VIA BERLIN
VIA BERLIN
The Secretary of State leaned back in his chair and studied the young man before him. “Sit down, Mr. Topham,” he said at last.
Topham sat down. He was a good-looking young fellow, soldierly and straight as a ramrod, but without the stiffness that usually goes with a military carriage. His tanned face and, in fact, his whole bearing spoke of an out-door life—probably a life on the sea. Such an occupation was also indicated by his taciturnity, for he said nothing, though the secretary waited long, as if to give him a chance to speak.
Finally the secretary seemed satisfied. “Mr. Topham,” he said, “I have asked you to call on me for a purpose not connected, so far as I see at present, with your mission to Japan. Concerning that, I have nothing to add to the instructions already given you. Your reports will, of course, be to the Secretary of the Navy and you will of course not forget that your duties as naval attaché to our embassy at Tokio include the sending of any political information you may be able to pick up, inaddition to such naval and military details as you may consider of importance. You speak Japanese, I believe?”
Topham bowed. “A little,” he replied, modestly.
“More than a little, I understand,” corrected the Secretary. “Doubtless you will find your knowledge of great advantage to you in your work. It is not of this, however, but of something quite different that I wish to speak.”
The Secretary paused, as if to give the young man a chance, but the latter said nothing. He merely waited courteously until the Secretary resumed.
“Have you any special preference as to your route to Japan?” he asked.
Topham shook his head. “Very little,” he answered. “I have scarcely had time. I supposed vaguely that I should go by San Francisco, because that was the most direct route, but it makes no difference to me.”
“I should like you to go by Europe and the Suez Canal. Have you any personal reason for desiring to go by Berlin?”
“Berlin? I don’t know! Er—Isn’t Mr. Rutile secretary of embassy there?”
The secretary’s eyebrows went up a trifle. “Yes!” he answered. To Topham his voice sounded a little sharp.
“He was at Annapolis with me, but resigned shortly after being graduated. We were always chums and I should be very glad to see him again.”
“Very well! That will serve as an excellent excuse for your choice of route. Kindly indicate to Admiral Brownson of the Bureau of Navigation your desire to proceed by way of Berlin, and he will issue the necessary orders. You will find that these will direct you to proceed with due diligence via Berlin to Brindisi, where you will join the U. S. S. Nevada as watch officer, relieving Lieutenant Shoreham, who is to be invalided home. You will proceed on the Nevada to Manila, where you will be detached, and will proceed at once to Tokio.”
The Secretary paused and picked a long official document before him. “You might mention your plans to any officer or others whom you chance to meet. I wish your choice of route to appear as natural as possible. You understand?”
Topham bowed. “I understand, sir,” he replied.
“Very good. Now, Mr. Topham, permit me to ask whether your mention of Mr. Rutile just now was purely accidental or whether you had any information that I wanted you to take a confidential message to him.”
Topham laughed. “Do you really?” he asked. “No! Mr. Secretary! I had no idea or information to that effect. It was altogether a coincidence, I assure you.”
“Ah! I was beginning to wonder if there was a leak in my office. Well! Mr. Topham, I wish you would take this packet and deliver it with your own hands in private to Mr. Rutile. You must not let even the ambassador know that you are carrying documents of any kind. No one is to know, except Mr. Rutile and yourself. You understand?”
“Surely, sir.”
“Very good. Can you leave for New York tonight?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Please do so! I am sorry to curtail your stay in Washington, but there is no time to lose. Your passage has been taken on the steamer Marlatic, which leaves for Hamburg tomorrow morning. Make all the speed you can to Brindisi, remembering,however, that it is better to lose a day or two than by any undue haste to cast doubt on the credibility of your visit to Berlin. The Nevada will wait for you, though she is badly needed at Manila.”
“I understand, sir!”
The secretary cleared his throat. “You will understand, Mr. Topham,” he went on, “that I do not make a messenger out of you without good cause. It is very important that these documents should reach Mr. Rutile promptly and secretly. Probably you will make the trip without the least misadventure. Remember, however, that there are people who would be exceedingly anxious to get a look at these papers if they should learn of their existence. I cannot warn you of them specifically, because I do not know who they are. We have tried to keep secret the fact that any papers are being sent, and this is one reason for choosing you. I think we have succeeded, but one can never tell. If the fact has gotten out attempts may be made to take the papers from you either by fraud or violence. I do not know how far the people who want them would go in their efforts to rob you, but it is quite possible that they might go to the limit. Be warned, therefore, andbe prepared to frustrate any attempt of any sort whatever. You understand, Mr. Topham?”
Topham stood up. “I think so, sir,” he replied.
“Very good. Here is the packet.” The Secretary passed it over. “That is all, Mr. Topham. Good luck.” He rose, and held out his hand.
Topham bowed and took his departure. Obedient to the secretary’s instructions he went along the corridor to the offices of the Bureau of Navigation of the Navy Department, and explained to the admiral in charge his desire to go via Berlin. Evidently the affair was cut and dried, for his orders were made out and placed in his hands in an amazingly few minutes.
While he waited for them he mentioned to several navy friends the route that he would take and his reasons for desiring it, and made inquiries concerning the officer whom he was to relieve. Later, when, orders in hand, he made his way to the entrance of the building he met an old newspaper friend, to whom he casually mentioned his prospective journey.
Under the big portico he stopped and drew a long breath. Events had moved so fast in the last few hours that he was almost bewildered. He hadonly reached Washington about noon on that same day, having been detached from his ship at Hampton Roads. On his arrival, he had been questioned concerning his reported acquaintance with the Japanese language, and had been notified to prepare to leave at once for Tokio as naval attaché to the embassy there. He had received detailed instructions, both written and oral, as to the duties of his post; and then had been sent to the Secretary of State for further confidential instructions which had taken the shape described.
His watch showed that barely five hours had elapsed since he had entered the building, with no thought either of Japan or Berlin in his mind. And now he was practically en route for both. The rapidity of the thing made his head swim. “Almost like war times,” he muttered. “Great Scott! I wonder if we really are going to have trouble with the Japs!”
With a shrug of his shoulders he dismissed the matter from his mind. It was no business of his for the moment at least. Again he looked at his watch. “Half-past five o’clock,” he muttered, hesitating.
He need not leave for New York before midnight,and the temptation was strong upon him to spend a few hours in looking up the friends he had made during his tour of duty at the Capital City two years before. They were very good friends, many of them, and he would enjoy meeting them.
Only one thing made him pause and that was the thought of Lillian Byrd—if she still were Lillian Byrd. She had played with him, laughed at him, and tossed him over for a wealthier man. When she did so, he had asked for sea duty and had gotten it. He believed that the two years he had spent afloat had healed the wound, and yet he hesitated to risk testing it. Everything and every one he would see would remind him of the days when he lived in a fool’s paradise. Why should he torture himself with the vain recollection. He would not! He would take the next train for New York and leave Washington with its friends, foes, and sweethearts behind him.
An hour later he was speeding northward.