Ashton-Kirk, Secret Agent. John Thomas McIntyre

Table of Contents

He Took Up the Envelope

"Who Brought the News?"

The Glittering Eyes Lifted

"My Time is Short"

CHAPTER I

       Table of Contents

Some Peculiar Circumstances

       Table of Contents

      Fuller studied the heavy, decided signature at the bottom of the typed page; then he laid the letter upon the table.

      "One who judges character by handwriting," said he, "would probably think the secretary a strong man."

      Ashton-Kirk took the stem of the long German pipe from between his lips.

      "From your tone," said he, "you do not so consider him."

      Fuller was looking down at the letter.

      "With that looking me in the face, how can I? Here is a matter of tremendous importance—one of the most guarded secrets of the government is endangered. Yesterday, in what was undoubtedly a panic, he wired you, begging help. Then, almost immediately after, he weakens and writes, requesting you to do nothing."

      Thick clouds arose from the Coblentz; the smoker snuggled down into the big chair luxuriously.

      "And from these things," said he, "you draw that he lacks force?"

      "Yes; he quit before even catching a glimpse of the end."

      There was a moment's silence, and then the secret agent spoke.

      "There are times," remarked he, "when it is not altogether desirable to catch that glimpse." He blew out a veil of smoke and watched it idly for a moment. "It is possible, in pushing a thing to the end," he added, "to force an entirely unexpected result. Take for example the case of the Molineux chaplet, some little time since. Could there have been more fire, more determination than that exhibited by old Colonel Molineux in this room when he brought the matter to our attention? And yet, when I showed him that his own daughter was the thief, he instantly subsided."

      Fuller regarded his employer with questioning eyes.

      "You think, then, that some one concerned in the government has been found out as——"

      But the other stopped him.

      "Sometimes," said he, "we are even more anxious to spare an enemy than a friend. And the reason usually is that we do not care to force the said enemy into such a position that his only resource would be an open blow."

      "Ah!" Fuller's eyes widened. "They hesitate because they fear to bring about a war." He looked at the secret agent, the question in his face growing. "But with whom?"

      Ashton-Kirk put aside the pipe and got up.

      "For years," said he, "the specialists of the Navy Department have been secretly working upon a gun designed to throw a tremendous explosive. That it was delicate work was shown by the quality of the men employed upon it; and that it was dangerous was proven by the lives lost from time to time in the experiments. Six months ago the invention was completed. The news leaked out, and naturally the powers were interested. Then to the dismay of the heads of the department it was learned that a most formidable plan to obtain possession of the secret had been balked by the merest chance. The agents of the government were at once put to work; not satisfied with this, the secretary wired me to come to Washington at once. But I was in no haste to do so, because I foresaw what would happen."

      The questioning look in Fuller's eyes increased.

      "I knew that the agents of a foreign government laid the plan," proceeded Ashton-Kirk. "Who else would desire information upon such a point? And at this time there is but one government sufficiently interested in us to go so far."

      "You mean——"

      Ashton-Kirk yawned widely and then asked:

      "Have you seen the morning papers?"

      "Yes."

      "Perhaps you noticed a speech by Crosby, the Californian, in Congress. Rather a slashing affair. He continues to demand a permanent fleet for the Pacific and increased coast defenses."

      The windows were open; the high-pitched complaint from the mean street drifted up and into the room. A bar of sunlight shot between two up-rearing brick bulks across the way; it glittered among the racks of polished instruments, slipped along the shelves of books and entered at the door of the laboratory; here the vari-colored chemicals sparkled in their round-bellied prisons; the grotesque retorts gleamed in swollen satisfaction.

      A knock came upon the door, and Stumph, Ashton-Kirk's grave-faced man servant, entered with a card.

      "It is the gentleman who called yesterday while you were out," said Stumph.

      The secret agent took the card and read:

      "Mr. Philip Warwick."

      "He asked me to say," proceeded Stumph, "that his business is urgent and important."

      "Let him come up."

      Stumph went out. Fuller began fingering a packet of documents which he took from the table.

      "I suppose," said he, "that I may as well file these Schofield-Dempster papers away."

      "Yes, the matter is finished, so far as we are concerned. It was interesting at first, but I'm rather glad to be rid of it. The piquancy of the situation was lost when the 'forgeries' were found to have been no forgeries at all; and the family despair is a trifle trying."

      "Mr. Philip Warwick," said the low voice of Stumph, a few moments later.

      A big, square-shouldered young man entered the room; he had thick, light colored hair and wide open blue eyes. That he was an Englishman was unmistakable. For a moment he seemed in doubt as to whom he should address; but Fuller indicated his employer and the caller bowed his thanks.

      "Sir," said he, "if I am intruding, I ask your pardon. I was directed to you by Professor Hutchinson of Hampden College, with whom I have become acquainted through our mutual interest in the Oriental languages."

      "Ah, yes. Hutchinson is a very old friend of mine, a splendid fellow, and a fine judge of tobacco. Will you sit down?"

      "Thank you."

      Mr. Philip Warwick sat down, and looked very big and strong and ill at ease. There was a perplexed expression upon his handsome face; but he said, quietly enough:

      "I take this occasion, Mr. Ashton-Kirk, to express my appreciation of your book upon the Lithuanian language. I spent some years in the Baltic provinces, and am fairly familiar with the tongue."

      Ashton-Kirk smiled, well pleased.

      "A number of people have been good enough to notice that little book," said he, "though when I wrote it I did not expect it to get beyond my own circle. You see, the Lithuanians have grown rather thick in this section of the city; and the great similarity between their language and the Sanskrit interested me."

      "The work," said the young Englishman, "is very complete. But," and his voice lowered a trifle, "much as I am delighted with