by Anthology
The kind-hearted Lieutenant extended his huge paw and took the Captain's hand in a grip that, strong as he was, made him wince.
"Don't let that worry you, Captain," he said reassuringly. "Let me know the time-limit as soon as you find out how long you're to be gone, and I'll attend to the rest if I have to give up my commission to do it. But I guess you've probably had the girl on your mind until you've begun to estimate the job as something bigger than it really is. I'll bet that all they want you for is to map the passes of the Himalayas or some nonsense of that kind, so that if any one of the High Commissioners should happen to wake up some fine day and ask what the Intelligence Department is doing to justify its existence, there'd be something to show him. In this peaceful age, about the only risk any of us run is that of catching cold on night duty."
When evening closed around them again, they saw the lights of London against the darkening sky.
Chapter V
Leslie Learns More About His Mission
PIERRE VILLON, chief of the Intelligence Department of the International Police, dined late in his dignified old house in Brompton, London. The stout Colonel loved the things of the flesh and sat long at table, excusing his weakness by the reflection that he had many early years of privation, when away on active service, to make up for, and in this he was indulged by his daughter Corinne, who, however, seized upon every possible occasion to scold her father for his inclination towards the more material pleasures of life and even went so far at times as to lay hands upon his bottle of red wine and bear it away to a hiding place of which she alone had the secret.
"You observe, my friends," the jolly Colonel would say to the more intimate members of his circle of acquaintances, with a humorous gesture of helpless compliance, "one does not require a wife to be what you English call henpecked. Is it not so?"
And when Mademoiselle returned, he would pinch her smooth cheek affectionately, to the intense envy of the younger officers of his staff, who nevertheless regarded the charming Corinne with considerable awe. For it was currently reported that she knew more about the affairs of the Intelligence Department than any one except the Colonel himself and had on more than one occasion helped her father with an intricate problem for which even his clever brain could find no solution.
"When Corinne marries," Villon would declare, "the Federation must find a new Intelligence chief." But those who knew him best only laughed in reply, for the good Colonel could no more keep away from his beloved work than a mother from her first-born child. At times, however, he would grow serious and pointing to his pretty daughter, would exclaim, "There is the one woman in all the world who never tells what she knows!"
On this particular evening the good Colonel sipped his after-dinner liqueur and glanced at the clock from time to time with an impatience so ill-concealed that it speedily attracted the notice of Corinne, who looked up inquiringly from her domestic occupation of attaching sundry buttons to her father's old uniform blouse.
"He should be here by now," said the Colonel in reply to the question in her eyes, and as she did not seem wholly satisfied he added by way of explanation, "It is the officer who is to accompany Major Wilkie on the secret mission."
Corinne bent over her work again.
"Then you have decided whom to send?" she asked.
"Eh, yes. I thought you knew. It is Captain Gardiner, the American. He made some investigations on the China frontier that pleased me much and he knows the country well. Besides he holds the same views as our honoured President and Signor di Conti, and he is both brave and careful — a rare combination. Yes, he is undoubtedly the right man to send."
His daughter nodded. She had met the Captain and approved of him, largely because he seemed utterly unconscious of his own good qualities. And then the clever Corinne was after all a woman and the Captain was undeniably handsome.
The sound of the street door bell at this juncture put an end to further enquiries and the girl, folding up her work neatly, vanished in the long hallway, from which she shortly ushered in no less a person than the Captain himself. The Colonel arose to return the Captain's formal salute and immediately subsided into his chair again, motioning his subordinate to a seat at the other side of the table.
"Permit me to offer my congratulations, Captain," he said. "You have made a quick trip. You will take a glass of wine, perhaps, after your journey? Eh, I know" — as the Captain declined politely —"The rules of the Service! But there are occasions — And I am too old to change my ways, I who saw the birth of the Federation! But you will smoke? Yes, that is good. One may converse more easily with the aid of good tobacco. My child, be so kind as to bring me the papers."
The girl left the room, only to return immediately with a large, square envelope which she placed in her father's hands and then resumed her seat by the fireplace. The Colonel opened the receptacle and drew forth a mass of discoloured sheets which he spread before him, while Gardiner lighted the cigar offered to him with fingers that were none too steady. Presently the Colonel pushed the papers aside and leaning back in his chair drew in the smoke of his cigarette with every indication of perfect contentment.
"I am told, my friend," he began, "that you hold the belief with some other far-seeing ones that the security of our great Federation is not yet assured and that if we do not keep a watch upon the East, our aims may never be accomplished. Is it not so? Well, my friend," he continued without waiting for the Captain's motion of assent, "I have here the proof that your belief is not an idle one." And he placed his open hand on the sheets before him.
"This proof is sufficient for me," he resumed, "for I have my fingers on the pulse of the world, but we must convince the people of our great Federation and the members of the High Commission, and it is to aid us in this task that I have sent for you."
The Captain's face seemed troubled, but the eyes of his superior were fixed on the papers in his hands. Only Corinne looked up quickly and as quickly back again to the blazing logs with a puzzled frown.
"This is a report," pursued the Colonel, "prepared by Major Wilkie of the Secret Service after investigations in China extending over a year's time. He has discovered, after much labour and not a little danger to his own life, that, as many of us have suspected, there exists among the nations outside of our Federation a well-defined plan and agreement to fall upon us when our watchfulness shall relax and sweep us from the earth. This much the gallant major has laid bare. You know, my Captain," he leaned forward across the table, "and I know that on such evidence alone the High Commission will not hold back from its insane plan to weaken our defences in our very hour of need. You know and I know that men high in authority, who see the world only as it comes within the narrow limits of their studies, will not accept the mere word of a brave soldier and truthful gentleman. 'He desires to make for himself a reputation,' they will say, 'He wishes to be esteemed for his untiring zeal. Is it not so? Well, then, this that he discloses to us is interesting, but it is not proof. See, we have here the many promises and assurances of the nations of the East, who are our friends. Shall we distrust all these and take the story of one man alone for the real truth? No, we must have more evidence that these friendly peoples wish us ill before we begin to fear.' Eh, my Captain, it is the way of the world and has been through all the ages. Like the ostrich who hides his head in the sand, and, because he perceives no danger, is confident that he is safe, our rulers and our people will not see the impending disaster and will continue to trust in their false security until it is too late, unless we arouse them in spite of themselves. It is to do this — to preserve our great Federation and its holy aims, and," he added more softly, looking upon his daughter with great love, "to keep from harm those most dear to us, that we must give the blind world the proof which it demands."
"See, then," he continued, taking up the papers which lay on the table under his hand, "I will read you what our good Major Wilkie has written concerning this matter. 'The source and head of this conspiracy against
the peace of the western nations lies in a secret association which controls the government of China and is composed of the most powerful officials and military officers of the Chinese Republic. For several years this association has been waiting for the time to come when the watchfulness of the Federation shall be relaxed and its powers of resistance to external attack weakened. The recent agitation, which is well known and has been carefully followed by the members of the association, to reduce the International Police, it is believed will present the long-expected opportunity. If the High Commission yields to the pressure exerted upon it and agrees to diminish materially the International force, nothing can save the Federation from an unsuspected declaration of war which it will be totally unprepared to meet.
"'In addition to the armed forces of China, which in themselves constitute a serious menace, the aid of the Mohammedan countries has been enlisted and agents of the allies have been sent among the savage tribes of Africa and other dependencies of the Federation to foment a revolt when the proper moment arrives. I also believe that an endeavour will be made to secure the co-operation of Japan and if this is obtained, the outcome may well be considered doubtful.
"'The headquarters of the association are supposed to be located in Peking, although my information on this point is not trustworthy, and here are deposited the plans of the organisation and the treaties between the allied powers. I would suggest to your Excellency that if it were possible to discover this depository and secure copies of these papers, incontestable proof would be furnished of the hostile intentions of the nations concerned and of the necessity for the immediate preparation and despatch of a force sufficiently strong to crush the threatened invasion. I would urge upon your Excellency most earnestly that, in any event, the reduction of the International Police be refused by the High Commission, or at least delayed.'"
The Colonel paused and shot a keen glance at his subordinate, but Leslie's eyes were gazing intently at the glowing end of his cigar.
"You see, my friend," ended Villon. "The glory of the service I have set apart for you. It is to you and the brave Major Wilkie that the task of securing these papers is entrusted. But I believe that you are worthy to undertake the task and," he added, with a smile that gave a certain grandeur to his usually jovial features, "if your efforts are attended with success, to wear the crown."
He arose as the street door bell again sounded.
"Ah," he exclaimed, "here is the Major himself and Signor di Conti." And in confirmation of his words, the two men, after a brief interval, followed Corinne into the room.
Major Wilkie was a spare, sombre-looking man of indefinite age, evidently one for whom life had ever been a serious matter and had held very little that was light or joyous. Although a true Scot, born and reared in the shadow of Edinburgh Castle, he seemed to have lost most of the native humour of his race — if indeed he ever had it — as he had long ago lost all trace of the Scottish tongue. An ideal secret service man; silent, resourceful, ready in an emergency, unshaken in courage and unwavering in purpose — such was the officer who was to be Leslie Gardiner's companion in this dangerous enterprise. At a word from the Commissioner, the four men grouped themselves about the table and di Conti plunged at once into his theme, scarcely waiting for his hearers to be seated.
"You know, my friends, the reasons that have caused you to be summoned here," he commenced, addressing more particularly the two younger officers. "So I will not burden you by reciting them once again. I will not conceal from you that the mission is one of much danger, but it is danger which you must evade if you would save the Federation. Do I not speak the truth, Colonel?"
"It is true, my children," assented the old soldier, nodding his head. "If you are killed, you fail."
"See then," resumed the Commissioner. "You will go at once to Peking. That is all arranged. We have native spies in China who will aid you to find where the papers are kept which you are to secure. That is all we can do. It is for you to furnish the keystone of the building we have thus far laboriously raised. In two months' time we will look for you again."
"Only two months?" queried Major Wilkie.
"Tomorrow," replied di Conti, "the High Commission will vote to reduce the strength of the International Police. We, who can see the danger, have done our best, but whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad, my friends. The High Commission is blind in its own conceit and we cannot doubt how the vote will go. After the vote is taken, at least a month must be consumed while the nations pass upon our recommendation and another month will elapse before the plans for reorganisation are completed and the order issued. My friends, you must return before that order goes into effect, or your work will be of no avail."
Major Wilkie and the Colonel assented gravely, but Gardiner made no sign. He was staring at the flickering firelight and seemed scarcely to hear the words spoken by his superiors; but he roused himself when the small circle drew closer together and began the discussion of the more practical details of the expedition. Talk was a relief to him and he plunged into it eagerly, drawing more than one approving glance from his companions by the plain commonsense of some of his suggestions.
The good Colonel was radiant. He prided himself above all on his ability to judge men and gauge their powers and he felt that on the present occasion his insight into human nature was being once more vindicated. Only the pretty Corinne still wore her puzzled frown until, as she studied the group about the table, she saw the Captain stretch out his arm towards the map spread before them and caught the gleam of the shaded electrics on the golden band that encircled his wrist. When she turned to the firelight again, the frown was deeper, but now it was one of intense thought.
At length di Conti collected his papers and pushed back his chair. "I think that is all, gentlemen," he observed. "It only remains now to say adieu." He paused, looking into the grave faces before him and as he stretched out his hands to them they unconsciously bowed their heads to receive his parting benediction.
"May the good God aid you in your task," he said simply, "and bring you safely back again so that our Federation may be saved."
"Good luck go with you, my children," added the stout Colonel. "Keep brave hearts and, above all, clear heads."
Corinne accompanied the two officers to the door, where she bade farewell to the sober Major with many added wishes for his success, but she detained Leslie for an instant, holding his hand between both of her own.
"We expect great things of you, Captain," she said hurriedly. "She — the woman whom you love — and I. You must face your duty without faltering if you would be worthy of her. I, who wish you well with all my heart, tell you this. Remember!"
She pressed his hand hastily and withdrew, leaving the astounded officer to join his companion, who awaited him impatiently in the motor car which was to carry them to the Major's quarters.
The Major inhabited a small, bare room in the northeast corner of the huge Police barracks. The floor was uncarpeted, the furniture simple and scanty, and the books which occupied the row of shelves extending nearly around the room were almost wholly technical works on military science, history, and geography. The apartment was, in fact, typical of the life of its owner.
The two officers quickly exchanged their uniforms for the clothes of civil life, and when the transformation was completed, the Captain filled his pipe and taking a seat at the desk, busied himself with the writing of a letter while his grave superior placed in a worn brown bag the few belongings he intended to carry with him. The epistle finished, Leslie cast a furtive glance at his comrade and, finding him still intent upon his final preparations, made up a small packet which he fastened to his letter with a short bit of string. This done, he looked on idly as the other moved soberly about the room.
Presently the Major approached the desk and, opening an upper drawer, drew therefrom a small glass phial enclosed in a nickle-plated tube.
"This," he said to his companion, "is death — instant and painless. You se
e where it is kept — if necessity should arise."
The Captain shivered in spite of himself as the other slipped the tube into a side pocket of his coat.
"You think our mission is so desperate then?" he enquired in as steady a voice as he could command.
"One never knows," returned the Major quietly. "It is always best to be prepared. We must try to keep alive, for if we cannot bring back the papers we have failed and even the offer of our lives as a sacrifice would not save the Federation. But I have spent much time in the East and I know its ways. If I am captured while on this mission and see no hope of escape, I would prefer to die rather than trust to the mercy of my captors."
Leslie refilled his pipe to hide his discomposure. He could face danger bravely enough in the ordinary run of things, but this calm, cold-blooded preparation for death in its most revolting form tried his nerve severely. It would have been easier had he not been haunted so constantly by those wonderful grey eyes, surmounted by that wealth of dark hair in which the sunlight awoke such distracting variations of light and shadow. With such a face before him, it was not good to talk of death. But the Major had closed and locked his bag and now straightened his spare figure with an air of finality.
"If you're ready, Captain."
Leslie bowed in silent assent and, following the Secret Service Officer down the long stone corridor to the street, took his place beside him in the automobile that was to carry them to the depot of the London-Petrograd airship line.
The theatres were pouring their multitudes out upon the pavements as the car passed through the brilliantly lighted streets. There was life and stir, the laughter of women, the ever-changing display of costly gowns, gleams from the polished enamel and plate glass of luxurious automobiles, all the pomp and panoply of a complex civilisation. A happy throng it was, radiating the prosperity brought by long years of peace; taking no thought for the morrow, for the morrow would be but as today and yesterday and the many days that had gone before; a joyous throng, with hearts untroubled by the needs of poverty and want, for, with the passing of the great armaments and the closer knitting of the nations in the bonds of industrial union and the growth of the interchange of labour among the great manufacturing countries of the world, poverty and want had almost faded into a tradition; a careless throng, secure in the remembrance of unterrified years, secure in the protection of wise laws wisely enforced, secure in the new religion of the brotherhood of man that was sweeping the world; a heedless throng, unmindful of the danger that threatened on their borders, blinded by wealth and power, trusting in God to shield His favoured people from harm, putting unreasoning faith in their rulers, who, though chosen from among themselves, they believed to be all-wise and all-seeing. Hardly a glance was cast at the swift, slate-coloured car passing ghost-like through the shifting mass of vehicles. Scarcely a single one in all that glittering stream remarked upon the two silent men who held the destiny of the world in their hands. Intent on the pleasure of the moment, they swarmed gaudily under the glaring lights, little thinking that the very foundations of their civilisation threatened to crumble beneath their feet. And the grim Major, watching the brilliant crowd as it passed before his eyes, muttered under his heavy moustache, "They seeing see not, and hearing they hear not, neither do they understand."