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L.P.M. : The End of the Great War, a novel by J. Stewart Barney |
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Chapter 11. The Deionizer |
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_ CHAPTER XI. THE DEIONIZER After the different objects had been returned to their respective owners, the King by a slight gesture called the meeting to order, for all had left their seats and were crowding around Edestone in what, for Englishmen, was a state of violent excitement. Even the more self-contained were unable to conceal the fact that they were impressed by these experiments as well as by the quiet dignity of this young man. They seemed to realize that he had them figuratively if not literally in the palm of his hand. The dullest and least imaginative saw the endless possibilities in the application of his discovery to the arts and sciences. During all of this time the young American had kept himself under perfect control and had answered all questions in the most deferential and respectful manner; and now, having received from the King permission to continue, he went on: "The secret of my discovery lies in this little instrument, the construction of which is known only to myself. The application of this newly-discovered principle can be best understood by viewing my moving pictures, which show it in actual operation. Now, with your most kind permission I should like to inspect my apparatus to see that everything is all right." And then, as if some sudden impulse which pleased him had flashed across his mind, like the big healthy-minded boy that he was, and with an irresistible smile on his face, he dropped into a more familiar tone than he had allowed himself up to this time. "And to show you what I think of Englishmen," he said, "I will leave this Deionizer in your keeping until I return. A gentle tap or two on that hard-rubber shell and you will know its secret." He laid the instrument with its little case beside it on the table in front of the King and left the room escorted by a member of the Royal Family, young Prince George of Windthorst, who insisted upon acting as his guide to the Green Drawing Room. As the door closed upon them, the King rose, saying as he did so, "Please remain seated." He walked into one of the windows and stood for some minutes looking out over the park. Whatever it was that was passing through his mind, it was not a pleasant thought, as was shown by his hands, which were clasped behind his back so tightly that the fingers were perfectly white; and the veins of his neck swelled, while the muscles of his jaws were firmly set. No one dared to move. The silence in the room was so intense that the men about the table, as if caught by a spell, sat with unfinished gestures, like the figures in a moving picture when the film catches. The clock on the mantel seemed suddenly to have waked up and to be trying by its loud ticking to fool itself into thinking that it had been ticking all the time. When the time came for it to strike five o'clock, it went at it with such resounding vim that Admiral Sir William Brown, who had served his apprenticeship in the turrets, seemed to think that he had better open his mouth to save his ear-drums. "War is war! All is fair! War is war! All is fair!" it seemed to say. The King finally turned, and walking back to the table picked up the innocent-looking instrument. He turned it over and over in his hand and then slowly and carefully wound the platinum wires about it as a boy winds a top and placed it back into its leather case. As he put it down on the table, he said, almost as if to himself: "We have come today to one of the turning points in the history of the world. This is a remarkable man." After a moment, he turned to Underhill: "I think you have done your country a great service today in averting what might have been an appalling catastrophe. Do you not agree with me, Sir Egbert?" he glanced toward the Minister of Foreign Affairs. "I do, Sire," the minister acquiesced thoughtfully. "If this man represents the United States of America, it will not be long before she will insist that this war be brought to an end upon her own terms, and it would have been almost suicidal on our part to antagonize him. She doubtless controls this instrument whose practical application will probably be shown us by his pictures." "But what this man has just said to you, Sire," suggested Underhill, "does not seem to bear out the idea that he is acting under instructions from the present State Department at Washington." "If it please Your Majesty," interposed one of the statesmen of the old school, "should we not make some formal representation to the United States of America before this man be allowed to go to Berlin?" "I should not approve of that," dissented the King. "In the first place, as far as we know, Mr. Edestone may have already communicated with Berlin, Paris, and Petrograd. I do not think he would put himself so completely in our power if he thought he was risking the destruction of his entire scheme." "I believe, Your Majesty," said another sneeringly, "that this melodramatic exit is just another Yankee bluff. You will probably find in looking into it that the fellow has palmed the real instrument and has forced this one on us by clever sleight of hand." "I disagree with you entirely," said the King, frowning and bringing his hand down on the table as if to put an end to the discussion. "I believe this man to be a gentleman and a thoroughly good sportsman." _ |
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