"Why didn't father stop and look for me?" demanded Kasia.

And then a light broke over Dan's face.

"He did—and found you gone. Don't you see," he went on, excitedly, "it must have been while we were fussing with that thick-headed cop. And probably, when he didn't find you, he hurried on home...."

But Kasia had already started for the stairs.

Dan paused for a last look at the recumbent figure. Suppose the man should die—suppose something had happened to the Prince—there would be the German Empire to be reckoned with, and the reckoning would be a serious one—serious for himself, for Kasia, above all for Vard! Very thoughtfully he turned away, followed Kasia down the stair, passed along the hall and through the open door. On the top step he paused and looked up and down the street. The police were not yet in sight.

With a little smile, Dan turned and pulled the door shut. Then he ran down the steps after his companion.

"Let's go the other way," he said, as she turned toward Ninth Avenue. "We may as well keep out of this. We can get the Subway just below here."

And in another moment, they had turned the corner.

* * * * *

Wherefore it happened that, when the patrolman, in company with three detectives, who had been torn away from a game of pinocle and who were consequently in no very pleasant humour, reached the centre of the block, some minutes later, there was no one in sight.

"He said he'd wait for us," said the patrolman, helplessly.

The detectives looked about them, but there was no evidence of anything unusual about any of the houses.

"Which side of the street was it on?" one of them asked.

"He didn't say," answered the patrolman.

"Well, what did he say?"

"Blamed if I know, exactly. He was so worked up—with his eyes stickin' out, and his jaw shakin', and the girl hangin' on to his arm—but it was something about kidnappin', and shootin' a man, and there bein' another prisoner to rescue...."

He stopped, for there was frank incredulity in the three pairs of eyes fastened upon him.

"He was stringin' you," said one of the detectives, at last.

"Or else he had a jag," said another.

"Dope, more likely," suggested the third. "Look here, Hennessey, don't you ever git us up here again with no such cock-and-bull story! Come on, boys!"

They left Hennessey rubbing his head helplessly and staring at the houses, one after another. He wasn't at all convinced that the strange youth had been "stringing" him—his excitement had too evidently been genuine; but if he was on the square, why had he run away?

"Oh, hell!" said Hennessey, finally, and returned to his post at the corner.

* * * * *

And it was about that time that the 'phone at the German consulate rang, and a pleasant voice advised that a physician be sent at once to the house just off Ninth Avenue, as his services were badly needed there.



CHAPTER XXX

COUNCIL OF WAR

When Paris opened her eyes on the morning of Thursday, the twelfth of October, it was to rejoice at one of those soft and beautiful days of autumn which make of every house a dungeon to be escaped at the first possible moment. Even as early as nine o'clock, a perceptible tide had set in toward the Bois de Boulogne, or, rather, innumerable little tides, which converged at the Place de la Concorde and rolled on along the Champs-Elysees in one mighty torrent.

Against this torrent, a sturdy and energetic figure fought its way across the square; a figure carefully arrayed in black morning-coat and grey trousers, and looking alertly about with a pair of very bright eyes magnified by heavy glasses. The haughtiest of the carriage-crowd felt honoured by his bow, for it was none other than that great diplomat, Theophile Delcasse, Minister of Marine.

M. Delcasse was not in the habit of being abroad so early; it was a full hour before his usual time; but he had an appointment to keep which he regarded as most important, so he strode rapidly across the square, entered the handsome building to the north of it, and mounted to the first floor, where, on the corner overlooking the square on one side and the Rue Royale on the other, he had his office.

Early as it was, he found awaiting him the man whom he wished to see—a thin wisp of a man, with straggling white beard and a shock of white hair and a face no wider than one's hand, but lighted by the keenest eyes in the world—in a word, Louis Jean Baptiste Lepine, Prefect of Police, to whom full justice has not been done in this story—nor in any other. M. Lepine had not found the hour early; to him, all hours were the same, for he was a man who slept only when he found the time, which was often not at all.

"Good morning, my dear Prefect," said Delcasse, drawing off his gloves. "I trust I have not kept you waiting?"

"I but just arrived," Lepine assured him; "and I know of no better place to pass one's idle moments than at this window of yours."

Beyond it stretched the great square, with its obelisk and circle of statues, its pavilions and balustrades; beautiful now, and peaceful, but peopled with ghastly memories—for it was here the Revolution set up its guillotine, and it was here that some four thousand men and women, high and low, looked their last upon this earth, mounted the scaffold and passed under the knife. Surely, if any spot on earth be haunted, it is this!

Something of this, perhaps, was in the minds of these two men, as they stood for a moment looking down into the square, for their faces were very thoughtful; then Delcasse's eyes travelled from one to another of the heroic figures representing the great towns of France—Lyons, Marseilles, Brest, Rouen, Bordeaux, Nantes, Lille—and came to rest upon the last one, Strasbourg, hung with black and piled with mourning garlands, in memory of the lost Alsace. Every morning, before he turned to the day's work, M. Delcasse, standing at this window, gazed at that statue, while he registered anew the vow that those garlands should one day be replaced by wreaths of victory! That vow was his orison.

His lips moved silently as he made it now, then he turned to his desk.

"Be seated, my dear Lepine," he said. "I have much to discuss with you, as you may guess. First about La Liberte. My Board of Inquiry will be ready to report by Saturday. It has decided that the explosion was caused by the spontaneous combustion of the 'B' powder, as was the case with the Jena."

"That theory will do as well as any other," said Lepine, curtly. "But you and I know that it is not the true one."

Delcasse looked at him quickly.

"Have you any news?" he asked.

"None," answered Lepine, with a frown. "The man we sought has vanished as completely as though the earth had swallowed him. I have found no trace of him since he left the office of the Messrs. Cook, with two passages for America in his pocket. I cannot understand it."

"Have the tickets been returned?"

"They have not been returned, and the Messrs. Cook, making inquiry at my suggestion, have a report from the steamship company that they have not been used."

Delcasse turned this over in his mind.

"Perhaps the man and his daughter have met with some accident."

"We should have heard of it," Lepine objected. "I have scrutinised every report—viewed every body which at all resembled him."

"Then," said Delcasse, "he has been suppressed, as one who knew too much."

"My own opinion is," said the Prefect, "that he has sought refuge in Germany, until he can prepare for another demonstration against France."

The Minister moved uneasily in his chair.

"I have thought of that," he said, "and I am doing everything I can to render such an attempt impossible—but it is a hard task—one can never be sure. There is another thing I wished to ask you. Where is Crochard?"

"I do not know, sir. I have not seen him since that morning at Toulon when we parted outside the Hotel du Nord."

"Then he, too, has disappeared?"

"Yes, sir, completely."

"Has it never occurred to you, Lepine, to connect these two disappearances?"

"Yes, I did connect them. You will remember in the note he left for me he stated that he hoped soon to have some good news for us. But when more than two weeks elapse and we hear nothing, I am forced to conclude that he, too, has been baffled."

"Yes, it was for me a hope, also—almost my only one," said Delcasse. "I did not believe that he could fail. And if he has failed, do you know what it means for France, Lepine? It means destruction. Oh, I have spent sleepless nights, I have racked my brain! Germany's attitude is that of a nation which desires war and which is ready to provoke it. You know, of course, how strained the situation is?"

"About Morocco?"

"Yes. It has come to this: France and Germany are like two duellists, face to face, sword in hand. Either they must fight, or one must retreat—and with dishonour!"

"France cannot retreat," murmured Lepine.

"I have said the same thing a hundred times; and yet, at the bottom of my heart, I know we cannot fight—not while this cloud of uncertainty hangs over us. To fight, with this power in the hands of Germany, would mean more than defeat—it would mean annihilation. There would be other statues to be draped with black!"

Delcasse's face was livid; he removed his glasses and polished them with a shaking hand, and, for the first time, Lepine saw his bloodshot eyes. Delcasse noticed his glance, and laughed grimly.

"Only to you, Lepine, do I dare to show them," he said. "Before others, I must crush this fear in my heart, bite it back from my lips; I must appear unconcerned, confident of the issue. Only to you may I speak freely. That is one reason I called you here. I felt that I must speak with some one. Lepine, I foresee for France a great humiliation."

Lepine looked at his companion with real concern.

"You exaggerate," he said. "You have been brooding over it too long."

Delcasse shook his head.

"I do not exaggerate. This thing is so terrible that it cannot be exaggerated. Even at this moment, Germany is preparing the blow. For the past week, she has been extraordinarily active. Her fleets have coaled hurriedly and put out to sea—for manoeuvres, it is said; but this is not the season for manoeuvres. Her shipyards have been cleared of all civilians, and a cordon of troops posted about each one. The garrison of every fortress along the frontier has been at least doubled, and the most rigid patrol established. The police regulations are being enforced with the greatest severity. Every city of the frontier swarms with spies; even here in Paris we are not safe from them—my desk was rifled two nights ago. I live in dread that any day, any hour, may bring the news of some fresh disaster!"

"And do our men learn nothing?"

"Nothing! Nothing! All they can tell me is that something is preparing, some blow, some surprise. Whatever the secret, it is well kept; so well that it can be known only to the Emperor and one or two of his ministers. We have tried every means, we have exhausted every resource, all in vain. We know, in part, what is being done; of the purpose back of it we know nothing. But we can guess—the purpose is war; it can be nothing else!"

Lepine sat silent and contemplated the rugged face opposite him—the face which told by its lined forehead, its worried eyes, its savage mouth, of the struggles, rebuffs, and disappointments of thirty years. Always, out of disaster, this man had risen unconquered. Upon his shoulders now was placed the whole of this terrific burden. He alone, of the whole cabinet, was fit to bear it; beside him, the others were mere pigmies: Premier Caillaux, an amiable financier; Foreign Minister de Selves, a charming amateur of the fine arts; War Minister Messimy, an obscure army officer with a love for uniforms; Minister of Commerce Couyba, a minor poet, tainted with decadence—above all these, Delcasse loomed as a Gulliver among Lilliputians. But greatness has its penalties. While the Minister of Foreign Affairs spent his days in collecting plaques, and the Minister of War his in strutting about the boulevards, and the Minister of Commerce his in composing verses, Delcasse laboured to save his country—laboured as a colossus labours, sweating, panting, throwing every fibre of his being into the struggle—which was all the more trying, all the more terrific, because he felt that it must go against him!

"What would you suggest, Lepine?" Delcasse asked, at last. "Is there any source of information which you can try?"

Lepine shook his head doubtfully.

"It is not a question of expense," Delcasse went on, rapidly. "A million francs would not be too much to pay for definite information. We have spent that already! We have had a Prince babbling in his cups; we have had I know not how many admirals and generals and diplomats confiding in their suddenly complaisant mistresses; we have searched their hearts, shaken them inside out—but they know nothing. Such and such orders have been issued; they obey the orders, but they do not know their purpose. They all talk war, shout war—Germany seems mad for war—and the government encourages them. Their inspired journals assert over and over that Germany cannot recede—that its position is final—that hereafter it must be paramount in Morocco. And to-day—or to-morrow at the latest—France must send her ultimatum."

"What will it be?"

"God knows!" and Delcasse tugged at his ragged moustache. "If it were not for one thing, Lepine, I should not hesitate, I should not fear war. France is ready, and England is at least sympathetic. But there is La Liberte. What if Germany can treat our other battleships as she treated that one? Yes, and England's, too! And if our battleships, why not our forts, our arsenals ... Lepine," and Delcasse's lips were twitching, "I say to you frankly that, for the first time in my life, I have fear!" He fell a moment silent, playing nervously with a paper-knife he had snatched up from his desk. "What would you suggest?" he asked again.

And again Lepine shook his head.

"What can I suggest!" he protested. "Where you have failed, what is there I can do?"

The knife snapped in Delcasse's fingers, and he hurled the fragments to the floor.

"There is one thing you can do," he said. "Find Crochard and bring him to me."

Lepine arose instantly.

"I will do my best," he said, reaching for his hat. "If he is in France, rest assured...."

There was a tap at the door, and it opened softly.

"I am not to be disturbed!" snapped the Minister, and then he stopped, staring.

For there appeared on the threshold the immaculate figure, the charming and yet impressive countenance, for a sight of which the great Minister had been longing; and then his heart leaped suffocatingly, for with the first figure was a second—a man with white hair and flaming eyes and thin, eager face....

As Delcasse sprang to his feet, Crochard stepped forward.

"M. Delcasse," he said, "it gives me great pleasure to introduce to you a gentleman whom I know you will be most glad to meet——Ignace Vard."



CHAPTER XXXI

THE ALLIANCE ENDS

Delcasse's nostrils were distended and his eyes were glowing like those of a war-horse scenting battle as he invited his visitors to be seated. Only his iron self-control, tested on I know not how many hard-fought fields of diplomacy, enabled him to speak coherently; never had it been strained as at that moment.

He sat down at his desk, and glanced from one face to the other.

"I am indeed glad to meet M. Vard," he said, with a calmness that was no less than a triumph; "and to see you again, M. Crochard. I had but this moment charged M. Lepine to bring you to me."

"Is it so serious as that?" asked Crochard, with a little smile.

"The situation could not well be more serious."

"You refer, I suppose, to the Moroccan situation."

"Yes. France must fight, or yield to Germany."

Again Crochard smiled.

"No, no," he protested; "it is Germany which will yield!"

Delcasse bounded in his chair, as his eye caught the glance which Crochard bent upon him.

"I knew it," he said, his face white as marble. "I guessed it—and yet I scarcely dared believe it. But the moment you entered, bringing M. Vard...."

"M. Vard is a very great inventor," said Crochard. "He offered his services to Germany, and she betrayed him; he now offers his services to France."

Delcasse glanced at the little man who sat there so still, so fragile, with eyes which gleamed so fiercely and lips that trembled with emotion; and he shivered a little at the thought that here was the man who had struck a terrible blow at France.

"I can see what you are thinking," Vard burst out. "You will pardon me, if I speak English? I am more familiar with it than with French. I see what you are thinking. You are thinking, 'Here is the miscreant, the scoundrel, who destroyed our battleship!' Well, it is true. I am a scoundrel—or I should be one if I permitted that deed to go unrevenged. I was betrayed, sir, as this gentleman has said. I offered to Germany the leadership among nations. But the Emperor is consumed with personal ambition—his one desire to exalt his house, to establish it more firmly. Instead of leading, he wished to conquer. I refused to be his tool. Thereupon I was deceived by a trick, I was imprisoned—I and my daughter also. We were threatened with I know not what—with starvation, with torture—but this gentleman rescued us, and I came here with him in order to place before France the same proposal I made to Germany."

Delcasse had listened closely; but he was plainly confused and astonished.

"Before going further," he suggested, "I should very much like to hear M. Crochard's story. There is much about this extraordinary affair which I do not understand—and I desire to understand everything. Will you not begin at the beginning, my friend?"

"It was very simple," said Crochard, and told briefly of the pursuit, of the encounters on the Ottilie, and of the final struggle in New York. "After our escape," he concluded, "we hastened to M. Vard's residence, where, as I anticipated, his daughter and that admirable M. Webster whom she loves, soon joined us. It was a most happy reunion, and in the end, M. Webster forgave me for the theft of the little box. Of our plans we said nothing, except that M. Vard was journeying back with me to Paris, and we were aboard the Lusitania when she sailed next morning. We arrived at Liverpool last night, and here we are!"

Lepine's face was shining with a great enthusiasm.

"Permit me to congratulate you, sir," he said. "It was finely done. I realise that the more deeply because I myself was completely baffled; and yet it should have occurred to me that the Captain of the Ottilie might wish to deceive me. My theory was, however, that the tickets had been purchased to throw me off the scent. M. Vard had, of course, as I supposed, sought refuge in Germany. Even yet I do not understand why he should have gone to America."

The remark was, in a way, addressed to the inventor, but he had fallen into revery and paid no heed to it.

"He is often like that," said Crochard, in rapid French. "I suspect that something is wrong here," and he touched his forehead. "The trip to America was, as I understand it, a matter of sentiment with him. He insisted that this great treaty, which was to bring about world-wide peace and the brotherhood of man, should be signed on American soil."

"He is really in earnest about that treaty?" asked Delcasse. "He is not a mercenary?"

"Mercenary? Far from it, sir. Why, M. Delcasse, he was asked to choose his own reward, and he refused. He is utterly in earnest—he asks nothing for himself. And I believe his idea practicable. I hope that you will consider it carefully, sir. The Emperor refused because of his conditions. One was the reconstitution of Poland—he is himself a Pole. The other was the restoration of Alsace-Lorraine to France. Pachmann did at last agree to give up Poland—and to make him King of it, if he chose!—but the other condition was too much for him. Besides, he thought the game was in his hands—he saw his Emperor ruler of the world! Permit me to outline for you the plan of this remarkable man."

And clearly but briefly, Crochard laid before the astonished Minister the plan for world-wide disarmament, for universal peace, for the freeing of subject peoples, for the restoration of conquered territory, and for the gradual establishment of representative government, to the exclusion of all hereditary rulers, great and small.

"And I see no reason," Crochard concluded, "why France should hesitate to give herself wholeheartedly to this plan. With all of these things she is in sympathy; 'Liberty, Equality, Fraternity' has been her watchword for a hundred years. Once we regain Alsace-Lorraine, we can be well-content to lay down our arms. I believe that we can secure the support of the United States and perhaps of England. To the United States, a project so idealistic would be certain to appeal; and as for England, she is terrified at heart, she fears the future, she staggers under the burden of her great armaments——which yet are not great enough. Yes, we could win England!"

Delcasse had listened with gleaming eyes, all the dreamer within him afire at the splendid vision which Crochard's words evoked.

"You are right!" he cried, and sprang to his feet and approached the inventor, his hands outstretched. "M. Vard," he said, "on behalf of France, I accept your proposal!"

Vard was on his feet also, and his whole frame was shaking.

"You are sincere?" he stammered, peering into Delcasse's eyes. "You are in earnest? You are not deceiving me?"

"No!" said Delcasse, solemnly. "I am not deceiving you. I swear it, on my honour. France will be proud to take her place at the head of this great movement." And then he stopped, and a shadow flitted across his face. "There is but one condition," he added. "You must prove to us that this power really exists."

"I agree to that!" cried Vard, eagerly. "I agree to that—yes, yes, I even wish it. Any proof, any test—it shall be yours to choose. And remember—the Germans were not merciful!"

"I shall remember!" said Delcasse hoarsely, his face quivering; and he caught himself away and stood for a moment at the window, struggling for self-control. Through the square below all Paris poured, on its way to drive in the Bois, careless, happy, all unconscious of the crisis in its country's history which the moment marked. And then, by habit, Delcasse's eyes wandered to that great statue by Pradier, with the pile of mourning wreaths before it....

"I have chosen!" he said, in a choked voice. "The test shall be made at Strasbourg!"

The inventor bowed.

"If I may retire," he said, "I will begin my preparations at once. I shall need to work for a day, or perhaps two days, in some well-equipped wireless laboratory. All other arrangements I shall leave to you. It will be necessary to secure two stations in sight of the arsenal, and within five miles of it, where we can work without fear of being disturbed."

"I will attend to all that," agreed Delcasse, and touched a bell. "If General Marbeau is in his office," he added to his secretary, "please say that I wish to see him at once."

* * * * *

The door had closed behind the French Chief of Wireless and the white-haired enthusiast, and for a moment the three men who were left behind gazed at each other in silence.

"Do you believe in this power?" asked Delcasse, at last.

"There was La Liberte," Crochard reminded him.

"True," and the Minister fell silent again.

"To attack the fort at Strasbourg will not be easy," said Crochard, at last. "The Germans are no doubt already on their guard."

Delcasse smote his forehead with his open palm.

"That is it!" he cried. "Lepine, that is the explanation! It is not for war they prepare; it is in terror they withdraw their fleets into mid-ocean and throw cordons of soldiers about their forts! At this moment, in spite of their bold front, the Emperor and his ministers are trembling! For of course they know that Pachmann failed—and that we succeeded!"

"Undoubtedly," Crochard agreed. "Pachmann would notify the Emperor of his failure as soon as he regained consciousness!"

"Not a pleasant task," chuckled Delcasse. "He has my pity. What happened to the Prince?"

"The Prince was released next morning."

"You have friends, then, in New York?" asked Lepine, curiously.

"I have friends everywhere," answered Crochard quietly.

"When I think of the Kaiser trembling!" cried Delcasse. "Ah, what anguish must be his! I have tasted it, and I know!"

Crochard took from his coat a long pocket-book.

"This belonged to Admiral Pachmann," he said. "I paused long enough to secure it, because it contained a document which I was most anxious to possess. It will interest you, sir," and he drew out a black-sealed envelope and passed it to Delcasse.

The latter opened it, took out the stiff sheet of paper he found within, read it, re-read it, and then stared at Crochard stupefied.

"That is what one might call an imperial power of attorney," said Crochard, with a little laugh. "It is sufficiently comprehensive, is it not?"

"It is unbelievable!" cried Delcasse, and handed the paper to Lepine. "And this was really given by the Emperor to Pachmann?"

"I see no reason to doubt it. Though," Crochard added, with a smile, "I am of the opinion that Pachmann put it to uses and went to lengths which the Emperor did not contemplate—perhaps would have forbidden."

Delcasse's eyes were glowing with an infernal joy.

"That does not matter," he said. "That was because his hand was forced. It is the Emperor who is responsible—it is a risk he took. If he chose his instrument badly, it is he who must suffer for it. You permit me to retain this paper?"

"Certainly. Use it as you think best for France!"

Delcasse was out of his chair, striding up and down the room.

"So the wheel has turned!" he cried. "You may not remember it, M. Crochard—to you it may have seemed a small thing—but six years ago, the Emperor caused me to be driven from the foreign office because I did and said certain things which displeased him. Such was his power even here in Paris! You will scarcely credit it, but so it was. And now it is my turn! With this in my hand, all things are possible! He must have been mad to put his hand to such a paper—but, after all, it does not astonish me. He is always doing mad things; he has no balance, no self-control. Ten years ago, with an imprudent telegram, he almost plunged his country into war with England—and at a moment, too, when it was wholly unprepared! Two years ago, a wild speech of his brought Germany to the brink of revolution. Last year, he nearly upset his empire by an indiscreet interview which was suppressed just in time. He is always in hot water, but heretofore his good fortune has been amazing. He has always succeeded in extricating himself. This time, it seems, he has tempted the gods once too often——the game is in our hands. Our ultimatum I will prepare to-day, and I will invite to my office the German ambassador, and I will hand him that ultimatum, and I will say certain things to him which have long been biting at my throat for utterance, and then I will give him a glimpse of this document, and finally I will send him away. Ah, there will be consternation at Berlin to-night!" Suddenly Delcasse stopped in front of Crochard's chair. "My friend," he said, in another tone, "you have saved France. You must name your own reward. I grant it, before you ask it."

"Well, yes," said Crochard, smiling, "I shall not refuse. At Toulon, on the quay opposite the spot where lies the wreck of La Liberte, a friend of mine conducts a cafe. It was he who noticed the two Germans—it was he who gave me my first clue. So he deserves a reward on his own account. He is an honest man, who has suffered unjustly. Four years ago he was condemned to prison for killing the betrayer of his daughter. He is called Samson. M. Lepine will no doubt recall the circumstances."

"I recall them very well," said Lepine. "Samson escaped the day after he was sentenced. I could find no trace of him, until I saw him at Toulon."

"But you did not arrest him!" said Crochard quickly.

"I promised to take no action until you and I had talked together."

"Thank you, M. Lepine," said Crochard warmly. "I have always respected you as a man of your word. It was I who assisted Samson to escape, since his punishment seemed to me undeserved; it was I who secured false papers for him and established him at Toulon. He has done well, but he dare not have his family with him. He loves his family, and without them he finds life sad. M. Delcasse, you have told me to name a reward—I ask that Samson may be pardoned."

"It is granted," said Delcasse, in a low voice; "but is there nothing else? Is there nothing I can do for you, my friend?"

Crochard had arisen and he and the great Minister stood face to face.

"Yes, there is something, sir," he said, "which you can do for me, and which will make me very proud. You are a great man, and I admire you. There are not many men to whom I raise my hat; but I salute you, sir, and I hope you will accept my hand!"

Delcasse's hand shot out and seized Crochard's and held it close.

"It is I who am honoured!" he said thickly.

But at the end of a moment, Crochard drew his hand away.

"Do not idealise me, sir," he said. "I am outside the law; you and I go different ways. If for once, M. Lepine and I have worked together, it was because France demanded it. We admire each other; we have found that we possess certain qualities in common. But now I have done my part; the rest is in your hands. So I say adieu; our alliance is over; we are enemies again—"

"Not enemies," broke in Delcasse, quickly. "Antagonists perhaps; but not enemies. I wish—"

"No, do not wish," said Crochard. "My life satisfies me. I have a certain work to do, and I am happy in doing it. But I accept your word—henceforth we are antagonists, not enemies. Adieu, sir."

The door closed, and Delcasse, dropping heavily into his chair, gazed mutely into Lepine's inscrutable eyes.



CHAPTER XXXII

STRASBOURG

A Mile or two back from the Rhine, on the banks of the Ill, stands the fair city of Strasbourg. Once she was proud as well as fair; but her pride has been trailed in the dust. For four centuries a free city, defending herself virgin-like against all comers, for two centuries more the happy capital of the loveliest of French provinces, she has borne for forty years the chain of the conqueror and bowed her head beneath the lash. But she is French still—French to the very core of her; and though her hands are bound, her soul is free!

The oldest part of the town has changed but little with the centuries. There are the narrow crooked streets, the tall half-timbered houses with their many-dormered roofs, and there is the grey Minster, which has looked down on the city through all her fortunes. To the north lie the newer quarters of the town, spick and span, and to the south are great arsenals and barracks, guarded by a mighty fortification.

For Strasbourg is now one of the great strongholds of the German Empire. Haunted by the fear that France may one day come pouring up from the south to regain her lost city, the engineers of the Kaiser have laboured with their every talent for her defence. Far-flung, a circle of fourteen forts girdles her round, and within them rampart follows rampart, culminating in the mighty citadel.

What hope can an army, however great, have of capturing such a place? In the mind of every German engineer there is but one adjective, and always one, associated with it—impregnable.

And yet, in this mid-month of October, there was in the air a feeling of uneasiness, impalpable, not to be defined or even spoken of—but present, ever-present. From far-distant posts of the Empire, troops had been hurried southward, until the usual garrison of fifteen thousand men had been more than doubled. Every rampart was manned, every wall had its sentry, and through the streets patrols moved constantly, their gaze directed at the house-tops. Their orders were to see that no one stretched a wire to any building; to arrest any one found doing so, and send him at once to Berlin, under guard.

The restaurants, the hotels, the cafes—every place where crowds assembled—swarmed with strangers, speaking French, it is true, but with an accent which, to acute ears, betrayed their origin and made one wonder at their pro-Gallic sentiments. The French and German residents of the town drew imperceptibly apart, grew a little more formal, ceased the exchange of friendly visits. No one knew what was about to happen, but every one felt that a crisis of some sort was at hand.

The commandant changed, in those days, from a bluff, self-confident and brave soldier to a shrunken craven, trembling at shadows. If he had known where the danger lay, or what it was, he would have met it valiantly enough; but he knew scarcely more than did his humblest soldier. He knew that the peril was very great; he knew that at any moment his magazines might blow up beneath his feet; he knew that what he had to guard against was the stringing of wires, the establishment of a wireless plant. Every stranger must be watched, his registration investigated, his baggage at all times kept under surveillance. A stranger carrying a bundle in the streets must always be followed. Every resident receiving a roomer, a boarder, or even a guest from another city must make immediate return to the police.

How many times had the commandant read these instructions! And always, at the last, he read twice over the paragraph at the bottom of the sheet, underlined in red:

"At all hours of the day or night, two operators will be on duty at every wireless station, their receivers at their ears, their instruments adjusted. Should they perceive any signal which they are unable to explain, especially a series of measured dashes, they will report the same immediately to the commandant, who will turn out his entire command and cause a thorough search to be made at once of all house-tops, hills and eminences of every sort within a radius of five miles. All wires whose use is not fully apparent will be torn down and all persons having access to such wires will be arrested and held for interrogation. SHOULD THE SERIES OF SIGNALS BEGIN A SECOND TIME, ALL MAGAZINES WILL AT ONCE BE FLOODED."

This last sentence, printed in capitals to give it emphasis, the commandant at Strasbourg could not understand. To flood the magazines meant the loss of a million marks; besides, why should it be necessary? What possible danger could threaten those great ammunition store-houses, buried deep beneath walls of granite, protected from every conceivable mishap, and whose keys hung always above his desk? He was completely baffled; worse than that, he felt himself shaken and unnerved in face of this mysterious peril.

* * * * *

A copy of this order was sent to every fortress in Germany, and it is therefore not remarkable that, three days after it was issued, it should be in the hands of M. Delcasse. He read it with a lively pleasure. He was beginning to enjoy life again. He knew that the tone of his ultimatum had astonished the German ambassador; but he also knew that, while the German press still talked of the national honour and of Germany's duty to Morocco, the inner circle about the Emperor was distinctly ill at ease. The Emperor himself had been invisible for some days, and was reported to be suffering with a severe cold.

After reading the order, Delcasse summoned Marbeau.

"How do your plans shape themselves?" he asked.

"Admirably, sir," answered the wireless chief. "We shall be ready to start to-morrow."

"When is the test to take place?"

"If everything goes well, one week from yesterday, at noon."

"You must use great care. The Germans are on their guard. Here is something that will interest you."

Marbeau took the order and read it carefully.

"If the magazines are flooded," Delcasse pointed out, "we can do nothing."

"It will be something to have occasioned the destruction of so much ammunition," Marbeau rejoined; "but we are not taking that chance. All our instruments will be tuned and tested before we start. The Germans will hear those signals but once."

A little tremour passed across Delcasse's face.

"You believe in this invention?" he asked. "You have investigated it?"

Marbeau shrugged his shoulders.

"I know nothing more of it than you do, sir. M. Vard tells me nothing, shows me nothing, persists in working alone. He is most jealous of it. But yes—I believe; when I remember the twenty-fifth of September, I cannot but believe!"

Delcasse was pacing to and fro, his hands behind him.

"Sometimes I doubt, Marbeau," he said. "Sometimes I doubt. The destruction of La Liberte may have been one of those strange coincidences which sometimes happen. And sometimes I hesitate; sometimes I draw back before the idea of this demonstration. For Morocco we no longer need it; I have in my possession a paper which will win that battle for us. But then, when I falter, the thought of France's future nerves me. So I stand aside and let the test proceed. But I warn you again, Marbeau, to be most careful. Do not neglect to provide a way of escape. Failure this time is of little consequence—we can always try again; but under no circumstances must this machine fall into the hands of Germany; and for you and for Vard it must be death before capture. He must not be taken alive."

"I understand, sir," said Marbeau, quietly.

"If you think Strasbourg too difficult, it is not too late to draw back. It was, perhaps, unwise for me to select it."

"The more difficult it is, the more will it dismay the enemy," Marbeau pointed out. "Let us try Strasbourg, at least. If we fail there, we can try again somewhere else."

"Well, I agree. Remember, you are not to spare expense."

"We have had to purchase two houses in order to be quite secure."

"Purchase a dozen, if you need them. The date, you say—"

"Is one week from yesterday."

"And the hour?"

"The hour of noon."

Delcasse turned to the day on his desk calendar, and wrote a large "12" upon it.

"Adieu, then, Marbeau," he said, and held out his hand. "My prayers go with you!"

* * * * *

Fronting on the Zurichstrasse, some half mile from the arsenal at Strasbourg, stands a great tobacco manufactory, covering two blocks and employing a thousand people. These men and women and children live for the most part in the crooked little streets of the neighbourhood, for the hours of work are long, and to walk back and forth from a distance not to be thought of. When a family has managed to scrape together a little capital, more often than not the head of it opens a tiny shop, while the younger members keep on working at the factory until the business has established itself. Then the family takes a step upward in social grade.

In a little room back of such a shop in the Hennenstrasse, on the morning of a day late in October, three men sat down to breakfast. It was a silent meal, for each of the three was preoccupied. They were roughly dressed in the blouses and coarse trousers of labourers, and their faces were covered with a week's stubble of beard. One was white-haired, old, and seemingly very feeble; but the other two were in the prime of life. At last the meal was finished, and the two younger men pushed back their chairs and looked at each other; then they looked at their companion, who, with vacant eyes, was staring at the opposite wall so intently that the other two involuntarily glanced around at it.

"It is time for you to go, Lieutenant," said one of the men, in a low voice. "Tell me again what you have to do, so that I may be sure there is no mistake."

"What I have to do is this, General," said the other: "from here, I go to the house we know of, taking a circuitous route, loitering on the way, and making certain that I am not followed. If I find myself followed, I will pass this shop, dropping my handkerchief in front of it and then turning back to pick it up. If I am not followed, I enter the other house, mount to the roof and make sure that everything is in order. At ten minutes to twelve, I hoist into place the two arms to which our wires are secured, stretching them tight by means of the winch which we have provided, and then I at once start the clockwork. I then descend, make my way to the tram-station, and take a third-class ticket to Colmar, where I will await you at Valentin's cabaret. If you do not arrive by sundown, I am to go on to Paris to make my report."

"That is right. You have your passport?"

"Yes."

"Let me see your watch."

They compared watches and found that they both showed twenty minutes past ten.

"Adieu, then," said the elder man; "and let there be no failure."

"Trust me, General!" and the Lieutenant saluted and went out through the shop.

"And now, M. Vard," said Marbeau, in a low tone, "the hour has come."

The old man nodded, and together they left the room. Marbeau stopped to secure the door, then followed Vard up to the first landing, where there was another heavy door, which the Frenchman also bolted; so with the next landing and the next. He smiled grimly as he thought of M. Delcasse's warning to leave open a road of escape! He had, indeed, provided such a road, but he carried it in his pocket.

At last they stood in a tiny room under the ridge of the roof. It was lighted by a single dormer, and, looking out through this, one could see over the house-tops, half a mile away, the grim wall of the arsenal. Before the dormer stood a table, to which was bolted a metal framework, supporting the box, with its sides of glass half-covered with tin-foil. It was mounted on a pivot, and from it two heavy wires ran to a key such as telegraphers use, and then down to a series of powerful batteries standing on the floor.

"You are sure it is all right?" asked Marbeau, almost in a whisper.

For answer, Vard closed a switch, opened the key and then depressed it slowly. There was a crackle of electricity, and a low humming like that of a giant top.

"No, no!" gasped Marbeau, and snatched the switch open.

The inventor smiled.

"There is no danger," he said, "until the other current is turned on."

Marbeau's face was livid and beaded with perspiration. He wiped it with a shaking hand.

"Nevertheless you startled me," he said. "The sound the machine makes has a frightful menace in it!" Then he looked at his watch. "It is now eleven."

Vard nodded, and bent again above his apparatus, touching it here and there with the touch of a lover—tightening a wire, examining a contact, testing the vibrator....

His usual pale face was flaming with excitement, and his eyes shone with a strange fire.

Marbeau glanced at him uneasily, then stared out at the grey wall of the arsenal. Upon its summit a sentry walked to and fro with the precision of a machine. High above him flapped the imperial flag of Germany, displaying its eagles and complacent motto. Marbeau, like every Frenchman, considered that flag an insult, for the lower arm of its cross bore the date "1870," and he stared out at it now, dreaming of the future, dreaming of the day when France should tear it down....

Vard touched him on the arm.

"I should like to see the plan of the fort again," he said.

Marbeau opened his shirt, and from a little oilskin bag produced a square of tracing-paper. He unfolded it and handed it to the inventor.

"This is the side toward us," he said. "There are the magazines, the main one being here in the centre."

With a nod of understanding, Vard carried the drawing to the window and compared it carefully with the stretch of wall, swinging his pivoted machine from side to side to be sure that its range was ample. Then he refolded the map and returned it to Marbeau.

"It must be almost the hour," he said.

With a start, Marbeau pulled out his watch. It showed fifteen minutes to twelve. Then, watch in hand, he stood gazing out at the bastion. Four minutes passed, five, six, seven....

Suddenly from the fort came the deep boom of an alarm gun. A minute later, a file of men appeared upon the summit of the bastion; a gate, away to the right, swung open and an armed battalion marched out at the double-quick.

"The signal!" gasped Marbeau. "It is the signal! Their wireless men have picked it up!"

Again the alarm gun boomed sullenly, and they could hear the faint, shrill calling of a bugle. Then came the distant thunder of the answering guns from the forts about the town; from the streets rose excited voices, the clatter of running feet....

One minute—two—three—

"Now!" said Marbeau, snapped shut his watch and thrust it into his pocket.

Vard, his face twitching, closed the switch and touched the key. Again came the sharp crackle of flame, the deep hum of the vibrator. Marbeau, the marrow frozen in his bones but with the sweat pouring from his face, stared out—and then, close beside him, came a white burst of flame—the horrible odour of burning flesh—

He jerked around to see Vard fallen forward above the table, while about his hands played those livid tongues of fire....

* * * * *

Half an hour before midnight of that day, a man, roughly dressed, with a stubble of beard masking his face, appeared at the Ministry of Marine, was passed at once by the guard at the entrance and made his way quickly to the office of M. Delcasse. He tapped at the door, which was instantly opened by the Minister himself.

"Ah, Marbeau," he said, quietly. "Come in. We have failed, then?"

"Yes, we have failed," groaned Marbeau, and sank into a chair.

Delcasse touched him gently on the shoulder.

"Do not take it so much to heart," he said. "There was something wrong, perhaps. We can try again—"

"No, we cannot try again," and Marbeau's face was piteous.

"Vard is not captured!"

"No; he is dead."

"But his instrument—his invention?"

"Is destroyed, fused, burnt to a mere mass of metal," and Marbeau told the story of that last moment.

"But what happened? What occurred?" asked the Minister dazedly.

"I do not know—I was staring at the fort. He may have had a seizure and fallen across his instrument, or he may have broken the circuit in some way—displaced a wire, perhaps—and received the full shock himself. It was over in an instant. He was dead when I dragged him away."

For some time Delcasse walked thoughtfully up and down.

"You could not, by any possibility, reconstruct it?" he asked at last.

"I fear not, sir; he told me nothing. I do not even know the principle involved."

Again Delcasse paced back and forth; then he sat down before his desk, with a gesture of acquiescence.

"So that dream is ended," he said. "It was too great, no doubt, to be accomplished. God willed otherwise. But at least we are richer than we were. From time to time we will terrify these Germans with a little blast of wireless. That will be amusing, and it may cost them some ammunition. And in the struggle over Morocco France wins! That is assured! Good night, General. You need rest."

All the world knows now, of course, that France did win. On November fourth, the question of her supremacy in Morocco was settled once for all by the treaty signed at Berlin. When Europe learned the terms of that treaty, it was shaken with amazement. For Germany had receded, after swearing that she would never recede; had guaranteed to France a free hand in Morocco, with the right to establish a protectorate if she thought proper;—and in exchange for all this received a small strip of the French Congo! Yes, there was one other thing she received of which the treaty made no mention. When Herr von Kiderlen-Waechter had affixed his signature, Ambassador Cambon, who acted for France, gave him silently an envelope sealed with a black seal. He glanced at the signature of the paper it contained, and placed it carefully in his pocket. An hour afterwards, he handed it to his Emperor.

And two days later, Admiral Heinrich Pachmann, returning from an audience with the Emperor, went quietly to his quarters. At the usual hour, his aide, coming for orders, rapped at his door. There was no answer, and, opening the door, the aide glanced inside. Pachmann lay sprawled across the floor, a bullet in his heart. His stiff hand gripped a duelling-pistol—a handsome weapon, which bore, chased along its barrel, the motto of his house, "I love and I obey!"



- Transcriber's Note: Typographical errors corrected in the text: Page 113 vizualise changed to visualize Page 326 "of" added to "this side of the water?" Page 364 Hohenzvollerns changed to Hohenzollerns -

THE END