Commander Barton jumped up and, followed by the yeoman, hurried out through the side door to answer the telephone. It was only for a few seconds that the room was deserted, but in those seconds Wellman slipped in, took one copy of the new secret code from the drawer, and slipped out again, tucking it under his coat as he went. Leaving the anteroom as one who has transacted his business, he returned the salute of the sentry, and walked briskly away down the corridor, passing Evans, who was walking slowly, so absorbed in his thoughts that it seemed a pity to disturb him—yes, better not interrupt his reverie. In an hour he had left Washington; in five weeks more he arrived in Constantinople, no longer in the uniform of a United States naval officer, carrying in his satchel the treasured code book. He was no longer Lieutenant Wellman, but now in his true colors, Commander Bela, of the Turkish Naval Intelligence Service.
Great was the rejoicing at Naval Headquarters when Bela arrived with his prize. Some facts of interest he had obtained while in Washington, but his stay had been cut short by the rare opportunity which had put him in possession of the code book; and this he deemed to be worth so much more than the information he might have obtained by staying longer that he had taken the responsibility of making all possible speed with the book to Headquarters. His prompt decision in so doing was warmly commended by his chief, who was even more pleased than Bela himself with the unexpected outcome of his mission.
In the code book was a key explaining how it was to be changed monthly to prevent breaking; moreover, the dates were given on which each arrangement was to go into effect. Thus it was evidently good for the decoding of Allied naval messages for several months to come.
In Washington conditions had been especially favorable for Lieutenant Wellman to effect his disappearance unnoticed. His duties had been such as involved extensive traveling, and he had been given an unusually free hand in the arrangement of his own time. Moreover, when it became finally known that he had really disappeared, a variety of rumors explaining the fact passed into circulation in ways that were not generally understood and seemed impossible to trace. No one had seen him take the code book, and it was so long afterwards that his disappearance became known to the officers at Communication Headquarters, that, even had they been disposed to suspect him, it could hardly be expected that his disappearance would in any way lead to a checking-up of the number of copies in Barton’s desk.
By the time Bela arrived in Constantinople, Heringham was well established in a post of high authority in the Coalition Government. The men who directed the affairs of this great conspiracy against the liberties of the world included besides Turks those of an extraordinary array of nationalities—Russians, Italians, Bulgars, Jews, Egyptians, and Arabs. Therefore a well-disguised Englishman with Heringham’s rare gift of impersonation might well fit into the organization without exciting suspicion. Yet Bela, on finding a stranger to him in such an important position, was strongly inclined to distrust him. He made guarded inquiries. Nothing of a compromising nature was known about him. On every hand Bela was assured that this official, with his extensive knowledge of the nations allied against the coalition, had rendered most valuable services to the cause. Still Bela suspected. Finally he contrived to have an interview with Heringham alone, and sought to probe the case. After feeling his way for some time with guarded questions, he asked Heringham rather suddenly if he had not lived for some time in England. Heringham, still in the Turkish language and with phrasing and intonation perfectly reproducing the diction of a thoroughbred Turk, replied casually, “Indeed I have. I know the little sea-girt island well.”
Then in a jocular vein he added in the English language, aping the English manner of speech in a mocking tone, yet betraying an unmistakable Turkish accent, “Have you been in Piccadilly? I say, it’s a topping place, you know!”
The easy and confiding smile with which he cast this bit of ridicule on the Briton was altogether disarming; and when he added in Turkish, “What fools those British are!” Bela could hardly conceive that any but a true Turk could have spoken so.
But now it was Heringham’s turn to take the initiative. He questioned Bela about his recent trip to America, and listened with admiration and wonder to the tale of his exploits in finding his way into the confidence of high officers in the Navy Department. With warm praise Heringham drew forth more and more of the story, and as his frank appreciation dispelled the last of Bela’s doubts, this cautious Turk ended by giving him a full recital of the information he had gained of radio affairs in the Allied Navy. One thing, however, Bela did not divulge; he said nothing to Heringham of the stolen code book.
A few days after Wellman’s uncanny disappearance, Evans received his orders to return to Punta Delgada and report for radio duty on board the flagship. It was now early in November, and the autumn colors were fading on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay as the cruiser on which both Elkins and Evans took passage left the Virginia Capes and stood out to sea. In a few days they sighted the greener shores of the Azores, where in the outer harbor of Punta Delgada the new battleship Delaware, the flagship, lay majestically at anchor, queen of the Allied Navy.