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L.P.M. : The End of the Great War, a novel by J. Stewart Barney |
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Chapter 4. The First Rebuff |
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_ CHAPTER IV. THE FIRST REBUFF At exactly a quarter past nine the following morning, Lord Rockstone with military precision rose from his desk. "I fear that my time is up, Mr. Edestone," he said, glancing at his watch. "I have enjoyed this opportunity of meeting you and listening to your presentation of your theory. Your drawings are most interesting; your photographs convincing, if--" he paused, his lip curling slightly under his long tawny moustache,--"if one did not know of the remarkable optical illusions capable of being produced in photography. Our friends, the Germans, have become particularly expert in the art of double exposure." Then, as if he thought he might have said too much, he added less crisply: "Please do not understand that I doubt either your sincerity, or that of the Government at Washington in this matter; you may have both perhaps been deceived. I hope that your stay in England may be pleasant, and I regret that this war will prevent you from receiving the attention to which your letters and your accomplishments would entitle you." With an expression on his face that said plainer than words: "This is the last minute of my most valuable time that I intend to give to this nonsense," he bowed formally, and reseating himself at his desk, took up papers. Then without looking up, "Good morning, Mr. Edestone." The American did not allow himself to show the slightest trace of annoyance at the brusque dismissal. "You will at least permit me to thank you for your kind intentions, sir," he said; and standing perfectly still until he had forced Lord Rockstone to look up, he added with a smile, "We may meet again, perhaps." There was something about his perfect ease of manner as he stood waiting which showed that although he would not condescend to notice it, he was both conscious of the War Minister's unpardonable rudeness and intended to make him acknowledge it. Rockstone hesitated a moment; then with a belated show of courtesy came from behind his desk, and stiffly extended his hand. "You Americans are the most extraordinary people," he said; "I must admit, I never quite understand you." "Then you must grant us a slight advantage," rejoined Edestone evenly; "because we believe we do understand you Englishmen. If there had been the same clear understanding on your side in the present instance it would have been more to your interest, I am satisfied; for then instead of merely disturbing you I should have aroused you." "It is not a question of arousing me as you call it. You are dealing with the Government of the Empire, and, as you know, England moves slowly. The suggestion that I invite His Majesty to see a lot of moving pictures of an impossible machine, if you will pardon me, is preposterous. If you really wish to sell something to the War Department, although I understand you to state that you do not, nothing is simpler. Ship one of your machines to England, give a demonstration, and whereas I cannot speak with authority, I am confident that England will pay all that any other Government will pay. As to our friends, the enemy, our ships will attend to it that nothing goes to them that can be used against us." His jaws snapped, and his cold greenish-grey eyes flashed, as he gave another curt bow of dismissal. Edestone had no alternative but to leave; but as he turned to rejoin Colonel Wyatt, who had stood stiffly at attention throughout the entire interview, he could not resist one parting shot. "Do not forget, Lord Rockstone," he said, "that England six months ago spoke lightly of submarines." The War Minister pretended not to hear; but no sooner had the door closed upon his offensive visitor than he caught up the telephone. "Get me the Admiralty, and present my compliments to Mr. Underhill," he directed sharply. "Tell him I would like to speak to him at once." He turned back to a tray of letters left upon his desk to sign, but halted, his pen held arrested in air. "Suppose," he muttered, "the fellow should actually have--? But, pshaw! It's simply a mammoth Yankee bluff. That Foreign Department at Washington is just silly enough to believe that it can frighten us with its manufactured photographs. They are so anxious over there to stop the war, that they would resort to any expedient--anything but fight." The telephone tinkled. "Ah! Are you there Underhill? Yes, this is Rockstone. I called you up to warn you against a madman who is now on his way to see you. You can't well refuse to give him an audience, for he has such strong letters from the American Government that one might imagine he was a special envoy sent to offer armed intervention and to end the war. But in my opinion he is merely a crank or an impostor, who has succeeded in obtaining the support and endorsement of their State Department. "What is that? Oh yes; he's an American. His name? How should I remember! I wasn't interested either in him, or what he had to say. He pretends to have discovered some new agency or force, don't you know, and tries to prove by a lot of double-exposed photographs that he has broken down the fundamental laws of physics, neutralizing the force of gravity, or annihilating space by the polarization of light, or some such rot. "Do not kick him out. He has letters not only from his Government, but from some of its most prominent men whom it would be unwise to offend at this time. Just listen to his twaddle about universal peace and that sort of thing, and then pass him on to Graves with a quiet warning such as I have given you." Meanwhile Edestone, having taken leave of Colonel Wyatt, was making his way out of the building, when he found himself accosted in the dimly lighted corridor by a man in civilian clothes whom he recognized as a New York acquaintance of several years' standing. "Well, look who's here!" he greeted Edestone lustily as he extended his hand. "What brings you into the very den of the lion? Is it that, like myself, you are helping dear old England get arms and ammunition with which to lick the barbarians on the Rhine?" Glancing around cautiously he lowered his voice. "Make her pay well for them, my boy; she would not hesitate to turn them on us, if we got in her way." Edestone laughingly disclaimed any interest in army contracts, but at the same time avoided divulging the actual mission upon which he was engaged. There was something in his companion's manner that put him rather on his guard; he remembered smoking after dinner not more than three or four months before in the house of one of the most prominent German bankers in New York, and listening to this man, who had expressed himself in a way that might have suggested somewhat pro-German sympathies. Edestone had at the time attributed this to a consideration for their host and to the fact that the German Ambassador was present; but he recalled that, although the speaker was most violent in his protestations of neutrality, someone had suggested at the time that he was of a German family, his father having been born in Hesse-Darmstadt. He was a man of wealth, with establishments in New York and Newport, at both of which places Edestone had been entertained. His loud and hearty manner stamped him as a typical American, but his large frame, handsome face, and military bearing showed his Teutonic origin. "You surprise me Rebener." Edestone's eyes twinkled slightly at these recollections. "I should have supposed, if you had anything of the kind to sell, that it would be to your friend, Count Bernstoff. However," he laid his hand on the other's arm, "it's an agreeable surprise to run across a fellow-countryman, no matter what the cause. Are you going my way?" "No," Rebener told him, he had an appointment on hand with one of the bureau chiefs in the Ordnance Department. "Well then suppose you dine with me tonight," suggested Edestone. "I am stopping at Claridge's and shall be awfully glad if you can come. I am entirely alone in London, you see; my cronies, I find, are all dead or at the front." "Delighted, my boy. But listen! Don't have any of your English swells. Let's make this a quiet little American dinner just to ourselves, and forget for once this ghastly war." "At eight o'clock, then," Edestone nodded. "And a strict neutrality dinner, remember. That is the only safe kind for us Americans to eat in London." "All right, Rebener, as neutral as you please. A bientot." And with a wave of the hand he passed on down the corridor and out of the building. His appointment with Underhill, Chief of the Admiralty, was not until 11:30, so he put in the time by sauntering rather slowly along the Thames Embankment. He regretted now that, in talking with Lord Rockstone, he had not made a little more show of force, for had he assumed a more dictatorial manner he would have at least aroused the fighting spirit in his stern antagonist, who might then have taken some interest in crushing him under his heel; whereas now he saw plainly that Rockstone considered him beneath his notice, and thereby much valuable time had been lost. Yet he did not wish to make any show of force until he knew positively that his men were all at their stations, and that the Little Peace Maker was near at hand. He must be in a position to use force before playing his last card, and he had not as yet heard from "Specs." Although he knew that their instruments were perfectly attuned, he had not, up to twelve o'clock of the day before, received a single vibration. At this point he was interrupted by encountering another American who also insisted upon stopping and shaking hands. This was a young architect from New York, who had from time to time done work for his father's estate and who had also made some alterations at the Little Place in the Country for Edestone himself. He was a tall, lank young man of about twenty-seven, with little rat-like eyes, placed so close to his hawk-like nose that one felt Nature would have been kinder to him had she given him only one eye and frankly placed it in the middle of his receding forehead. His small blonde moustache did not cover his rabbit mouth, which was so filled with teeth that he could with difficulty close his lips. "What has brought you to London, Schmidt? Aren't you afraid that these Englishmen will capture you and shoot you as a spy?" "Sh! Not quite so loud please, Mr. Edestone; these English are such fools. They think that because a man has a German name he must be a fighting German, when you know that I am a perfectly good naturalized American citizen. My passport is made out in the name of Schmidt, and that's my name all right, but I call myself Smith over here to keep from rubbing these fellows the wrong way." "Well, Mr. 'Smith,' you have not told me what you are doing in London." "I have been sent over by a New York architectural paper to make a report upon the condition of the cathedral at Rheims. I stopped over in London to get my papers vised by the Royal Institute of Architects." Then, lowering his voice, and keeping his eyes on a policeman who was apparently watching them with interest: "I am sorry to see you here, Mr. Edestone. This is no place for us Americans, and my advice to you is to get out of here as soon as you can, and don't come back again until the war is over." Edestone felt that he would have said more but they were interrupted by the policeman who said: "Excuse me, gentlemen, but these be war times, and me ordhers are to keep the Imbankment moving." _ |
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