate German
spies impersonating American travellers.
There is no criticism of this drastic order, which it is
recognized is probably issued to comply with Sir Edward Grey's
communication concerning German secret agents posing as American
citizens. But many Americans want to know who is responsible for
the apparent wholesale issuance of fraudulent American passports
to Germans. The result is that now an American passport is not
worth the paper it is written on unless backed up by a
photograph of the bearer, a description of where he is going,
what he is going for, how long he is going to stay and so forth.
American embassies in European capitals today are circulating
broadcast warnings to all Americans to consult the nearest
diplomatic or consular officer before undertaking any voyage.
All Americans must understand that henceforth a passport does
not mean permission to travel in Europe. They must have written
and vouched for proof that they are not German spies before they
can feel safe.
It is all the result of too free issuance of American passports
at the outbreak of the war, coupled with German quickness to
profit by American leniency in this respect.
Before the train started a commissionaire appeared, hurrying. He opened
the door of their compartment, set a pretty basket inside, which was to
be removed at the first station beyond.
The basket contained a very delicious luncheon, and Karen looked up
shyly but gratefully as Guild set about unpacking the various dishes.
There was salad, chicken, rolls and butter, a pâté, some very wonderful
pastry, fruit, and a bottle of Moselle that looked like liquid sunshine.
There was one pasteboard box which Guild gave to her without opening it.
She untied the violet ribbon, opened it, sat silent. He seemed to pay no
attention to what she was doing.
After a moment she lifted out the cluster of violet-scented orchids,
drew the long pin from them, and fastened them to her blouse.
"Thank you--very much," she said shyly.
"Do you care for orchids?"
"Yes ... I am a little--surprised."
"Why?"
"That you should--think to offer them--to _me_----"
He looked up, and his grey eyes seemed to be laughing, but his
mouth--that perplexing, humorous, inscrutable mouth of his remained
grave and determined.
"Karen," he said, "if you only understood how much I do like you, you
wouldn't perhaps deal so mercilessly with me."
"I? Merciless?"
"You are. You made me use force with you when you should not have
resisted. And now you have done something more merciless yet."
"W--what, Kervyn?"
"You know ... I must have those papers."
"Kervyn!"
"Dear--look at me. No--in the eyes. Now look at me while I say, as
seriously and as gently as I know how, that _I am going to have those
papers_!... You know I mean what I say.... That is all--dear."
Her eyes fell and she looked at her orchids.
"Why do you speak that way to me--after giving me these?"
"What have orchids to do with a man's duty?"
"Why did you give them to me?"
"Why? Because we are friends, if you will let us be."
"I was willing--am still--in spite of--everything. You know I am. If I
can forgive you what you did to me in our stateroom last night, surely,
surely Kervyn, you won't take any more chances with my forgiveness--will
you?"
He said: "I shall have to if you force me to it. Karen--I never liked
any woman as much as I like you. We have known each other two days and a
night. But in that time we both have lived a long, long time."
She nodded, thoughtfully.
"Then--you know me now as well as you ever will know me. Better than any
other woman has ever known me. When my mind is made up that a certain
thing is to be done, I always try to do it, Karen.... And I know that I
ought to have those papers.... And that I am going to have them. Is that
clear--Karen, dear?"
She remained silent, brushing her orchids with her finger-tips,
absent-eyed, serene. After a moment he thought that the ghost of a smile
was hovering on her lips, but he was not sure.
Presently she looked up:
"Shall we lunch?" she asked.