CHAPTER XVII
Now came months of labor and of scurrying about the country for Potter Waite; half a dozen trips to Washington interrupted his work in the machine-shop; formalities, futile interviews, unreeling of red tape wasted his time in the capital. It seemed he could get nowhere, could lay his hand on no definite information, perceive nowhere a definite plan for the future or sign of constructing a plan. If the Middle West was dozing, official Washington appeared to him to be walking in its sleep.
He had not seen Hildegarde, for her father had once more sent her away, and she had not been reluctant to go. If travel, fresh contacts, strange people promised to distract her mind from the facts she confronted, she would gladly give them an opportunity to keep their promise. Her mind was a throbbing carbuncle and any poultice was better than no poultice. So she went east, then, with the opening of the new year, she accompanied friends to Palm Beach.
Potter studied his father as a sort of barometer of the reactions of the conservative to world-events growing daily more momentous. It was not a barometer to register suddenly arising storm, Potter believed, yet one morning he was awakened by his father’s knuckles battering his door. Fabius did not wait for Potter’s call to enter, but rushed into the room, waving a newspaper.
“Look at that!” he said, excitedly, hoarsely. Potter had never before seen his father excited. Not even the German note of late January announcing a nation in the throes of rabies, revoking pledges, declaring for unrestricted undersea savagery, had overthrown his calm. Nor had Mr. Wilson’s action in packing off von Bernstorff, ambassador and spy, thrown him off his poise. But now he raged.
“By God!” he exclaimed, “this means war, and war quick! Read it!... Read it!”
Potter read with stunned astonishment the story of Zimmerman’s perfidy—of negotiations with Mexico and Japan for a partition of America. Germany purposed to make a second Poland of America and with lavish generosity made present of three great commonwealths to a country which was not a government; a country not ruled by law and authority, but given over to petty greeds and the marauding bands of exalted bandits. What was promised to Japan none might say—doubtless it was equally lavish.
Potter said nothing.
“I’ll wire the President,” Fabius Waite said, furiously. “He can have my plant. I’ll quit making automobiles if I can turn the whole thing to manufacturing shells or guns.... We’ll need them; we’ve got to have them.... Invade the United States! March up the Mississippi Valley!... We’ll show them, by George! where they’ll march!”
“Dad,” said Potter, “you haven’t believed we would be dragged into this war. Even when relations were broken with Germany you still believed with the great body of the people, that war was not inevitable.... In your judgment, does this really mean war?”