L.P.M. : The End of the Great WarBarney, J. Stewart (John Stewart)
Science
L.P.M. : The End of the Great War
Barney, J. Stewart (John Stewart)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
“That would not only not save the sons of the Fatherland, but would
put an end to our usefulness, both here in London and in America,
especially if Edestone has already turned the whole thing over to
England. The very first thing for us to do is to find out how the
matter stands. If the Ministry knows nothing, we must work to get him
to Berlin, and then even you fire-eaters may safely trust it to the
Wilhelmstrasse. If it should happen, however, that the British
Government has the invention, His Royal Highness tonight will try to
get enough out of Edestone to enlighten Berlin, and in that way we
shall at least get an even break. That is, always provided that
Edestone has not a lot of the completed articles, whatever they may
be, at the Little Place in the Country. That would put us in bad
again, and it will be up to Count Bernstoff to attend to it from the
New York end.”
“Of course, Mr. Rebener,” said the proprietor, “we can do nothing
until we hear from His Royal Highness, but I am satisfied that he will
say Edestone must not be allowed to go to Downing Street tomorrow to
continue his negotiations, unless in some way we can get hold of this
secret tonight.”
“Well, I’ll be damned if I’ll--!” started Rebener angrily, when he was
interrupted by the proprietor, who holding his finger to his lip,
said:
“Please, Mr. Rebener, please! Always remember that the service on
which we are engaged has no soul and a very long arm.” Then dropping
into the persuasive and servile tone of the _maître d’hôtel_: “I
propose, Mr. Rebener, that you allow me to send you up a nice little
lunch, some melon, say, a _salmon mayonnaise_ or a _filet du
sole au vin blanc_ and a _noisette d’agneau_ and a nice little
sweet, and you must try a bottle of our Steinberger Auslese ‘84.
“And Smith,” he turned to the humbler agent, “you had better get in
touch with 4782, who is reporting to His Royal Highness every hour.
His last message was that Edestone is still with Underhill, so you get
down to the Admiralty and report to me here as often as you can.
Edestone will probably lunch quietly alone somewhere, as I know that
all of his friends are at the front, but don’t lose him until you turn
him over to Mr. Rebener tonight at 8 o’clock.” His eyes narrowed as
they followed the skulking figure of the architect out of the room.
“That fellow needs watching,” he muttered to Rebener. “He has lost his
nerve. He is not a true German anyhow. But if he makes a false step,
4782 knows what to do and you can depend upon him to do it. We do not
know who he is, but he is a gentleman, if not a nobleman, and he will
kill or die for his Emperor.”
Smith, in the meantime, had gone down the service stairs and out at
the rear of the hotel. He was thoughtful, and when he was settled in
his taxi, after having directed the chauffeur where to drive, he said
to himself:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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