When Barres opened the front door he saw Renoux standing there in the
shadow of the porch, silhouetted against the starlight. They exchanged
a silent grip; Renoux stepped inside; Barres closed the front door.
"Shall I light up?" he asked in a low voice.
"No. There are complications. I've been followed, I think. Take me
somewhere near a window which commands the driveway out there. I'd
like to keep my eye on it while we are talking."
"Come on," said Barres, under his breath. He guided Renoux through the
shadowy entrance hall to the library, moved two padded armchairs to
the window facing the main drive, motioned Renoux to seat himself.
"When did you arrive?" he asked in a cautious voice.
"This morning."
"What! You got here before we did!"
"Yes. I followed Souchez and Alost. Do you know who _they_ were
following?"
"No."
"One of your guests at dinner this evening."
"Skeel!"
Renoux nodded:
"Yes. You saw them start for the train. Skeel was on the train. But
the conference at your studio delayed me. So I came up by automobile
last night."
"And you've been here all day?"
Renoux nodded, but his keen eyes were fixed on the drive, shining
silver-grey in the starlight. And his gaze continually reverted to it
while he continued speaking:
"My friend, things are happening. Let me first tell you what is the
situation. Over this entire hemisphere German spies are busy, German
intrigue and propaganda are being accelerated, treason is spreading
from a thousand foci of infection.
"In South America matters are very serious. A revolution is being
planned by the half million Germans in Brazil; the neutrality of
Argentine is being most grossly violated and Count Luxburg, the boche
Ambassador, is already tampering with Chile and other Southern
Republics.
"Of course, the Mexican trouble is due to German intrigue which is
trying desperately to involve that Republic and yours and also drag in
Japan.
"In Honolulu the German cruiser which your Government has interned is
sending out wireless information while her band plays to drown the
crackle of the instrument.
"And from the Golden Gate to the Delaware capes, and from the Soo to
the Gulf, the spies of Germany swarm in your great Republic, planning
your destruction in anticipation of the war which will surely come."
Barres reddened in the darkness and his heart beat more rapidly:
"You think it really will come?"
"War with Germany? My friend, I am certain of it. Your Government
may not be certain. It is, if you permit a foreigner to say
so--an--unusual Administration.... In this way, for example: it is
cognisant of almost everything treasonable that is happening; it
maintains agents in close contact with every mischief-hatching
German diplomat in this hemisphere; it even has agents in the German
Embassies--agents unsuspected, who daily rub elbows with German
Ambassadors themselves!
"It knows what Luxburg is doing; it is informed every day concerning
Bernstorff's dirty activities; the details of the Mexican and Japanese
affairs are familiar to Mr. Lansing; all that happens aboard the
_Geier_, the interned German liners--all that occurs in German
consulates, commercial offices, business houses, clubs, cafes,
saloons, is no secret to your Government.
"Yet, nothing has been done, nothing is being done except to continue
to collect data of the most monstrous and stupendous conspiracy that
ever threatened a free nation! I repeat that nothing is being done; no
preparation is being made to face the hurricane which has been looming
for two years and more, growing ever blacker over your horizon. All
the world can see the lightning playing behind those storm clouds.
"And, my God!--not an umbrella! Not an order for overshoes and
raincoats!... I am not, perhaps, in error when I suggest that the
Administration is an--unusual one."
Barres nodded slowly.
Renoux said:
"I am sorry. The reckoning will be heavy."
"I know."
"Yes, you know. Your great politician, Mr. Roosevelt, knows; your
great Admiral, Mahan, knew; your great General, Wood, knows. Also,
perhaps some million or more sane, clear thinking American citizens
know." He made a hopeless gesture. "It is a pity, Barres, my
friend.... Well--it is, of course, the affair of your people to
decide.... We French can only wait.... But we have never doubted your
ultimate decision.... Lafayette did not live in vain. Yorktown was not
merely a battle. Your Washington lighted a torch for your people and
for ours to hold aloft eternally. Even the rain of blood drenching our
Revolution could not extinguish it. It still burned at Gravelotte, at
Metz, at Sedan. It burned above the smoke and dust of the Commune. It
burned at the Marne. It still burns, mon ami."
"Yes."
"Alors----" He sat silent for a few moments, his gaze intent on the
starry obscurity outdoors. Then, slow and pleasantly:
"The particular mess, the cooking of which interests my Government,
the English Government, and yours, is now on the point of boiling
over. It's this Irish stew I speak of. Poor devils--they must be
crazy, every one of them, to do what they are already beginning to
do.... You remember the papers which you secured?"
"Yes."
"Well, what we did last night at Grogan's has prematurely dumped the
fat into the fire. They know they've been robbed; they know that their
plans are in our hands. Do you suppose that stops them? No! On the
contrary, they are at this very moment attempting, as you say in New
York, to beat us to it."
"How do you mean?"
"This way: the signal for an Irish attempt on Canada is to be the
destruction of the Welland Canal. You remember the German suggestion
that an ore steamer be seized? They're going to try it. And if that
fails, they're to take their power boat into the canal anyway and blow
up a lock, even if they blow up themselves with it. Did you ever hear
of such madness? Mon dieu, if only we had those men under your flag
on our western front!"
"Do you know who these men are?" asked Barres.
"Your dinner guest--Murtagh Skeel--leads this company of Death."
"When?"
"Now! To-morrow! That's why I'm here! That's why your Secret Service
men are arriving. I tell you the mess is on the point of boiling over.
The crew is already on its way to take over the launch. They're
travelling west singly, by separate trains and routes."
"Do you know who they are--these madmen?"
"Here is the list--don't strike a light! I can recall their names, I
think--some of them anyway----"
"Are any of them Germans?"
"Not one. Your German doesn't blow himself up with anything but beer.
Not he! No; he lights a fuse and legs it! I don't say he's a coward.
But self-immolation for abstract principle isn't in him. There have
been instances resembling it at sea--probably not genuine--not like
that poor sergeant of ours in 1870, who went into the citadel at Laon
and shoved a torch into the bin of loose powder under the magazine....
Because the city had surrendered. And Paris was not many miles
away.... So he blew himself up with citadel, magazine, all the
Prussians in the neighbourhood, and most of the town.... Well--these
Irish are planning something of that sort on the Welland Canal....
Murtagh Skeel leads them. The others I remember are Madigan, Cassidy,
Dolan, McBride--and that fellow Soane!----"
"Is _he_ one of them?"
"He surely is. He went west on the same train that brought Skeel here.
And now I'll tell you what has been done and why I'm here.
"We haven't located the power-boat on the lake. But the Canadians are
watching for it and your agents are following these Irishmen. When the
crew assembles they are to be arrested and their power-boat and
explosives seized.
"I and my men have no official standing here, of course--would not be
tolerated in any co-operation, _officially_. But we have a certain
understanding with certain authorities."
Barres nodded.
"You see? Very well. Then, with delicacy and discretion, we keep in
touch with Mr. Skeel.... And with other people.... You see?... He is
abed in the large house of Mr. Gerhardt over yonder at Northbrook....
Under surveillance.... He moves? We move--very discreetly. You see?"
"Certainly."
"Very well, then. But I am obliged to tell you, also, that the hunting
is not done entirely by our side. No! In turn, I and my men, and also
your agents, are being hunted by German agents.... It is that which
annoys and hampers us, because these German agents continually dog us
and give the alarm to these Irishmen. You see?"
"Who are the German agents? Do you know?"
"Very well indeed. Bernstorff is the head; Von Papen and Boy-ed come
next. Under them serve certain so-called 'Diplomatic Agents of Class
No. 1'--Adolf Gerhardt is one of them; his partners, Otto Klein and
Joseph Schwartzmeyer are two others.
"They, in turn, have under them diplomatic agents of the second
class--men such as Ferez Bey, Franz Lehr, called _K17_. You see? Then,
lower still in the scale, come the spies who actually investigate
under orders; men like Dave Sendelbeck, Johnny Klein, Louis
Hochstein, Max Freund. And, then, lowest of all in rank are the rank
and file--the secret 'shock-troops' who carry out desperate
enterprises under some leader. Among the Germans these are the men who
sneak about setting fires, lighting the fuses of bombs, scuttling
ships, defacing Government placards, poisoning Red Cross bandages to
be sent to the Allies--that sort. But among them are no battalions of
Death. _Non pas!_ And, for that, you see, they use these Irish. You
understand now?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well, then! I trust you absolutely, Barres. And so I came over to ask
you--and your clever friends, Mademoiselle Dunois, Miss Soane, Mr.
Westmore, to keep their eyes on this man Skeel to-morrow afternoon and
also to-morrow evening. Because they will be guests at the Gerhardts'.
Is it not so?"
"Yes."
"Well, your Government's agents will be there. They will also be in
the neighbourhood, watching roads and railway stations. I have one man
in service with the Gerhardts--their head chauffeur. If anything
happens--if Skeel tries to slip away--if you miss him--I would be very
grateful if you and your friends notify the head chauffeur, Menard."
"We'll try to do it."
"That's all I want. Just get word to Menard that Skeel seems to be
missing. That will be sufficient. Will you say this to your friends?"
"Yes, I will, Renoux. I'll be glad to. I'll be particularly happy to
offer to Miss Dunois this proof of your confidence in her integrity."
Renoux looked very grave.
"For me," he said, "Miss Dunois is what she pretends to be. I
have so informed my Government at home and its representatives at
Washington."
"Have you heard anything yet?"
"Yes, a telegram in cipher from Washington late this afternoon."
"Favourable to her?"
"Yes. Our Ambassador is taking up immediately the clues Miss Dunois
furnished me last night. Also, he has cabled at length to my home
Government. At this hour, no doubt, d'Eblis, Bolo, probably an
ex-minister or two, are being watched. And in this country your
Government is now in possession of facts which must suggest a very
close surveillance of the activities of Ferez Bey."
"Where is he?"
Renoux shook his head:
"He _was_ in New York. But he gave us the slip. An eel!" he added,
rising. "Oh, we shall pick up his slimy traces again in time. But it
is mortifying.... Well, thank you, mon ami. I must go." And he started
toward the hall.
"Have you a car anywhere?" asked Barres.
"Yes, up the road a bit." He glanced through the sidelight of the
front door, carelessly. "A couple of men out yonder dodging about.
Have you noticed them, Barres?"
"No! Where?"
"They're out there in the shadow of your wall. I imagined that I'd be
followed." He smiled and opened the front door.
"Wait!" whispered Barres. "You are not going out there alone, are
you?"
"Certainly. There's no danger."
"Well, I don't like it, Renoux. I'll walk as far as your car----"
"Don't trouble! I have no personal apprehension----"
"All the same," muttered the other, continuing on down the front steps
beside his comrade.
Renoux shrugged good-humouredly his disapproval of such precaution,
but made no further protest. Nobody was visible anywhere on the
grounds. The big iron gates were still locked, but the wicket was
open. Through this they stepped out onto the macadam.
A little farther along stood a touring car with two men in it.
"You see?" began Renoux--when his words were cut by the crack of a
pistol, and the red tail-light of the car crashed into splinters and
went dark.
"Well, by God!" remarked Renoux calmly, looking at the woods across
the road and leisurely producing an automatic pistol.
Then, from deeper in the thicket, two bright flames stabbed the
darkness and the crash of the shots re-echoed among the trees.
Both men in the touring car instantly turned loose their pistols;
Renoux said, in a voice at once perplexed and amused:
"Go home, Barres. I don't want people to know you are out here....
I'll see you again soon."
"Isn't there anything----"
"Nothing. Please--you would oblige me by keeping clear of this if you
really desire to help me."
There were no more shots. Renoux stepped leisurely into the tonneau.
"Well, what the devil do you gentlemen make of this?" Barres heard him
say in his cool, humorous voice. "It really looks as though the boches
were getting nervous."
The car started. Barres could see Renoux and another man sitting with
pistols levelled as the car glided along the fringe of woods. But
there were no more shots on either side, and, after the car had
disappeared, Barres turned and retraced his way.
Then, as he entered his own gate by the side wicket, and turned to
lock it with his own key, an electric torch flashed in his face,
blinding him.
"Let him have it!" muttered somebody behind the dazzling light.
"That's not one of them!" said another voice distinctly. "Look out
what you're doing! Douse your glim!"
Instantly the fierce glare faded to a cinder. Barres heard running
feet on the macadam, the crash of shrubbery opposite. But he could see
nobody; and presently the footsteps in the woods were no longer
audible.
There seemed to be nothing for him to do in the matter. He lingered by
the wicket for a while, peering into the night, listening. He saw
nothing; heard nothing more that night.