Red Masquerade Part 21

"You are in a position to state that as a fact?"

Eleven shrugged lightly. "Need I be? Does not our situation speak for itself?"

"Since you cannot be as thoroughly acquainted as I am with the situation, and since it seems I am required to account for my leadership or surrender it to you, Eleven ... I believe you have selected yourself to replace me as Number One, have you not?--that is to say, in the improbable event of my abdication."

"Improbable?" repeated the Irishman. "I wouldn't call it that."

"You are right," Number One a.s.sented, gravely: "unthinkable is the word.

But you haven't answered my question."

"Oh, as for that, if the Council should see fit to appoint me Number One, I'd naturally do my best."

"And most n.o.ble of you, I'm sure. But rather than bring down any such disaster upon this organization, I will say now that measures have already been taken, and I am to-night in a position to promise you that the new spirit in Scotland Yard will no longer be a factor in our calculations."

"That wants proving," Eleven contended.

A spasm of anger shook the figure in the throne-like chair, but only for an instant; immediately the iron will of the man imposed rigid self-control; almost without pause he proceeded in level and civil accents:

"I think I can satisfy you and--this once--I consent to do so. But first, a question: Have you yourself formed any theory as to the ident.i.ty of this hostile intelligence which has so hindered us of late?"

"I'd be a raw fool if I hadn't," the Irishman retorted. "We know the Lone Wolf has been hand-in-glove with the authorities ever since the British Secret Service used him during the war."

"You think, then, it is Lanyard--?"

"It's a wise saying: 'Set a thief to catch a thief.' I believe there's no man in England but Lanyard who has the wit and vision and audacity to fight us on our ground and win."

"I agree entirely. Therefore, I have this day tied the hands of the Lone Wolf; he will not again dare to contend against us."

Eleven sat up with a startled gesture.

"Are you meaning you've got the girl?"

Number One indulged a remote and chilly smile.

"Then you, too, noticed the advertis.e.m.e.nt? Accept my compliments, Eleven.

Decidedly you might prove a dangerous rival--were I in a temper to countenance compet.i.tion.... But it is true: I have the girl Sofia--the Lone Wolf's daughter."

"Where?"

The smile faded; the man on the dais looked down loftily.

"It is enough for you to know I have proved far-sighted and unfailing in my fidelity to our common cause."

"So _you_ say ..."

Though the Irishman winced and fell silent under the cold glare of the other's eyes, the voice that answered him was level and pa.s.sionless.

"I am not here to have my word challenged--or my authority. If any one of you imagines I am even thinking of surrendering the latter, under any conceivable circ.u.mstances, he is mad. And if any one of you doubts my power to enforce my will, I promise him ample proof of it before the night is ended.... Let us now proceed to business, the question held over from our last meeting. If Comrade Four will consult his minutes"--a nod singled out the babu, who, beaming with importance, produced a note-book--"they will show we adjourned to consider overtures made by the Smolny Inst.i.tute of Petrograd, seeking our cooperation toward accelerating the social revolution in England."

"Thatt," the Bengali affirmed, "is true bill of factt."

"If the temper in which you received those proposals is fair criterion,"

Number One resumed, "there can be little doubt as to our decision. Speaking for myself, I think it would be suicidal to reject the overtures of the Soviet Government in Russia. Let me state why."

He bowed his forehead upon a hand and continued with thoughtful gaze downcast:

"England is ripe for revolution. The social discontent resulting from the war has reached an acute stage. Only a spark is needed. It remains for us to decide whether to permit Russia to bring about the explosion or--bring it about ourselves. The soviet movement is irresistible, it will sweep England eventually as it has swept Russia, as it is now sweeping Germany, Hungary, Austria, Italy, as it must soon sweep France and Spain. Our power in England is great; even so, we could hope to do no more than delay the soviet movement were we to set ourselves against it--we could never hope to stop it. It would seem, then, self-preservation to set ourselves at the head of it, seize with our own hands--in the name of the British Soviet--the symbols of power now held by an antiquated and doddering Government. So shall we become to England what the Smolny Inst.i.tute is to Russia. Otherwise, in the end, we must be crushed."

"If we adopt the indicated course, there will be an end forever to this hole-and-corner business which so hampers us, we will be able to work in the open, the police will become our tools rather than weapons in the hands of our enemies; our power will be without limits, Soviet Russia itself must bow to our dictation."

He paused and lifted his head, looking round the circle of intent faces.

"If I am wrong or too sanguine, I am ready to be corrected."

He heard only a murmur of admiration, never a note of dissent; and a smile of gratification, yet half satiric, curved his thin lips.

"I take it, then, the Council endorses my decision to proceed with the negotiations inst.i.tuted by Soviet Russia; to accept its proposals and pledge our cooperation in every way?"

This time there was no mistaking the accuracy with which he had gauged the minds of his a.s.sociates.

"One thing remains to be decided: a plan of action, something which will demand all that we have of imagination, ingenuity, common sense, and far prevision. We can afford to waste not a single ounce of strength: the blow, when we strike, must be sudden, sharp, merciless--irresistible. But if Thirteen is not over-confident of the discovery which he says he has to-day perfected, the means to deal just such a blow is ready to our hands....

Thirteen?"

A nod and gracious smile invited that one to speak. He rose, trembling a little with excitement, bowed to Number One and, delving into capacious pockets, produced a number of small tin canisters together with three sealed bottles of brown gla.s.s. Surveying these, as he arranged them on the teakwood table before him, he smiled a little to himself: the stars, it seemed to him, were warring in their courses in his behalf; this was to prove his hour of hours.

He began to speak in a quivering voice which soon grew more steady.

"It is true, Excellency--it is true, comrades--I have perfected a discovery which I offer as a free gift to the cause, and by means of which, intelligently employed, we can, if we will, make all London a graveyard.

Put the resources of this organization at my command, give me a week to make the essential preparations, select a time of national crisis when the Houses of Parliament are sitting and the Cabinet meets in Downing Street with the King attending or in Buckingham Palace ..."

He paused and held the pause with a keen feeling for dramatic effect, his eyes seeking in turn the faces of his fellow conspirators, an insuppressible grin of malicious exultation twisting his scornful and mutinous mouth.

"Let this be done," he concluded, "and by means of these few tins and bottles which you see before you, in one brief hour the ruling cla.s.ses will have perished almost to a man, there will be no more government of a tyrannical bourgeoisie to grind down the proletariat, a bloodless revolution will have made England the cradle of the new liberty!"

"Bloodless?" the man on the dais repeated; and even he was seen perceptibly to shudder at the prospect unfolded to the vision of his mind. "Yes--but more terrible than the ma.s.sacre of the Huguenots, more savage than the French Revolution!"

"But I believe," the inventor commented, "your Excellency said we required the means to deal a 'blow sudden, sharp, merciless--irresistible'."

"Surely now," the Irishman suggested, mockingly--where a wiser man would have held his tongue--"you'll not be sticking at a small matter like wholesale murder if it's to make us masters of England?"

"Of England?" the German echoed. "Herr Gott! Of the world!"

"And you, Excellency, our master," the inventor added, shrewdly.

A sign at once impatient and imperative demanded silence, and for a few minutes it obtained unbroken, while the gathering, keyed to high tension, studied closely the face of their leader and found it altogether illegible.

On his part he seemed forgetful of the existence of anybody but himself, forgetful almost of himself as well: sitting low in his great chair, his body as stirless as it were bound by some spell of black magic, his far gaze probing unfathomable remotenesses of thought.

Slowly he recalled himself to his surroundings; with a suggestion of weariness he sat up and reviewed the little company that hung so breathlessly upon the issue of his judgment. The shadow of that satiric smile returned.