To one of these, Senator Lattimer, she paid particular attention, assuring him that she would be honored if he would "drop in some afternoon for tea," an invitation which the gentleman from Iowa accepted with alacrity a few days later.
As was afterward apparent, the countess had arranged her schedule with considerable care. She had arrived in Washington early in the fall, and by the time the season was well under way she had the entrée to the majority of the semiprivate functions—teas and receptions and dances to which a number of guests were invited. Here, of course, she had an opportunity to pick up a few morsels of information—crumbs which fell from the tables of diplomacy—but that wasn't what she was after. She wanted a copy of a certain confidential report referring to American relations abroad, and, what's more, she'd have gotten it if she hadn't overstepped herself.
Through what might have been termed in vulgar circles "pumping" Senator Lattimer, though the countess's casual inquiries from time to time evinced only a natural interest in the affairs of the world, Sylvia found out that the report would be completed early in March and that a copy would be in the Senator's office for at least two days—or, what interested her more, two nights.
She didn't intimate that she would like to see it. That would have been too crude. In fact, she deftly turned the subject and made the Senator believe that she was interested only in his views with respect to the stabilization of currency or some such topic far removed from the point they had mentioned.
Just before he left, however, Senator Lattimer mentioned that there was going to be a big display of fireworks around the Washington Monument the following evening, and inquired if the countess would be interested in witnessing the celebration.
"Surely," said she. "Why not let's watch them from the roof here? We ought to able to get an excellent view."
"I've got a better idea than that," was the senatorial reply. "We'll go down to the State, War, and Navy Building. The windows on the south side ought to be ideal for that purpose and there won't be any trouble about getting in. I'll see to that," he added, with just a touch of pomposity.
So it happened that among the dozen or more persons who occupied choice seats in a room in the Navy Department that next night were the Hon. Arthur H. Lattimer and the Countess Stefani.
The next morning it was discovered that plans relating to certain recent naval improvements—radical changes which were to be incorporated in the battleship Pennsylvania—were missing.
The chief learned of the loss about nine-thirty, and by ten o'clock every available man was turned loose on the case, with instructions to pry into the past records and watch the future actions of the people who had been in the room on the previous evening.