L.P.M. : The End of the Great War

by J. Stewart Barney

The Secretary left the room after practically turning the entire matter over to Edestone. He feared that the time had come to show force. The Germans, in what they felt might be a desperate strait, had thrown to the wind caution, tradition, and the usages of civilized warfare. They were preparing some desperate move which he felt that he was powerless to stop. Diplomacy with them now was as useless as pure logic on a charging elephant.

How they expected to stand against Edestone and his diabolical mystery of the air, he could not comprehend, but he had lived long enough with this nation to know them. Simple, kind, and lovable in their ordinary lives, they were nevertheless, on the subject of war, individually and collectively mad and they were ready to die fighting.

Whereas any sane man could see that their fight with Edestone was hopeless, they with their absolute confidence and conceit were preparing to pit themselves against him and some unknown secret of nature. While he, with his discovery, was apparently in a position to let loose upon their defenceless city an engine of destruction too terrible to think of. Edestone, like the pilot who has come aboard the ocean liner, had now taken entire charge.

The first thing was to get off this message, so he sat down to work out the cipher known only to himself and “Specs.” He said to Lawrence:

“My initials J. F. E. are the call which must be repeated three times, then twice, and then finally once. This must all be repeated with one minute intervals until answered by the single letter ‘E,’ which will be repeated eight times, once for every letter in my name, and after an interval of five minutes, once again only.

“After you have satisfied yourself that you are in touch with Mr. Page, my head man, ‘Specs,’ I call him, send him this.” He handed Lawrence one word of twenty-two letters, or rather twenty-two letters which he had apparently taken indiscriminately from a small pocket dictionary. “Have him repeat, and see that there is no mistake,” and continuing, he said: “We are certainly being watched by the German servants; the condition of my trunks shows that, so the first thing to do is to get them out of the way. Call them all down into the ballroom, and say that I wish to speak to them. See that everyone is there, and if there is a single one missing, search the house from garret to cellar until you find them all. I will give them a little talk which will give you and Black time to get off this message. I will, incidentally, show them that I propose to put up with no nonsense whatever.”

As Lawrence was leaving the room he said to him with a jolly laugh: “Oh, by the way, how does it feel to be rich again? I have been so occupied with other things that I have not had time to thank and congratulate you on your splendid work. What a fine story it will make when we get back to New York, which will be very soon, I hope.”

When the servants came in he first gave them a little insight into the real state of affairs from a standpoint that they had never known. He then explained to them that the Embassy was practically in a state of siege, and that he was in command, and that if he heard of any one of them having any communication whatever with anyone on the outside, he would treat them in the way that he had treated the people in the pictures which he had shown them, only he would put them out of the window and they would keep going up and up and never come down again. So when Lawrence returned and signalled that he might let them go, a more thoroughly scared set of domestics never waited on the word of “Ivan the Terrible.”

“Well, Bo,” said Lawrence as he threw himself into a comfortable chair, after slopping whisky and water all over the tablecloth and dropping a large piece of ice on the floor which he kicked violently at the retreating servant at whom he had bellowed, giving a perfect imitation of a Prussian officer in a public restaurant when American ladies are present, “this has certainly been ‘some day.’ Will you please be so kind as to put me wise on a few of your dates?

“In the first place, who was the ‘wise guy’ who rushed out from nowhere and swallowed up my J. F. E. like an old trout from under a bank who had never seen a Silver Doctor before? Where is he? How is he to get here, and what is he going to do when he does?”