On Secret Service

by William Nelson Taft

  XX

  IN THE SHADOW OF THE CAPITOL

  "It won't be long until they're all back--with their pretty clothes andtheir jeweled bags and their air of innocent sophistication--but untilat least a dozen of them gather here Washington won't be itself again."

  Bill Quinn and I had been discussing the change which had come overWashington since peace had disrupted the activities of the various warorganizations, and then, after a pause, the former member of the SecretService had referred to "them" and to "their pretty clothes."

  "Who do you mean?" I inquired. "With the possible exception of someprominent politicians I don't know anyone whose presence is essential tomake Washington 'itself again.' And certainly nobody ever accusedpoliticians, with the possible exception of J. Ham Lewis, of wearingpretty clothes. Even he didn't carry a jeweled bag."

  "I wasn't thinking of Congressmen or Senators or even members of theCabinet," replied Quinn with a smile. "Like the poor, they are alwayswith us, and also like the poor, there are times when we would willinglydispense with them. But the others--they make life worth living,particularly for members of the Secret Service, who are apt to be a bitbored with the monotony of chasing counterfeiters and guarding thePresident.

  "The ones I refer to are the beautifully gowned women whose too perfectEnglish often betrays their foreign origin almost as certainly as woulda dialect. They are sent here by various governments abroad to find outthings which we would like to keep secret and their presence helps tokeep Washington cosmopolitan and--interesting.

  "During the war--well, if you recall the case of Jimmy Callahan and theelectric sign at Norfolk--the affair which I believe you wrote under thetitle of 'A Flash in the Night'--you know what happened to those whowere caught plotting against the government. In times of peace, however,things are different."

  "Why? Isn't a spy always a spy?"

  "So far as their work is concerned they are. But by a sort ofinternational agreement, tacit but understood, those who seek to pryinto the affairs of other governments during the years of peace are nottreated with the same severity as when a nation is fighting for itslife."

  "But surely we have no secrets that a foreign government would want!" Iprotested. "That's one of the earmarks of a republic. Everything isaired in the open, even dirty linen."

  Quinn didn't answer for a moment, and when he did reply there was areminiscent little smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

  "Do you remember the disappearance of the plans of the battleship_Pennsylvania_?" he asked.

  "Yes, I think I do. But as I recall it the matter was never cleared up."

  "Officially, it wasn't. Unofficially, it was. At least there are severalpersons connected with the United States Secret Service who are positivethat Sylvia Sterne lifted the blue prints and afterward--well, we mightas well begin the story at the first chapter."

  * * * * *

  The name she was known by on this side of the Atlantic [continued theformer government agent] was not that of Sterne, though subsequentinvestigations proved that that was what she was called in Paris andVienna and Rome and London. When she arrived in Washington her visitingcards bore the name of the Countess Stefani, and as there are half adozen counts of that name to be found in the peerages of as manyprincipalities, no one inquired too deeply into her antecedents.

  Yes, she admitted that there was a count somewhere in the background,but she led those who were interested to the conclusion he had neverunderstood her peculiar temperament and that therefore she wassojourning in Washington, seeking pleasure and nothing more. A slow,soulful glance from her violet eyes usually accompanied thestatement--and caused the man to whom the statement was made (it wasalways a man) to wonder how anyone could fail to appreciate so charminga creature.

  "Charming" is really a very good word to apply to the Countess Sylvia.Her manner was charming and her work was likewise. Charming secrets andinvitations and news out of those with whom she came in contact.

  Her first public appearance, so far as the Secret Service was concerned,was at one of the receptions at the British embassy. She was there oninvitation, of course, but it was an invitation secured in her ownoriginal way.

  Immediately upon arriving in Washington she had secured an apartment atBrickley Court, an apartment which chanced to be directly across thehall from the one occupied by a Mrs. Sheldon, a young widow with arather large acquaintance in the diplomatic set.

  Some ten days after the Countess Sylvia took up her residence onConnecticut Avenue she visited one of the department stores and madeseveral purchases, ordering them sent C. O. D. to her apartment. Only,instead of giving the number as four thirty-six, her tongue apparentlyslipped and she said four thirty-seven, which was Mrs. Sheldon's number.Of course, if the parcels had been paid for or charged they would havebeen left at the desk in the lobby, but, being collect, the boy broughtthem to the door of four thirty-seven.

  As was only natural, Mrs. Sheldon was about to order them returned whenthe door across the hall opened and the countess, attired in one of hermost fetching house gowns, appeared and explained the mistake.

  "How stupid of me!" she exclaimed. "I must have given the girl the wrongapartment number. I'm awfully sorry for troubling you, Mrs. Sheldon."

  The widow, being young, could not restrain the look of surprise when hername was mentioned by a woman who was an utter stranger, but thecountess cut right in with:

  "You probably don't remember me, but we met two years ago on Derby Dayin London. The count and I had the pleasure of meeting you through LordCartwright, but it was just before the big race, and when I lookedaround again you had been swallowed up in the crowd."

  Mrs. Sheldon had been at the Derby two years before, as the countessdoubtless knew before she arrived in Washington, and also she rememberedhaving met a number of persons during that eventful afternoon. So therest was easy for Sylvia, particularly as the first half hour of theirconversation uncovered the fact that they had many mutual friends, allof whom, however, were in Europe.

  Through Mrs. Sheldon the countess met a number of the younger and lesserlights of the Diplomatic Corps and the invitation to the reception atthe British Embassy was hers for the suggestion.

  Before the evening was over several men were asking themselves wherethey had met that "very charming countess" before. Some thought it musthave been in Paris, others were certain that it was in Vienna, and stillothers maintained that her face brought back memories of their detail inSaint Petersburg (the name of the Russian capital had not then beenaltered). Sylvia didn't enlighten any of them. Neither did she volunteerdetails, save of the vaguest nature, contenting herself with knowingglances which hinted much and bits of frothy gossip which conveyednothing. The beauty of her face and the delicate curves of her figuredid the rest. Before the evening was over she had met at least theyounger members of all the principal embassies and legations, not tomention three men whose names appeared upon the roster of the SenateCommittee on Foreign Relations.

  To one of these, Senator Lattimer, she paid particular attention,assuring him that she would be honored if he would "drop in someafternoon for tea," an invitation which the gentleman from Iowa acceptedwith alacrity a few days later.

  As was afterward apparent, the countess had arranged her schedule withconsiderable care. She had arrived in Washington early in the fall, andby the time the season was well under way she had the entree to themajority of the semiprivate functions--teas and receptions and dances towhich a number of guests were invited. Here, of course, she had anopportunity to pick up a few morsels of information--crumbs which fellfrom the tables of diplomacy--but that wasn't what she was after. Shewanted a copy of a certain confidential report referring to Americanrelations abroad, and, what's more, she'd have gotten it if she hadn'toverstepped herself.

  Through what might have been termed in vulgar circles "pumping" SenatorLattimer, though the countess's casual inquiries from time to timeevinced only a natural interest in the a
ffairs of the world, Sylviafound out that the report would be completed early in March and that acopy would be in the Senator's office for at least two days--or, whatinterested her more, two nights.

  She didn't intimate that she would like to see it. That would have beentoo crude. In fact, she deftly turned the subject and made the Senatorbelieve that she was interested only in his views with respect to thestabilization of currency or some such topic far removed from the pointthey had mentioned.

  Just before he left, however, Senator Lattimer mentioned that there wasgoing to be a big display of fireworks around the Washington Monumentthe following evening, and inquired if the countess would be interestedin witnessing the celebration.

  "Surely," said she. "Why not let's watch them from the roof here? Weought to able to get an excellent view."

  "I've got a better idea than that," was the senatorial reply. "We'll godown to the State, War, and Navy Building. The windows on the south sideought to be ideal for that purpose and there won't be any trouble aboutgetting 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 choiceseats 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 recentnaval improvements--radical changes which were to be incorporated inthe battleship _Pennsylvania_--were missing.

  The chief learned of the loss about nine-thirty, and by ten o'clockevery available man was turned loose on the case, with instructions topry into the past records and watch the future actions of the people whohad been in the room on the previous evening.

  Because he particularly requested it, Owen Williams, whose connectionwith the Secret Service was not a matter of general information, wasdetailed to learn what he could of the Countess Stefani.

  "I've run into her a couple of times recently," he told the chief, "andthere's something not altogether on the level about the lady. I don'tsuppose we have time to cable abroad and trace the particular branch ofthe family to which she claims to belong, but I have a hunch that she isnot working altogether in the interest of Europe. A certainyellow-skinned person whom we both know has been seen coming out ofBrickley Court on several occasions within the past month, and--well,the countess is worth watching."

  "Trail her, then!" snapped the chief. "The department has asked forquick action in this case, for there are reasons which render itinadvisable for those plans to get out of the country."

  "Right!" replied Williams, settling his hat at a rather jaunty angle andpicking up his gloves and stick. "I'll keep in close touch with you andreport developments. If you want me within the next couple of hours I'llprobably be somewhere around Brickley Court. The countess never risesuntil round noon."

  But that morning, as Williams soon discovered, something appeared tohave interfered with the routine of the fair Sylvia. She had called theoffice about nine o'clock, made an inquiry about the New York trains,ordered a chair reserved on the eleven and a taxi for ten forty-five.All of which gave Owen just enough time to phone the chief, tell him ofthe sudden change in his plans, and suggest that the countess's room besearched during her absence.

  "Tell New York to have some one pick up Stefani as soon as she arrives,"Williams concluded. "I'm going to renew my acquaintance with her enroute, find out where she's staying, and frame an excuse for being atthe same hotel. But I may not be able to accompany her there, so havesome one trail her from the station. I'll make any necessary reportsthrough the New York office."

  Just after the train pulled out of Baltimore the Countess Stefani saw ayoung and distinctly handsome man, whose face was vaguely familiar, risefrom his seat at the far end of the car and come toward her. Then, as hereached her chair he halted, surprised.

  "This is luck!" he exclaimed. "I never hoped to find you on the train,Countess! Going through to New York, of course?"

  As he spoke the man's name came back to her, together with the fact thathe had been pointed out as one of the eligible young bachelors whoapparently did but little and yet had plenty of money to do it with.

  "Oh, Mr. Williams! You gave me a bit of a start at first. Your face wasin the shadow and I didn't recognize you. Yes, I'm just running up for alittle shopping. Won't be gone for more than a day or two, for I must beback in time for the de Maury dance on Thursday evening. You are going,I suppose?"

  Thankful for the opening, Williams occupied the vacant chair next tohers, and before they reached Havre de Grace they were deep in adiscussion of people and affairs in Washington. It was not Williams'sintention, however, to allow the matter to stop there. Delicately, butcertainly, he led the conversation into deeper channels, exerting everyounce of his personality to convince the countess that this was a momentfor which he had longed, an opportunity to chat uninterruptedly with"the most charming woman in Washington."

  "This is certainly the shortest five hours I've ever spent," he assuredhis companion as the porter announced their arrival at ManhattanTransfer. "Can't I see something more of you while we are in New York?I'm not certain when I'll get back to Washington and this glimpse hasbeen far too short. Are you going to stop with friends?"

  "No--at the Vanderbilt. Suppose you call up to-morrow morning and I'llsee what I can do."

  "Why not a theater party this evening?"

  "I'm sorry, but I have an engagement."

  "Right--to-morrow morning, then," and the operative said good-by with aclear conscience, having noted that one of the men from the New Yorkoffice was already on the job.

  Later in the evening he was informed that the countess had gone directlyto her hotel, had dressed for dinner, and then, after waiting in thelobby for nearly an hour, had eaten a solitary meal and had gone back toher room, leaving word at the desk that she was to be notifiedimmediately if anyone called. But no one had.

  The next morning, instead of phoning, Williams dropped around to theVanderbilt and had a short session with the house detective, who hadalready been notified that the Countess Stefani was being watched bySecret Service operatives. The house man, however, verified the reportof the operative who had picked up the countess at the station--she hadreceived no callers and had seen no one save the maid.

  "Any phone messages?"

  "Not one."

  "Any mail?"

  "Just a newspaper, evidently one that a friend had mailed fromWashington. The address was in a feminine hand and--"

  "Tell the maid that I want the wrapper of that paper if it's in thecountess's room," interrupted Williams. "I don't want the place searchedfor it, but if it happens to be in the wastebasket be sure I get it."

  A moment later he was calling the Countess Stefani, presumably from theoffice of a friend of his in Wall Street.

  "I'm afraid I can't see you to-day," and Sylvia's voice appeared toregister infinite regret. "I wasn't able to complete a little businessdeal I had on last night--succumbed to temptation and went to thetheater, so I'll have to pay for it to-day." (Here Williams suppressed achuckle, both at the manner in which the lady handled the truth and atthe fact that she was palpably ignorant that she had been shadowed.)"I'm returning to Washington on the Congressional, but I'll be sure tosee you at the de Maurys', won't I? Please come down--for my sake!"

  "I'll do it," was Owen's reply, "and I can assure you that my return toWashington will be entirely because I feel that I must see you again. Aurevoir, until Thursday night."

  "On the Congressional Limited, eh?" he muttered as he stepped out of thebooth. "Maybe it's a stall, but I'll make the train just the same.Evidently one of the lady's plans has gone amiss."

  "Here's the wrapper you wanted," said the house detective, producing alarge torn envelope, slit lengthwise and still showing by its roundedcontour that it had been used to inclose a rolled newspaper.

  "Thanks," replied Williams, as he glanced at the address. "I thoughtso."

  "Thought what?"

  "Come over here a min
ute," and he steered the detective to the desk,where he asked to be shown the register for the preceding day. Then,pointing to the name "Countess Sylvia Stefani" on the hotel sheet and tothe same name on the wrapper, he asked, "Note everything?"

  "The handwriting is the same!"

  "Precisely. The countess mailed this paper herself at this hotel beforeshe left Washington. And, if I'm not very much mistaken, she'll mailanother one to herself in Washington, before she leaves New York."

  "You want it intercepted?"

  "I do not! If Sylvia is willing to trust the Post-office Department withher secret, I certainly am. But I intend to be on hand when that paperarrives."

  Sure enough, just before leaving for the station that afternoon,Williams found out from his ally at the Vanderbilt that the countess hadslipped a folded and addressed newspaper into the mail box in the lobby.She had then paid her bill and entered a taxi, giving the chauffeurinstructions to drive slowly through Central Park. Sibert, the operativewho was trailing her, reported that several times she appeared to be onthe point of stopping, but had ordered the taxi driver to goon--evidently being suspicious that she was followed and not wishing totake any chances.

  Of this, though, Williams knew nothing--for a glance into one of thecars on the Congressional Limited had been sufficient to assure him thathis prey was aboard. He spent the rest of the trip in the smoker, sothat he might not run into her.

  In Washington, however, a surprise awaited him.

  Instead of returning at once to Brickley Court, the countess checked herbag at the station and hired a car by the hour, instructing the driverto take her to the Chevy Chase Club. Williams, of course, followed inanother car, but had the ill fortune to lose the first taxi in the crushof machines which is always to be noted on dance nights at the club, andit was well on toward morning before he could locate the chauffeur hewanted to reach.

  According to that individual, the lady had not gone into the club, atall, but, changing her mind, had driven on out into the country,returning to Washington at midnight.

  "Did she meet anyone?" demanded Williams.

  "Not a soul, sir. Said she just wanted to drive through the country andthat she had to be at the Senate Office Building at twelve o'clock."

  "The Senate Office Building?" echoed the operative. "At midnight? Didyou drop her there?"

  "I did, sir. She told me to wait and she was out again in five minutes,using the little door in the basement--the one that's seldom locked. Ithought she was the wife of one of the Senators. Then I drove her toUnion Station to get her bag, and then to Brickley Court, where she paidme and got out."

  The moment the chauffeur had mentioned the Senate Office Building amental photograph of Senator Lattimer had sprung to Williams's mind, forthe affair between the countess and the Iowa statesman was publicproperty.

  Telling the chauffeur to wait in the outer room, the operative calledthe Lattimer home and insisted on speaking to the Senator.

  "Yes, it's a matter of vital importance!" he snapped. Then, a fewmoments later, when a gruff but sleepy voice inquired what he wanted:

  "This is Williams of the Secret Service speaking, Senator. Have you anydocuments of importance--international importance--in your office at thepresent moment?"

  "No, nothing of particular value. Wait a minute! A copy of a certainreport to the Committee on Foreign Relations arrived late yesterday andI remember seeing it on my desk as I left. Why? What's the matter?"

  "Nothing--except that I don't think that report is there now," repliedWilliams. "Can you get to your office in ten minutes?"

  "I'll be there!"

  But a thorough search by the two of them failed to reveal any trace ofthe document. It had gone--vanished--in spite of the fact that the doorwas locked as usual.

  "Senator," announced the government agent, "a certain woman you knowtook that paper. She got in here with a false key, lifted the report andwas out again in less than five minutes. The theft occurred shortlyafter midnight and--"

  "If you know so much about it, why don't you arrest her?"

  "I shall--before the hour is up. Only I thought you might like to knowin advance how your friend the Countess Stefani worked. She was alsoresponsible for the theft of the plans of the battleship _Pennsylvania_,you know."

  And Williams was out of the room before the look of amazement had fadedfrom the Senator's face.

  Some thirty minutes later the Countess Sylvia was awakened by the soundof continued rapping on her door. In answer to her query, "Who'sthere?" a man's voice replied, "Open this door, or I'll break it in!"

  Williams, however, knew that his threat was an idle one, for the doorsat Brickley Court were built of solid oak that defied anything short ofa battering ram. Which was the reason that he had to wait a full fiveminutes, during which time he distinctly heard the sound of paperrattling and then the rasp of a match as it was struck.

  Finally the countess, attired in a bewitching negligee, threw open thedoor.

  "Ah!" she exclaimed. "So it is you, Mr. Williams! What do you--"

  "You know what I want," growled Owen. "That paper you stole fromLattimer's office to-night. Also the plans you lifted from the NavyDepartment. The ones you mailed in New York yesterday afternoon andwhich were waiting for you here!"

  "Find them!" was the woman's mocking challenge as Williams's eyes rovedover the room and finally rested on a pile of crumbled ashes beside analcohol lamp on the table. A moment's examination told him that a blueprint had been burned, but it was impossible to tell what it had been,and there was no trace of any other paper in the ashes.

  "Search her!" he called to a woman in the corridor. "I'm going to riflethe mail-box downstairs. She can't get away with the same trick threetimes!"

  And there, in an innocent-looking envelope addressed to a certainpersonage whose name stood high on the diplomatic list, Williamsdiscovered the report for which a woman risked her liberty and gambledsix months of her life!

  * * * * *

  "But the plans?" I asked as Quinn finished.

  "Evidently that was what she had burned. She'd taken care to crumple theashes so that it was an impossibility to get a shred of direct evidence,not that it would have made any difference if she hadn't. The governmentnever prosecutes matters of this kind, except in time of war. Theymerely warn the culprit to leave the country and never return--which isthe reason that, while you'll find a number of very interestingforeigners in Washington at the present moment, the Countess SylviaStefani is not among them. Neither is the personage to whom her letterwas addressed. He was 'recalled' a few weeks later."