CHAPTER XII
The attempted burglary at the American Embassy made quite a stir, not only in Berlin but in America. That it did not make a greater one was due to the fact that no one except Rutile and Topham suspected that it was anything more than the simple attempt at burglary that it seemed; and both Rutile and Topham had their own reasons for concealing their suspicions.
The attempt was therefore ascribed simply to a desire for plunder; that it might have political significance was not even publicly suggested. So far as Rutile knew, Risdon was the only one to smell even the smallest rat; and Risdon, having absolutely no information concerning the letter Topham had brought, knew nothing that connected Ouro Preto with the incident. He therefore found so little on which to base a story, that he cabled only a vague surmise that nobody paid any attention to.
But despite the fact that few people suspected any particular mystery in the motive, everybodytook a very great interest in the crime. The dead man was plainly not a common thief. His clothing was good and his person showed evidences of refinement. He was unknown to the police, and was therefore presumably not a member of the ordinary criminal classes. Very obviously, too, he had been murdered by his companion to do away with any chance that he might betray that companion’s identity.
Few criminals go so far as to murder a “pal” under such circumstances, and from this it was argued that the accomplice must be a man who had much more than the ordinary at stake. In other words, it seemed very probable that he was a Raffles in real life. Naturally, such a suggestion was nuts to the newspaper men and they used it to the full.
Topham and Rutile shrank from discussing the subject with each other, and from resuming the broken-off conversation of the night before. It was easy enough to avoid further talk at first. The police had come promptly and had done what they had to do with neatness and dispatch. But it all took time and when it was over the dawn was at hand and the two young men went off to theirbeds, glad of the excuse to postpone explanations.
But Topham could not stay away from the Embassy all the next day. He was leaving in the afternoon and to absent himself would have been more significant than anything he could say. So about noon he went to the embassy, uncertain just what he would say but resolved not to shirk any question that might rightfully be asked of him.
As he approached the door he saw Caesar standing on the steps staring around him with wildly rolling eyeballs. Evidently he was looking for someone, but as his eyes passed over Topham without pausing, the latter did not guess that he himself was the object of the darkey’s solicitude.
Only when he was quite near he spoke. “Well, Caesar!” he questioned, “Can’t you find him?”
“Find who?” The negro whirled round. “Fore Gord, Massa Topham! Whar you come from. If I ain’t been a-lookin’ an’ a-lookin foh you! Massa Rutile’s mighty anxious to see you, suh. Please to walk up to his room, suh. Please, suh!”
Topham ascended the stairs slowly and pushed open the door of the secretary’s office.
Rutile was bending over a huge atlas, but when the navy officer entered he pushed it aside. “Hello!Topham,” he called. “I was getting anxious about you. Your train goes pretty soon, doesn’t it?”
Topham nodded. “In an hour or so,” he answered, quietly.
“I thought as much. Well! We haven’t much time to waste and I will come right to the point. I want you to believe that what I am going to say I say as a representative of the United States to an officer of the United States Navy. I don’t want to pry into your affairs. But I do want all the information I can get about the Count of Ouro Preto and his sister—No! let me go on—Risdon told me of your agitation on meeting the countess on the street yesterday. I know myself that you are interested in her. I know, too, that Ouro Preto was trying to pump you last night. We both know more about your trip across the ocean than we perhaps care to say. We both suspect much about that so-called burglary. But the point of it all is that the United States is greatly interested in this Ouro Preto matter—in anything that concerns Germany and Brazil for that matter. I have seen Lord Maxwell. He is positive that Ouro Preto saw the emperor last night and he believes that the Kaiser has offered to recognizehis claims to that dukedom on conditions. What these conditions are I don’t know, and it may be important that I should. You are leaving for Japan and will be out of the way later. Now, can’t you tell me anything that would throw light on the matter?”
“On the question of the dukedom?” he asked. “Not a thing. Absolutely nothing!”
Rutile hesitated. “I don’t want to offend you, old man,” he burst out. “But I must go on. There is a big game afoot, and the Ouro Preto may well wish to keep in touch with a navy officer. The countess Elsa may be fooling you and—”
“Stop!” Topham leaned forward. “I don’t misunderstand you, Rutile, my friend,” he said. “You are quite right from your point of view, and I will tell you all I may. First, though, I must tell you that today I asked the Countess Elsa to marry me—”
“Marry you!” Rutile sprang to his feet.
“To marry me,” reiterated the navy man, steadily, “and she accepted me—provisionally. I am to go away now and come for her in a year. During the year, I am neither to see her nor write to her. She said that—that my honor was at stake. I did not know what she meant. Her words, however,are significant. They may confirm your suspicions—whatever these are. More, I recognized the man who was murdered last night outside that door yonder.”
“You did!”
“Yes! He came over on the steamer with me. I smoked a cigarette he had given me just before I was taken ill. I saw him at the hotel of the countess yesterday. I do not doubt that he and the count and perhaps the countess have tried to get those papers from me.”
“And yet—”
“And yet I love her and hope to marry her. That she and her friends tried to rob me is of no importance. It’s high politics. Murder is different, but she, of course, had no hand in that and probably none in the burglary. That would be Ouro Preto’s part.”
Rutile nodded. “Very probably,” he agreed.
“I tell you this,” Topham went on, “because I am an officer of the United States, sworn to its service. No navy officer has any right to hold confidential secrets that may be inimical to his country. The countess herself would be the first to say so. I do not feel called upon to take my knowledge to the police, but my country is certainlyentitled to it. Of course you are at liberty to use it in any way the interests of the United States may demand.”
“Of course,” Rutile gasped. Topham’s words seemed to have dumbfounded him. He had intended to denounce the Ouro Pretos—to show Topham the instructions he had received concerning them and warn him against them. But the navy officer’s amazing declaration upset his plans. Topham knew everything of importance—and did not care. Very well! Let him dream away his year of probation; he would be far out of reach away off there in Japan, and at the end of that time the countess could be relied on to cast him over.
“Have—have you seen the countess today?” he questioned. “Does she know that—”
Topham’s face flushed. “The countess told me yesterday that she was leaving Berlin at once,” he said, coldly. “So I was not surprised to find her gone when I went to her hotel this morning.” He rose. “That is absolutely all I know,” he finished. “Now I must be off.”
“Not just yet.” Rutile flung out his hand impulsively. “Not until I have thanked you, old man. I know how hard it is for you to tell me allthis, and I appreciate your doing it. And I want to congratulate you. The countess is the most beautiful and brilliant woman I ever knew. You will find yourself much envied when the news is known.”
Topham took the hand the other extended. “Thank you, old fellow,” he murmured.
“And,” went on the secretary, banteringly, “if I ever suggested that you were slow, I want to take it all back. You’re the swiftest ever. To stop over in Berlin two days and carry off the biggest prize in the matrimonial market sure does break the record!”
Topham grinned. “It was rather quick,” he admitted. “It’s a way we Tophams have.” Then he glanced at the clock above the desk. “My hour’s up,” he exclaimed. “Good-by, Rutile. Tell Risdon I’m sorry not to have seen him again. Good-by.”
When he was gone Rutile stood for a moment gazing out of the window. Then he swore aloud. “It’s a damned shame,” he muttered. “Topham’s the most open-hearted fellow I ever knew, the very sort to take a woman’s word for gospel. Great Scott, how does she do it?” He took a turn or two up and down the room. “After all, though,”he went on, thinking aloud. “It isn’t how she does it. It’s why does she want to do it? What use can Topham be to her in Japan? What possible use can he be to her?”
It never occurred to the secretary that the countess might be in earnest.