The Pawns Count Part 51

"Certainly!"

He touched a bell, spoke down a mouthpiece, and with almost necromantic swiftness two young men were in the room. A camera was dragged out, a little flash of light shot up to the ceiling, and the attaches vanished as quickly as they had come. The Amba.s.sador replaced the doc.u.ment in its envelope, handed a stick of sealing-wax and a candle to Lutchester, who leaned over and resealed the envelope.

"The negative?" he enquired.

"Will be kept under lock and key," the Amba.s.sador promised. "It will pa.s.s into the archives of j.a.panese history. In future we shall know."

Once more he touched a bell. The door was opened. Lutchester found himself escorted into the street. He was back at the Emba.s.sy in time to meet a little stream of departing guests. Lady Ridlingshawe patted him on the shoulder with her fan.

"Deserter!" she exclaimed, reproachfully, "Wherever have you been hiding?"

Lutchester made some light reply and pa.s.sed on. He made his way out into the gardens. The darkness now was a little more sombre, and he had to grope his way to the palings. Soon he stood before the dark outline of the adjoining house. In the window towards which he was making his way a single candle in a silver candlestick was burning. He paused underneath and listened. Then he took a pine cone which he had picked up on his way and threw it through the open window. The candle was withdrawn. A shadowy form leaned out.

"I'm quite alone," she a.s.sured him softly. "Can you throw it in?"

He nodded.

"I think so."

His first effort was successful. The seal followed, wrapped up in his handkerchief. A moment or two later he saw Pamela's face at the window.

"Good night!" she whispered. "Quickly, please. There is still some one about downstairs."

The light was extinguished. Lutchester made his way cautiously back, replaced the gate upon its hinges and reached the shelter of the Emba.s.sy, denuded now of guests. He found Downing in the smoking-room.

"Can I get a whisky and soda?" Lutchester asked, in response to the latter's vociferous greeting.

"Call it a highball," was the prompt reply, "and you can have as many as you like. Have you earned it?" he added, a little curiously.

"I almost believe that I have," Lutchester a.s.sented.

CHAPTER x.x.xV

Mr. Oscar Fischer and his friend, Senator Theodore Hastings, stood side by side, a week later, in the bar of one of the most fas.h.i.+onable of New York hotels. They were pa.s.sing away the few minutes before Pamela and her aunt would be ready to join them in the dining room above.

"Very little news, I fancy," Hastings remarked, glancing at the tape which was pa.s.sing through his companion's fingers.

"Nothing--of any importance," Fischer replied. "Nothing."

The older man glanced searchingly at his companion, the change in whose tone was ominous. Fischer was standing with the tape in his hand, his eyes glued upon a certain paragraph. The Senator took out his eyegla.s.ses and looked over his friend's shoulder.

"What's this?" he demanded. "Eh?"

Fischer was fighting a great battle and fighting it well.

"Something wrong, apparently, with Frank Roughton," he observed; "an old college friend of mine. They made him Governor of----only last year."

Hastings read the item thoughtfully.

Governor Roughton this morning tendered his resignation as Governor of the State of----. We understand that it was at once accepted. Numerous arrests have taken place with reference to the great explosion at the Bembridge powder factory.

"Looks rather fishy, that," Hastings observed thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry for Roughton," Fischer declared. "He was a perfectly straight man, and I am sure he has done his best."

"Great friend of yours?" the other asked curiously.

"We were intimately acquainted," was the brief answer.

The two men finished their c.o.c.ktails in silence. On their way upstairs the Senator took his companion's arm.

"Fischer," he said, "you'll forgive me if I put a certain matter to you plainly?"

"Naturally!"

"Within the last few days," Hastings proceeded, "there have been seven explosions or fires at various factories throughout the States. It is a somewhat significant circ.u.mstance," he added, after a slight pause, "that every one of these misfortunes has occurred at a factory where munitions of some sort for the Allies have been in process of manufacture. Shrewd men have naturally come to the conclusion that there is some organisation at work."

"I should doubt it," Fischer replied. "You must remember that there is always a great risk of disasters in factories where explosives are being handled. It is a new thing to many of the manufacturers here, and it is obvious that they are not making use of all the necessary precautions."

"I see," Hastings observed, reflectively. "So that is how you would explain this epidemic of disasters, eh?"

"Certainly!"

"At the same time, Fischer, to set my mind entirely at rest," Hastings continued, "I should like your a.s.surance that you have nothing whatever to do with any organisation, should there be such a thing, including in its object the destruction of American property."

"I will do more than answer your question in the direct negative," was the firm reply. "I will a.s.sure you that no such organisation exists."

"I am relieved to hear it," Hastings confessed. "This resignation of Roughton, however, seems a strange thing. Most of these fires have occurred in his State.... Ah! there is Senator Joyce waiting for us, and Pamela and Mrs. Hastings."

Mr. Hastings as a host was in his element. His manners and tact, which his enemies declared were far too perfect, were both admirably displayed in the smaller ways of life. He guided the conversation into light yet opportune subjects, and he utterly ignored the fact that Senator Joyce, one of the great politicians of the day, whose support of his nomination was already more than half promised, seemed distrait and a little cold. It was Pamela who quite inadvertently steered the conversation into a dangerous channel.

"What has Governor Roughton been doing, Mr. Fischer?" she asked.

There was a moment's silence. Pamela's question had fallen something like a bombsh.e.l.l amongst the little party. It was their guest who replied.

"The matter is occupying the attention of the country very largely at the moment, Miss Van Teyl," he said. "It is perhaps unfortunate that Governor Roughton seems to have allowed his sympathies to be so clearly known."

"He is a German by birth, is he not?" Pamela inquired.

"Most decidedly not," Fischer a.s.serted. "I was at Harvard with him."

"All the same," Pamela murmured under her breath, "I think that he was born at Stuttgart."

"He is an American citizen," Senator Joyce observed, "and has reached a high position here. We of the Administration may be wrong," he continued, "but we believe, and we think that we have a right to believe, that when any man of conscience and ideals takes the oath, he is free from all previous prejudices. He is an American citizen-- nothing more and nothing less."