He found Admiral Von Herpitz, the wizard of the sea, at his desk. As the young man entered the old Admiral rose and came forward. This unusual mark of favour somewhat embarrassed the young officer until the old man, placing both huge hands upon his shoulders, looked into his eyes.
“Excellent.”
The one word conveyed a volume of praise, gratification. The old sea dog was known as a silent man. Censure was more frequent from him than applause.
The Lieutenant could find no word. The situation was for him embarrassing in the extreme. He, like Herpitz, was a man of actions, and words confused him.
“These English,” the old Admiral spoke grimly, “we will teach them. Have you seen the reports? They are having quite a little panic in America also over the Seronica. Two hundred of the passengers lost were American.”
A file of papers lay on the table. Kreusler ran through them hurriedly. The Berlin journals gave the sinking of the Seronica great headlines followed by columns of sheer joy. The London and Paris and some of the New York sheets called the exploit a crime and its perpetrators pirates. But they all gave it utter and undivided thought. The X-8 had become the horror craft of the world. Berlin figuratively carried her young commander on her shoulders. He found himself the hero of the hour.
“You have done well for the Fatherland,” Von Herpitz repeated as the Lieutenant was going out.
In his own cabin Kreusler forgot the Seronica and the X-8. The fat letter with the Washington postmark absorbed him.
Two years, ending with the outbreak of the great war, Kreusler had been naval attaché to the German embassy at Washington. He had been popular in the society of the American capital. He was highly educated, a profound scientist, an original thinker, and an adaptable and interesting dinner guest. Dorothy Washburn, the youngest daughter of the Senator from Oregon, had made her début in Washington during the second winter of Kreusler’s presence there. The two had met. They were exact opposites; he tall, severe, blond, thoughtfully serious; she, small, dark, vivacious, bubbling with the joy of life. Love was inevitable.
The fat letter was engrossing. It breathed in every line and word and syllable the fine love this wonder woman gave him. One paragraph was most astounding. It read: