“THE DAY; OR, The Passing of a Throne.”

Otago Witness, Issue 3205, 18 August 1915, Page 64

“THE DAY; OR, The Passing of a Throne.”

THE NOVELIST.

(Published by Special Arrangement.J

By FRED M. WHITE

(Copyright.) CHAPTER XLIX.—WHAT OF THE HARVEST? [ERE was no popular excitement and no jubilation over the destruction of the socalled hospital ship and the fishing smacks in the North Sea. One or two local correspondents picked up a few crumbs of information, which duly found their way into rhe hands of the news-agencies, but all this was looked upon as so much gossip, and in a day or two was forgotten. Nor were the spies as yet brought before any tribunal. The haul made by Hallett and those under him was too far reaching and important to be made public as yet. But a day or two later a very great personage turned up unexpectedly and asked to see Inchcliffe at once. He went into his own vast drawing room in his own majestic home, a great man in his way, and looked up to by his own people, feeling very much like a small boy unexpectedly summoned into the presence of a dreaded head master. “I am greatly honoured, my lord,” he stammered. “I am sorry to bring you so far out of your way, and I would have come to you immediately if you had sent for me.” The great man disguised a smile. “I am not coming out of my way at all,” he said. “I should have come up here in any case. I have had a long report from Mr Hallett, which has interested me greatly.” “I hope it pleased your lordship,' Inchcliffe murmured. The great man relaxed visibly. “It pleased me very much indeed,” he said. “Now look here, Inchcliffe. I want you to forget for a moment who I am, or rather what I am, and only remember me as your father’s dearest and most intimate friend. When the war broke out I sent for you and you did not come. I had a special mission for you. and I don’t mind telling you I was annoyed, very much annoyed indeed ” “But, my lord,” Inchcliffe protested, ‘I never got your message. I was off on my honeymoon ” “Oh, yes, yes,” the big man said testily. “I know that now. I refused to see you, in which I was wrong. Hallett tells me that you knew nothing of the war till you got to Southampton. Since then, however ... Of course I can’t make it public yet, but your splendid services are now known in the proper quarters, and I have come down here to put a really big thing into your hands. The way you tackled those smacks and

that bogus hospital ship would have been a credit to any officer of the British Navy. In short, I am proud of you, my boy, and anything you like to ask for you can have.” The great man shook hands heartily with Inchcliffe, and departed as abruptly as he had come. It was later in the same day that Inchcliffe sought Vera out and gave her a couple of newspapers. They were brown and wrinkled, and evidently had been in the water for some little time. Vera could see at a glance that they were German newspapers—in fact, very recent copies of the Berliner Zeitung. ‘‘Where did you get these from?” Vera asked. ‘‘They were found just now on a body which was washed up this morning, evidently a victim of the explosion,” Inchclitfe explained. ‘‘Between ourselves, I am anxious to get that body buried, because it is all that remains of a famous German who shall be nameless. I can make much out of the, German myself, but it looks to me as if great happenings are taking place in Berlin, and one or two names are mentioned which will be familiar to you.” It seemed to Vera, when she came to read those newspapers in the quietness of her bedroom, that she was dreaming. It seemed almost impossible to believe that those amazing headlines could have come from the office of so Pan-German an organ as the Berliner Zeitung. Had the editor suddenly gone mad, she wondered? Or had he suddenly become converted to the side of the Democratic Federation? It was no longer the slave of the German War Office, no longer a mere servile" rag humbly printing the mandate of the tyrants, but a fearless, selfrespecting journal speaking its mind on the subject of the day, and appealing to the German people. Some of the headlines stretched all across the paper thus: BERLIN FREE. THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE PROCLAIMED AT LAST. REPUBLIC OR MONARCHY? “There are no soldiers in Berlin! “For the first time in its history Berlin is a free city. For the first time since the foundation of the German Empire it is permitted to the humblest of us to speak his mind freely without fear or the knowledge of punishment to follow. Berlin is awake. “For years we have slumbered, for years we have deluded ourselves mat we are the freest and most enlightened race on the face of the earth. That has been our nightmare. Under the spell of that hideous nightmare we have allowed the chains to be bound about us and our limbs fettered by the Prussian tyrant. And not only were we physically in chains, but we were bound spiritually as well. We have been traitors to ourselves, but not such accursed traitors as those whose duty was to lead us along in the paths of Christianity and progress. There has been no soul in Germany for years; it was stifled long ago. For nearly half a century we have been drunk with conquest, and our spiritual physicians have drenched us with poppies when they should have purged us with herbs. And why? Because they have been bought body and soul by Prussian gold. They preferred the purple and fine linen and the stalled ox to the dinner of herbs. “Now, where has all this brought us to? Are we marching victoriously towards Paris and London and Petrograd, with the foe at our knee begging for mercy? Oh, no. We have lost over a million precious lives, there is not a house in Germany where eyes are dry, we are penned in like starving rats in a cage. And we are on the verge of starvation, too. The immense volume of trade which we have steadily built up in the last forty years has gone. We are at our last gasp, and still those bloody Prussian tyrants take the best that is left of us like so many human faggots and pile them on the funeral pyre, which is supposed to light the dark way to London. “It was only a few days ago that we began to see the light, began to know how we were being deceived, and how we were likely to lose the last handful of our manhood if the tyrant of Potsdam had his way. “It is only a few days since Berlin, like another Rip van Winkle, awoke from her drugged sleep to the realisation of things as they are. We knew nothing. In lieu of the bread we needed we were fed day by day with stories of victories that were no more than defeats in disguise. We knew nothing of the slaughter that was going on. Then suddenly out of the skies there dropped the Manifesto of * the Social Brotherhood. It burst like a bombshell over Berlin. And it bore the stamp of truth upon it, so that every man could read it for himself. The effect was instantaneous; the social revolution coursed in the veins of Berlin, as if she had been one human body and one only. One moment and we were a military nation filled with pride and ambition, the next we were the heart of the German Republic only asking for the peace and goodwill of our neighbours. “It was in vain that the police interfered, in vain the troops lined the streets and drenched them with blood. With that we cemented the foundations of che new Republic. “And the Government saw the red light. There was no more violence after the first day or two. Bethmann-Hollweg saw to that. And for once in his life the King of Prussia listened to reason. We call him the King of Prussia, because he ’s Emperor of Germany no longer. Our leaders forced him to meet them; they forced him to promise that he would bring this mad conflict to an end. “That was the promise he made; but what of the fulfilment? The weary conflict is still going on, though every man in Berlin is now solid for the Republic. We have here three hundred thousand resolute citizens ready to shed the last drop of their blood for their deluded country. Our manifestos are prepared for delivery to every capital in Europe; but there are powerful reasons why the move-

ment fails. Unless we can get assistance from without, those appeals can never reach their destination. Our new President, Steinitz, and his Cabinet of patriots are doing the best they can; but we lack a means of communication with the other world. It is whispered amongst those who know that a mysterious aeroplane from England -eame to Berlin in the dead of night and distributed the manifestos which were, so to speak, the seeds from which the Revolution sprang. “May the good friend who served us so well on that occasion reappear in our midst. Already the good fruit is ripening in the army, already our troops are turning their backs on the tyrant s flag, and so seeking shelter across the trontiers. We know that our Hoops are wearied and broken down, and bituei conscious that they are but pawns in the vile game played by the tyrant oi Potsdam and bis gang. So have we go.-, but no farther. And n these .words should ever find their way into the hands of the friend who helped us so gallantly that fateful night perhaps they may move him to a further effort for civilisation and freedom.” , All this and much more V era read breathlessly. So far as she could see the struggle for freedom had commenced, and the °real soul of Germany was awake. There were pages and pages devoted 1o the struggle, events that thrilled Vera to the core; but there was one thing that stood out like a flaming sword: Paul Rosslyn was needed now as he had never been needed by her friends before. CHAPTER L.—THE HARVEST RIPENS. With this amazing newspaper in her hand Vera set out in search of Rosslyn. Hallett had gone back to London, together with Pascoe and Montague, leaving von Kemp behind. The latter had no desire to return to London, where he might be recognised, and, though his work was practically finished, there were a few little outstanding matters in which he might be useful. Inchcliffe was happy enough, and was only waiting now for his promised appointment. Rosslyn had nothing before him for the moment, and he and Veva had a most pressing invitation to remain at the castle as long as possible. “Here is a most 'extraordinary thing,” Vera said. “I wish you would look at this paper, Paul. It is quite a recent copy of the Berliner Zeitung, which up to the other day was one of the most rabid war organs in Germany. It appears new to be the official organ of the new German Republic. Berlin is in the hands of the Social Brotherhood. Berlin is armed and determined to carry the Socialist programme though. Steinitz has been proclaimed President, and there is serious disaffection in the army. The Republic has issued a manifesto, which it is anxious to get into the hands of the European Cabinets. This is the point where they fail; but read the paper carefully for yourself. There is a message for you there, unless I am greatly mistaken-. ” Paul grasped the paper eagerly. He sat there for o long time reading, with Vera by his side. Her head was on his shoulder, and his grin about her waist. And yet Rosslyn was so deeply engrossed with his reading that he was only half conscious of Vera’s presence. Then presently he looked into her earnest eyes and smiled. “You are quite right,” he said. “The message stands out in letters of flame. It is quite evident that the military authorities have taken the greatest pains to prevent the rest of the world from discovering the truth, so far as Berlin is concerned. But that message was intended for me all the same. It was probably inspired by your father or Steinitz in the hope that it would meet my eye. Probably this particular paper- was brought from Berlin by one of the master spies who met his death in the hospital ship. Anyway, the arrow shot at venture has found its mark.” Vera’s face lit up with a glorious smile. “Ah, I expected to hear you speak like that,” she said. “I knew that you would not hesitate a moment.” “I am going this very night,” Paul said. “What an extraordinary business this has been altogether. And what a story it will make when it comes to be told. My dearest girl, I am just as keen on it as you are. I am killing two birds with one stone. I am helping my country and Germany at the same time. This means the death of Prussian militarism. I shall be off after dark this evening, and long before you are awake in the morning I shall have seen your father and Steinitz. I shall bring back with me the documents they want to send out to various European capitals; in fact, I shall do everything I can to make myself useful.” “How splendid it sounds,” Vera cried. “Fancy one man having so much in his fiower. It makes me feel almost afraid est something should happen to you. Is it prudent to go alone?” “I have hardly given it a thought,” Rosslyn said. “But since you mention it, I have an idea. I am going to take von Kemp with me. He is a very keen Republican, and he has done some magnificent work for us here. Now that his task is finished he might prove exceedingly useful in Berlin. At any rate, he shall have the chance of going there. Of his courage here is no doubt.” Vera smiled approvingly. She was more glad at Rosslyn’s decision than she cared to say. She hated the idea of Paul travelling all those miles through the dark and perilous night on his long flight to Berlin. What he was going to attempt now out of sheer love for her and regard fox her father was a tremendously different hazard than the flight from Wilhelmshaven te Berlin in company with a German subject ready to guarantee his bona fldes. On this occasion he was going to start from somewhere near London; he was going to run the gauntlet of a dozen air and sea planes, which would, pursue him as relentlessly as if he had been an avowed enemy. Once he was across the North Sea then the fact that he was

carrying a German passenger would, be distinctly to his advantage. But at any rate he was going. This mission was. entirely his own, and he did not feel disposed to confide in anybody. He meant to sink or swim, and if there was to be any kudos in this midnight adventure then he was going to have it all to himself. “It’s all right,” he said. “You need not be in the least afraid. I would fly that little plane of mine without hesitation to the North Pole. All the same, I am going to take von Kemp with me. I know he will be useful, and I am certain that he will jump at the idea. I will go and tell him now. I’ll get Inchcliffe to motor us over to and with any luck we shall be in London by 6. About 9 o’clock this evening, if you stand on the terrace, you can imagine me sliding silently out over the North Sea at that moment. Oh, I shall be safe enough. Don’t forget that my engine is absolutely noiseless, and that I shall be passing seaward ten thousand feet up without a soul being any the wiser.” Yon Kemp rose eagerly enough to Rosslyn’s suggestion. His thin, sallow face flushed with triumph as he eagerly read the paper handed to him. He smote his fist on it vigorously. “At last,” he cried. “At last. The scales hove been washed from Germany’s eyes, but it has taken a river of blood to do it. Ah, before long you will see the German walking arm in arm with thf Englishman again, and their children playing side by side on the sands. Not Prussia, mind you, for that is another storv. Yes, I will come with you to-night gladly. I am only too grateful to you for the opportunity.” It was shortly after 6 when they reached London, and nearly 9 o’clock before the little piano was “ready. The clock was just striking the hour as the machine rose, and Rosslyn set out on his long and perilous journey. It was bitterly cold and strangely dark up there when they reached the zone of safety, and the aeroplane pointed like an arrow to the North Sea. Rosslyn knew exactly where he was going, many a time had he been as far as the coast of Germany and back again, so that every odd speck of light down below meant something to him, and spoke with no uncertain language. “You are not afraid?” he asked von Kemp. “I am not in the least afraid,” von Kemp said. “Though I never have been in an aeroplane before I feel just as safe as if I were on the back of a borse. But this is a wonderful machine of vquts. There is no vibration and no noise, nothing that suggests movement hardly. What time do you expect to reach Berlin?” “We can travel, if I like, at over ninety miles an hour,” Rosslyn explained. “At that rate we ought to reach Berlin somewhere about three. If you strain your eyes you will see there below you the lights "on the Dutch coast. When we have passed those, I shall have to rely entirely on my compass.” They streamed on against the wind hour after hour through the thickness of the night, passing over long lines of light, where the struggling battalions were face to face, and ever and again over some town throwing long ribbons from the searchlights far up into the murky sky. But the aeroplane, like some black nightbird, was beyond the reach of these, sailing swift and silently in the direction of Berlin. It was somewhere near the hour of two when Rosslyn slackened speed and commenced to descend in huge spirals nearer to the earth. One by one little stars began to show, then long parallel points of flame marked in squares here and there, and after these greater lights shimmering in purple splendour one by one. “Can you make anything out of it?” Rosslyn asked. “Berlin,” Von Kemp whispered “But why all those lights? I thought, they were short of power.” “Oh. I suppose the Brotherhood is responsible for that,” Rosslyn smiled. “You may depend upon it that thev are making every effort to get industrial Germany going again. We will go down closer if you like. This looks a different Berlin from the city I was over not so many davs ago. It is alive now.” Rosslyn spoke no more than the truth. Late as it was, the streets were humming with life and movement. Lights were blazing everywhere, and though the cafes and theatres had long since been closed, the streets were full of people hurrying to and fro like countless ants, as if everybody had something definite to do, and were going about their business with a clear object. There was no listless, sullen crowd, no sign of anger or discontent, and no sign of a uniform to be seen anywhere. For some time the interested spectators watched, trying to realise that they were looking down upon a citv, the capital of a State that was in deadly grips with half a score of enemies. It was a moving and fascinating sight, and Rosslyn turned the plane away from it with considerable reluctance. “I hope to see it by daylight tomorrow,” he said. “Meanwhile we had better be getting on to the end of the journey.” They dropped presently in Steinitz’s garden, and housed the plane. But it was not Steinitz who came to the door, but another man, who smiled as von Kemp gave the sign of the Brotherhood. “Ah!” he said. “Surely you are Herr Rosslyn? We dared to hope that you would see our message and come to us. Von Steinitz and the rest of them are not here—they are established at the Royal Palace.” “Long live the Republic,” Rosslyn cried. (To be continued.)