“Yes, my mother is trying to smile through it all,” said Jack soberly, winking very fast as he spoke for some reason or other, though Tom did not seem to notice the fact. “She has the soul of a true patriot. Years ago when we were at war with Spain, she let father go to the front without a complaint. My aunt told me that many times she found mother crying in secret; yet to the world she always seemed to be as calm and contented as if father had been at her side. No fellow ever had a finer mother, Tom.”
“There’s only one fly in the ointment, according to my mind,” continued the other, frowning as he spoke.
“I can guess what you mean,” said Jack. “You’re still thinking of that scoundrel, Adolph Tuessig, and how he stole part of your father’s design of his great invention. Tom, I wager the one hope in your heart is that fortune will send you across his path some day or other, when you can perhaps recover the lost paper, or at least repay him for his treachery.”
“You’ve guessed it, Jack! I’d give anything to have just such a chance. Father is beginning to despair of ever getting his invention completed, with that part of his plans lost. He seems to be unable to remember just how the exact combination was to be effected; and the more he worries the deeper his confusion grows. Mother is quite anxious about him on that account.”
“Stranger things than such a meeting have happened, Tom. Let’s hope that just such a chance may come your way before that Tuessig is able to hand over his find to the German headquarters in the Wilhelmstrasse.”
“Strange to say,” mused Tom, “the detective my father employed has been unable to find a single trace of Tuessig. He seems to have disappeared as if the earth had swallowed him up. Men have been kept watching the German Legation at Washington right along, because the ambassador is getting into pretty deep water, and is apt to receive his walking papers any day; but Tuessig hasn’t been there.”
“Then,” said the hopeful Jack, “perhaps he doesn’t feel satisfied to hand in only an incomplete prize. He may be holding on in the hope of yet being able to steal the rest of your father’s secret.”
Jack soon took his departure. He hardly knew whether he felt joyous or depressed over the near approach of the day when he was to start for New York, there to board a trans-Atlantic steamer bound for the warring country beyond the sea. There were times when Jack’s heart beat high with delightful anticipations; and then again the sight of his widowed mother’s pale face, with its forced smile whenever she thought he was looking, gave him a severe pang.
Tom spent a quiet evening with his family. His father and mother, as well as Oscar, a lad of twelve, and Phoebe, a six-year old sister, hovered over him constantly, and the talk was as cheerful as could be expected under the conditions.
Finally Tom kissed his mother good-night and went to his room. He was gulping down the emotions that struggled in his heart, for it is indeed no light thing for a boy to part from all he loves and go forth to risk his life in the service of mankind.