CHAPTER XIIITHE SHOW-DOWNIn 1919 when the N-C 4, the colossal flying boat built for the purpose by the American Navy, made her epoch-making flight across the ocean, there was, among many others, one great difficulty surpassing the rest, which made the task well-nigh impossible. The distance from Newfoundland to the Azores was so great that the problem of building a machine with a hull strong enough to alight safely on the waves, with a load of fuel sufficient for the journey, yet still able to lift the required weight off the water, taxed the available engineering talent to the limit. When all that had been deemed essential was put aboard, the boats were actually unable to rise into the air. Something had to be discarded. The margin of fuel above what the flight would consume was already so small that the commanding officer was unwilling to reduce it further. Therefore the emergency radio transmitter was left behind, and in consequence the N-C 3, flagship of the flight, was nearly lost with all on board. This much is history, but let us get on with our story.In the years between 1919 and 1937, science and engineering had done wonders, but they had not lessened the number of miles between Newfoundland and the Azores, nor enabled seaplanes to fly without fuel nor to alight on ocean waves without strong hulls. The problem of flying seaplanes across the ocean under their own power was still acute. Seaplanes manufactured in the States were needed in steadily increasing numbers at the great center of naval activity in the Azores. Cargo space on ships could ill be spared for their transportation; they must transport themselves. But instead of attempting to cross the wide ocean in a single hop, they divided the journey in two stages by means of a great floating hangar midway between Newfoundland and Fayal. Thus the load of fuel required was cut in two.This floating hangar was little more than a glorified scow with a huge sea anchor to windward and engines of just power enough to supplement this in holding her against drifting away from her station when the wind was strong. Two long arms or wings projecting to leeward from her hull enclosed a large sheltered pool, and giant plates, extending deep down under water from the flanks of these arms, broke the waves, so that even in the heaviest gales the surface of the pool was smooth enough for the planes to alight. Fuel tanks, repair shop, quarters for crew of hangar and of passing seaplanes, fast seagoing motor-boats for rescue and salvage work, and storage space for a few planes comprised the rest of the equipment.A gray lifeless dusk was about to close in on this lonely floating station the day after Barton had called on Fraser. In a deckhouse was a sort of wardroom where were wont to gather the officers in charge and the pilots of such planes as were attached to the station or had stopped there in passing. A group of pilots was sitting round the table looking over the latest weather bulletin received by radio; this promised a clearing of the sky before morning. The sky had been overcast for two days, and the officers now began their usual custom, on such occasions, of getting up a pool with bets on the number of miles off station that the navigator would find them to be with his early morning star sights. One man bet as high as ten miles.“That’s absurd,” said another. “They know just what the ocean currents are round here by now, and they’ve got indicators to show just what drift the old scow makes. They’re always making allowances for all that. I don’t believe we’ll be over three miles off.”“I’m from Missouri on this dead-reckoning with a scow riding to a sea anchor, and a one-horse engine to get home with,” said the first.“Well,” said the other, “you back your notion with your dough, and I’ll back mine. If it clears off like they say it will, we’ll see to-morrow who’s the richer for the deal.”The skeptic rose from the table, yawned, stretched, and sauntered to the window where he looked out over the endless gray waste of water on which the leaden sky was already beginning to cast the gloom of approaching twilight.“Gosh, what a dreary place this is!” he said. “I hope they won’t keep me stuck in this billet many weeks; the monotony of it will just about drive me silly.”“That’s the kind of thing you’ve got to expect in war,” said another officer, older than the rest—one that was permanently attached to the floating hangar.“I’d give my eye teeth,” said the skeptic, “to be out where there’s something doing—looking for enemy subs to bomb. Good Lord, all we do here is to go out to find some blighter who can’t keep his engine running and has flopped on the water, and tell him ‘cheerio’ while he waits for the motor-boat to come and salvage him. Why can’t they teach these bums to fly, before sending them out here with brand-new planes, anyway?”“If they did that, you’d have even less to occupy you than you have now,” said the older man. “As for hunting subs, I’ll bet you’d find that a damn sight more monotonous than this. Here you at least find the blighter you’re looking for.”The conversation was suddenly interrupted by the signal, “Action Stations.” The pilots ran to their planes, and the older officer ran to his station in the pilot-house where he found the commanding officer studying the eastern sky with his binoculars.“What’s up?” he asked.“A big seaplane coming this way,” answered the commanding officer. “She looks like an American plane, but we’re not expecting any from there, and we’ve had no radio from Punta Delgada or Fayal that would indicate any plane was coming. So I called out the gun crew to be ready in case of trouble. Give a recognition signal—she’s near enough now to see it.”The signal was flashed out—a series of brilliant colored lights—and instantly the answering signal was seen to flash from the approaching seaplane, already visible to the naked eye.“She’s American, all right,” said the skipper, “but what’s she doing coming here now? I thought they needed all their planes right there. And why haven’t we had any word of her coming?”The roar of the four big engines was already audible, and soon the great plane with her wing-spread of a hundred feet, swung round to leeward of the hangar, swooped down, hovered low over the waves, and settled gracefully on the smooth surface of the water between the sheltering arms of the giant scow.The great seaplane was warped into the landing stage, and down from the hull clambered her pilot followed by Barton, Evans, and the prisoner, Long.“Where’s the Captain?” asked Barton of the seaman who helped him on to the landing stage.“Right here,” said the skipper, hastening down from the pilot-house.Barton handed him a slip of paper. He looked at it; then turned quickly to his orderly.“Tell Mr. Jones I want to see him at once. Commander Barton, come to my room and I’ll have supper for you right away. The gunners can go to the wardroom. I’ll have the plane ready for you to go on in half an hour.”Lieutenant Jones, the executive officer, appeared, on the run, and saluted.“Mr. Jones, have the tanks of this seaplane filled with gas and oil, have the engine carefully inspected and the best emergency crew fully equipped and ready to take her; they are going on to Trepassy Bay, and everything must be ready in half an hour. Have supper for the crew that brought her in; they’ll stay here.”The skeptic was told that he was to take the big seaplane on the next lap of her journey;—the monotony was to break more abruptly than he had hoped. Never had the routine of this floating relay station been so violently shaken. To-day a new record for speed was made, for the slip of paper called for speed, and it bore the signature of Admiral Johnson. In arranging with Fraser for the trip, Barton had told him nothing of his confidential relations with Evans, but merely stated that since the case involved tampering with the radio gear in the flagship, which Evans had discovered, he wanted to take him along as a witness.In half an hour, as the tired crew that had brought the giant seaplane on her flight from the Azores, refreshed by hot coffee and cigarettes, were beginning to wonder how long they were doomed to stay at this lonely spot in midocean, Barton, Evans, and Long climbed aboard the seaplane once more. Long was shackled to his seat, so that he could not by a sudden leap deprive them of his services as a witness. The skeptic took his place in the pilot’s seat; and with a deafening roar from her engines the great creature rose off the water and shot away into the twilight where she was almost instantly lost to view. Looking back ten minutes later, the pilot saw twinkling faintly astern the light on the floating hangar that guided seaplanes to this haven of rest and refuge on the lonely sea.It was only just after two in the morning when the commanding officer of the great seaplane base at Trepassy Bay, Newfoundland, was roused from his sleep and handed a slip of paper which caused him to spring out of bed and order the best seaplane at the base to be ready at once to take passengers to Halifax.At Halifax they stopped for breakfast while a fresh plane was being prepared to make a non-stop flight to Washington. Before nine they were on their way again, dropping the islands and promontories of the Nova Scotia coast behind them at a rate of ninety miles an hour. As they passed over the heel of Cape Cod, flying high, Evans could make out the long white line of Monomoy Island with its sandy ocean beach. The memory returned to him of the same white line when last he had seen it over the roaring breakers, showing dimly through the rain from thePetrel’scockpit, on his adventurous sail with Mortimer.It was toward the end of the afternoon that the strange trio arrived in Washington, quite unheralded. With the utmost care to keep Evans concealed from Rich’s possible spies, Barton found Mortimer and brought him secretly to the place where Evans was awaiting them. Mortimer told them all that had transpired in Washington and how Rich had found in Goss the real culprit. Then they in turn recited the evidence they had obtained at the Azores implicating Rich. The behavior of Long and his visible agitation on the mention of Rich’s name seemed to Mortimer suggestive, but not conclusive; so did the testimony of Elkins concerning Rich’s advice to Captain Brigham, but this, having passed through so many months, carried less weight than the other. The report of Heringham, however, made him feel that the case, indeed, looked bad for Rich. After some consultation it was decided that, unknown to Rich, Mortimer should assemble Admiral Rallston, Chief of Naval Intelligence, Barton and Evans in his office, and then send for Rich and question him. Long would be held under guard where he could easily be brought in, and Commander White could be summoned at any time from the Bureau of Engineering to repeat the significant words of Captain Brigham, if it seemed desirable.The next morning Evans and Barton were smuggled into Mortimer’s office with every precaution that no word of their presence should reach the ears of Commander Rich. Admiral Rallston then came, and all sat down where they could watch the face of Rich as he entered the door. Rich was then requested to come to the Secretary’s office. So cordial had been their relations that he now felt sure all suspicion of him had vanished, and he obeyed the summons without misgivings.With breathless suspense the others awaited his arrival. The door was opened by an orderly and Rich entered. All eyes were on him. As he saw Evans sitting before him, his face blanched visibly and there was the least suggestion of a tightening of his muscles. But in an instant he was all cordiality, his self-possession never better.“This is an unexpected pleasure,” he said to Evans. “I hadn’t heard you were returning from the fleet so soon.”“You wouldn’t,” answered Evans; “the Bureau keeps you occupied with larger issues.”“Indeed,” replied Rich graciously, “I hear often of the splendid work you have been doing for us in the fleet in keeping our equipment in working order.”Equally gracious was Rich in his greetings to Barton and Admiral Rallston.Then Mortimer, bracing himself for the effort, spoke.“Commander Rich,” he said, “I regret to say that a man from your division of the Bureau of Engineering was found purposely damaging the radio apparatus on theDelawareunder pretense of making changes indicated in orders from you.”“Indeed?” said Rich, his composure not the least bit ruffled, yet with an appropriate display of surprise. “And what was his name and rating?”“Radio Gunner Long,” answered Mortimer. “Do you remember him?”“I think I recall his name,” said Rich, “but we have so many in the Bureau I find it hard to know them all. At all events, I should not have been directly concerned with planning the work of such a man. The officers under me lay out the work and make out the orders; they merely bring them to Admiral Bishop or me to sign. It would be impossible for me to give any clue to this particular case offhand; but I can start an investigation at once, and we can probably trace his orders to their source.”“Unhappily,” said Mortimer, “evidence was brought to light which appeared to point unmistakably to you as the real author of the plan to damage the apparatus.”“Mr. Secretary,” said Rich, with impressive dignity and earnestness, “it is impossible that you have given credence to such slanderous accusations after our years of close and cordial coöperation in the prosecution of the war.”“Indeed,” said Mortimer, “I was loath to listen to them till the mass of evidence seemed overwhelming.”“It must, indeed, have been overwhelming to outweigh my years of devoted service to the navy. May I ask what this overwhelming evidence is?”“A number of things about the behavior of this man Long appeared to those who apprehended him only capable of interpretation as signifying your complicity with his acts. These facts, coupled with the changing of messages last week, and the simultaneous disappearance of Mr. Tompkins, which present indications seem to show are not as easily explained as you made them appear to be then through the agency of Goss, have led to the accusation.”“All these things can still be perfectly well explained. Goss confessed to tapping the wires and impersonating me, as you yourself can witness; Tompkins was probably himself implicated, and, hearing of Goss’s fate, has either absconded or committed suicide. The evidence associated with this man Long, you speak of, can be explained on proper investigation as easily as all the rest. I think, Mr. Secretary, you are doing me an extraordinary injustice to so much as listen to these accusations after my years of devoted service. Perhaps the gunner, here,” indicating Evans, “who has at times been impatient with me for not accepting new-fangled ideas as quickly as he would like, has been poisoning your mind against me.”“Since you bring up that issue,” said Evans, “I should like to ask why, if you are indeed the gallant and loyal officer you modestly concede yourself to be, you told Captain Brigham theDelawarewould be better off without the equipment you had authorized to enable her to direct the fleet in action.”A dark scowl showed for an instant on Rich’s face. “It’s a lie,” said he; “I never said such a thing to Captain Brigham or any one else.”Evans turned to Mortimer.“Commander White’s testimony on that point might be interesting,” he said.Commander White was summoned. When he entered the room, Mortimer said to him, “Commander White, I wish to know if Captain Brigham, while chief of staff, ever said anything to you about remarks by Commander Rich to him on the subject of the radio equipment of theDelaware.”“He did say something about that, sir.”“Do you remember what he said?”“It is some time ago, but, as I recall it, Gunner Evans had just said something to him about the set not being in good working order according to the specifications of the Bureau, and he had told the gunner the set was the way he wanted it. When Gunner Evans had gone, Captain Brigham told me that Commander Rich had said he didn’t believe in most of the newer equipment, and he thought it would be just as well not to attempt to keep it all in working order, but to rely in practice on the old-fashioned gear.”Commander Rich then said: “I don’t recall making any such remarks as that. Captain Brigham and I had frequent conversations, and at some time I may have said that some of the older gear had stood up well in service and was in some ways more reliable than some of the newer devices. Mr. Secretary, you know how easy it is to misquote a man, even with the best of intentions. Some remark of mine has been misunderstood and then passed from mouth to mouth till it actually is held up as evidence of treason. The thing is ludicrous. I never dreamed of advocating anything that would impair the efficiency of the ships.”Evans spoke next. “The efficiency of theDelaware’sradio room as it was in Captain Brigham’s regime might well be likened to that of a Ford car with one cylinder working and no front wheels. In spacing the battleship divisions most effectively for the concentration of gun-fire, in disposing the cruiser squadrons and destroyer flotillas, every bit of modern equipment authorized by the Bureau is needed. Messages must often go out simultaneously on as many as five different wave-lengths. With the gear as Captain Brigham had it, that would be absolutely impossible; the team-work of the fleet would be crude and clumsy—worse, it would be paralyzed. Our ships, rambling incoherently over the ocean, would be at the mercy of the enemy if ever they were brought to action. That is what Brigham’s efficiency stood for.”“Mr. Secretary,” said Rich with dignity, “I have already told you that I never advocated any neglect of radio equipment which could have impaired the efficiency of the fleet. The gunner here is obsessed by an exaggerated sense of the importance of certain devices in whose development he has been interested. When he found them not working as well as he would have liked, and Captain Brigham not as much interested in them as he was, he built out of some misquoted remark of mine an elaborate picture of high treason.”Evans shrugged his shoulders and looked at Barton. The case against Rich did not appear on the face of it as clear and convincing as it had before the defendant’s eloquent tongue had been mobilized in his defense. But Barton held in his hand a strong card of which he had as yet given no intimation. During the night, after hearing from Mortimer how Goss had been caught and driven to confess, he had interviewed Long. He now rose and went to a door leading to an adjoining room, opened it, and beckoned Long to come in. As he entered, all eyes were not on him, but on Rich. When this officer saw the prisoner enter, he started and turned pale. To the watchful eyes of Barton the look of guilt on his face was unmistakable. Mortimer was rather struck by the ease with which he regained his composure after the surprise of seeing one whom he thought to be in the Azores, suddenly brought before him.Barton then handed to Mortimer the original orders under which Long had been sent to Punta Delgada, formally signed by Admiral Bishop as Chief of the Bureau. Mortimer read the orders; then questioned Long as to his mission and how he had come to be sent on it. Long’s voice trembled as he answered:“Commander Rich explained to me that my task was to damage the radio equipment on the flagship—and later on the division flagships—as much as I could without its being discovered in time to repair it. Before I went he called me to his office in the Bureau, where we looked over the diagrams of most of the apparatus, and considered the best places to damage the sets in a way that would not be found out till they were called on for heavy usage. After making a few suggestions he left it to me to work out the details.”“This is the most preposterous fabrication I have heard yet,” called out Rich in high dudgeon.“Just a moment,” said Mortimer. “I wish to ask Gunner Long a few more questions, then we can have your comments.” Then, turning again to Long, he continued, “How did you come to be in the service, and how did your relations with Commander Rich come about?”“Goss and I were working as electricians in a factory in New York where they make radio apparatus. We had been in this country since we were boys; I came from Bulgaria and he from Thrace. Just before this country joined the war, Commander Rich, in civilian clothes, came to see us and talked with us for a long time, asking us what we knew of electricity and how we felt about the war. We both were on the side of the Balkan Powers in our hearts and had no feeling of obligation to America. He told us this country was soon going into the war and that the rulers in Constantinople had things so well planned and organized that they were sure to win, and America would then be under their rule; and any one who had helped the cause would be in luck. Finding us disposed to work for that end, he told us that he was an agent of the Constantinople Government and had been holding a position in the United States Navy for some years, and showed us documents proving his statement. He offered us jobs in the Bureau of Engineering with the salaries of our ratings and in addition an equal amount from a secret source at his disposal. We both accepted the offer, and as I was the older and more experienced, I was made a radio gunner, while Goss was enrolled as chief radio electrician. He promised us both rewards either in money or good positions at the close of the war, and assured us he would then control great power.“Goss was my best friend in the world. No man was ever more faithful; never did a man face the dangers of that work more bravely or more cheerfully than he. If Commander Rich had stood by him, nothing on earth would have made me tell. Till yesterday I stood ready to keep my mouth shut even if you tortured me. But last night I learned how this cur had betrayed my friend and foully done him to death. And now I am ready and glad to tell you the truth. Goss never faltered. He was ever ready at the master’s bidding to risk discovery, tapping wires and impersonating others. When Rich found himself cornered, he turned to Goss and ordered him to reveal his mimicry that he himself might escape the net.”All eyes were on Rich. His face wore a sneering look.“Mr. Secretary,” he said, “it seems to me that story is pretty thin, I might almost say transparent. You, as a lawyer, have doubtless seen through it yourself already. This man is a spy; we all know that. He was caught in the act of doing the work he has just described. Goss was his friend; they were confederates. Now that he has been caught, and his plan frustrated, he naturally wants to shift the burden of guilt, as much of it as will shift, on to the shoulders of some one else. Whom will he try to implicate? Naturally the head of the division in charge of radio apparatus. It would help his case to do so, anyway; and now that he finds on his return that I discovered his friend and confederate, and caused his execution, naturally his desire for revenge makes him all the more eager to accuse me. With two motives, both strong, one might almost predict in advance that he would do just this. As for his story, any one who wanted could invent it in ten minutes. Surely you will not be so simple as to believe it.”Long was seeing red. The storm of pent-up feeling, brewing as Rich delivered these remarks, now broke.“You vile scoundrel!” cried the prisoner. “Goss served you to the last, and you betrayed him; you made him use the skill that had served you, to bring on his own death sentence, to save your dirty hide.”“Mr. Secretary,” said Rich, “on my honor I am innocent. A man of your experience will not take the word of a confessed spy with an obvious grievance, against that of an officer tried by years of service in the navy.”“Probably not, if that were the only evidence,” said Mortimer.“I demand of you in the interest of fair play,” said Rich earnestly, “that Admiral Bishop, Chief of the Bureau of Engineering, be permitted to come and speak in my defense. I am certain he will assure you of my innocence.”“Very well,” said Mortimer, “I will send for him at once.”In a few moments Admiral Bishop was ushered in, looking more pompous, his face redder and his whiskers whiter then ever. Mortimer told him briefly the story of the suspicions and charges, and summarized Rich’s defense. Admiral Bishop could hardly contain his indignation.“This is the most outrageous frame-up against a loyal officer that I ever heard of,” he said. “Commander Rich has been my right-hand man throughout the war. He has contributed more than any one in Washington to the high state of preparedness of the navy to-day. Ask any man who has been close to the organization of radio communications in the fleet during recent months if the efficiency of the apparatus is not a signal tribute to the responsible man at the head.”“We have just heard from one man who has been very close to radio communications in the fleet,” said Barton, “and he didn’t seem to look on their efficiency in that light.”“Who?” asked Bishop.“Evans,” replied Barton. “He seems to feel that our communications are working well in spite of Commander Rich, not because of him.”“The gunner here!” said Admiral Bishop in surprise. “You don’t expect me to yield to a radio gunner in my judgment of the men in charge of the divisions of my Bureau?”“No,” said Barton, “only you said, ‘Ask any man who has been close to the organization in the fleet,’ and he was one; that’s all.”Barton deemed it unwise to mention before Rich anything of what he had heard from Heringham about Rich’s status in enemy circles. He had mentioned this to Mortimer in private, but the skill with which Rich had parried all attacks thus far, and the stanch support of Admiral Bishop seemed to have obscured that testimony in Mortimer’s mind; and the upshot of it was that he seemed perplexed and rather inclined to lean toward Rich’s side of the case. Barton therefore left the room, and, when out of sight of the others, beckoned Mortimer to follow. In a moment Mortimer excused himself and joined Barton in a corridor where they could be far enough to be safe from eavesdroppers while they conversed in whispers. Barton then reminded him of the testimony received in the secret messages from Heringham in Constantinople.Mortimer thought a moment and then remarked: “That might all have come from some spy who has caught on to Evans’s method of getting messages from Gibraltar, and has smuggled in fake messages implicating Rich.”“That is extremely improbable,” said Barton. “Anyway, there are so many things all pointing the same way I am convinced of his guilt.”“He has offered a reasonable explanation of every item thus far,” said Mortimer. “I don’t see how we can prove the case against him without something more definite and unanswerable than we’ve got.”While this whispered conference was going on in the corridor, Commander Rich and Admiral Bishop were making things as uncomfortable as they were able for Evans. The Admiral was so incensed by the affair that he freely proclaimed his indignation—men who made such accusations against one of Rich’s integrity and distinguished service ought to be imprisoned. Rich, with malicious insinuation, turned the odium of it upon Evans who, glum and silent, paid no apparent heed.Mortimer and Barton in the corridor outside were making little progress with their conference and were about to rejoin the others when Mortimer’s attention was drawn to the sound of a man’s voice talking rather excitedly to one of the clerks in the outer office. He listened and could hear the voice saying, “It is most important that I should see him at once.”Then he heard the clerk say, “He is having a very important conference and can’t be disturbed.”Mortimer stepped into the outer office and saw that the man with the excited voice was Rand.“Did you wish to see me?” he asked.“Yes, at once,” answered Rand breathlessly.Mortimer led him into the corridor.“What is it?” he said. “Tell me in a whisper. We can’t go in there now.”“Tompkins has just appeared,” said Rand in a hoarse whisper. “He was kidnaped and has just escaped. His story is most important.”“Where is he now?”“In his own office,” said Rand.“Bring him here at once,” said Mortimer.Rand disappeared on the run, and in less than three minutes returned with Tompkins, looking thin, worn, and exhausted. Tompkins then told how on that memorable morning when so many things happened he had gone early to the Secretary’s office with the message from Evans, and, not finding Mortimer, had returned to his own office, and how, when he next set out, Commander Rich had dealt with the situation.“Commander Rich called you up and explained the situation, then handed me the phone,” he said. “You probably remember the conversation; as I recall it, you said, ‘It’s all right, give Commander Rich the message. It will excite less notice if you don’t keep coming to my office.’”“You say I said that?” broke in Mortimer.“Yes, sir.”“I never had any telephone conversation with you at all that morning,” said Mortimer, “nor with Rich till after I received the message delivered by his messenger.”Tompkins stared with amazement.“This is the most important testimony we’ve got,” said Barton. “Go on, and remember to speak quietly.”Tompkins then told of his kidnaping, the long motor-ride into the mountains and the days of imprisonment in the abandoned logging hut with the scantiest food supplies, under guard of five armed ruffians.“A few days ago they had an altercation. There were whispered conferences and arguments just out of my hearing. Angry words passed, and I don’t know just what happened, but pretty soon I found that three of the five had deserted, leaving only the two to guard me. The food got low and one of them had to walk a long distance to get more; he got back pretty tired. The two of them drank some liquor and started taking turns at watching through the night. Just before dawn the man who had gone for the food, having stood watch since midnight, dropped off to sleep; the long walk and the liquor were too much for him. I was sleeping with one eye open. When I was satisfied that he was asleep, I slipped out of the hut. The dawn was just breaking, and I picked my way down a wood road, and then ran till I had got a good mile from the hut. I tramped nearly all day and in the afternoon reached a village where I learned that I was at the edge of the Shenandoah Mountains. I hadn’t a cent, but I got a man to take me down in his flivver to a railroad town where I induced the bank president to trust me and give me a night’s lodging. That was yesterday, but it seems like last year. This morning he lent me the railroad fare to get back to Washington. I took the first train this morning, and got in about an hour ago.”Barton asked a few more questions, and then said to Mortimer, “I think we’d better have him come right in and give his testimony before the others.”Then he explained to Tompkins that Rich was charged with treason, and they were in the middle of the investigation.Mortimer and Barton reëntered the room, and then, with their eyes on Rich, beckoned Tompkins to follow. As Tompkins entered, Rich caught his breath with a gasp. There was no mistaking the pallor on his face now, nor did he regain his composure as easily this time.Tompkins then recited the details of the momentous morning when Rich had intercepted his message. Mortimer explained to Admirals Rallston and Bishop that he had never taken part in the alleged telephone conversation, that the message which Tompkins tried to deliver was identical with that which Evans had later repeated to Rand, and that the message received by messenger, urging the recall of Fraser, was a bogus one. Admiral Bishop was quite bewildered, and got lost in the intricacies of the conflicting narratives. Rallston, grasping the significance of the revelations, looked very serious. Evans, alert and missing nothing, was looking more cheerful.Mortimer turned on Rich.“How do you explain this telephone conversation in which I never took part, but in which Mr. Tompkins understood me to instruct him to deliver his message to you?”Rich, once more perfectly at ease, replied: “I explain it by telling you it is a lie; just one more bit of this whole elaborate frame-up. I told you Tompkins was probably involved in this business, and had probably absconded.”“Or committed suicide,” put in Barton.Rich ignored the interruption and continued: “When he heard that there was a conspiracy on foot to discredit me, he saw his chance to get in on the thing. He has doubtless been in conference with others in his gang, and they have decided that this story is the best way to play their game.”There was a pause. Admiral Bishop stroked his whiskers and nodded approvingly.“I think that is a very reasonable explanation, Mr. Secretary,” he said.Evans then spoke.“I think there is now a chance of putting this thing to the test of something better than words. Until Tompkins entered the room just now I had no idea he was in Washington; I didn’t know whether he was still alive. I have therefore had no possible chance of collusion with him since I got home from the Azores. Are you satisfied on that point?”“Perfectly,” answered Mortimer.“I should now like to ask Tompkins if he felt sure that he recognized the voice in the telephone as yours,” continued Evans. “Is that a fair question?”“It is,” said Mortimer, turning to Tompkins and awaiting his reply.“The voice sounded exactly like the Secretary’s; I had no doubt of it at the time,” said Tompkins.“Now,” said Evans, “according to Tompkins’s story, Commander Rich went through the usual procedure of calling this room through the Bureau switch-board. In due course a voice, which Tompkins believed he recognized as yours, answered. You never received the call. If Tompkins’s story is true, some one must have cut the wires from Commander Rich’s room to the switch-board; otherwise the call would have gone through to this room. Furthermore, some one who could mimic your voice must have been at the other end of the cut wires. When Goss was charged with cutting in on Tompkins’s line and impersonating Commander Rich, more than one man in the Bureau testified to having seen him with a portable phone in the vicinity of the wires leading to the switch-board, on the morning when all this happened. He was also shown to be an expert mimic. It remains, then, to see if the wires from Commander Rich’s phone to the switch-board have been cut.“As for the possibility that they have been cut since then in order to corroborate the story, you will notice that Tompkins himself has not suggested that mode of corroboration, and you have granted that he has had no opportunity of suggesting it to me. Furthermore, if his story is true, the wires must have been cut and spliced together again a week ago when all this happened. But if, as Commander Rich suggests, he had made up his story as the result of a recent conference with his gang, after hearing that he had a good chance to get in on the frame-up, then, if he has had the forethought to cut and splice the wires in order to back up his story, he must have done it within a few hours. Now an experienced electrician could tell, on examining the splices, whether they were done within a few hours, or as long as a week ago. In fifteen minutes we can find out whether those wires have been cut, and approximately when.”“I think, Mr. Secretary,” said Admiral Bishop, “it would be a gratuitous insult to a distinguished officer to follow the inquiry further by looking for such evidence against him. I am satisfied the whole business is an audacious conspiracy to discredit Commander Rich.”“Don’t you think that fair play to Mr. Tompkins requires that we should look at those wires before concluding that he is lying?” asked Mortimer.“I do not see it,” said the Admiral.“I do,” said Mortimer.The electrician who had installed the wires in the Bureau at the outbreak of the war was sent for; also two other expert wire-men as witnesses. It was a strangely assorted procession that walked through the corridors of the Navy Department from the Secretary’s room to the Bureau of Engineering. Secretary Mortimer and Admiral Rallston went first; behind them followed Admiral Bishop and Commander Rich, while Barton, Evans, Rand, Tompkins, and Long brought up the rear. Evans and the electricians set to work removing planks to explore the wires leading from Commander Rich’s room to the switch-board. It was not long before Evans, who had chosen a place where a man could work unseen, to begin his search, called the others to come and look. There were the wires, each with a swelling of electric tape. This was carefully removed by one of the electricians, and under the tape the wires were spliced. Every one had a look at the splices.“Do you recall whether the wires were spliced at that point when you put them in?” asked Mortimer.“I am certain that they were not,” replied the electrician.“Have you ever looked at them since?”“I inspected them two months ago.”“Were they spliced then?”“No.”“Could you swear to it?”“Yes.”“Can you tell how long ago those splices were made?”The electrician examined the wires carefully; then answered, “They weren’t done within the last three days; I am sure of that. How much longer ago, I can’t tell.”The other electricians examined the wires and all testified that the splices couldn’t have been made less than four days ago at the very latest.The electricians were dismissed. Admiral Rallston turned to Admiral Bishop.“Can you tell me how that evidence could have been faked?” he said.Admiral Bishop did not answer. All eyes were now on Rich who was an ashy gray, all his affable manner gone, a venomous look of malice on his face.Evans and Barton exchanged glances, and Barton nudged Admiral Rallston.“Have you heard anything from our friend Bela since his unceremonious departure?” said Evans casually to Rich. “He has been praising you warmly.”Rich started violently and turned a shade paler; the look of fear and hate in his face was more intense than ever. He opened his mouth to speak, and then, looking at the eyes of the others all grimly watching him, he remained silent. Suddenly he turned on Evans and like a flash drew a pistol from his pocket. Barton, standing close beside him, was watching him like a lynx. Quick as was Rich’s hand, Barton’s was quicker. With a swift blow he struck Rich’s right hand toward the ceiling with such force that the pistol flew from it, and, sailing through the air, fell at Evans’s feet. Long’s desire to assault Rich now became uncontrollable; like a wild animal he sprang at him and dealt him a blow with his fist that sent him sprawling on the floor.High officials in Constantinople sent out message after message through secret channels. But the messages remained unanswered.The day after Rich suddenly ceased to be an officer in the United States Navy, a great seaplane arrived at Trepassy Bay from Halifax just after sunset. Out of it stepped Commander Barton and Radio Gunner Evans, both looking haggard and exhausted. They turned in early at the seaplane base. Next morning before sunrise they were once more on board the same seaplane that had brought them from the Azores, with the same skeptic as pilot, somewhat cheered now by his visit to dry land. At the floating hangar they found the original crew of the plane, well rested now and eager to get back to the Azores.The sunset colors were fading and the pink stucco buildings of Punta Delgada but dimly showing against the green hills behind the town as the great seaplane hovered over the battleshipDelaware, answering her recognition signals, and then alighted at the entrance to the inner harbor.Evans was now easier in his mind, for Rich was no more. But still he was terribly haunted by the fear that Rich or his agents had learned the secret of the code stolen by Wellman (alias Bela), and revealed it to their superiors in Constantinople. Therefore the first thing he did on his arrival aboard theDelawarewas to send one of his secret messages to Heringham by way of Kendrick, requesting an investigation as to whether the code was still believed to be genuine, and a report as soon as feasible.Two days later, Evans, listening on his specially prepared receiver at the appointed hour when Kendrick was wont to transmit intelligence from Gibraltar, recognized the significant combinations of sounds which meant there was news for him. Listening eagerly, with quickening pulse he followed the message which came from Heringham. Careful investigation, it said, had satisfied him that implicit trust was still placed in the genuineness of the stolen code. Evans breathed freely once more. The talisman was still good.At last, early in April, orders were issued to the various units of the fleet to be ready for sea on a certain night, and a handful of men knew that this foreshadowed more than a practice cruise. This handful of men knew that, by dawn of the morning following the designated night, the entire fleet would be on the open sea.Two days of feverish preparation followed, during which Evans made hasty visits in the rôle of family doctor, or rather chief consultant, to the radio apparatus of the fleet, diagnosing ailments, giving advice and, when necessary, applying radical treatment to disordered gear.As the last day before the departure drew to a close, weary with his labors, but satisfied that the fleet was ready for its task, he went to the Borge garden at dusk and ascended the old watch-tower once more. The moon was rising over the sea, and its broad, shimmering wake on the water was broken in a hundred places by the dark forms of great ships, emblems of concentrated might. The moon rose higher till its outline was broken by the branches of the old cedar tree which formed a perfect frame for the great tableau of gallant ships on the shining water. Evans sat and drank in the glory of the picture before him, which for sheer beauty was almost unsurpassed in all his experience; its splendor took his breath away. And as he sat gazing far off over the moonlit sea with the soft air of the spring night fanning his cheek, a sense of the glamour of the great navy with its power and majesty, swept over him. A wild thrill went through him, and long-forgotten feelings of his boyhood seized him. He yearned passionately to do great deeds and play an heroic part in this war for civilization. And as the expansive feeling took hold of him he contemplated his own rôle as he saw it—a technical man fussing over small details in a small part of the great machine that was going forth to fight—a tiny cog in the works of a vast organization of men, almost a non-combatant compared with the men who would direct the battle, or the spotters in the fighting top. With a pang he told himself that perhaps his part in the war was already done, and the yearning to express the heroic impulse within him must die unfulfilled. Then he rebuked himself for thinking of his own paltry rôle as if it were of consequence. The sublimity of the scene before his eyes inspired him to a larger perspective in which self was submerged and the cause was all.“If the cause only triumphs,” he thought, “that’s all that matters. And the cause will triumph.”The majestic fleet dotting the silvery surface of the moonlit sea now seemed to him the symbol of a great hope, and yet, symbol though it was, it was something very personal and very dear to him. Then there came back to him another feeling, long buried deep in the remote past, a feeling once closely linked with the ardent yearning for great deeds, that had fired his youth. There rose before his eyes the vision of one who long ago had meant more to him than life itself, one who when his hopes seemed brightest had been snatched from him through the influence of a dominating and ambitious mother.... From this his thoughts turned to the memory of his own mother, unfailing in her sympathy, gone now, leaving him the priceless heritage of her devotion.It was time to return to the flagship. Descending through the shadowy paths of the old garden, he came out at last and threaded his way through the picturesque streets of the town to the harbor front where the Old-World architecture around the landing seemed shrouded in mystery in the pale moonlight. And as he took his place in the motor-sailer, he felt that his spirit had been far away from the little things that make up the daily life in the fleet, now crowding in on his consciousness and dragging him rudely back from Olympian heights.By dawn the next morning the vast fleet—battleships, cruisers, destroyers and all—had vanished.
In 1919 when the N-C 4, the colossal flying boat built for the purpose by the American Navy, made her epoch-making flight across the ocean, there was, among many others, one great difficulty surpassing the rest, which made the task well-nigh impossible. The distance from Newfoundland to the Azores was so great that the problem of building a machine with a hull strong enough to alight safely on the waves, with a load of fuel sufficient for the journey, yet still able to lift the required weight off the water, taxed the available engineering talent to the limit. When all that had been deemed essential was put aboard, the boats were actually unable to rise into the air. Something had to be discarded. The margin of fuel above what the flight would consume was already so small that the commanding officer was unwilling to reduce it further. Therefore the emergency radio transmitter was left behind, and in consequence the N-C 3, flagship of the flight, was nearly lost with all on board. This much is history, but let us get on with our story.
In the years between 1919 and 1937, science and engineering had done wonders, but they had not lessened the number of miles between Newfoundland and the Azores, nor enabled seaplanes to fly without fuel nor to alight on ocean waves without strong hulls. The problem of flying seaplanes across the ocean under their own power was still acute. Seaplanes manufactured in the States were needed in steadily increasing numbers at the great center of naval activity in the Azores. Cargo space on ships could ill be spared for their transportation; they must transport themselves. But instead of attempting to cross the wide ocean in a single hop, they divided the journey in two stages by means of a great floating hangar midway between Newfoundland and Fayal. Thus the load of fuel required was cut in two.
This floating hangar was little more than a glorified scow with a huge sea anchor to windward and engines of just power enough to supplement this in holding her against drifting away from her station when the wind was strong. Two long arms or wings projecting to leeward from her hull enclosed a large sheltered pool, and giant plates, extending deep down under water from the flanks of these arms, broke the waves, so that even in the heaviest gales the surface of the pool was smooth enough for the planes to alight. Fuel tanks, repair shop, quarters for crew of hangar and of passing seaplanes, fast seagoing motor-boats for rescue and salvage work, and storage space for a few planes comprised the rest of the equipment.
A gray lifeless dusk was about to close in on this lonely floating station the day after Barton had called on Fraser. In a deckhouse was a sort of wardroom where were wont to gather the officers in charge and the pilots of such planes as were attached to the station or had stopped there in passing. A group of pilots was sitting round the table looking over the latest weather bulletin received by radio; this promised a clearing of the sky before morning. The sky had been overcast for two days, and the officers now began their usual custom, on such occasions, of getting up a pool with bets on the number of miles off station that the navigator would find them to be with his early morning star sights. One man bet as high as ten miles.
“That’s absurd,” said another. “They know just what the ocean currents are round here by now, and they’ve got indicators to show just what drift the old scow makes. They’re always making allowances for all that. I don’t believe we’ll be over three miles off.”
“I’m from Missouri on this dead-reckoning with a scow riding to a sea anchor, and a one-horse engine to get home with,” said the first.
“Well,” said the other, “you back your notion with your dough, and I’ll back mine. If it clears off like they say it will, we’ll see to-morrow who’s the richer for the deal.”
The skeptic rose from the table, yawned, stretched, and sauntered to the window where he looked out over the endless gray waste of water on which the leaden sky was already beginning to cast the gloom of approaching twilight.
“Gosh, what a dreary place this is!” he said. “I hope they won’t keep me stuck in this billet many weeks; the monotony of it will just about drive me silly.”
“That’s the kind of thing you’ve got to expect in war,” said another officer, older than the rest—one that was permanently attached to the floating hangar.
“I’d give my eye teeth,” said the skeptic, “to be out where there’s something doing—looking for enemy subs to bomb. Good Lord, all we do here is to go out to find some blighter who can’t keep his engine running and has flopped on the water, and tell him ‘cheerio’ while he waits for the motor-boat to come and salvage him. Why can’t they teach these bums to fly, before sending them out here with brand-new planes, anyway?”
“If they did that, you’d have even less to occupy you than you have now,” said the older man. “As for hunting subs, I’ll bet you’d find that a damn sight more monotonous than this. Here you at least find the blighter you’re looking for.”
The conversation was suddenly interrupted by the signal, “Action Stations.” The pilots ran to their planes, and the older officer ran to his station in the pilot-house where he found the commanding officer studying the eastern sky with his binoculars.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“A big seaplane coming this way,” answered the commanding officer. “She looks like an American plane, but we’re not expecting any from there, and we’ve had no radio from Punta Delgada or Fayal that would indicate any plane was coming. So I called out the gun crew to be ready in case of trouble. Give a recognition signal—she’s near enough now to see it.”
The signal was flashed out—a series of brilliant colored lights—and instantly the answering signal was seen to flash from the approaching seaplane, already visible to the naked eye.
“She’s American, all right,” said the skipper, “but what’s she doing coming here now? I thought they needed all their planes right there. And why haven’t we had any word of her coming?”
The roar of the four big engines was already audible, and soon the great plane with her wing-spread of a hundred feet, swung round to leeward of the hangar, swooped down, hovered low over the waves, and settled gracefully on the smooth surface of the water between the sheltering arms of the giant scow.
The great seaplane was warped into the landing stage, and down from the hull clambered her pilot followed by Barton, Evans, and the prisoner, Long.
“Where’s the Captain?” asked Barton of the seaman who helped him on to the landing stage.
“Right here,” said the skipper, hastening down from the pilot-house.
Barton handed him a slip of paper. He looked at it; then turned quickly to his orderly.
“Tell Mr. Jones I want to see him at once. Commander Barton, come to my room and I’ll have supper for you right away. The gunners can go to the wardroom. I’ll have the plane ready for you to go on in half an hour.”
Lieutenant Jones, the executive officer, appeared, on the run, and saluted.
“Mr. Jones, have the tanks of this seaplane filled with gas and oil, have the engine carefully inspected and the best emergency crew fully equipped and ready to take her; they are going on to Trepassy Bay, and everything must be ready in half an hour. Have supper for the crew that brought her in; they’ll stay here.”
The skeptic was told that he was to take the big seaplane on the next lap of her journey;—the monotony was to break more abruptly than he had hoped. Never had the routine of this floating relay station been so violently shaken. To-day a new record for speed was made, for the slip of paper called for speed, and it bore the signature of Admiral Johnson. In arranging with Fraser for the trip, Barton had told him nothing of his confidential relations with Evans, but merely stated that since the case involved tampering with the radio gear in the flagship, which Evans had discovered, he wanted to take him along as a witness.
In half an hour, as the tired crew that had brought the giant seaplane on her flight from the Azores, refreshed by hot coffee and cigarettes, were beginning to wonder how long they were doomed to stay at this lonely spot in midocean, Barton, Evans, and Long climbed aboard the seaplane once more. Long was shackled to his seat, so that he could not by a sudden leap deprive them of his services as a witness. The skeptic took his place in the pilot’s seat; and with a deafening roar from her engines the great creature rose off the water and shot away into the twilight where she was almost instantly lost to view. Looking back ten minutes later, the pilot saw twinkling faintly astern the light on the floating hangar that guided seaplanes to this haven of rest and refuge on the lonely sea.
It was only just after two in the morning when the commanding officer of the great seaplane base at Trepassy Bay, Newfoundland, was roused from his sleep and handed a slip of paper which caused him to spring out of bed and order the best seaplane at the base to be ready at once to take passengers to Halifax.
At Halifax they stopped for breakfast while a fresh plane was being prepared to make a non-stop flight to Washington. Before nine they were on their way again, dropping the islands and promontories of the Nova Scotia coast behind them at a rate of ninety miles an hour. As they passed over the heel of Cape Cod, flying high, Evans could make out the long white line of Monomoy Island with its sandy ocean beach. The memory returned to him of the same white line when last he had seen it over the roaring breakers, showing dimly through the rain from thePetrel’scockpit, on his adventurous sail with Mortimer.
It was toward the end of the afternoon that the strange trio arrived in Washington, quite unheralded. With the utmost care to keep Evans concealed from Rich’s possible spies, Barton found Mortimer and brought him secretly to the place where Evans was awaiting them. Mortimer told them all that had transpired in Washington and how Rich had found in Goss the real culprit. Then they in turn recited the evidence they had obtained at the Azores implicating Rich. The behavior of Long and his visible agitation on the mention of Rich’s name seemed to Mortimer suggestive, but not conclusive; so did the testimony of Elkins concerning Rich’s advice to Captain Brigham, but this, having passed through so many months, carried less weight than the other. The report of Heringham, however, made him feel that the case, indeed, looked bad for Rich. After some consultation it was decided that, unknown to Rich, Mortimer should assemble Admiral Rallston, Chief of Naval Intelligence, Barton and Evans in his office, and then send for Rich and question him. Long would be held under guard where he could easily be brought in, and Commander White could be summoned at any time from the Bureau of Engineering to repeat the significant words of Captain Brigham, if it seemed desirable.
The next morning Evans and Barton were smuggled into Mortimer’s office with every precaution that no word of their presence should reach the ears of Commander Rich. Admiral Rallston then came, and all sat down where they could watch the face of Rich as he entered the door. Rich was then requested to come to the Secretary’s office. So cordial had been their relations that he now felt sure all suspicion of him had vanished, and he obeyed the summons without misgivings.
With breathless suspense the others awaited his arrival. The door was opened by an orderly and Rich entered. All eyes were on him. As he saw Evans sitting before him, his face blanched visibly and there was the least suggestion of a tightening of his muscles. But in an instant he was all cordiality, his self-possession never better.
“This is an unexpected pleasure,” he said to Evans. “I hadn’t heard you were returning from the fleet so soon.”
“You wouldn’t,” answered Evans; “the Bureau keeps you occupied with larger issues.”
“Indeed,” replied Rich graciously, “I hear often of the splendid work you have been doing for us in the fleet in keeping our equipment in working order.”
Equally gracious was Rich in his greetings to Barton and Admiral Rallston.
Then Mortimer, bracing himself for the effort, spoke.
“Commander Rich,” he said, “I regret to say that a man from your division of the Bureau of Engineering was found purposely damaging the radio apparatus on theDelawareunder pretense of making changes indicated in orders from you.”
“Indeed?” said Rich, his composure not the least bit ruffled, yet with an appropriate display of surprise. “And what was his name and rating?”
“Radio Gunner Long,” answered Mortimer. “Do you remember him?”
“I think I recall his name,” said Rich, “but we have so many in the Bureau I find it hard to know them all. At all events, I should not have been directly concerned with planning the work of such a man. The officers under me lay out the work and make out the orders; they merely bring them to Admiral Bishop or me to sign. It would be impossible for me to give any clue to this particular case offhand; but I can start an investigation at once, and we can probably trace his orders to their source.”
“Unhappily,” said Mortimer, “evidence was brought to light which appeared to point unmistakably to you as the real author of the plan to damage the apparatus.”
“Mr. Secretary,” said Rich, with impressive dignity and earnestness, “it is impossible that you have given credence to such slanderous accusations after our years of close and cordial coöperation in the prosecution of the war.”
“Indeed,” said Mortimer, “I was loath to listen to them till the mass of evidence seemed overwhelming.”
“It must, indeed, have been overwhelming to outweigh my years of devoted service to the navy. May I ask what this overwhelming evidence is?”
“A number of things about the behavior of this man Long appeared to those who apprehended him only capable of interpretation as signifying your complicity with his acts. These facts, coupled with the changing of messages last week, and the simultaneous disappearance of Mr. Tompkins, which present indications seem to show are not as easily explained as you made them appear to be then through the agency of Goss, have led to the accusation.”
“All these things can still be perfectly well explained. Goss confessed to tapping the wires and impersonating me, as you yourself can witness; Tompkins was probably himself implicated, and, hearing of Goss’s fate, has either absconded or committed suicide. The evidence associated with this man Long, you speak of, can be explained on proper investigation as easily as all the rest. I think, Mr. Secretary, you are doing me an extraordinary injustice to so much as listen to these accusations after my years of devoted service. Perhaps the gunner, here,” indicating Evans, “who has at times been impatient with me for not accepting new-fangled ideas as quickly as he would like, has been poisoning your mind against me.”
“Since you bring up that issue,” said Evans, “I should like to ask why, if you are indeed the gallant and loyal officer you modestly concede yourself to be, you told Captain Brigham theDelawarewould be better off without the equipment you had authorized to enable her to direct the fleet in action.”
A dark scowl showed for an instant on Rich’s face. “It’s a lie,” said he; “I never said such a thing to Captain Brigham or any one else.”
Evans turned to Mortimer.
“Commander White’s testimony on that point might be interesting,” he said.
Commander White was summoned. When he entered the room, Mortimer said to him, “Commander White, I wish to know if Captain Brigham, while chief of staff, ever said anything to you about remarks by Commander Rich to him on the subject of the radio equipment of theDelaware.”
“He did say something about that, sir.”
“Do you remember what he said?”
“It is some time ago, but, as I recall it, Gunner Evans had just said something to him about the set not being in good working order according to the specifications of the Bureau, and he had told the gunner the set was the way he wanted it. When Gunner Evans had gone, Captain Brigham told me that Commander Rich had said he didn’t believe in most of the newer equipment, and he thought it would be just as well not to attempt to keep it all in working order, but to rely in practice on the old-fashioned gear.”
Commander Rich then said: “I don’t recall making any such remarks as that. Captain Brigham and I had frequent conversations, and at some time I may have said that some of the older gear had stood up well in service and was in some ways more reliable than some of the newer devices. Mr. Secretary, you know how easy it is to misquote a man, even with the best of intentions. Some remark of mine has been misunderstood and then passed from mouth to mouth till it actually is held up as evidence of treason. The thing is ludicrous. I never dreamed of advocating anything that would impair the efficiency of the ships.”
Evans spoke next. “The efficiency of theDelaware’sradio room as it was in Captain Brigham’s regime might well be likened to that of a Ford car with one cylinder working and no front wheels. In spacing the battleship divisions most effectively for the concentration of gun-fire, in disposing the cruiser squadrons and destroyer flotillas, every bit of modern equipment authorized by the Bureau is needed. Messages must often go out simultaneously on as many as five different wave-lengths. With the gear as Captain Brigham had it, that would be absolutely impossible; the team-work of the fleet would be crude and clumsy—worse, it would be paralyzed. Our ships, rambling incoherently over the ocean, would be at the mercy of the enemy if ever they were brought to action. That is what Brigham’s efficiency stood for.”
“Mr. Secretary,” said Rich with dignity, “I have already told you that I never advocated any neglect of radio equipment which could have impaired the efficiency of the fleet. The gunner here is obsessed by an exaggerated sense of the importance of certain devices in whose development he has been interested. When he found them not working as well as he would have liked, and Captain Brigham not as much interested in them as he was, he built out of some misquoted remark of mine an elaborate picture of high treason.”
Evans shrugged his shoulders and looked at Barton. The case against Rich did not appear on the face of it as clear and convincing as it had before the defendant’s eloquent tongue had been mobilized in his defense. But Barton held in his hand a strong card of which he had as yet given no intimation. During the night, after hearing from Mortimer how Goss had been caught and driven to confess, he had interviewed Long. He now rose and went to a door leading to an adjoining room, opened it, and beckoned Long to come in. As he entered, all eyes were not on him, but on Rich. When this officer saw the prisoner enter, he started and turned pale. To the watchful eyes of Barton the look of guilt on his face was unmistakable. Mortimer was rather struck by the ease with which he regained his composure after the surprise of seeing one whom he thought to be in the Azores, suddenly brought before him.
Barton then handed to Mortimer the original orders under which Long had been sent to Punta Delgada, formally signed by Admiral Bishop as Chief of the Bureau. Mortimer read the orders; then questioned Long as to his mission and how he had come to be sent on it. Long’s voice trembled as he answered:
“Commander Rich explained to me that my task was to damage the radio equipment on the flagship—and later on the division flagships—as much as I could without its being discovered in time to repair it. Before I went he called me to his office in the Bureau, where we looked over the diagrams of most of the apparatus, and considered the best places to damage the sets in a way that would not be found out till they were called on for heavy usage. After making a few suggestions he left it to me to work out the details.”
“This is the most preposterous fabrication I have heard yet,” called out Rich in high dudgeon.
“Just a moment,” said Mortimer. “I wish to ask Gunner Long a few more questions, then we can have your comments.” Then, turning again to Long, he continued, “How did you come to be in the service, and how did your relations with Commander Rich come about?”
“Goss and I were working as electricians in a factory in New York where they make radio apparatus. We had been in this country since we were boys; I came from Bulgaria and he from Thrace. Just before this country joined the war, Commander Rich, in civilian clothes, came to see us and talked with us for a long time, asking us what we knew of electricity and how we felt about the war. We both were on the side of the Balkan Powers in our hearts and had no feeling of obligation to America. He told us this country was soon going into the war and that the rulers in Constantinople had things so well planned and organized that they were sure to win, and America would then be under their rule; and any one who had helped the cause would be in luck. Finding us disposed to work for that end, he told us that he was an agent of the Constantinople Government and had been holding a position in the United States Navy for some years, and showed us documents proving his statement. He offered us jobs in the Bureau of Engineering with the salaries of our ratings and in addition an equal amount from a secret source at his disposal. We both accepted the offer, and as I was the older and more experienced, I was made a radio gunner, while Goss was enrolled as chief radio electrician. He promised us both rewards either in money or good positions at the close of the war, and assured us he would then control great power.
“Goss was my best friend in the world. No man was ever more faithful; never did a man face the dangers of that work more bravely or more cheerfully than he. If Commander Rich had stood by him, nothing on earth would have made me tell. Till yesterday I stood ready to keep my mouth shut even if you tortured me. But last night I learned how this cur had betrayed my friend and foully done him to death. And now I am ready and glad to tell you the truth. Goss never faltered. He was ever ready at the master’s bidding to risk discovery, tapping wires and impersonating others. When Rich found himself cornered, he turned to Goss and ordered him to reveal his mimicry that he himself might escape the net.”
All eyes were on Rich. His face wore a sneering look.
“Mr. Secretary,” he said, “it seems to me that story is pretty thin, I might almost say transparent. You, as a lawyer, have doubtless seen through it yourself already. This man is a spy; we all know that. He was caught in the act of doing the work he has just described. Goss was his friend; they were confederates. Now that he has been caught, and his plan frustrated, he naturally wants to shift the burden of guilt, as much of it as will shift, on to the shoulders of some one else. Whom will he try to implicate? Naturally the head of the division in charge of radio apparatus. It would help his case to do so, anyway; and now that he finds on his return that I discovered his friend and confederate, and caused his execution, naturally his desire for revenge makes him all the more eager to accuse me. With two motives, both strong, one might almost predict in advance that he would do just this. As for his story, any one who wanted could invent it in ten minutes. Surely you will not be so simple as to believe it.”
Long was seeing red. The storm of pent-up feeling, brewing as Rich delivered these remarks, now broke.
“You vile scoundrel!” cried the prisoner. “Goss served you to the last, and you betrayed him; you made him use the skill that had served you, to bring on his own death sentence, to save your dirty hide.”
“Mr. Secretary,” said Rich, “on my honor I am innocent. A man of your experience will not take the word of a confessed spy with an obvious grievance, against that of an officer tried by years of service in the navy.”
“Probably not, if that were the only evidence,” said Mortimer.
“I demand of you in the interest of fair play,” said Rich earnestly, “that Admiral Bishop, Chief of the Bureau of Engineering, be permitted to come and speak in my defense. I am certain he will assure you of my innocence.”
“Very well,” said Mortimer, “I will send for him at once.”
In a few moments Admiral Bishop was ushered in, looking more pompous, his face redder and his whiskers whiter then ever. Mortimer told him briefly the story of the suspicions and charges, and summarized Rich’s defense. Admiral Bishop could hardly contain his indignation.
“This is the most outrageous frame-up against a loyal officer that I ever heard of,” he said. “Commander Rich has been my right-hand man throughout the war. He has contributed more than any one in Washington to the high state of preparedness of the navy to-day. Ask any man who has been close to the organization of radio communications in the fleet during recent months if the efficiency of the apparatus is not a signal tribute to the responsible man at the head.”
“We have just heard from one man who has been very close to radio communications in the fleet,” said Barton, “and he didn’t seem to look on their efficiency in that light.”
“Who?” asked Bishop.
“Evans,” replied Barton. “He seems to feel that our communications are working well in spite of Commander Rich, not because of him.”
“The gunner here!” said Admiral Bishop in surprise. “You don’t expect me to yield to a radio gunner in my judgment of the men in charge of the divisions of my Bureau?”
“No,” said Barton, “only you said, ‘Ask any man who has been close to the organization in the fleet,’ and he was one; that’s all.”
Barton deemed it unwise to mention before Rich anything of what he had heard from Heringham about Rich’s status in enemy circles. He had mentioned this to Mortimer in private, but the skill with which Rich had parried all attacks thus far, and the stanch support of Admiral Bishop seemed to have obscured that testimony in Mortimer’s mind; and the upshot of it was that he seemed perplexed and rather inclined to lean toward Rich’s side of the case. Barton therefore left the room, and, when out of sight of the others, beckoned Mortimer to follow. In a moment Mortimer excused himself and joined Barton in a corridor where they could be far enough to be safe from eavesdroppers while they conversed in whispers. Barton then reminded him of the testimony received in the secret messages from Heringham in Constantinople.
Mortimer thought a moment and then remarked: “That might all have come from some spy who has caught on to Evans’s method of getting messages from Gibraltar, and has smuggled in fake messages implicating Rich.”
“That is extremely improbable,” said Barton. “Anyway, there are so many things all pointing the same way I am convinced of his guilt.”
“He has offered a reasonable explanation of every item thus far,” said Mortimer. “I don’t see how we can prove the case against him without something more definite and unanswerable than we’ve got.”
While this whispered conference was going on in the corridor, Commander Rich and Admiral Bishop were making things as uncomfortable as they were able for Evans. The Admiral was so incensed by the affair that he freely proclaimed his indignation—men who made such accusations against one of Rich’s integrity and distinguished service ought to be imprisoned. Rich, with malicious insinuation, turned the odium of it upon Evans who, glum and silent, paid no apparent heed.
Mortimer and Barton in the corridor outside were making little progress with their conference and were about to rejoin the others when Mortimer’s attention was drawn to the sound of a man’s voice talking rather excitedly to one of the clerks in the outer office. He listened and could hear the voice saying, “It is most important that I should see him at once.”
Then he heard the clerk say, “He is having a very important conference and can’t be disturbed.”
Mortimer stepped into the outer office and saw that the man with the excited voice was Rand.
“Did you wish to see me?” he asked.
“Yes, at once,” answered Rand breathlessly.
Mortimer led him into the corridor.
“What is it?” he said. “Tell me in a whisper. We can’t go in there now.”
“Tompkins has just appeared,” said Rand in a hoarse whisper. “He was kidnaped and has just escaped. His story is most important.”
“Where is he now?”
“In his own office,” said Rand.
“Bring him here at once,” said Mortimer.
Rand disappeared on the run, and in less than three minutes returned with Tompkins, looking thin, worn, and exhausted. Tompkins then told how on that memorable morning when so many things happened he had gone early to the Secretary’s office with the message from Evans, and, not finding Mortimer, had returned to his own office, and how, when he next set out, Commander Rich had dealt with the situation.
“Commander Rich called you up and explained the situation, then handed me the phone,” he said. “You probably remember the conversation; as I recall it, you said, ‘It’s all right, give Commander Rich the message. It will excite less notice if you don’t keep coming to my office.’”
“You say I said that?” broke in Mortimer.
“Yes, sir.”
“I never had any telephone conversation with you at all that morning,” said Mortimer, “nor with Rich till after I received the message delivered by his messenger.”
Tompkins stared with amazement.
“This is the most important testimony we’ve got,” said Barton. “Go on, and remember to speak quietly.”
Tompkins then told of his kidnaping, the long motor-ride into the mountains and the days of imprisonment in the abandoned logging hut with the scantiest food supplies, under guard of five armed ruffians.
“A few days ago they had an altercation. There were whispered conferences and arguments just out of my hearing. Angry words passed, and I don’t know just what happened, but pretty soon I found that three of the five had deserted, leaving only the two to guard me. The food got low and one of them had to walk a long distance to get more; he got back pretty tired. The two of them drank some liquor and started taking turns at watching through the night. Just before dawn the man who had gone for the food, having stood watch since midnight, dropped off to sleep; the long walk and the liquor were too much for him. I was sleeping with one eye open. When I was satisfied that he was asleep, I slipped out of the hut. The dawn was just breaking, and I picked my way down a wood road, and then ran till I had got a good mile from the hut. I tramped nearly all day and in the afternoon reached a village where I learned that I was at the edge of the Shenandoah Mountains. I hadn’t a cent, but I got a man to take me down in his flivver to a railroad town where I induced the bank president to trust me and give me a night’s lodging. That was yesterday, but it seems like last year. This morning he lent me the railroad fare to get back to Washington. I took the first train this morning, and got in about an hour ago.”
Barton asked a few more questions, and then said to Mortimer, “I think we’d better have him come right in and give his testimony before the others.”
Then he explained to Tompkins that Rich was charged with treason, and they were in the middle of the investigation.
Mortimer and Barton reëntered the room, and then, with their eyes on Rich, beckoned Tompkins to follow. As Tompkins entered, Rich caught his breath with a gasp. There was no mistaking the pallor on his face now, nor did he regain his composure as easily this time.
Tompkins then recited the details of the momentous morning when Rich had intercepted his message. Mortimer explained to Admirals Rallston and Bishop that he had never taken part in the alleged telephone conversation, that the message which Tompkins tried to deliver was identical with that which Evans had later repeated to Rand, and that the message received by messenger, urging the recall of Fraser, was a bogus one. Admiral Bishop was quite bewildered, and got lost in the intricacies of the conflicting narratives. Rallston, grasping the significance of the revelations, looked very serious. Evans, alert and missing nothing, was looking more cheerful.
Mortimer turned on Rich.
“How do you explain this telephone conversation in which I never took part, but in which Mr. Tompkins understood me to instruct him to deliver his message to you?”
Rich, once more perfectly at ease, replied: “I explain it by telling you it is a lie; just one more bit of this whole elaborate frame-up. I told you Tompkins was probably involved in this business, and had probably absconded.”
“Or committed suicide,” put in Barton.
Rich ignored the interruption and continued: “When he heard that there was a conspiracy on foot to discredit me, he saw his chance to get in on the thing. He has doubtless been in conference with others in his gang, and they have decided that this story is the best way to play their game.”
There was a pause. Admiral Bishop stroked his whiskers and nodded approvingly.
“I think that is a very reasonable explanation, Mr. Secretary,” he said.
Evans then spoke.
“I think there is now a chance of putting this thing to the test of something better than words. Until Tompkins entered the room just now I had no idea he was in Washington; I didn’t know whether he was still alive. I have therefore had no possible chance of collusion with him since I got home from the Azores. Are you satisfied on that point?”
“Perfectly,” answered Mortimer.
“I should now like to ask Tompkins if he felt sure that he recognized the voice in the telephone as yours,” continued Evans. “Is that a fair question?”
“It is,” said Mortimer, turning to Tompkins and awaiting his reply.
“The voice sounded exactly like the Secretary’s; I had no doubt of it at the time,” said Tompkins.
“Now,” said Evans, “according to Tompkins’s story, Commander Rich went through the usual procedure of calling this room through the Bureau switch-board. In due course a voice, which Tompkins believed he recognized as yours, answered. You never received the call. If Tompkins’s story is true, some one must have cut the wires from Commander Rich’s room to the switch-board; otherwise the call would have gone through to this room. Furthermore, some one who could mimic your voice must have been at the other end of the cut wires. When Goss was charged with cutting in on Tompkins’s line and impersonating Commander Rich, more than one man in the Bureau testified to having seen him with a portable phone in the vicinity of the wires leading to the switch-board, on the morning when all this happened. He was also shown to be an expert mimic. It remains, then, to see if the wires from Commander Rich’s phone to the switch-board have been cut.
“As for the possibility that they have been cut since then in order to corroborate the story, you will notice that Tompkins himself has not suggested that mode of corroboration, and you have granted that he has had no opportunity of suggesting it to me. Furthermore, if his story is true, the wires must have been cut and spliced together again a week ago when all this happened. But if, as Commander Rich suggests, he had made up his story as the result of a recent conference with his gang, after hearing that he had a good chance to get in on the frame-up, then, if he has had the forethought to cut and splice the wires in order to back up his story, he must have done it within a few hours. Now an experienced electrician could tell, on examining the splices, whether they were done within a few hours, or as long as a week ago. In fifteen minutes we can find out whether those wires have been cut, and approximately when.”
“I think, Mr. Secretary,” said Admiral Bishop, “it would be a gratuitous insult to a distinguished officer to follow the inquiry further by looking for such evidence against him. I am satisfied the whole business is an audacious conspiracy to discredit Commander Rich.”
“Don’t you think that fair play to Mr. Tompkins requires that we should look at those wires before concluding that he is lying?” asked Mortimer.
“I do not see it,” said the Admiral.
“I do,” said Mortimer.
The electrician who had installed the wires in the Bureau at the outbreak of the war was sent for; also two other expert wire-men as witnesses. It was a strangely assorted procession that walked through the corridors of the Navy Department from the Secretary’s room to the Bureau of Engineering. Secretary Mortimer and Admiral Rallston went first; behind them followed Admiral Bishop and Commander Rich, while Barton, Evans, Rand, Tompkins, and Long brought up the rear. Evans and the electricians set to work removing planks to explore the wires leading from Commander Rich’s room to the switch-board. It was not long before Evans, who had chosen a place where a man could work unseen, to begin his search, called the others to come and look. There were the wires, each with a swelling of electric tape. This was carefully removed by one of the electricians, and under the tape the wires were spliced. Every one had a look at the splices.
“Do you recall whether the wires were spliced at that point when you put them in?” asked Mortimer.
“I am certain that they were not,” replied the electrician.
“Have you ever looked at them since?”
“I inspected them two months ago.”
“Were they spliced then?”
“No.”
“Could you swear to it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell how long ago those splices were made?”
The electrician examined the wires carefully; then answered, “They weren’t done within the last three days; I am sure of that. How much longer ago, I can’t tell.”
The other electricians examined the wires and all testified that the splices couldn’t have been made less than four days ago at the very latest.
The electricians were dismissed. Admiral Rallston turned to Admiral Bishop.
“Can you tell me how that evidence could have been faked?” he said.
Admiral Bishop did not answer. All eyes were now on Rich who was an ashy gray, all his affable manner gone, a venomous look of malice on his face.
Evans and Barton exchanged glances, and Barton nudged Admiral Rallston.
“Have you heard anything from our friend Bela since his unceremonious departure?” said Evans casually to Rich. “He has been praising you warmly.”
Rich started violently and turned a shade paler; the look of fear and hate in his face was more intense than ever. He opened his mouth to speak, and then, looking at the eyes of the others all grimly watching him, he remained silent. Suddenly he turned on Evans and like a flash drew a pistol from his pocket. Barton, standing close beside him, was watching him like a lynx. Quick as was Rich’s hand, Barton’s was quicker. With a swift blow he struck Rich’s right hand toward the ceiling with such force that the pistol flew from it, and, sailing through the air, fell at Evans’s feet. Long’s desire to assault Rich now became uncontrollable; like a wild animal he sprang at him and dealt him a blow with his fist that sent him sprawling on the floor.
High officials in Constantinople sent out message after message through secret channels. But the messages remained unanswered.
The day after Rich suddenly ceased to be an officer in the United States Navy, a great seaplane arrived at Trepassy Bay from Halifax just after sunset. Out of it stepped Commander Barton and Radio Gunner Evans, both looking haggard and exhausted. They turned in early at the seaplane base. Next morning before sunrise they were once more on board the same seaplane that had brought them from the Azores, with the same skeptic as pilot, somewhat cheered now by his visit to dry land. At the floating hangar they found the original crew of the plane, well rested now and eager to get back to the Azores.
The sunset colors were fading and the pink stucco buildings of Punta Delgada but dimly showing against the green hills behind the town as the great seaplane hovered over the battleshipDelaware, answering her recognition signals, and then alighted at the entrance to the inner harbor.
Evans was now easier in his mind, for Rich was no more. But still he was terribly haunted by the fear that Rich or his agents had learned the secret of the code stolen by Wellman (alias Bela), and revealed it to their superiors in Constantinople. Therefore the first thing he did on his arrival aboard theDelawarewas to send one of his secret messages to Heringham by way of Kendrick, requesting an investigation as to whether the code was still believed to be genuine, and a report as soon as feasible.
Two days later, Evans, listening on his specially prepared receiver at the appointed hour when Kendrick was wont to transmit intelligence from Gibraltar, recognized the significant combinations of sounds which meant there was news for him. Listening eagerly, with quickening pulse he followed the message which came from Heringham. Careful investigation, it said, had satisfied him that implicit trust was still placed in the genuineness of the stolen code. Evans breathed freely once more. The talisman was still good.
At last, early in April, orders were issued to the various units of the fleet to be ready for sea on a certain night, and a handful of men knew that this foreshadowed more than a practice cruise. This handful of men knew that, by dawn of the morning following the designated night, the entire fleet would be on the open sea.
Two days of feverish preparation followed, during which Evans made hasty visits in the rôle of family doctor, or rather chief consultant, to the radio apparatus of the fleet, diagnosing ailments, giving advice and, when necessary, applying radical treatment to disordered gear.
As the last day before the departure drew to a close, weary with his labors, but satisfied that the fleet was ready for its task, he went to the Borge garden at dusk and ascended the old watch-tower once more. The moon was rising over the sea, and its broad, shimmering wake on the water was broken in a hundred places by the dark forms of great ships, emblems of concentrated might. The moon rose higher till its outline was broken by the branches of the old cedar tree which formed a perfect frame for the great tableau of gallant ships on the shining water. Evans sat and drank in the glory of the picture before him, which for sheer beauty was almost unsurpassed in all his experience; its splendor took his breath away. And as he sat gazing far off over the moonlit sea with the soft air of the spring night fanning his cheek, a sense of the glamour of the great navy with its power and majesty, swept over him. A wild thrill went through him, and long-forgotten feelings of his boyhood seized him. He yearned passionately to do great deeds and play an heroic part in this war for civilization. And as the expansive feeling took hold of him he contemplated his own rôle as he saw it—a technical man fussing over small details in a small part of the great machine that was going forth to fight—a tiny cog in the works of a vast organization of men, almost a non-combatant compared with the men who would direct the battle, or the spotters in the fighting top. With a pang he told himself that perhaps his part in the war was already done, and the yearning to express the heroic impulse within him must die unfulfilled. Then he rebuked himself for thinking of his own paltry rôle as if it were of consequence. The sublimity of the scene before his eyes inspired him to a larger perspective in which self was submerged and the cause was all.
“If the cause only triumphs,” he thought, “that’s all that matters. And the cause will triumph.”
The majestic fleet dotting the silvery surface of the moonlit sea now seemed to him the symbol of a great hope, and yet, symbol though it was, it was something very personal and very dear to him. Then there came back to him another feeling, long buried deep in the remote past, a feeling once closely linked with the ardent yearning for great deeds, that had fired his youth. There rose before his eyes the vision of one who long ago had meant more to him than life itself, one who when his hopes seemed brightest had been snatched from him through the influence of a dominating and ambitious mother.... From this his thoughts turned to the memory of his own mother, unfailing in her sympathy, gone now, leaving him the priceless heritage of her devotion.
It was time to return to the flagship. Descending through the shadowy paths of the old garden, he came out at last and threaded his way through the picturesque streets of the town to the harbor front where the Old-World architecture around the landing seemed shrouded in mystery in the pale moonlight. And as he took his place in the motor-sailer, he felt that his spirit had been far away from the little things that make up the daily life in the fleet, now crowding in on his consciousness and dragging him rudely back from Olympian heights.
By dawn the next morning the vast fleet—battleships, cruisers, destroyers and all—had vanished.