Grant felt that on the whole he was well received at Washington. A very great man indeed vouchsafed him his confidence.
“I am going so far as to tell you, Mr. Slattery,” he said, “that I, personally, am in favour of accepting the invitation of the Pact of Nations. I have met Lord Yeovil once or twice and I am perfectly certain that he is sincere in his friendship for this country. The attitude of isolation, which some of our most brilliant statesmen have acclaimed, is not, in my opinion, a sound one in these days of practical politics. I would welcome a decision of my Government which brought us into line with the great Powers of Europe. At the same time, to be equally frank with you, I cannot for one moment believe that there exists any Power in the world or any combination of Powers which would dream of flaunting the world’s desire for peace and making an unprovoked attack upon this country.”
“Neither should I, sir,” Grant answered hastily, “unless I had lived in the shadow of these people and had imbibed their hopes and ambitions. Take, for one moment, Japan. I have lived in Tokyo, and other cities of the country, for a year. I lived there not as an American but as an Englishman. Japan is a very proud country. The sons of her over-populated Empire have penetrated with difficulty but still without vital resistance into most quarters of the world. It has remained with America to place an embargo upon her citizenship, to enunciate the great principle of the inferiority of the yellow races. There, sir, lies the cause of the undying enmity of the people of Japan for the Government of this country.”
“It was really an affair of state, not international legislation,” his host reminded him.
“That has not affected the question,” Grant insisted. “The feeling is there. Then take the case of Germany. She cannot strike against England or France. They are members of the Pact. But do you think that twenty years, or two hundred years, would quench that desire for revenge which has been part of the birthright of every living German to-day? There remains of her foes only America. Do you realise, sir, the anomaly of subscribing to the Limitation of Armaments and refusing to accept the protection of the Pact of Nations?”
“Theoretically, again, yes,” was the considered reply. “But, practically, I am entirely with my advisers. I do not believe in the possibility of any hostile action against this country. At the same time, you will see that I am quite frank with you, for I admit I should prefer to be associated with the Pact of Nations. My efforts will be devoted in that direction.”
“I beg that you will make them strenuous efforts, sir,” Grant enjoined. “You have read the memoranda I addressed to the Secretary?”
“With great interest and some amusement,” was the smiling reply. “Am I really to accept the account of the happenings on board your yacht as being authentic?”
“They are not even exaggerated, sir,” Grant assured his auditor earnestly. “If I had not kept Funderstrom out all that night, Lord Yeovil’s motion would have been lost.”
“I must accept your word, of course. On the other hand you must admit that the whole thing reads like a piece of opéra bouffe. Before we leave this subject, Mr. Slattery, I should like to ask you one more question. You have spoken of the hostile intentions of Japan and Germany against this country. Have you ever come to any conclusion as to the manner in which this hostility was to be displayed?”
“Sir,” Grant replied, “I am a wealthy man, so this is of no moment, but I have spent a hundred thousand dollars trying to get hold of a perfectly simple document which I know to be in existence. There is an elaborated scheme agreed to by Japan and Germany, which is intended to strike at the very heart of our existence, and for which I have the strongest reasons for believing that Mr. Cornelius Blunn is responsible. There are two people from whom I hope to obtain it. Both have, so far, disappointed me. Nevertheless I shall get it some clay. As regards the part of the conspiracy dealing with direct warfare, that, without a doubt, is to be conducted by sea,—the German fleet coming from eastwards to the Atlantic seaboard, the Japanese fleet, to San Francisco. I might point out, sir, that the American fleet, honourably kept within the Limitation of Armaments Statutes, would be utterly unequal to dealing with both adversaries arriving from opposite directions.”
“You drive me to the conclusion, Mr. Slattery, that I am devoid of imagination,” his host observed, smiling. “I cannot conceive the spectacle of those two fleets approaching our shores with a hostile purpose. You need not take it as a cause for alarm that I am unable to embrace your theory. So far as you are concerned, I am with you on the practical side of the matter. My influence will be directed towards securing an acceptance of Lord Yeovil’s proposition.”
Grant rose to his feet. His companion laid a detaining hand upon his shoulder.
“My wife desires that you will give us the pleasure of lunching with us,” he said. “Her mother and yours were friends, as you may know. And I, myself, was at Harvard with your uncle. I knew your father, too, although he graduated a year or two before me. You are, I hope, free?”
“I shall be honoured,” Grant acceded.
Luncheon was an informal meal. A few officials were present, two ladies who were distant relatives of the host, a recent arrival amongst the diplomats and a newly elected senator. The presiding genius of the establishment took Grant under her special protection.
“I’m not going to pretend to be tactful, Mr. Slattery,” she declared, “because you know that Gertrude’s mother and I were great friends, and I was, at one time, very fond of Gertrude. I think I was one of the first to notice her friendship with Otto von Diss, and certainly one of the first to disapprove of it. I’m a terrible gossip, and I read all the society papers. So of course I know that you have been meeting at Monte Carlo. Tell me, has she changed?”
“She is as beautiful as ever,” Grant said, “but she has certainly changed. She has gained a great deal, and I think lost something.”
“She can’t possibly be still in love with that ridiculous little husband of hers.”
Grant was silent for a moment. Under ordinary circumstances he felt that his hostess’s lack of reserve was really the truest form of tact. But the things she did not know were burning in his brain.
“I did not see a great deal of Gertrude in Monte Carlo,” he confided. “Her husband arrived unexpectedly, and I think that he is of a very jealous temperament.”
“Were you speaking of Gertrude von Diss?” one of the women from across the table interposed. “I see from the paper that she is in Newport, just arrived from Europe.”
His hostess turned enquiringly towards Grant.
“I heard the same rumour,” the latter remarked, “but I scarcely think that it can be true. I enquired in New York, but no one there knew anything about her. At the same time it is certainly a fact, as I learned this morning, that her husband’s friend, Cornelius Blunn, who was with us all at Monte Carlo, landed in New York two days ago. The Von Disses may have come with him.”
Grant’s host frowned for a moment.
“Blunn seems to have a great many friends in this country,” he observed. “He appears to spend half his time going back and forth.”
“His present visit seems to have been to some purpose.” Grant declared a little bitterly.
“In what respect?”
Grant was, for a moment, taken aback.
“You know about Mr. Cornelius Blunn’s purchase, sir,” he ventured.
“I’ve heard nothing,” was the somewhat impatient reply.
“I am sure I beg your pardon, sir. It would have been my first item of news, but I never imagined that Gordon Marsham would have acted without giving you notice.”
“What’s Gordon Marsham got to do with it?”
“Just this much, sir,” Grant pointed out. “He has sold the New York to Cornelius Blunn. A man named Pottinger is the new editor. Stoneham’s article which should have appeared this morning, welcoming the invitation from the Pact, was torn into small pieces.”
Grant’s host was more perturbed than he had been during the whole of the morning.
“Marsham’s action,” he declared, “is absolutely unbelievable. He knows perfectly well that the New York has become almost the mouthpiece of the Government. It was practically a subsidised journal. To dispose of it secretly, just now, to a German-American, without even advising us, is an amazing proceeding. You are sure that you are not misinformed, Mr. Slattery?”
“Absolutely certain,” was the confident reply. “The discourtesy to you, sir, can only be explained by Mr. Marsham’s breakdown in health.”
“It is a very serious event,” was the grave acknowledgment. “The New York was the one great American paper—a paper which, when things really mattered, brushed aside minor issues and preached the gospel of real things. One of the editors used to be here every week. I always treated him with the utmost confidence.”
“Have you ever met Cornelius Blunn, sir?” Grant enquired.
“Once only. A genial, simple fellow he seemed, for such a master of industry. I could scarcely believe that I was talking to the owner of so many gigantic commercial undertakings.”
“He is outwardly the most simple and good-natured, and actually the most inscrutable person I ever came across,” Grant confided. “There is a rumour about him that he carries wherever he goes, night and day, locked and padlocked in a little casket of gold, a letter written by his father on his deathbed.”
“How romantic!” one of the women murmured.
“Has any one any idea as to its contents?” some one else asked.
Grant shook his head.
“I was once told,” he said, “that if one could read that letter one could read the riddle of Blunn’s life. I have formed mv own idea about it.”
“A secret?” his hostess enquired.
“Not amongst us,” Grant replied. “I believe that it is an injunction from Blunn senior—who died, they say, of a broken heart, some years after the signing of the Peace of Versailles—to his son to devote his life towards avenging Germany’s humiliation. Personally, I believe that that is the motive before Blunn day and night. I believe that with that end in view he is deliberately working to upset the peace of the world.”
Grant’s pronouncement was received, as he had expected, with disfavour. His host merely smiled. The senator from the west, who had been waiting impatiently for in opportunity to join in the conversation, cleared his throat and leaned a little forward.
“Sir,” he said, “I guess every man in this country is free to express his opinions. Those may be yours, but I’d like just to tell you how the people down in my State look upon such talk. They say that trouble is made by talking about it, that most of the wars of the world have come about through newspaper discussion in advance and mischievous people going about putting belligerent thoughts into the minds of peaceful people. If I heard you, sir, make such a statement as you have just made on a public platform, I should conceive it to be my duty to use every gift of oratory with which I have been endowed to demonstrate to your audience the futility, the absurdity, and the immorality of such a statement. Hearing it under this roof, sir, I say no more than this. War and the desire for war is dead amongst the civilised nations of the world. We are every one of us grappling hard with social and economic problems of far greater consequence. The whimper of a person like Cornelius Blunn, for all his millions, is less than the voice crying in the wilderness, when one considers the majesty and colossal power of the chief nation against whom that voice is raised.”
Grant inclined his head courteously. The bombast of the senator’s words had appealed slightly to the sense of humour of most of them. Yet Grant was perfectly well aware that the man had spoken the truth when he declared that he was voicing the views of the people of his State. It was a representative expression of opinion. He could even see a qualified but vital assent to it in the faces of most of the little party. His host applied the closure.
“Well,” he said, “we must not drift into too serious argument. We shall all have an opportunity of expressing our views presently upon this subject.”
“In the meantime, sir,” Grant begged, “might I ask Mr. Senator Ross one question?”
“By all means,” was the prompt assent.
“Would you, sir,” Grant went on, turning towards the senator, “vote for the United States accepting the invitation of the Pact of Nations to join them?”
“I should not,” was the decided reply. “The Pact of Nations may have need of the United States. The United States has no need of the Pact. As a citizen of the United States I am prouder of the present isolated attitude of my country than I am, even, of her undoubted supremacy in every field of economics and civilisation.”
The senator’s sonorous statement was the signal for the breaking up of the little party. Grant was accompanied to the door by one of the secretaries with whom he had some previous acquaintance.
“The old type remains, I see,” the former remarked, with a smile.
“It’s the type beloved of the semi-professional politician,” the young man declared. “We have one of them to lunch every week. The chief can’t stand them in larger doses. But you know they have an enormous backing.”
Grant felt the warning behind his friend’s words, as he walked slowlv back towards the club where he was staying. It was the West, the big, brawny West, with its polyglot population and immense material prosperity, which he chiefly feared.