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Page 72
"You?" I stood looking at him and saw that his face was deathly white.
"Yes. I--I'm in trouble and--I have things to tell you," he stammered.
"Sit down."
I sat down and lighted a cigarette. I kept thinking how much he looked
like his sister.
"Ryerson, what the devil are you doing in that Prussian uniform?"
He turned away miserably, then he forced himself to face me.
"I'll get the worst over first. I don't care what happens to me
and--anyway I--I'm a spy."
"A spy?"
He nodded. "In the service of the Germans. It was through me they knew
about Widding's invention to destroy their fleet. It was through me that
Edison and Widding were abducted. I meant to disappear--that's why I
joined von Hindenburg's army, but--we were captured and--here I am."
He looked at me helplessly as I blew out a cloud of smoke.
"How is this possible? How did it happen? How, Ryerson?" I gasped in
amazement.
He shook his head. "What's the use? It was money and--there's a woman in
it."
"Go on."
"That's all. I fell for one of their damnable schemes to get information.
It was three years ago on the Mediterranean cruise of our Atlantic
squadron. I met this woman in Marseilles."
"Well?"
"She called herself the Countess de Matignon, and--I was a young
lieutenant and--I couldn't resist her. Nobody could. She wanted money and
I gave her all I had; then I gambled to get more. She wanted information
about the American fleet, about our guns and coast defences; unimportant
things at first, but pretty soon they were important and--I was crazy
about her and--swamped with debts and--I yielded. Within six months she
owned me. I was a German spy, mighty well paid, too. God!"
I stared at him in dismay. I could not speak.
"Well, after the war broke out between Germany and America last April,
this woman came to New York and got her clutches on me deeper than ever.
I gave her some naval secrets, and six weeks ago I told her all I knew
about Widding's invention. You see what kind of a dog I am," he concluded
bitterly.
"Ryerson, why have you told me this?" I asked searchingly.
"Why?" He flashed a straightforward look out of his handsome eyes.
"Because I'm sick of the whole rotten game. I've played my cards and
lost. I'm sure to be found out--some navy man will recognise me, in spite
of this moustache, and--you know what will happen then. I'll be glad of
it, but--before I quit the game I want to do one decent thing. I'm going
to tell you where they've taken Edison."
"You know where Edison is?"
"Yes. Don't speak so loud."
Ryerson leaned closer and whispered: "He's in Richmond, Virginia."
Silently I studied this unhappy man, wondering if he was telling the
truth. He must have felt my doubts.
"Langston, you don't believe me! Why should I lie to you? I tell you I
want to make amends. These German officers trust me. I know their plans
and--Oh, my God, aren't you going to believe me?"
"Go on," I said, impressed by the genuineness of his despair. "What plans
do you know?"
"I know the Germans are disturbed by this patriotic spirit in America.
They're afraid of it. They don't know where hell may break loose
next--after Boston. They're going to leave Boston alone, everything alone
for the present--until they get their new army."
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