Chapter 14

"I can't!" Carpenter smiled--and waited. Would Marston suggest the transposed or elided word?

"I'm disappointed," Marston confessed, "I thought sure we had it. Let's try the next key-word in the book."

They tried it, and the next, and all the rest. None of them translated the letter.

It took more than an hour; at the end, as a full measure of good faith and because it was of no further use to him--he having preserved a copy--Marston insisted that Carpenter retain the original of the French code-book and have a copy made, after which the book could be returned to him at the Chateau. During this hour and more his hand was in and out in his side coat-pocket. When he left the room there went with him, in that pocket, a copy of the original letter--roughly made by the sense of touch alone, yet none the less a copy and sufficiently distinct to be decipherable. For years Marston had practised writing in the dark and under all sorts of handicaps. In his pocket, a number of small slips of paper and a pencil were concealed. He would write a line, then take his hand from his pocket; after a time he would shift the page of paper, write another line, and then another, and so on until the copy was made. And all the while he was so frankly communicative, with apparently not the slightest intent to obtaining a copy--even tearing up the paper on which were the various trial translations--that he completely deceived Carpenter. When he left, the latter went with him to the elevator and bowed him down.

"I don't quite understand their game," Carpenter chuckled, as he turned away, "but it's no matter. I took all the tricks this morning and still have a few trumps left. I thought he certainly would try for a copy of the letter, but he didn't even attempt it. He may have committed it to memory, but I'll chance it."

Returning to his office he gave the code-book another careful inspection and confirmed his impression as to its being authentic. Then he laid it aside, and took up the letter and _à l'aube du jour_!

First he tried it in reverse position: _ruoj ud ebua'l à_. The translation was gibberish. Then he wrote the first and last letters, the second and next to last, the third and the third from last, and so on. The result, too, was gibberish. Next he dropped the first word, 'à' and tried the rest--still gibberish. He dropped also the 'l'--still gibberish. Then, in turn, the 'a' of the third word the 'd' of the fourth, the 'j' of the last word--all gibberish. Next he wrote the key-word entire but transposed the 'a' from the first letter to the last--still gibberish. He began with the _aube_--still gibberish.

"Damn!" said he.

He was persuaded that the key-word was in the sentence before him; the code-book, Crenshaw's slip of paper, and his own hunch were convincing, yet the combination was slow in coming.

_Du jour à l'aube_ was the next arrangement. He wrote it under the printed words and began to apply the Square.

The D and the A yielded A; the U and the B yielded V; the J and the C yielded E; the O and the D yielded R; the U and the E yielded T; the R and the F yielded I.

"_Averti!_"

Carpenter gave a soft whistle of satisfaction. French, it was--his hunch had not deceived him. The key-word was found!

Swiftly he worked out the rest of the cipher, setting down the letters of the translation without regard to words. "_Averti_" was evident because it was the first word. At the end, he had this result:

AVERTIQUELALLEMAGNEAENGAG EUNOFFICIERADECELERLAFORM ULESECRETEDESETATSUNISEMP LOYEEACOLLODONNIERLAFULMI COTONPOURLAPOUDRESANSFUME EALARTILLERIEDEGROSCALIBR EETQUEMADELINESPENCEREMIS SAIREDELALLEMAGNEAPARISPH OTOGRAPHIECIINCLUSEAETECH ARGEEDELARECEVOIRNESEPEUT DECOUVRIRLENOMDUTRAITRESP ENCERESTPARTIEPOURNEWYORK SURLALUSITANIAQUIDOITARRI VERLEQUATORZEATOUTEFORCEI NTERCEPTEZLAFORMULEOUEMPE CHEZAMOINSQUELALLEMAGNENE LOBTIENNESPENCERSIMPORTAN TEALAFRANCE

There was not the least doubt as to it being in French--the last three words, as well as the first, proved it; also that he had the correct key-word. It only remained now to separate the result into words. And this puzzle presented no difficulties to Carpenter; he quickly marshalled it into form:

"_Averti que l'Allemagne a engagé un officier à déceler la formule sécrète des États-Unis employée à collodonnier la fulmi-coton pour la poudre sans fumeée à l'artillerie de gros calibre; et que Madeline Spencer, émissaire de l'Allemagne à Paris,--photographiè ci, incluse--a été de chargée la recevoir. Ne se peut découvrir le nom du traître. Spencer est partie pour New York sur la Lusitania qui doit arriver le quatorze. À toute force interceptez la formule; ou empêchez à moins que l'Allemagne ne l'obtienne. Spencer pas importante à la France._"

And under it he wrote the English translation: "Informed Germany has induced an officer to betray United States secret formula for colloding process of treating gun-cotton for smokeless powder for high power guns, and that Madeline Spencer, a German Secret agent in Paris, photograph enclosed herein, is delegated to receive same. Cannot ascertain name of traitor. Spencer sailed Lusitania, due New York, fourteenth. Take any means to intercept formula; or at least to prevent Germany obtaining it. Spencer not essential to France."

_Spencer not essential to France!_ Surely this woman had great power, either of knowledge or of friends; she resided in Paris, yet France was reluctant to lift hand against her so long as she was on French soil. Well, he would turn the matter over to Harleston; let him decide whether it was to be thumbs up or thumbs down for her Alluringness. Furthermore, the meeting with Snodgrass now assumed much significance. Snodgrass was an ex-army officer. Harleston must be warned at once.

He tried for him at the Collingwood, the Cosmopolitan, the Rataplan, and finally at the Chateau. He got him there.

"Can you come here at once?" he asked.

"Not well," said Harleston, "I've an appointment."

"Forget it!" Carpenter exclaimed. "I've found the key-word and made the translation. It's serious--Very well, come right in; I'll be waiting."

Harleston scribbled a note to Mrs. Clephane and sent it up by a page; he would be back in half an hour; would she meet him in the Alley.

XXII

THE RATAPLAN

A moment before Harleston's return, Madeline Spencer, stepping out of the F Street elevator, was met by Snodgrass who had been walking up and down the lobby. They took a taxi and sped away; followed closely by another taxi, which their driver was most careful not to distance. A second later Harleston entered the corridor. As he was about to greet Mrs. Clephane, a man approached him and said:

"They have started, sir; Burke's just behind in a taxi--and both drivers are wise. They're bound for the Rataplan."

"Follow them and wait just outside," Harleston ordered--and turned to Mrs. Clephane. "I must go to the Rataplan at once," said he. "Let us lunch there. The end of the affair of the cab of the sleeping horse is in sight; I thought you might like to see it."

"I want to see it!" Mrs. Clephane exclaimed. "Have you found the key-word?"

"Carpenter found it--I'll tell you about it on the way out. Come along, little lady."

* * * * *

"But why do you suspect Captain Snodgrass?" she inquired, when Harleston had finished his account. "He would not have access to the formula, would he?"

"The man that has access to such secrets never is the man who actually delivers," he explained; "he has a confederate. Snodgrass is the confederate, we think."

"Is this secret colloding process of gun-cotton so tremendously valuable?" she asked.

"It's a secret for which any nation would give millions of dollars. It's admittedly the most powerful explosive ever discovered, as well as the easiest handled. Temperature, weather, ordinary shock have absolutely no effect on it; in fire it simply chars and doesn't explode. Yet when it is exploded by the proper method, lyddite, dynamite, and all the other ites, are as a gentle zephyr in comparison. Now tell me about last night; where were you?"

"After you left," she explained, "I wrote some letters, and then went into the corridor to drop them in the chute beside the elevator shaft; as I approached, the car came down with Mrs. Spencer in it. Something impelled me to follow her; and running back I grabbed a cloak, and dashed for the elevator, catching it on the fly. She wasn't in the main corridor; on a chance, I hurried to the F Street entrance; I got there just as she stepped into a taxi and shot away. Instantly I called another taxi and told the driver to follow the car that had just departed. He did for a little way; but in a sudden halt of traffic at Vermont Avenue and H Street, where, you may remember, the street is torn up, we lost the other taxi; and though we drove around the north-west section for more than an hour on the chance that we'd come up with it--my driver knew the other driver--we never did come up with it. But as we rolled up to the Chateau, Mrs. Spencer was alighting from a limousine with a tall, fine-looking, fair-haired chap who had the walk of a military man."

"Snodgrass," Harleston observed.

"She saw me; and, with a maliciously charming smile, nodded and went on. In the corridor I came on some friends and we talked awhile. Then I went up to my apartment, got your message, and telephoned to you."

"Don't do it again," he cautioned. "It was very dangerous."

They turned in at the Rataplan and drew up at the carriage entrance. Harleston helped Mrs. Clephane from the taxi and they passed into the Club-House.

He inquired of the doorman whether Mr. Carpenter was in, and another servant, who overheard the question, added that Mr. Carpenter was in the dining-room. Harleston and Mrs. Clephane went directly in and to a table next to Carpenter's. Three tables away were Madeline Spencer and Snodgrass.

Harleston nodded to Mrs. Spencer and to Snodgrass, then spoke to Carpenter and invited him over.

"I don't know if you will remember me, Mrs. Clephane," said Carpenter, coming across. "I met you several years ago in Paris."

"Yes, indeed, Mr. Carpenter, I remember you!" Mrs. Clephane replied.

"Anything?" Harleston asked, without moving his lips.

"Nothing. I was here when they arrived," Carpenter replied in the same manner--and went back to his table.

"Who is the woman with Harleston?" Snodgrass asked Mrs. Spencer. "I've never seen her."

"A Mrs. Clephane," Madeline Spencer replied. "She's very good-looking, isn't she?"

"I'm perfectly satisfied with the lady immediately in my fore," he smiled. "I don't run to blondes--"

"When you're with a brunette!" she smiled back.

"I don't run to anyone when I'm with you," he replied with quiet earnestness, leaning toward her across the table.

She shot him a knowing glance. Last night she had held him to strict propriety. Today in the taxi she had deliberately set herself to fascinate him, and had succeeded well. She had been demurely tantalizing--holding him at a distance, letting him come a little nearer, bringing him up sharply; all the tricks of the trade executed with a perfection of technic and a mastery of effect. Snodgrass, with all his experience, was but a novice in her hands; she always struck directly at the affections--got them: and then the rest was easy. She never lost her head, nor allowed her own affections to become involved; save only twice--and both those times she had failed. Snodgrass, she had learned through inquiries, had quite sufficient money to make him worth her while; moreover, he was such a big, good-natured, dependable chap--and a gentleman. If he had not been a gentleman he would not have attracted Madeline Spencer for an instant. She dealt only in gentlemen.

She had not told Snodgrass of the Clephane letter, nor anything as to Harleston except to refer casually to him as the confidential emissary in delicate matters of the State Department. She had found that Snodgrass was not the actual man in the case; that he was simply a friendly confederate, or rather, to use his own words, "a friend of Davidson." She had expected that the package or letter would be delivered to her in the taxi; but Snodgrass had told her as soon as they were started that Davidson would forward it to him at the Rataplan by mail, not later than the two o'clock delivery. He would get it as they were leaving and transfer it to her, accepting the consideration as specified by Davidson, and receipting for it. He said flatly that he did not want to know the contents of the letter; he was doing this favour for Davidson. He understood that it was to be entirely _sub rosa_ and that nothing must ever transpire as to it. Therefore he was prepared to forget the entire episode the moment it was over; the epochal meetings with her he would not forget, nor would he permit her to forget him if constant devotion and assiduous attention were of avail. To which she had made a most demurely fitting answer, and the conversation thereafter grew exceedingly confidential. Oh, they were getting on very well indeed when the Rataplan was reached. And they were still progressing very well--in a discreetly informal way.

The entrance of Mrs. Clephane and Harleston was unexpected to Mrs. Spencer; Carpenter was a stranger to her and she had thought nothing of him; but when he spoke to Harleston, and seemed to know Mrs. Clephane, she put him on the list of the enemy. She kept him there when Snodgrass told her his name and position in the Diplomatic Service and that it was reputed there was no cipher too difficult for him to solve.

"We would better be very circumspect," she said low. "I think that these two men are here to watch us; they know that I'm in the Secret Service, of Germany, and they're naturally suspicious of me."

"Carpenter was here when we came in," Snodgrass remarked. "He was sitting in the lobby. However, if you prefer, I'll let my mail go until evening."

"We can decide when we're through luncheon," she replied. "Haste is of vital importance, my instructions say. I had hoped to get away on the midnight train for New York, and to sail tomorrow for England."

"I had hoped to do the same!" he whispered.

"Really?" she asked.

"More than really! May I?" leaning forward.

"If you care to, Captain Snodgrass. It will be very pleasant to have you on board."

"And afterward?"

"You may not care for the afterward," she murmured.

"I'll risk it!" he exclaimed. "We'll sail tomorrow."

"And the letter?" she asked.

"I'll get it for you--or have it along!"

"What about the consideration?"

"Hang the consideration. I'll pay it myself, if need be."

"No, no, my friend!" she laughed. "I'm not worth so much, nor anything near it. And even though I were, I'd not permit the wasteful extravagance."

She might have added that she had no objection whatever to his wasteful extravagance, in fact, she would rather encourage it, if she were its object. Only that must come later--after the present business was finished, and they had sailed from New York. How long the extravagance would continue was dependent on the depth of his purse and his disposition.

"Wasteful extravagance does not apply where you are concerned," he replied. "However, we'll let Germany pay the consideration, and I'll have that much more to spend on you."

She rewarded him with one of her alluringly ravishing smiles and a touch of her slender foot. She had him--and she knew she had him. She would be Madeline Spencer once again--always having a victim, and always ready for a fresh one. Since she had failed with Harleston, what mattered it how many the victims, or what the price they paid.

XXIII

CAUGHT

"Mrs. Spencer and her friend have reached some sort of an understanding," Mrs. Clephane remarked. "She just smiled at him significantly and pressed his foot."

"I noticed the smile but not the foot business," Harleston chuckled. "It's something quite personal to them, I take it!"

"Exactly; but what's the effect on the matter in hand? Does not this _personal_ understanding signify that the delivery of the formula has been arranged, maybe even effected."

Harleston nodded. With Madeline Spencer it was, he knew, business first and personal matters afterward.

"I think we shall see the end of the affair of your cipher letter and its ramifications before the afternoon is over," he replied.

"What about the French Embassy?" she asked.

"The Marquis has been advised that we have the translation. He will keep his hands off, you may believe."

"You think either that Captain Snodgrass has the document in his possession, or that he has given it to Mrs. Spencer?"

"Or that it will come into his possession before they leave the Rataplan, and be transferred to her here or in the taxi on their way back to town," he added.

"What if he transferred it to her on their way here?"

"Then she still has it--once she gets it in her possession she won't part with it, even in her sleep, until she places it in the hands of the official who sent her to America."

"And Mr. Carpenter was here to watch until you came?"

"Yes--and afterward; you see one of us might be called away. From the time she and Snodgrass met at the Chateau this morning, they have not been out of espionage and close espionage. So long as they are in a taxi, or at the Rataplan, there is no danger of the document getting away if either of them has it; but until we are certain that they have it, we won't detain them; we want the document to aid us in running down the traitor. I'm not at all sure that Snodgrass is aware of the character of the document. He probably stipulated not to know; he will be content with a division of the money--and with a chance to spend some of it on Spencer; which spending she is quite ready to facilitate, as witness the pleasant understanding they seem to have arrived at during luncheon."

"What are you going to do, Mr. Harleston?" Mrs. Clephane asked.

"I think you will enjoy it better if you're not wise, little lady!" he smiled. "Moreover, it depends on circumstances just how it's to be gone about--except that it ends in the office of the Secretary of State.--Hush!"

"The Secretary of State!" she exclaimed low.

"I've an appointment to take Mrs. Spencer to meet his Excellency at four o'clock."

"And what are you going to do with me, Mr. Harleston?" she smiled.

"You mean at four o'clock, or permanently?"

"At four o'clock, sir," with a charming lilt of the head.

"Take you along."

"With _that woman_? Thank you!"

"No, with me."

"Didn't you say you had an appointment to take Mrs. Spencer?"

"I did!"

"You intend to keep the appointment?"

"I do!"

"Surely, sir, you don't imagine for a moment that I would go anywhere with Mrs. Spencer!"

"No more than you imagine that I would ask it of you!" he smiled.

"It seems to me your meaning is somewhat obscure," she retorted. "However, whether you don't mean it, or do mean it, I'll trust myself to you because it's you, Mr. Harleston."

"Permanently, my lady?"

"Certainly not, sir. I refer only to this afternoon; I want to be in at the end of the game."

"For me," said Harleston slowly, "it's been a very fortunate game."

"Games are uncertain and sometimes costly," she shrugged.

"When played with Spencer, they are both and then some," he replied.

At that moment Carpenter pushed back his chair and arose, nodded pleasantly to Mrs. Clephane and Harleston as he passed, and went out.

"Will Mr. Carpenter be at the finish?" Mrs. Clephane asked.

"Probably; but he'll be in the lobby when we go through."

"They are going!" she whispered. "And they're coming this way."

As Mrs. Spencer and Snodgrass went by, the former with an intimate little look at Harleston, said confidentially:

"I'll be ready at half-past three, Guy."

"Very good!" Harleston answered promptly--when she was past, he looked at Mrs. Clephane.

"The cat!" she muttered; then smiled quizzically. "Such a pleasant air of proprietorship," she observed.

"Too pleasant," he returned. "I've something to tell you as to it and her, when the present matter is ended."

"Will it keep?"

He nodded. "I can tell it better then--and have more time for the telling."

The headwaiter approached casually, as though surveying the table.

"Well!" said Harleston.

"He went to the private mail boxes; she's waiting in the lobby," the man replied. "He received a small letter, which he opened; it enclosed only another envelope, which he put in his pocket without opening. He returned to the lobby and they left the Club-House."

Harleston nodded. "It's time for us to be moving," said he to Mrs. Clephane. "Will you trust me?" he asked as they passed into the lobby, at the far end of which Carpenter was sitting absorbed in his cigar.

"Absolutely!" she replied.

"And will you go with Carpenter; he understands? I'll be with you shortly. I must act quickly now."

Carpenter arose as they neared.

"Just started," said he, and bowed to Mrs. Clephane.

"Mrs. Clephane understands," Harleston explained "I confide her to your care. _À bientôt._"

He hurried out. A taxi, waiting with power on, sped up; he sprang aboard and it raced away.

As it neared the Connecticut Avenue bridge, the taxi slowed down a trifle and the driver half-faced around.

"The other car is just ahead, sir," he reported.

"Very good," said Harleston. "Does the driver know we're behind him?"

"I've signalled, sir, and he's answered."

"Maintain the distance," Harleston directed.

"Yes sir," said the man.

Keeping about a hundred yards apart--the two cars sped down the hill and around Dupont Circle to Massachusetts Avenue, thence by it and Sixteenth Street to H. The one in the lead continued on toward Fourteenth. Harleston's shot down Fifteenth, flashed over the tracks at Pennsylvania Avenue, swung into F Street, and drew in at the Chateau just as the other came around the Fourteenth Street corner, and rolled slowly up to the curb.

As Snodgrass was assisting Madeline Spencer to alight--and taking his time about it--Harleston glanced at his watch, sprang from his car, and hastened over.

"This is fortunate, Mrs. Spencer!" he exclaimed. "Just after you left the Rataplan the Secretary of State telephoned that he was summoned to the White House at four, and I should bring you an hour earlier. On the chance of overtaking you, I beat it after you. Now if Captain Snodgrass will permit you, we have just time to get over to the Department."

"Will you excuse me, Captain Snodgrass?" she asked, with her compelling smile.

"A Secretary of State may not be denied," Snodgrass replied. "In this instance in particular I would I were his Excellency."

"Come and dine with me at eight," giving him her hand.... "Now, Mr. Harleston, I am ready."

"What did you do with Mrs. Clephane?" she asked, when they were started.

"I left her at the Rataplan," he replied.

"Alone?"

"Oh no--with Carpenter, who chanced to be handy."

"The bald-headed chap, who spoke to you in the dining-room?"

"Exactly!"

"Carpenter is the chief of the Cipher Division, I believe you said."

"I don't recall that I said it, Madeline, but your information is correct."

"I think I'll ask the Secretary for the letter," she remarked.

"Ask him anything you've a mind to!" Harleston laughed. "You've a very winning pair of black eyes et cetera, my lady."

"I've never seen the Secretary!" she smiled.

"Small matter. He'll see you, all right."

"I'll make an impression, you think?"

"If you don't, it will be the first failure of the sort you've ever registered."

"Except with you," she murmured.

"Good Lord!" he exclaimed. "You've had me going many times."

"Yes, Guy--but not now," she whispered.

"Now, I'm strong!" he laughed, bluntly declining the overture.

"Hence you are willing that I try my smiles on the Secretary," she retorted.