BENNET GAGE was a conspicuously able member of his race. Every pore of his body, every cell in his brain seemed to lust after “impressions.” He lived with his ear to the ground, listening to the pulse of the time. The price in the market of everything was filed for reference in a prehensile mind; the rate per ton for pig iron f. o. b. Sunderland, the exchange on Christiania, or the value of an early Degas, Mr. Gage could tell you offhand. And the information would be the soundest obtainable. Moreover, a man of judgment, Saul Hartz, who was almost incapable of a mistake in such matters, had a great belief in him. From the beginning he had been one of the directing minds at the back of the portentous organization whose secret aim was to dominate the world.
“Well, Gage,” was the cheerful greeting of the Colossus, “all the morning journals have sung together.”
“I hope, sir, you admired the Planet leader.” The deference of Mr. Gage was touched ever so lightly with humor.
With odd unexpectedness the Colossus loosed a sudden roar that almost shook Cosmos Alley to its foundations. “My compliments to dear old Dalling. He’s quite on his top notch this morning. A full four-ounce packet of desiccated Pecksniff. Enough to turn the stomach of a horse!”
“Is to-day’s meeting at Hellington to be reported?”
“If he is able to hold it, no,” was the prompt answer. “If he is not able to hold it, yes.”
“And the book? Are we to review it?”
“No. By the way, who are the publishers?”
“Burberry and Walker.”
“Refuse all their advertisements until further notice. Who is publishing it in New York?”
“Ireson.”
“When?”
“The tenth of next month.”
“They had better be stopped. I suppose they can be.”
“Oh, yes,” Mr. Gage’s nod was conclusive. “Ireson is on the red list, fortunately.”
“What an egotistical ass this fellow Endor must be.” The voice of Saul Hartz had declined suddenly to a whisper. “However, this young man is not the first dweller in fairyland who has committed hari-kari.”
With a stealthy smile Mr. Gage agreed.
“So much for that—for the moment,” said the Chief, with a little purr of satisfaction. “Now, for more important things. What are we featuring to-night?”
“The attack on the British Consul at Peking.”
“Must we issue an ultimatum to the Chinese Government?”
“Yes. Give them forty-eight hours to apologize, or take the consequences.”
“They’ll apologize, of course.”
“I’m afraid so, poor brutes! Still, as I told the P. M. last night, it all helps to keep the pot simmering. And sooner or later dear old man Chink will have to be put to it. The trouble is, you see, that Brother Jap will be at the poor old gentleman even if we consent to keep our fingers off him.”
Mr. Gage saw that.
“Any particular news this morning?”
The question was lightly asked but before it was answered the face of Bennet Gage became perceptibly older. A look of strain came into a curiously somber face, as he said, “Did you know that Garland is dead?”
“Dead! William Garland!” It was clear that, for a moment, even the Colossus was taken aback. “Why, I was in his company last evening at dinner at Rockingham House. We had a most interesting, a most informative chat about labor conditions all over the world. He was leaving here on Friday for Australia.”
“Then he may have arrived already,” said Mr. Gage succinctly. “At all events, about half past eleven last night, as he entered the Cosmopolitan vestibule, he fell down dead.”
Saul Hartz was visibly startled. He pursed his lips for a whistle that did not come. “About half past eleven, you say, in the Cosmopolitan vestibule? Why, an hour before I was talking with him in Park Lane, when he was as hale and cheery as you please.”
“Yes, it’s all very mysterious,” said Mr. Gage, solemnly.
It was clear that Saul Hartz was greatly impressed by this piece of news. There was no longer a trace of lightness in his manner when he said abruptly, after a slight pause: “There’ll be an inquest, of course?”
“Oh, yes. The police have already taken charge of the body. But they are extraordinarily reticent.”
“They suspect foul play?”
“There seems absolutely nothing to be got out of Scotland Yard. Verity’s with them now.”
The Colossus frowned. He produced from his waistcoat pocket a toothpick and began to chew it viciously. “We probably know quite as much as they do, or very likely more. But Verity can be trusted, I hope, not to give them cold feet.”
“From what he says—he went down to Whitehall before breakfast—they’ve got cold feet already.”
“Oh, they have!” Saul Hartz grew reflective. “Then, in this case, they seem rather more up to time than usual. The fact is, Gage, it’s no use disguising that this affair wears a particularly ugly look.”
“That, undoubtedly, is Scotland Yard’s opinion.”
“What do they surmise to be the cause of death?”
“Verity can’t get a word out of them.”
Saul Hartz threw up his head sharply. “Very well, see that they don’t get a word out of us. That’s a game for two and we’re in a position to play it as well as most people.”
“Judging by the temperature in Whitehall at eight o’clock this morning, Verity is inclined to think they can tell us more than we can tell them. At any rate, we are warned to go slow.”
“Warned to go slow! What do you mean, Gage?”
“We are to be specially careful how we treat the news so that it may not conflict with the public interest.”
“Oh, be damned to that!” The eyes of the Colossus blazed arrogantly. “We shall treat the news as we please. I wonder if they think we are going to take dictation from a pack of old women.”
Mr. Gage looked rather dubious.
“By the way,” said Saul Hartz, in the sharp crackling tones that were used only on great occasions, “have you spoken to New York? It’s possible they know a little more than anybody at the moment.”
“Oh, yes, Barrington rang them up as soon as the news came in.”
“Quite right. Bright fellow that. I hope he got Manvile Lewis himself.”
“Yes—Manvile Lewis. He didn’t think it wise to discuss it with any one else.”
“Just so. Had their end anything to tell us?”
“Only that Garland had been warned before he left New York last Tuesday that he would not be allowed to proceed to Australia.”
“We could have told them that. By the way, I wonder if they know that in Whitehall?”
“Verity suspects so, but he’s not sure.”
“He’s right, no doubt.” Saul Hartz spoke keenly. “And that’s their reason for making all this fuss. Do you suppose they are up in those other two cases?”
“Kornichef and Yamotoga?”
“Yes.”
“Verity thinks they must be. He didn’t ask the question but he gave Scotland Yard every opportunity to bring them into the picture. But there was nothing to be got out of it.”
“No, I expect not,” said the Colossus, impatiently. “However, this thing looks pretty ugly to me.”
Mr. Gage agreed.
The silence which followed was rather embarrassing for the editor of the Planet. Instinctively, he knew one, at least, of the thoughts that was already in possession of the Chief’s mind. For one so expert in the signs as Bennet Gage the face of the man before him was easy to read. As the Colossus sat now at his writing table with eyes shrouded, lips locked like a trap and the tips of his fingers pressed together, he seemed to exude a growing pugnacity. Scotland Yard might be tempted to take this dark thing lying down, but it was not in Saul Hartz’s nature to take anything lying down.
“Gage!” The curious whisper broke the silence at last. “We must go into this. We must go into this fully.”
The cock of the editor’s head implied rather than expressed a mild dissent. He did not venture upon anything more explicit. It was no use opposing Saul Hartz. One might as well oppose Niagara. Amenable to argument he might be up to a point, but he was a man of volcanic will who owed almost everything to an unrivaled intuition. He had a first-rate mind for affairs, but it was not by taking the advice of others that he had won a unique place in the world.
“Big issues here!” The formidable jowl had unfurled itself from a capacious collar, the brooding eyes had disclosed their fires.
“Yes, I grant that.” A slight tremor in Mr. Gage’s voice told more than his words. “But it seems to me, if I may be allowed to say so——”
“Go on!” The words were impatient. “You know that in this room you can say anything.”
“Well, sir, I would like to say this: It seems to me that you of all men should keep off the grass.”
Mr. Gage did not underrate his own prescience, and he knew that Saul Hartz did not underrate it either. But as the editor of the Planet uttered these significant words, he had the look of a man who anticipates an explosion. In this, he was not disappointed. But the explosion, when it came, was less devastating than he had feared.
“Oh, be damned to that, Gage!” The Chief brought his fist down solidly upon the table at which he sat. “We don’t allow ourselves here to be intimidated by anything or anybody.”
“Quite!” The assent was a little uneasy. “But knowing what we do, knowing what is behind all this, is it altogether politic...?”
“Politic!”
“To take such risks—particularly when they are unnecessary.”
“We shall not agree that the risks are unnecessary. It’s our clear duty to keep the police—or why not say the Government?—up to the collar.”
The editor of the Planet cordially agreed, but in the choice of the words which followed he showed great care. “I do feel very strongly,” he said, “that faced as we are with two evils, it is our duty to choose the less. The police have asked us to walk delicately, and I really think we ought to do so.”
“Why?”
“In the public interest.”
The laugh of the Colossus was derisive. “In other words, Bennet Gage finds life too agreeable to endanger it lightly.”
That went to the root of the matter, no doubt. But Mr. Hartz softened the thrust a little by offering his cigar case with the air of a good fellow which he had the valuable faculty of assuming on all occasions. As he chose a cigar for himself, he became the soul of geniality, but Mr. Gage who knew him only too well was not able to respond.
“Why, you are worse than those duds at Scotland Yard, my friend.” The gayety, if not exactly forced, did not seem altogether spontaneous. “If you like, I’ll make you a present of a pair of snowboots lined with fur. They are the only things for your complaint. And I hear you can get bedsocks at a reasonable price at Selfridge’s white sale.”
The Chief lit his cigar. Suddenly he began to smoke furiously. Mr. Gage, who had declined a cigar, indulged in odd, nervous little fumbles with his hands.
“The Planet must take a strong line to-morrow.” Saul Hartz’s tone was plenary. “Report the inquest fully. Have all the known facts in this case and the other two cases got up carefully, and embody them in a series of articles, to synchronize with the inquest. The Murder of William Garland will make a good caption. Norton or Lewis—I think perhaps Norton had better write it. Let him come to me in half an hour and I’ll give him my ideas on the subject.”
Dismissal was in the tone. Saul Hartz had no punctilio with the men he employed, no matter how eminent they might be in their own sphere. Even if he did not parade the fact that he was the most important person in the western hemisphere, he liked it clearly to be understood in all matters of domestic administration that his whim was law.
Bennet Gage was frankly distressed. His regard for the Chief was akin to idolatry, but this was a matter on which he felt bound to hold his ground. It was due to them both that he should do so. But it was far from the habit of the Colossus to take advice and the knowledge of this fact often embarrassed those who had to deal with him.
“Must we go into this matter at once?” The question was more tentative than was warranted by Mr. Gage’s state of mind, but to come out into the open would be fatal.
“The sooner the better. Marshal all the facts. We have to take a strong line here.”
“But the ‘murder’ of William Garland.” Such a nudity of phrase was altogether too much for Bennet Gage. “Even if our information justifies that and even if it is the finding of the Coroner’s jury—and one can’t believe for a moment that it will be—is it right?—is it in the public interest to run counter to the police?”
“Is it in the public interest to cover up their incompetence? that is the question we have to ask ourselves.”
Mr. Gage shook a deferential head. “Not so much their incompetence, it seems to me, as their limitations.”
“A distinction without a difference, my friend.”
“With all respect, I don’t agree. There is reason to believe that they know more than we do. And they have come to the conclusion that they are powerless.”
“A conclusion wholly puerile and discreditable.”
“Upon that I offer no opinion. But you remember what Verity said on his return from Tokyo?”
“Yes; and you remember what I said to Verity?”
“I do. But if I may say so, in this business Verity is the man on the spot. And he is most anxious that we should accept guidance in the matter.”
Saul Hartz laughed harshly. “The sooner daylight is let into the whole thing, the better—that’s my view.”
The look of trouble deepened in the editor’s face. “May I ask you not to forget that the police are up against the stiffest proposition they have ever had to tackle?”
“Why have you turned devil’s advocate, Gage?” Saul Hartz’s tone was sharply impatient.
“On public grounds,” was the reluctant answer.
“Why, you are as bad as those old women in Whitehall.”
“But look what has happened within a year. Three clear cases. One in Tokyo, one in New York, and now one in London. In each case a warning, a disregard of the warning, followed in one instance by a mysterious disappearance, and in the other two by an even more mysterious death.”
“Well, no matter what Scotland Yard may say or what it may do, we, at any rate, shall not allow ourselves to be frightened by any kind of fee faw fum.”
Mr. Gage shook his head. “This terrible affair,” he said weightily, “amply confirms the opinion I have ventured already to express to you that the police are up against the most powerful and certainly the most sinister force in the world to-day.”
The Chief was frankly annoyed. “Nonsense! I refuse to believe anything of the kind. And in any event, no matter what its power, we are going to fight it. Tell Norton to come to me in half an hour.”
The keenly intelligent face of Bennet Gage clouded heavily. With the look of a man who staggers under a blow, he went to the door. But as he got there, he changed his mind. Turning suddenly, he came back several paces into the room. “It’s no use, sir.” The voice was full of pain. “I know it’s a subject on which you won’t listen to advice. But it’s one also in which I feel I must obey my deepest instinct. Frankly, I haven’t your courage. So that if you have fully made up your mind to disregard these warnings, I must ask you to announce in to-morrow’s Planet that I am no longer its editor.”