There were several men in the room--Capt. William Hall of the
Admiralty's Intelligence Department, Mr. Nathan, Capt. Carter of the
War Office and Mr. Basil Thompson, Assistant Commissioner of Police.
They all looked very grave. There was one big table in the center of
the room, and on it was one little oblong piece of paper--pink paper.
One of them picked it up and held it where I could read it. A
reproduction of it was printed in the preceding installment of this
series.
"Washington, D. C., Sept. 1, 1914.
"THE RIGGS NATIONAL BANK:
"Pay to the order of Mr. Bridgeman Taylor two hundred dollars.
F. VON PAPEN."
When I had read that he turned it over for me to see the indorsement:
"Mr. Bridgeman Taylor."
"Sign your name, please--'B. H. Taylor.' Do you know that check?"
"Yes," I admitted.
"Why was it issued?"
"Von Papen gave me the money to go to Europe and join the army."
"Ah! Von Papen gave it you----"
I was doing quick thinking. That little pink check might easily be
my death warrant. In that trunkful of documents, it seemed more than
likely, were reports and instructions with my name sprinkled through
them, since that check had been there. My last chance was gone, after
all those months of bluffing.
I have sense enough to know a game is up. If people have positive
proof that you have done a thing it's no use saying you have not. I
saw one chance--and one chance only--of extricating myself. I must
make a confession. But it must be a peculiar sort of confession. To
carry conviction it must admit everything material contained in Capt.
von Papen's seized papers where my name was implicated. And, not to be
disloyal, it must admit nothing more--nothing, in other words, that
England was not already cognizant of from other sources. How to do
that--to bluff them once more, to a finish.