THE GREAT DECISION
The Kaiser's note reached America and its stinging insults fanned into
flame the coals of wrath which had been burning in the breasts of
Americans since the revelations made by the discovery of the contents
of Dr. Heinrich Albert's portfolio, the recall of Captains Von Papen
and Boy-Ed, and the arrest in practically every community in the
country of one or more German plotters. Harrison Grant received a copy
of the note from the wireless room of the Criminology Club as it was
sent to the Department of State, and he was probably the first person
in the United States to voice the opinion which became universal after
the note was made public.
"This means war," he commented to his trusted aide Cavanaugh who had
brought him the message.
"This means war," said Count Von Bernstorff, the Imperial German
Ambassador, when with blanched face he had finished reading the note,
couched in the insolent terms which he knew only the Great One of
Germany, himself, would be permitted to use in diplomatic intercourse.
Von Bernstorff turned pale at the thought of war with the United States
for he, alone, of all the trusted advisers of the Kaiser knew and
appreciated the powers of America.
"This means war," was the verdict reached by every American as he
read the note in the newspapers, a verdict prompted by the fearless
patriotic pride which beat in every breast. Then the individual
American waited, reading each new development in the diplomatic
engagement which followed with bated breath, waited for the decision
which they felt was inevitable.
But there was no period of waiting for Harrison Grant, nor the members
of the Criminology Club. Dixie Mason and the other members of the
Secret Service had no time to wait for the decision. Every other
investigating branch of the government worked at high tension, for
everyone who had been engaged in the secret warfare with German Agents
knew that once war became inevitable the Kaiser's spy army would throw
caution to the four winds and make the mightiest efforts to bring
wanton destruction in every manner possible.
Grant felt that there could be no doubt in the mind of Bernstorff that
war would result from the note and the conditions proposed to place
upon American commerce. The night it was received he called a special
meeting of the Criminology Club, and it was attended by Dixie Mason.
"Men, the supreme test of the worth of our organization has come," said
Grant addressing the meeting. "The next few weeks will see the German
spy army in the United States striving by every desperate means at
their command to kill and destroy everything American. We must not fail
in this supreme test. Beginning tonight we must shadow every member of
the spy army in the country. His every action must be investigated,
every person to whom he speaks must be regarded as a suspicious
character. That is all. You will find your assignments in your letter
boxes."
Harrison Grant had selected Heinric von Lertz as the spy for whose
activities he would be responsible, and Dixie Mason had accepted the
post of keeping watch over Baroness Verbecht, who had succeeded in
gaining her liberty from the Tombs under bail, after the discovery of
the invisible ink messages on her body by Grant and Mrs. Blank. Before
either of the spies they were watching had made a suspicious move,
reports were received from other operatives that the judgment of Grant
that Germany was preparing for a break was correct. Any number of the
lesser spies of the Kaiser in America had received orders direct from
Washington which took them to the interned ships of Austria and Germany
in all the harbors of the United States.
"Not one of these ships must be useful to the United States in the
event of war," was the order delivered to each interned boat. "Where it
is possible engines must be destroyed, otherwise the boat must be sunk.
Make plans now and when the wireless lanes are filled with dots, just
dots, then let the work commence."
Nothing could be done to prevent the consummation of this plan for
the holds of interned vessels were forbidden property to the Secret
Service under international law. So, despite the fact that it was known
from many sources that these were the orders which had been sent forth
to every Austrian and German commander who had a boat in an American
port, the best that could be done was to station operatives near every
interned boat to rush aboard the minute war was declared.
For several days Grant and Dixie had little to do except stay near the
New York offices of Heinric von Lertz. Each morning he would go there
and spend the entire day until evening then go to the Hohenzollern
Club. Apparently he had no part in any of the affairs which were
engaging the other members of the Kaiser's spy army in America. He saw
no one and received none but the most ordinary messages.
Then he suddenly became active. One evening just before he left his
office he sent a long code message to Washington. The next morning
before the message had been deciphered for Grant, Von Lertz received
a summons and went to Washington. Then he returned and started by
automobile on a trip in which he employed every dodge he could think
of, but Grant, Dixie and Sisson kept him in sight and at last found a
real clue to his plans.
The three stood in the office of a small railroad station in a suburb
of New York, firing cross-questions at the worried, frightened station
agent. For hours, they had been questioning him, at first without
result, but at last to see the gradual breaking down of his defense.
One by one he had been forced to admissions--first that he had known
the man they had shadowed to the station, Heinric von Lertz; secondly,
that he had given this man a ticket for another city, just in time to
allow him to catch the fast mail that had stopped there for orders, and
third, that he had received orders from Heinric von Lertz just before
he had boarded the train.
"What were those orders?" Harrison Grant had asked the question fifty
times. Forty-nine times the station agent had refused to answer. But
now:
"To go ahead with the plans that we had made."
"Plans for what?"
"Wiretapping."
"Where?"
"On the Pennsylvania system. Myself and several others had figured out
a system whereby we could tap the wires leading from the dispatcher's
offices, mix up the orders and cause wrecks all over the system. The
Pennsylvania is a big system. It undoubtedly will carry many soldiers
after war has been declared--and we wanted to injure it as much as
possible."
"To say nothing of causing the deaths of hundreds of American
citizens--non-combatants," said Grant angrily. Then he turned to the
telegraph key. "Read me the notes you have taken, Dixie," he ordered,
as he began to call the Criminology Club in New York, "I must send the
information into the Club and see that the other men in this conspiracy
are put under arrest."
A half hour of telegraphing, then Grant and Dixie turned again to their
prisoner.
"What other orders did Von Lertz give you before he left?"
"None."
"Are you quite sure?"
"Absolutely."
"Didn't he even leave an address where you could reach him?"
"Oh, yes--he did that."
"Where?"
"On board the interned steamer _Liebenfels_ in Charleston Harbor."
Grant sent a quick glance into the eyes of Dixie Mason. She returned
the gaze. Then the president of the Criminology Club called to Sisson,
his operative, standing just outside the door.
"Take this fellow into New York and put him in the Tombs," he ordered.
"I will not return to the club. My address for the next few days will
be Charleston, S.C."
And so it was that Dixie Mason and Harrison Grant rushed to Charleston,
to learn, if possible, the motive of Heinric von Lertz, and to seek to
forestall the impossible. And while they hurried on--
"The representative of the Secretary of State is waiting, sir," said
Bernstorff's servant. The arch-spy of Imperial Germany raised his
eyebrows.
"So soon?" he asked. "Albert"--he turned to his privy
counselor--"please be sure to remain. And you--" he addressed the
servant again--"watch for the signal. I think the gentlemen is bringing
me my passports."
And the Ambassador was right. Five minutes later, as Bernstorff
stretched forth his hand to receive the passports that meant his
expulsion from the United States, he apparently accidentally dropped
a handkerchief. And as the white cambric fluttered to the floor, the
servant, who had been waiting at the door, turned and hurried away.
On the way out, however, he paused, with displeasure written in every
line of his wrinkled face.
"It is absolutely impossible for the Ambassador to see anyone," he said
somewhat gruffly to the woman who had halted him, "he is extremely
busy."
"The Ambassador will see me--or I will know the reason why," came the
cool answer of the woman. "Tell him that Mrs. Blank is awaiting him."
"I cannot take him the message now. You must wait!"
"Very well." She walked to a couch in the ante-room. The servant
sped on with the news of his message--the news that was to flash to
every interned liner and gathering place of German spies in America.
Diplomatic relations had been broken! The Ambassador had been handed
his passports.
So it was that dots, dots, nothing but dots began to flash forth from
a private wireless--and continued to flash for eight long hours.
Speedily those dots found their way to concealed wireless receiving
stations on every interned ship in American ports, to cause a rush of
destruction as mallets, sedges--even bombs--were used upon the engines
and machinery of the great ships.
Meanwhile following the visit of the representative of the Secretary
of State, Bernstorff stared at his passports, and then turned with
asperity toward his privy counselor.
"So you have caused it at last, eh?" he asked.
"I?" Dr. Albert stared. "And what did I have to do with it?"
"Everything!" he snarled. "America would have known nothing of our
plans if it had not been for you. It was you who gave them the lead to
everything. You lost your portfolio. They found in there, the papers
that gave the Secret Service the main clue to all our activities. It
was easy for them to follow the other plans and plots after that. And
so, why should they not accuse us of wrong-doing? Oh, Albert, why were
you so foolish? Why did you allow that information to be lost?"
"And I suppose," answered Albert somewhat caustically "you have never
given any information? I----"
"I? Certainly not!"
"Be careful, Count!"
It was a woman's voice. Von Bernstorff whirled as though struck by a
bullet to look into the smiling face of Mrs. Evelyn Blank. The broker's
wife came forward.
"I really had to come to Dr. Albert's assistance," she cooed. "Really
you are not giving yourself proper credit. So I felt impelled to come
forth and say in your own behalf that undoubtedly you have given up
more information than he ever had."
Dr. Albert smiled with the corner of his mouth. Von Bernstorff gasped.
"Yes," continued Mrs. Blank, "Dr. Albert had one misfortune, but he
never fell in love with the wife of some one else. That should never be
done, and above all things you should never tell her State secrets,
especially if they are secrets which concern the country she loves. For
she might send the information to the Secret Service. I came in to say
good-bye, Count, I understand you are going away."
And still smiling, she left him standing there, his mouth open, his
eyes staring, his hands clutching. Dr. Albert appreciated even more
than Mrs. Blank the exquisite revenge which the woman had gotten for
the degradation she had undergone at the hands of her husband and the
Imperial German Ambassador. He knew that it was not for him to jeer,
that Von Bernstorff was still his master, and so he moved toward the
portieres.
"I have matters which you know of to attend to in New York," he said,
"and must be going."
"Yes, yes," said Von Bernstorff pulling himself together, "The matter
of the little fireworks to accompany our departure. By all means go."
While Albert was on his way to New York to arrange for new mischief,
Heinric von Lertz arrived in Charleston, closely followed by Grant
and Dixie. The German spy found that he was too late, for diplomatic
relations had been severed. He had come to get men for a railroad plot,
but he was now on the _Liebenfels_ striving to convince the captain
that the big liner should be sunk immediately.
"Don't be foolish," he argued. "What are you afraid of? International
law prevents any member of the Secret Service coming below decks."
"But what will happen when the ship sinks? We will have to go above
then--and take to the small boats."
"What of it? It's our ship, isn't it?"
"Yes, but there are laws against the blocking of harbors."
"Chicken heart!" sneered Von Lertz, "help me with these sea cocks!"
"Captain--captain!" It was a voice outside the door. A second later,
the frightened face of a mate showed at the opening. "There are a man
and a woman on deck who say they're from the Secret Service. They've
got harbor police with them and have arrested all the crew up there.
They want to see you----"
The Captain whirled and started for the door. Von Lertz caught at
him and failed. Then, as the door slammed, the German spy, cursing
under his breath, turned again to the opening of the sea-cocks. The
great water inlets slid open. The green water of the harbor spouted
within. Von Lertz shouted in happiness--and started for the door.
Then he gasped--the door was locked--battened from without where the
fastenings had fallen into place as the Captain had run forth! The door
was battened and from the sea-cocks the waters of Charleston Harbor
were pouring into the ship in an ever increasing flow.
Upon the deck of the _Liebenfels_, Harrison Grant and Dixie Mason had
arrested the crew and the captain of the liner. Already the boat had
begun to list slightly, from the water pouring into the hold from
the sea-cocks. And as the small boats went over the side and started
toward the shore, carrying the men who were to be accused of attempting
to block the harbor of Charleston, the one man who had caused the
disaster, stood waist deep in water in the engine room, striving vainly
to find some way of escape, dully chattering to himself in his fear.
For Heinric von Lertz, German spy, was facing death through his own
actions.
Gradually and steadily the water rose, while the spy clawed at the
tightly fastened door which separated him from the companionways and
from safety. Hurriedly he tried to force his way through the rapidly
rising water, back to the sea cocks, that he might close them again.
But impossible. The rush of water had become so great that there was no
stemming it now. He screamed in terror as he fought against the water
as though he would force it back with his bare hands. But still it
rose.
Higher and higher, to his breast, to his shoulders, to his chin--while
the henchman of Germany clawed and struggled and fought against his
fate, like some maddened animal. Then, at last, a final, spasmodic
struggle; the dim form of a weaving figure as it swayed in the water.
Then bubbles. Heinric von Lertz, murderer, incendiary, thief, and spy
for Imperial Germany, was dead.
Dead, while the arch-spies sought him in vain. Dead, while Bernstorff
and Albert gathered for their last conference. Dead, while all America
thrilled at the thought of war and while the agents of Germany made
their final plans for the last concerted blow against America under
their personal management.
They had come to New York from Washington, after bidding farewell
there. At the pier, their baggage had been loaded aboard the _Frederik
VIII_, ready for the trip to Germany, via Copenhagen, when Bernstorff
looked at his watch, then turned to Albert.
"You are sure that every preparation has been made?" he asked.
"Quite sure. I was at the shop last night and was told that they would
work all night to finish their supply of bombs."
"But you have received no report this morning?"
"No."
Bernstorff walked to the window.
"It is a grey, gloomy day," he said. "The red glow of fire would throw
quite a reflection against those clouds."
"And it would also silhouette the Statue of Liberty quite nicely."
"Yes," laughed Bernstorff, "by the way, I wonder what His Highness will
do with the Statue of Liberty when we invade America?"
"By the time our navy finishes bombarding New York, there will be
little of it left," answered Albert tersely. "But you were talking
about my bomb-makers."
"Yes." Bernstorff looked out again at the clouds. "As I said, the glow
of fires and explosions will form a pretty sight against those clouds.
It will be very nice for us to look at as we steam away. Therefore--"
and he snapped open his watch--"I would suggest that you hurry out
there for a final report and join me in the cabin of the _Frederik
VIII_."
"Very well, your excellency."
Albert departed, but did not notice that an automobile followed him as
he hurried away from the hotel.
An hour later, Dr. Albert stood in a ramshackle building at the
outskirts of town, giving his final instructions.
"Remember, that as soon as Ambassador Bernstorff and myself are safely
on board the _Frederik VIII_, you are to start a bomb campaign in the
harbor of New York that will eclipse anything ever attempted before,"
he said. "Do you understand?"
"Perfectly."
"This must be greater even than the Black Tom explosion." Dr. Albert
was insistent upon his point. "There are munitions ships on the Jersey
shore. See that each one of them receives a bomb. Their explosion alone
should wreck many of the skyscrapers in the business district of New
York and cause a panic there. And America must be made to realize that
she is fighting a stubborn enemy--one that will stop at nothing. And
you--" he pointed a finger at the captain of the bomb-throwers--"you
must be the first to demonstrate the iron will and steel fighting
spirit that will enable Imperial Germany to conquer the World!"
"It shall be done."
"Very well. The Ambassador and myself will watch for the explosions as
the _Frederik VIII_ starts on its journey across the Atlantic."
"You shall not be disappointed."
Dr. Albert bowed. Then, smiling and happy, he departed, not knowing
that from the shelter of a doorway, the keen eyes of Dixie Mason had
watched his every movement. Instead he felt quite safe, and satisfied
as his limousine rolled back toward town. He was leaving America.
Leaving after years of intrigue, of dastardly connivance against a
country that had striven to be friendly. Leaving--and in departing,
taking with him the assurance that his devilish ideas of murder and
devastation would be carried forth to the utmost, even after he no
longer took an active part.
Leaving America! The thought was in Bernstorff's mind as he stood in
his stateroom of the _Frederick VIII_. All about him were flowers and
wreaths, the gifts of pro-Germans and of misguided Americans who had
refused to believe the revelations that had been brought forth against
Germany. Crowds were about the Ambassador, who stood shaking hands with
the men and women he had met during the years of his stay in America
as Germany's Ambassador and plotter. A few crocodile tears were in his
eyes.
"No one can ever know how it grieves me to leave America!" he was
saying. "No one can ever know the aching that is in my heart that this
unpleasantness has arisen between two great countries. It was my dream
that we should have remained friends--and it shall always be my desire
never to see war come between America and Germany. Ah, America--how I
hate to leave you!" And in a large measure, Ambassador Bernstorff was
telling the truth. For had not America furnished him a most amusing
sequence of entertainment? Had not one "performance" after another been
staged for him by his hard working spies, ranging from the killing
of women and children to the mere destruction of factories, shipping
and warehouses, filled with bandages and surcease of pain for the
wounded--the stores of the Red Cross? Had he not gained amusement every
day in his statements of neutrality and friendliness, as he met the
correspondents in the Embassy? Yes, it was more than painful for him
to leave America. There would be no mass of spy code messages for him
to read each morning. There would be no morning copy of the newspaper
to gloat over--as its columns told of the destruction wrought by the
bomb-planters of the German spy system.
"Ah, America," he whined again, "how it grieves me to say goodby!"
Then he turned at the sight of Albert.
"Well?" he asked.
"Everything is arranged, your Excellency."
"Good!" Then Bernstorff turned and masked his smile with a blinking of
his crocodile-tear smeared eyes, as a new shower of flowers was tossed
at him from pro-Germans on every side. Suddenly he stared. Harrison
Grant of the Criminology Club was facing him, and holding forth a small
package.
"Since everyone is making presents, Your Excellency," said the
detective with the slightest tinge of sarcasm, "I thought it only right
that I should make one also."
He handed the package to the Ambassador. Wonderingly, Bernstorff
unfastened the string, and took the paper from the package. Then he
stared.
"Checkers!" he said wryly.
"Yes, Your Excellency," answered the president of the Criminology Club,
with a laugh, "it's your move, you know."
And before the Ambassador could reply, Harrison Grant was gone, to
reach the deck of the ship and make his way to the dock. There he saw
the hurrying form of Dixie Mason--and rushed to her.
"What's wrong?"
"A great deal. There's a plot against the harbor. Where are your men?"
"Scattered about the dock. I can gather them all up in five minutes."
"Hurry! There is no time to lose!"
A rush by Harrison Grant. A hasty summoning of members of the
Criminology Club.
Then, as the _Frederik VIII_ moved down the harbor of New York,
Harrison Grant, Sisson, Cavanaugh, Stewart, Dixie Mason and other
members of the Secret Service, leaped into automobiles, to be rushed
far into the outskirts of town.
In the mangy room of the bomb-maker, the captain was giving his final
instructions.
"Has everyone a bomb?"
"Yes."
"Very well. Remember what Dr. Albert told us--this explosion must
be greater even than the Black Tom. We must see that each bomb
accomplishes more than its object--it must be placed in such a way
that it will either start fires following the explosion or cause other
detonations as a result of its own. For instance, the munitions ships.
The explosion of the bomb will cause an explosion in the hold of the
ship where guncotton, nitro-glycerin and T.N.T. are stored. Then there
are the powder factories on the Jersey side, to say nothing of the
chemical works. See that they are all destroyed. Remember always, that
America soon is to be at war with Germany, and we must work while there
are still no provisions made for the safety of the industries. America
must be crippled even before it has a chance to enter this war. So not
one of you must fail! Now, go!"
The men crowded forth. They hurried down the stairway--into the
apparently empty hall beneath. And then----
From doorways, from beneath the stairs, from outside, from everywhere
came members of the Secret Service, to leap upon the bomb carriers, to
take them by surprise, to carry them off their feet by the suddenness
and severity of their attack. One by one they were downed. Then, three
men were sent up the stairway by Harrison Grant to capture the old
bomb-maker himself and the remainder of his supplies.
Here and there about the hall, the fight surged. Harrison Grant
suddenly swerved from his attack upon a bomb-planter, as another leaped
upon him from the rear, and, clutching his hands tight about the
detective's throat, sought to choke the life from him. Grant gagged;
his eyes bulged. He struggled to stiffen the cords of his neck against
the clutching hands from the rear. But in vain. The world began to
grow dark. He wavered--he stumbled--then suddenly felt the hands loosen
their grip as there came the cracking sound of a blow. Two arms closed
about him. Harrison Grant opened his eyes--to look into those of Dixie
Mason.
"I got him," was her simple announcement. "Hit him on the head with
the butt of my revolver. I was afraid to shoot--you both were so close
together."
"Good little Dixie!" Grant pressed her hand, then hurried to the fight
again.
But the fight was over. The bomb-planters had been subdued. Outside
there sounded the clanging of a patrol wagon. That afternoon, on the
deck of the _Frederik VIII_, Bernstorff and Albert watched in vain for
the sight of explosion or of fire. Germany's last great destructive
plot against America had failed.
Weeks later, Harrison Grant and Dixie Mason stood on the balcony of
the Criminology Club, looking down into the street below. Here, there,
everywhere, newsboys were shouting the news of the declaration of war.
From far away, came the sound of a military band. Then, marching down
the street, their files straight and clean, their arms shining brightly
in the sun, their strong, sturdy forms showing the sleek-muscled
strength that only American fighters possess, marched the crack Seventh
Regiment of New York on its spring parade. Harrison Grant watched, his
eyes gleaming happily.
"Dixie," he said at last, "I never saw anything to give me so much
happiness--and yet, so much sorrow."
"And why the sorrow?" She looked at him quickly.
"Because, now that we have finished our work for the safety of America
at home, we must part. I received this morning my Commission as a
captain in the Army Intelligency. My work will be abroad."
"And mine will be abroad also," said Dixie quietly.
"Abroad? You----?"
"In the Red Cross."
Harrison Grant laughed happily. They had stepped into the club-rooms
now, the heavy curtains of the windows falling behind them. Grant took
the hands of the girl he loved into his--and held them tight.
"Do you know----" and there was a strange little halting in his voice,
"I believe that I could make a record for myself if I only knew that--"
"What, Harry?"
"That--well, that there was a Mrs. Harrison Grant watching my progress
and----"
"Well?" Dixie was smiling. Grant slowly drew her toward him. "Well?"
she asked again.
Harrison Grant stammered.
"And--and, oh, you know what I mean!" Then, his words failing, he
looked quickly over his shoulder, saw that no one was watching, drew
the little Secret Service girl tight into his embrace--and kissed her.
THE END.
The story of "The Eagle's Eye" has been produced in motion pictures by
the Wharton Releasing Corporation.
SEE THE FILM
Transcriber's note:
Original spelling has been retained.
I have used von when the character's full name is given e.g.
Heinric von Lertz and Von when only his family name is used, with or
without a title e.g. Von Lertz, Ambassador Von Bernstorff.