“Why don’t you invent ’em, then,” retorted the editor; “instead of sending in rehash like this. How many times have the Japs seized the Philippines—in the newspapers? How many times has Germany made faces at us since Admiral Diedrich tried to bluff Dewey at Manila eight years ago? Pah! It’s gotten to be a joke and a mighty bad joke, too; and it isn’t helped out much by the row over the schools in San Francisco. Japan isn’t going to war, and if she was going to war she wouldn’t give us warning that she was getting her back up. She’d jump right in, and fuss about it later. A yarn like this is altogether too fakey!”
Risdon studied the other for a moment. “You don’t see any significance in the Germany and Japan ambassadors meeting with a Brazilian countess, then, don’t you?” he asked.
“Mighty little. Where’s the connection? What’s Germany stand to win? As for Brazil—Well! the founding of a German empire in Brazil—if that’s what you’ve got in mind—is about as mouldy as the Japanese attack on the Philippines. This panatella countess is half a German, and it’s entirely natural that she should run with the German crowd here. As for the Japs—Well! that may be only a coincidence. Anyway! there’s no proof that would warrant me in risking half a dozen great big libel suits. No! No! Risdon! If you want to run a yarn like this you’ve got to have some real facts to back it up. Why don’t you get them?”
Risdon flung up his hands. “How can I?” he demanded. “I’ve done my best. You know what these embassies are. No one can break into them except a burglar—”
“Then turn burglar!”
“Not even a burglar, I should have said. No subordinate will talk; and I can fancy what Bildstein or Siuki would say if I went to either of them and asked to be told the subjects of their conferences with the Countess Elsa.”
“Well! What would they say?”
“Say? They’d say: ‘Such a question, sir, is an unwarranted impertinence. You will kindly excuse me.’ Then they would show me to the door and would cut me dead the next time they met me! Thank you! I’ve got to get news in Washington, and I’m not quarreling with my sources of information—especially when I know it wouldn’t do any good.”
“Well! How about this countess woman? You ought to be used to the aristocracy by now. Can’t you break in there, or shall I go back to New York and send an office boy down to show you how?”
Risdon bristled up. “See here, Mac,” he exclaimed. “You’ve said about enough. I’m tired of it, and if you keep on I’m likely to chuck you and my job into the street together. I’ve tried to do exactly what you suggest. The countess had been here some time before I knew it. When I heard of her, I suspected something was up; I had met the lady in Berlin and had reason to believe she was framing up something. She’s staying at Senator Pratt’s, and the darkey who runs my errands is sweet on one of the maids there. He told me of her interviews with the German ambassador. Then I saw Pratt and everybody else—Great Scott! Don’t you suppose I know my business! Nothing doing! I couldn’t get a line. So I went to see the countess. Nothing doing again. I knew there wouldn’t be. That woman can give me cards and spades and beat me. She’s wasted in Washington and in this age. She ought to have lived in France a hundred years ago. She’s a woman to overturn a government—or create one. And I am not so sure she isn’t doing one or both. But I can’t prove it.”