A LAST RESOURCE
From all sides a great crowd gathered, with almost inconceivable
rapidity. We pushed our way through, and gained a side street in safety.
Monsieur Bardow arrested the attention of a four-wheeled cab galloping
towards the scene of the disaster, and motioned us to enter. We all
crowded in, and Monsieur Bardow, who entered last, gave an address
to the driver.
"My friends," he said, as he finally stepped in, "I am afraid that it was
my presence which has brought this disaster upon your café. My disguise
is good, but not good enough to deceive the cleverest rogues in Europe.
Let us take up our conversation where it was interrupted."
Guest nodded.
"The café has served its turn," he declared. "I am glad it is gone,
although it was a close shave for us. Monsieur Bardow, I believe that you
have something to suggest. There is no time to lose!"
The little Frenchman nodded.
"I have," he admitted. "It is, perhaps, a forlorn hope, but it is our
only chance. You have appealed to the government--you have failed!
Appeal, then, to their masters."
"The people!" Guest exclaimed. "But how? There is no time!"
"There is only one way," Monsieur Bardow declared, "but it is a royal
way. The things which we four in this cab know could be driven home to
every living Englishman in little more than twelve hours' time, if we can
only find--!"
"The Press!" I cried.
"If we can only find," Monsieur Bardow continued, with a little nod, "an
editor man enough to throw the great dice!"
"Staunton!" Guest exclaimed.
"We are on our way there," Monsieur Bardow declared. "He is our one
hope!"
I glanced towards Guest. There was a new fire in his eyes. I saw that the
idea appealed to him. Nervously he flung down the window and let in the
fresh air.
"A newspaper agitation," he muttered, "takes time, and if that destroyer
does not leave by four o'clock to-morrow afternoon--"
Monsieur Bardow held up his hand.
"We go no further," he said. "It shall leave!"
The cab drew up before the palatial offices of the _Daily Oracle_.
Monsieur Bardow took the lead, and with very little delay we were
escorted to a lift, and into a waiting-room on the third floor. Here our
guide left us, but only for a moment. In less than five minutes after we
had entered the building we were in the presence of John Staunton, Editor
and Managing Director of the _Daily Oracle_, a paper whose circulation
was reported to be the largest which any English journal had ever
attained. He was sitting, a slight, spare man, before a long table in the
middle of a handsomely furnished room. Before him were telephones of
various sorts, a mass of documents, and a dummy newspaper. He held out
his hand to Monsieur Bardow, and half rose to his feet as he noticed
Adèle.
"You have something to say to me, Monsieur Bardow?" he said rapidly. "As
quickly as possible, if you please! This is the busiest hour of the day
for me."
"You may reckon it, also," Monsieur Bardow said, "the greatest hour of
your life, for I am going to give you an opportunity to-day of making
history for all time."
Staunton raised his eyebrows. Yet it was easy to see that he was
impressed.
"Your friends?" he asked, glancing towards us.
Monsieur Bardow turned to Guest.
"Forgive me," he said, "but it must be truth now, and nothing else. This
is Lord Leslie Wendover, third son of the Duke of Mochester. You may
remember Lord Leslie Wendover's name in connection with the Berlin
scandals fifteen years ago. This," he added, turning to me, "is Hardross
Courage. You have heard of him, no doubt. The lady is Miss Van Hoyt of
America."
Mr. Staunton bowed to all of us.
"Well?" he said.
"Each one of us," Monsieur Bardow said, standing, a slim, calm figure at
the end of the table, with his fingers resting upon its leather top, "has
a story to tell you. The stories vary only from their point of view. The
end of all is the same. It is this: unless the English government sends a
fast destroyer to Kiel before four o'clock to-morrow afternoon, the
Germans will command London before seven days have passed. And to the
best of my belief, Mr. Staunton, you are the only man who can save this
country."
"I will hear the story in a moment," Staunton said calmly. "First! You
have been to the government?"
"We have," Guest answered. "They decline to hear us, believe us, or
receive us. They scoff at our facts and ignore our warnings."
"You have some proofs?"
"We have almost convincing ones," Guest answered. "A further one almost
cost us our lives a few minutes ago! The restaurant where we were
deliberating was blown up by a bomb, placed there by some one who
suspected us."
"The name of the restaurant?" Staunton asked.
"The Café Suisse," I told him.
From his look of interest, I knew that he had heard something about the
place.
"Well," he said, "let me hear the stories."
Guest told his first, I followed, Adèle told hers, and Monsieur Bardow
rapidly filled in certain blanks. All the while Staunton listened in
silence. He had opened an atlas, and studied it carefully with a
cigarette in his mouth, whilst Monsieur Bardow was speaking. When he had
heard everything we had to say, he pushed the atlas back and leaned over
the table towards us.
"You ask me," he said slowly, "to publish this story to-morrow. With what
object?"
"That the people of this great country," Monsieur Bardow answered
quickly, "should at least have a chance to themselves arrest this
horrible disaster. Let them rise up and insist that before four o'clock
tomorrow that destroyer leaves Devonport, with orders to stop our fleet
entering Kiel harbor. Let them insist upon a general mobilization of the
fleet, and the breaking up of this traitorous Rifle Corps. Your ministers
have failed you! It is by favor of the people that they rule! Let the
people speak!"
The man at the table moved his position ever so slightly. His eyes were
fixed downwards. He seemed to be thinking deeply. Monsieur Bardow
continued.
"My friends here," he said, "have done all that can be done with members
of the Cabinet, not only themselves, but in the person of others of great
influence. The appeal to you is practically an appeal to Caesar.
Ministers are great, but you are greater. It is your hand to-day which
grasps the levers which guide the world."
And still the man at the table was silent. Monsieur Bardow had more to
say.
"I will tell you," he said, "what an American newspaper has done for us.
To-morrow, at twelve o'clock, ten million of dollars is due to be paid to
the agents of Prince Victor of Normandy, by the Credit Lyonnais of Paris.
To-morrow morning, the _New York Herald_, in great type, exposes as a
gigantic joke the whole affair! It will give the names of the American
citizens, and the titles which their contribution to the Royalist cause
in France is to secure. To-morrow, all New York will be convulsed with
laughter--and I do not think that that ten million dollars will be cabled
to the Credit Lyonnais."
The man at the table lifted his head. His face was the face of a man who
had been in pain.
"The two cases," he said slowly, "are not identical. The _New York
Herald_ perpetrates a huge joke upon its readers. Whichever way that
affair ends, the newspaper has little to lose! You ask me, on the other
hand, to risk ruin!"
"I do!" Monsieur Bardow answered. "I came to you, I and my friends
here, because, from the first, you have shown yourself the uncompromising
foe of German diplomacy and aspirations. I give you the chance to
justify yourself. I know what it is that you fear, you do not doubt our
faith--your only fear is lest we may have been deceived. Is that not so?"
Staunton assented gravely.
"You are asking me a great deal," he said. "The _Daily Oracle_ represents
a million of capital, it represents the life work of myself and many dear
comrades. You ask me to stake our prestige, our whole future, upon your
story. You ask me to publicly flout the government which we have
supported through thick and thin. You give me no time to consult my
colleagues--I must decide at once, yes or no! This is no small matter.
Monsieur Bardow!"
"It is a tragedy," Monsieur Bardow answered. "I tell you that the future
history of your country, perhaps of Europe, rests upon your decision.
Don't let any smaller issue weigh with you for a moment. Be thankful that
you are the man whose name will live in history as the savior of his
country."
"Do not be too sure even of that," Staunton said. "Polloch is an
obstinate man, and I know as well as any one, perhaps, how set the
Cabinet are upon this German _rapprochement_. Still--you have fastened
the burden on my shoulders, and I will carry it."
"Thank God!" Monsieur Bardow exclaimed, leaning over and shaking hands
with Staunton. "Have no fear, my friend! It is Heaven's truth which you
will print."
"I believe it," Staunton answered quietly. "Several mysterious things
have happened during the last few days, and late this afternoon, consols
began to fall in a most extraordinary fashion. The side-winds have blown
some curious information to us, even this last hour or so! Now,
gentlemen, and Miss Van Hoyt," he continued in a suddenly altered tone,
"I have to send for all my editors and break up the whole paper. I shall
be here till daybreak and afterwards. One condition I have to make with
you."
"Name it," Monsieur Bardow declared.
"You must not leave this building till the paper is out. At any moment we
may require information from one of you! You shall be made as comfortable
as possible! Do you agree?"
"Of course," we all answered. "In fact," Guest remarked, "I fancy this is
the safest place for us for a few hours."
Staunton looked at us all a little curiously.
"I suppose," he remarked, "you know the risk you have been running?"
"Our friends have reminded us," I answered.
An attendant came in, and Staunton handed us over to him.
"Show this lady and these gentlemen into the strangers' room," he
ordered. "See that they have food and wine, and anything they require."
We left at once. In the passage we passed a little crowd of hurrying
journalists on their way to answer Staunton's summons. In every room the
alarm bell had sounded, and the making-up of the paper was stopped!