MR. CHARLES SMITH
A profound silence reigned in the library at Dorby Towers.
The pungent aroma of cigars weighed upon the atmosphere in spite of the
wide proportions of the apartment. Considerable light was shed from the
antique sconces upon the walls, as also by the silver candelabra upon
the long refectory table which ran down the centre of the room. But
withal it was powerless to dispel the dark suggestion of the old
bookcases which lined the walls of the room.
Two men were occupying one side of the table, and Ruxton Farlow sat
alone at the other. The eyes of all three were focussed intently upon
the object lying upon the table, which was a ten-foot model of a
strange-looking water craft.
The first to break the spell of the burden of silence was Sir Andrew
Farlow, who, with a bearded stranger, occupied the side of the table
opposite his son. But his was no attempt at speech. He merely leant
forward with an elbow on the polished oak, and his fingers softly
stroking his square chin and tightly compressed lips. He was humming
softly, an expression of an intently occupied mind. The fixity of his
gaze suggested a desire to bore a way to the heart of the secrets the
strange model contained.
The bearded stranger was watching him closely while his eyes appeared
to be focussed upon the object of interest, and presently, as though
the psychological moment had arrived, he, too, leant forward, and, with
an arm stretched out, terminating in a long, lean, tenacious-looking
hand, he pressed a button on the side of the model. Instantly the whole
interior of it was lit electrically, and the light shone through a
series of exquisitely finished glass-covered port-holes extending down
the vessel's entire sides.
He spoke no word, but sat back in his chair and went on smoking, while
he closely watched for any sign of impression which the two interested
spectators displayed.
The moments slipped by. The patient stranger sat on with his long lean
legs crossed, and a benevolent smile in his large eyes. After a while
Ruxton sat back in his chair. Then Sir Andrew abandoned his inspection,
and turned to the man beside him.
It seemed to be the cue awaited, for the stranger promptly leant
forward again and released a spring by the movement of a switch.
Instantly the model split in half, and, opening much in the fashion of
a pea-pod, displayed the longitudinal sections of its interior.
Simultaneously the two men whose lives had been hitherto given up to
ship construction rose to their feet, and pored over the wonderful and
delicate mechanism and design the interior revealed.
Then it was that Sir Andrew verbally broke the silence.
"Will you explain, Mr. Smith?"
The inventor removed his cigar.
"You know--marine mechanism?" he enquired.
Sir Andrew nodded.
"Yes, unless there is a new principle here."
"It is the perfected submarine principle which was used towards the end
of the war. There is no fresh detail in that direction."
"We have a complete knowledge of that principle," said Ruxton. "We have
been constructing for the Admiralty throughout the war."
"Good."
There was a distinct "T" at the end of the word as Mr. Smith spoke it.
Ruxton shot a quick glance in his direction. The man's whole
personality was an unusual one. He was very tall, and very thin. His
intellectual head, quite nobly formed, was crowned by a shock of
snow-white hair closely hogged, as might be a horse's mane. His
features were almost as lean as his body. But the conformation of a
magnificent forehead and the gently luminous eyes, beneath eyebrows
almost as bushy as a well-grown moustache, made one forget the fact.
Then, too, the carefully groomed, closely cut snow-white beard and
moustache helped to disguise it still more. It was the face of a man of
great mentality and lofty emotions, a face of simplicity and
kindliness. It was, in fact, a face which demanded a second scrutiny,
and one which inspired trust and liking.
To the rest must be added certain details which seemed a trifle
extraordinary in view of his profession. If his tailor did not trade in
Bond Street then he certainly must have served his apprenticeship in
those select purlieus. Perfect cut and excellence of material marked
every detail of his costume, which was of the "morning" order.
"Then there is little enough to explain, except for the architectural
side of the matter," Mr. Smith went on, with a peculiarly
back-of-the-throat tone in his speech, which also possessed a shadow of
foreign accent. "I am not offering you a submarine principle. That is
established now all over the world. I please to call my invention a
submersible merchantman. You will observe the holds for merchandise.
You will see the engine-rooms," he went on, rising and pointing out
each detail as he enumerated it. "There are the stateroom decks, with
the accompaniment of saloon and kitchens, and baths, and--and all the
necessities of passenger traffic. Everything is there on a lesser scale
such as you will find on a surface liner. Its speed and engine power
will compare favorably with any liner afloat up to ten thousand tons.
Thus it has the speed of a surface craft on the surface, with the added
advantages of a submarine. In addition to these I have a light, in the
course of production, which will serve to render the submarine immune
from the dangers of submersion. I call it the 'U-rays.'"
"The U-rays?" Ruxton's enquiry came like a shot.
"Just so."
Mr. Smith replied quite unhesitatingly, and Ruxton's obvious suspicion
was disarmed.
"This vessel," the inventor went on, quite undisturbed, "solves the
last problem of sea traffic under--all conditions."
The light of enthusiasm was shining in the man's luminous eyes as he
made his final pronouncement. It was as though the thought had filled
him with a profound hope of the fulfillment of some ardent desire. It
suggested to the more imaginative Ruxton that he cared more for the
purpose of his invention than for its commercial aspect to himself.
"You speak, of course, of--war," Ruxton said.
The large eyes of the stranger widened with horror and passion.
"I speak of--international murder!" he cried fiercely.
Sir Andrew turned from the model at the tone of the reply. Ruxton would
have pursued the subject, but Mr. Smith gave him no opportunity.
"Your pardon, gentlemen," he said with a sudden, exquisite smile of
childlike simplicity. "Memories are painful. I have much that I
remember, and--but let us keep to the business in hand."
"Memories are painful to us all--here in England," said Ruxton gently.
"But--this is a beautiful model. Perfect in every detail."
"It was made in my own shops," returned the inventor simply.
"And you say this," indicating the model, "has been tested on a
constructed vessel?"
"I have travelled more than ten thousand miles in just such a vessel. I
have travelled on the surface at twenty-four knots, and under the
surface at fifteen. I have carried mixed cargoes, and I have carried
certain passengers. All these things I have done for experiment, so
that the principle should be perfected. You can judge for yourselves. A
vessel of this type awaits your pleasure at any hour. A vessel of two
thousand tons."
"Two thousand?" The incredulous ejaculation escaped Sir Andrew before
he was aware of it.
"It is nothing," exclaimed Mr. Smith, turning quickly. "A vessel of ten
thousand tons can just as easily be constructed."
The sweeping assertion spoken with so simple a confidence had the
effect of silence upon his audience. It was overwhelming even to these
men who had witnessed the extraordinary development of invention during
the war.
After awhile Ruxton broke the silence.
"In your original communication to us you assured us of a means of
avoiding the losses we endured during the war from submarine attack.
This I understand is the--means. Will you point its uses? I see it in
my own way, but I should like to hear another mind on the subject."
Mr. Smith folded his arms and settled himself in his chair. Ruxton was
not seeking information on the subject of the boat. His imagination
told him all he wanted to know in that direction. It was the man he
wanted to study. It was the man he was not certain of. He was convinced
that this man was a foreigner, for all his British name. He desired to
fathom the purpose lying behind this stranger's actions.
"A great Admiral just before the war," said the inventor, "declared
that the future of naval warfare lay under the water, and not on the
surface, as we have always believed. He was right. But he did not go as
far as he might have gone. The _whole future of shipping_ lies as much
under water as on the surface. I tell you, gentlemen, that this boat,
here, will afford untold blessings to humanity. To an island country it
affords--existence. Think. This country, Britain, is not
self-supporting. Is it not so? It could not keep its people alive for
more than months. It depends upon supplies from all ends of the earth.
All roads upon the high seas lead to Britain. And every helpless
surface vessel, carrying life to the island people at home, is a target
for the long-distance submarine. If an enemy possesses a great fleet of
submarines he does not need to declare a war area about these shores.
Every high sea is a war area where he can ply his wanton trade. With
the submarine as perfect as it is to-day, Britain, great as she is in
naval armaments, can never face another war successfully. _That thought
is in the mind of all men already_." The man paused deliberately. Then
with a curious foreign gesture of the hands he went on. "But there is
already established an axiom. Submarine cannot fight submarine--under
the surface." He shrugged. "It is so simple. How can an enemy attack my
submersible? The moment a submarine appears, the submersible submerges
and the enemy is helpless. An aerial warship will become a spectacle
for the amused curiosity to the ocean traveller. In peace time storms
will have small enough terror, and on the calm summer seas we shall
speed along at ever-increasing mileage. I tell you, gentlemen, the days
of wholly surface boats are gone. The days of clumsy blockades are
over, just as are the starvation purposes of contraband of war. With
the submersible how is it possible to prevent imports to a country
which possesses a seaboard? That is the proposition I put to the world
in support of my submersible."
Father and son sat silently listening to the easy, brief manner of the
man's explanation. Nor was it till he spoke of the futility of a war
submarine's efforts against his submersible did any note of passion and
triumph find its way into the man's manner. At that point, however, a
definite uplifting made itself apparent. His triumph was in the new
depth vibrating in his musical voice. There was a light in his eyes
such as is to be found in the triumphant gaze of the victor.
Ruxton beheld these things with greater understanding than his father.
Moreover, he interpreted them with that sympathetic understanding of
one who possesses great ideals of his own. Whoever this man might be,
wherever he came from, one thing was beyond all question in his mind.
Here was no mere huckster seeking to trade his wares for the sole
purpose of gain. Gain might be his object, but somehow he felt that it
was not wholly so, not even paramount in his consideration. It seemed
to him that the man had spoken the truth when he had said that his
efforts were directed in the service of humanity.
But for all his understanding he had no intention of accepting his own
reading without proof from the only direction in which proof could come.
"And what is the commercial aspect of the matter--between us?" he
enquired in his most businesslike tone.
Mr. Smith looked up in a startled way from the deep reverie into which
his own words had plunged him.
"Commercial?" he echoed a little helplessly.
"Yes." Ruxton smiled. "The--price."
Mr. Smith nodded readily and smiled back. But his reply carried no
conviction.
"Yes, yes," he said hurriedly. "I was thinking. Of course--yes. The
price."
His infantile manner brought a smile to the shrewd face of Sir Andrew.
Ruxton only waited.
"I--had forgotten," Mr. Smith went on. Then, with his curious tenacious
hands clasped about one knee, a hopeless sort of distress slowly filled
his eyes. "It--it is difficult," he stumbled. Then quite suddenly a
world of relief seemed to come to him. "Would it not be better to leave
terms until you have seen, and proved for yourselves, of what my
constructed vessel is capable? You see, any price I could name now
would sound--er--excessive."
The manner of this strange creature was so delightfully naive that even
the keen Yorkshire features of Sir Andrew were reduced to a smile of
enjoyment.
"That's the way I like to hear an inventor talk, Mr. Smith," he cried
heartily. "Most of 'em want large sums in options on the bare model and
registered patents. If your invention--the constructed vessel is
capable of what you claim for it, it is worth--millions."
But the millionaire's encouragement seemed to have an adverse effect
upon the inventor. Trouble crept again into his eyes, and he passed one
thin hand across his splendid forehead.
"If it serves to save innocent lives in the future, sir, it has done
all that I ask of it," he said at last. "Its value to me then could
never be reckoned in millions. There would not be enough cyphers in the
mind of man to express that value."
To Ruxton the riddle of this man was growing in obscurity. For all his
understanding Mr. Smith's attitude demanded explanation which as yet he
was unable to give it.
But something in the nature of solution to the riddle was nearer than
he had supposed. It came in the man's words which were added in further
reply to his father.
"I have no fear but my invention will do these things," he said with
strong conviction. "But," he added almost sombrely, "I have other
fears."
"Others?"
The commercial mind of Sir Andrew was sharply suspicious.
"Yes."
Again came that troubled movement of the hand across the forehead. The
man hesitated in a painful, embarrassed way. Then, with a perfectly
helpless gesture, he blurted out something of that which Ruxton had
been waiting for.
"Yes, yes," he cried, his eyes full of a passionate light. "I have
fears, other fears. Nor are they idle. Nor are they to be belittled. I
came here in secret. No one but my two confidential men, who brought
this model, know of my coming. No one knows my whereabouts at all, but
you, and those two men whom I can trust--even with my life. Fears. My
God, if you only knew. I tell you there are people in the world, if
they knew of my visit to you, if they saw that model lying on your
table, who would not rest until my life was forfeited, and the utility
of my invention to this country was destroyed forever."
The man stood up. His great height was drawn up to its uttermost. He
was breathing hard, but the light in his eyes was not of the fear of
which he spoke. They were burning with a strained defiance of that
threat he knew to be hanging over him.
The others rose from their chairs simultaneously. Both were startled.
But Sir Andrew far more than his son. Startlingly as the revelation had
come, to Ruxton it _was_ revelation. And now it was he who took the
initiative. He leant across the table.
"I think I understand something that has been puzzling me all the
evening, Mr.--Smith," he said. "And now that I understand it I am
satisfied. You have come to us to-day at great danger to yourself. You
are risking everything in the world that we shall have the benefit of
your invention. The last thought in your mind is the commercial aspect
of this affair. Your real object in coming is your secret for the
present. I might even hazard a guess at it. But it is your secret, and
one we have no desire to probe. You desire a pledge from us. That is
obvious. And for myself I give it freely. Your secret is safe with
me--safe as the grave. I shall avail myself of your offer of a trip in
your submersible, and, if you will permit me, I shall make my own time
for it in the near future. Will you allow me that privilege?"
The inventor impulsively held out his hand, and his relief was obvious
and intense. It was almost as if he had feared the result of his
revelation.
"Your wishes are entirely mine," he said, as Ruxton wrung his hand. "It
was this necessity for secrecy which has troubled me. I did not think
you would accept it. And--I feared the shattering of all my hopes." He
turned to Sir Andrew, who stood watching the scene wonderingly.
"And you, sir?" he asked, with extended hand. "Have I your word?"
"Absolutely, sir."
The bluff tone, and the grip of the Yorkshire hand, had its prompt
effect.
"I need no more."
The man proceeded to close up his model.
"And for communicating with you?" demanded Ruxton.
Mr. Smith looked up.
"The same address. Veevee, London. It will always find me."
"Thank you."
Two hours later Ruxton and his father were alone in the library. The
inventor had gone, and his precious model had been carefully removed by
the two men who had conveyed it to Dorby Towers. For those two hours
Sir Andrew and his son had thrashed threadbare the situation created by
the stranger's coming. And, incredible as it seemed, in the minds of
both men was a steady conviction that the work of that evening was to
mark an epoch in the history of their country.
The possibilities were of a staggering nature. Neither could probe the
future under this new aspect. If this new principle of ocean traffic
were to---- But it was "if." If the man were honest. If the invention
were right. If--if, and again--if. That was it. And so they had talked
it out.
Now it was time to seek that rest which Ruxton sorely needed. His had
been a strenuous day, and he knew he must return to town to-morrow. He
rose and stretched himself.
"Well, Dad, it's bed for me," he said, in the midst of a yawn.
His father looked up from his final cigar, which was poised in his hand.
"Yes. You must be tired, boy. There's one thing, though, about that
man, that's occurred to me," he added, his mind still dwelling on the
subject of their long discussion. "Did you notice his speech? He didn't
sound to me English, and yet there--was no real accent."
Ruxton laughed.
"I wondered if that had escaped you." Then his eyes grew serious. "No,
he isn't an Englishman. He isn't even Dutch. That I am sure of. But his
nationality--no, I cannot say."
"No. It's a difficult matter with these foreigners."
"Yes. But if I can't locate his nationality I am certain of a very
important fact."
"And that is?"
"He belongs to--Germany."