Works of Robert W Chambers

by Robert W. Chambers

“In case of a German naval victory which would make it possible to reach the Irish coast, the German Imperial Government pledges itself to despatch the Irish Brigade and a German expeditionary corps commanded by German officers, in German troopships, to attempt a landing on the Irish coast.

  “7. It will be impossible to contemplate a landing in Ireland unless the German Navy can gain such a victory as to make it really likely that an attempt to reach Ireland by sea would succeed. Should the German Navy not win such a victory, then a use will be found for the Irish Brigade in Germany or elsewhere. But in no case will it be used except in such ways as Sir Roger Casement shall approve, as being completely in accordance with Article 2.

  “In this case the Irish Brigade might be sent to Egypt to lend assistance in expelling the English and re-establishing Egyptian independence.

  “Even if the Irish Brigade should not succeed in fighting for the liberation of Ireland from the English yoke, nevertheless a blow dealt at the British intruders in Egypt and intended to help the Egyptians to recover their freedom would be a blow struck for a cause closely related to that of Ireland.”

  Another paper read as follows:

  “Halbmondlager, “Aug. 20th, 1915.

  “(SECRET)”

  “To MURTAGH SKEEL, COLONEL, “Irish Exp. Force, “N. Y.

  “REPORT

  “On June 7, fifty Irishmen, with one German subaltern, were handed over to this camp, to be temporarily accommodated here. On June 16 five more Irishmen arrived, one of whom, having a broken leg, was sent to the camp hospital. There are, therefore, fifty-four Irishmen now here, one Sergeant Major, one Deputy Sergeant Major, three Sergeants, three Corporals, three Lance Corporals, and forty-three privates.

  “They were accommodated as well as could be among the Indian battalion, an arrangement which gives rise to much trouble, which is inevitable, considering the tasks imposed upon Half Moon Camp.

  “The Irish form an Irish brigade, which was constituted after negotiations between the Foreign Office and Sir Roger Casement, the champion of Irish independence.

  “Enclosed is the Foreign Office communication of Dec. 28, 1914, confirming the conditions on which the Irish brigade was to be formed.

  “The members of the Irish brigade are no longer German prisoners of war, but receive an Irish uniform; and, according to orders, instructions are to be issued to treat the Irish as comrades in arms.

  “The Irish are under the command of a German officer, First Lieut. Boehm, the representative of the Grand General Staff (Political Division) which is in direct communication with the subaltern in charge of the Irish. This subaltern has been receiving money direct, which he expends in the interests of the Irish; 250 marks were given him through the Commandant’s office, Zossen, and 250 marks by First Lieut. Boehm.

  “Promotions, also, are made known by being directly communicated to the subaltern in question. As will appear from the enclosed copy, dated July 20, these promotions were as follows: (1) Sergeant Major, (2) Deputy Sergeant Major, and (3) Sergeants.

  “The uniforms arrived between the end of July and the beginning of August. Their coming was announced in a letter dated July 20 (copy enclosed), and their distribution was ordered. The box of uniforms was addressed to Zossen, whence it was brought here. The uniforms consist of a jacket, trousers, and cap in Irish style, and are of huntsman’s green cloth. Altogether, uniforms arrived for fifty men, and they have since been given out. Three non-commissioned officers brought their uniforms with them from Limburg on July 16. Two photographs of the Irish are annexed.

  “A few Irish are in correspondence with Sir Roger Casement, who, in a letter from Munich, dated Aug. 16, says that he hears that the Irish are shortly to be transferred from here to another place. In a letter dated July 17 he complains of his want of success, only fifty men having sent in their names as wishing to join the brigade.

  “Six weeks ago Sir Roger Casement was here with First Lieutenant Boehm. Since then, however, neither of these gentlemen has personally visited the Irish.

  “Since the 18th of June the commandant’s office has allowed every penniless Irishman two marks a week — a sum which is now being paid out to fifty-three men.

  “On Aug. 6 the subaltern in charge of the Irish brigade was given a German soldier to help him.

  “In this camp every possible endeavour is made to help to attain the important objects in view, but owing to the Irish being accommodated with coloured races within the precincts of a closed camp, it is inevitable that serious dissensions and acts of violence should take place. Moreover, a German subaltern is not suited for dealing independently with Irishmen.

  “(Sgd.) HAUPTMANN, d. R. a. D.,

  “(Retired Captain on the Reserve List).”

  The last paper read as follows:

  “(COPY)

  “(Wireless via Mexico)

  “Berlin (no date).

  “FEREZ, “N. Y.

  “Necessary close Nihla Quellen case immediately. Evidently useless expect her take service with us. Hold you responsible. Advise you take secret measures to end menace to our interests in Paris. D’Eblis urges instant action. Bolo under suspicion. Ex-minister also suspected. Only drastic and final action on your part can end danger. You know what to do. Do it.”

  The telegram was signed with a string of letters and numerals.

  Renoux glanced curiously at Barres, who had turned very red and was beginning to re-read the wireless.

  When he finished, Renoux folded all the documents and placed them in the breast pocket of his coat.

  “Mon ami, Barres,” he said pleasantly, “you and I have much yet to say to each other.”

  “In the meanwhile, let us wash the stains of combat from our persons. What is the number of your collar?”

  “Fifteen and a half.”

  “I can fit you out. The bathroom is this way, old top!”

  CHAPTER XXI

  THE WHITE BLACKBIRD

  Refreshed by icy baths and clean linen, and now further fortified against the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune by a supper of cold fowl and Moselle, Captain Renoux and Garret Barres sat in the apartment of the former gentleman, gaily exchanging Latin Quarter reminiscences through the floating haze of their cigars.

  But the conversation soon switched back toward the far more serious business which alone accounted for their being there together after many years. For, as the French officer had remarked, a good deal remained to be said between them. And Barres knew what he meant, and was deeply concerned at the prospect.

  But Renoux approached the matter with careless good humour and by a leisurely, circuitous route, which polite pussy-footing was obviously to prepare Barres for impending trouble.

  He began by referring to his mission in America, admitting very frankly that he was a modest link in the system of military and political intelligence maintained by all European countries in the domains of their neighbours.

  “I might as well say so,” he remarked, “because it’s known to the representatives of enemy governments here as well as to your own Government, that some of us are here; and anybody can imagine why.

  “And, in the course of my — studies,” he said deliberately, while his clear eyes twinkled, “it has come to my knowledge, and to the knowledge of the French Ambassador, that there is, in New York, a young woman who already has proven herself a dangerous enemy to my country.”

  “That is interesting, if true,” said Barres, reddening to the temples. “But it is even more interesting if it is not true.... And it isn’t!”

  “You think not?”

  “I don’t think anything about it, Renoux; I know.”

  “I am afraid you have been misled, Barres. And it is natural enough.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” said Renoux serenely, “she is very beautiful, very clever, very young, very appealing.... Tell me, my friend, where did you meet her?”

  Barres looked him in the eyes:

  “Where did you learn
that I had ever met her?”

  “Through the ordinary channels which, if you will pardon me, I am not at liberty to discuss.”

  “All right. It is sufficient that you know I have met her. Now, where did I meet her?”

  “I don’t know,” said Renoux candidly.

  “How long have I known her then?”

  “Possibly a few weeks. Our information is that your acquaintance with her is not of long duration.”

  “Wrong, my friend: I met her in France several years ago; I know her intimately.”

  “Yes, the intimacy has been reported,” said Renoux, blandly. “But it doesn’t take long, sometimes.”

  Barres reddened again and shook his head:

  “You and your agents are all wrong, Renoux. So is your Government. Do you know what it’s doing — what you and your agents are doing? You’re playing a German game for Berlin!”

  This time Renoux flushed and there was a slight quiver to his lips and nostrils; but he said very pleasantly:

  “That would be rather mortifying, mon ami, if it were true.”

  “It is true. Berlin, the traitor in Paris, the conspirator in America, the German, Austrian, and Turkish diplomatic agents here ask nothing better than that you manage, somehow, to eliminate the person in question.”

  “Why?” demanded Renoux.

  “Because more than one of your public men in Paris will face charges of conspiracy and treason if the person in question ever has a fair hearing and a chance to prove her innocence of the terrible accusations that have been made against her.”

  “Naturally,” said Renoux, “those accused bring counter charges. It is always the history of such cases, mon ami.”

  “Your mind is already made up, then?”

  “My mind is a real mind, Barres. Reason is what it seeks — the logical evidence that leads to truth. If there is anything I don’t know, then I wish to know it, and will spare no pains, permit no prejudice to warp my judgment.”

  “All right. Now, let’s have the thing out between us, Renoux. We are not fencing in the dark; we understand each other and are honest enough to say so. Now, go on.”

  Renoux nodded and said very quietly and pleasantly:

  “The reference in one of these papers to the celebrated Nihla Quellen reminds me of the first time I ever saw her. I was quite bowled over, Barres, as you may easily imagine. She sang one of those Asiatic songs — and then the dance! — a miracle! — a delight — apparently entirely unprepared, unpremeditated even — you know how she did it? — exquisite perfection — something charmingly impulsive and spontaneous — a caprice of the moment! Ah — there is a wonderful artiste, Nihla Quellen!”

  Barres nodded, his level gaze fixed on the French officer.

  “As for the document,” continued Renoux, “it does not entirely explain itself to me. You see, this Eurasian, Ferez Bey, was a very intimate friend of Nihla Quellen.”

  “You are quite mistaken,” interposed Barres. But the other merely smiled with a slight gesture of deference to his friend’s opinion, and went on.

  “This Ferez is one of those persistent, annoying flies which buzz around chancelleries and stir up diplomats to pernicious activities. You know there isn’t much use in swatting, as you say, the fly. No. Better find the manure heap which hatched him and burn that!”

  He smiled and shrugged, relighted his cigar, and continued:

  “So, mon ami, I am here in your charming and hospitable city to direct the necessary sanitary measures, sub rosa, of course. You have been more than kind. My Government and I have you to thank for this batch of papers — —” He tapped his breast pocket and made salutes which Frenchmen alone know how to make.

  “Renoux,” said Barres bluntly, “you have learned somehow that Nihla Quellen is under my protection. You conclude I am her lover.”

  The officer’s face altered gravely, but he said nothing.

  Barres leaned forward in his chair and laid a hand on his comrade’s shoulder:

  “Renoux, do you trust me, personally?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well. Then I shall trust you. Because there is nothing you can tell me about Nihla Quellen that I do not already know — nothing concerning her dossier in your secret archives, nothing in regard to the evidence against her and the testimony of the Count d’Eblis. And that clears the ground between you and me.”

  If Renoux was surprised he scarcely showed it.

  Barres said:

  “As long as you know that she is under my protection, I want you to come to my place and talk to her. I don’t ask you to accept my judgment in regard to her; I merely wish you to listen to what she has to say, and then come to your own conclusions. Will you do this?”

  For a few moments Renoux sat quite still, his clear, intelligent eyes fixed on the smoking tip of his cigar. Without raising them he said slowly:

  “As we understand it, Nihla Quellen has been a spy from the very beginning. Our information is clear, concise, logical. We know her history. She was the mistress of Prince Cyril, then of Ferez, then of d’Eblis — perhaps of the American banker, Gerhardt, also. She came directly from the German Embassy at Constantinople to Paris, on Gerhardt’s yacht, the Mirage, and under his protection and the protection of Comte Alexandre d’Eblis.

  “Ferez was of the party. And that companionship of conspirators never was dissolved as long as Nihla Quellen remained in Europe.”

  “That Nihla Quellen has ever been the mistress of any man is singularly untrue,” said Barres coolly. “Your Government has to do with a chaste woman; and it doesn’t even know that much!”

  Renoux regarded him curiously:

  “You have seen her dance?” he enquired gravely.

  “Often. And, Renoux, you are too much a man of the world to be surprised at the unexpected. There are white blackbirds.”

  “Yes, there are.”

  “Nihla Quellen is one.”

  “My friend, I desire to believe it if it would be agreeable to you.”

  “I know, Renoux; I believe in your good-will. Also, I believe in your honesty and intelligence. And so I do not ask you to accept my word for what I tell you. Only remember that I am absolutely certain concerning my belief in Nihla Quellen.... I have no doubt that you think I am in love with her.... I can’t answer you. All Europe was in love with her. Perhaps I am.... I don’t know, Renoux. But this I do know; she is clean and sweet and honest from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot. In her heart there has never dwelt treachery. Talk to her to-night. You’re like the best of your compatriots, clear minded, logical, intelligent, and full of that legitimate imagination without which intellect is a machine. You know the world; you know men; you don’t know women and you know you don’t. Therefore, you are equipped to learn the truth — to divine it — from Nihla Quellen. Will you come over to my place now?”

  “Yes,” said Renoux pleasantly.

  * * * * *

  The orchestra was playing as they passed through the hotel; supper rooms, corridors, café and lobby were crowded with post-theatre throngs in search of food and drink and dance music; and although few theatres were open in July, Long Acre blazed under its myriad lights and the sidewalks were packed with the audiences filtering out of the various summer shows and into all-night cabarets.

  They looked across at the distant war bulletins displayed on Times Square, around which the usual gesticulating crowd had gathered, but kept on across Long Acre, and west toward Sixth Avenue.

  Midway in the block, Renoux touched his comrade silently on the arm, and halted.

  “A few minutes, mon ami, if you don’t mind — time for you to smoke a cigarette while waiting.”

  They had stopped before a brownstone house which had been converted into a basement dwelling, and which was now recessed between two modern shops constructed as far as the building line.

  All the shades and curtains in the house were drawn and the place appeared to be quite dark, but a ring at the bell brought a big, p
owerfully built porter, who admitted them to a brightly lighted reception room. Then the porter replaced the chains on the door of bronze.

  “Just a little while, if you will be amiable enough to have patience,” said Renoux.

  He went away toward the rear of the house and Barres seated himself. And in a few moments the burly porter reappeared with a tray containing a box of cigarettes and a tall glass of Moselle.

  “Monsieur Renoux will not be long,” he said, bringing a sheaf of French illustrated periodicals to the little table at Barres’ elbow; and he retired with a bow and resumed his chair in the corridor by the bronze door.

  Through closed doors, somewhere from the rear of the silent house came the distant click of a typewriter. At moments, too, looking over the war pictures in the periodicals, Barres imagined that he heard a confused murmur as of many voices.

  Later it became evident that there were a number of people somewhere in the house, because, now and then, the porter unlatched the door and drew the chains to let out some swiftly walking man.

  Once two men came out together. One carried a satchel; the other halted in the hallway to slip a clip into an automatic pistol before dropping it into the side pocket of his coat.

  And after a while Renoux appeared, bland, debonaire, evidently much pleased with whatever he had been doing.

  Two other men appeared in the corridor behind him; he said something to them in a low voice; Barres imagined he heard the words, “Washington” and “Jusserand.”

  Then the two men went out, walking at a smart pace, and Renoux sauntered into the tiny reception room.

  “You don’t know,” he said, “what a very important service you have rendered us by catching that fellow to-night and stripping him of his papers.”

  Barres rose and they walked out together.

  “This city,” added Renoux, “is fairly verminous with disloyal Huns. The streets are crawling with them; every German resort, saloon, beer garden, keller, café, club, society — every German drug store, delicatessen shop, music store, tobacconist, is lousy with the treacherous swine.

  “There are two great hotels where the boche gathers and plots; two great banking firms are centres of German propaganda; three great department stores, dozens of downtown commercial agencies; various buildings and piers belonging to certain transatlantic steamship lines, the offices of certain newspapers and periodicals.... Tell me, Barres, did you know that the banker, Gerhardt, owns the building in which you live?”