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Prince or Chauffeur? A Story of Newport

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<h3> CHAPTER IX </h3> <h3> ARMITAGE CHANGES HIS VOCATION </h3> Half an hour after the incident at Trinity, Armitage hurried from the little ferry boat which had just landed him at the Torpedo Station and made his way to the house of the storekeeper, who was out, of course. He had gone to Providence, his wife said, and would return about four o'clock. Armitage took the key to the shops, only to find when he entered that the storekeeper's books were in the safe, the combination to which he did not know. This by no means improved his temper and he began to blunder about the office in a dragnet search. Finally, when he found himself kicking over chairs which were in his way in his aimless course, the humor of the situation came to him. He sat down upon a tool chest and laughed aloud. Clearly, there was nothing for him to do in the absence of Jackson—except go to his dinner; which he did. A few minutes before three o'clock, he went to the office again and sat down to wait for Yeasky. He gave the man half an hour overtime and then nodded grimly and dismissed any lingering notion he might have entertained concerning his honesty. When the storekeeper appeared some time later, Armitage was still at his desk idly drawing diagrams on a pad. "Mr. Jackson," he said, "I hate to bother you to-day, but things have happened which seem to make it necessary to check those parts now—" Armitage arose briskly. The storekeeper waved his hands. "Oh, I checked them up this morning," he said. "Everything straight?" snapped Armitage. "Why—yes," Jackson fumbled in his desk. "Here is the sheet." Armitage seized it and glanced up and down the various items. "Bully work, Mr. Jackson!" He looked up with a sigh of relief. "Everything seems correct. George! That takes a load off my mind. Let's see." He went down the list with his finger. "I understand you, don't I?" he said, handing the sheet to the storekeeper. "Understand?" "I mean, this is a list taken from the tally sheet of parts, all of which you have found to be in the office? In other words," he added rapidly, "everything that appears on this sheet is now, at the present time, inside this office?" "Yes—everything, except—" the storekeeper paused an instant, looking at Armitage with sudden doubt. "Except what?" cried the officer impatiently. "Why, that special core of the magnetic control. You have that, haven't you? It is n't in the shop." "Is n't in the shop! Well, where the devil is it then?" "Why," exclaimed the storekeeper, "no one ever handled that but you. Not even Yeasky. You never let any one even see it. I remember how careful you have been about that." "I know," Armitage rose from his chair. "But it was never out of the shop. It was always in the big safe. Have you looked there?" He turned to Jackson hopefully. But the storekeeper shook his head. "Are you sure you have looked everywhere?" "It is not in the shop—I thought sure you must have it. Does it—was it vitally important?" "Important!" Armitage threw himself into a chair and put his feet on the desk. "Well, Jackson, I fancy you might call it so. Damn!" The storekeeper whistled. "I shall have the rooms of the workmen searched." "Just one room, please; and quickly, will you?" rejoined Armitage, "Yeasky's. He is the only man who would have known its value. Give my compliments to the superintendent and ask him for some one to help you." As the storekeeper departed, Joe Thornton entered the office. "Any luck, Jack?" "Rotten! The magnetic control of the model is gone. I was right this morning and you were wrong, Joe. Yeasky got it. Why did n't I keep my hands on him, when I had him! Something told me to." "The deuce!" Thornton regarded his friend with a grave face. "Is it very serious? Does it give the whole snap away?" "It gives about ninety per cent more away than pleases me. It would take some genius long nights of labor to supply the other ten per cent even with the aid of the plans which no doubt Yeasky has copied. That is, there are one or two things that I kept off the paper—kept in my head." He paced up and down the floor. "But other men have heads, too. That thing has got to be returned, the quicker the better." "Well," Thornton smiled encouragingly. "Yeasky can't get out of the country—and he 'll be caught before he dopes the thing out. Even if he has mailed or expressed it, it can be held up before it leaves this country. You had the control in the model torpedo last night. Have you wired?" "I 've sent a general call to the secret service for him, to Boston, New York, and Washington. They are holding the telegrams, as long as letters, at the telegraph office for release. I 've also a wire to the Department on file, telling what has happened. I wrote before I knew what was gone, so I would n't have to lie in case he took what he did take." "Yes," agreed Thornton, "there is no use in letting on how bad it really is." Thornton was growing quite optimistic. "Yeasky can't get away; you 'll have the thing back here within three days." Armitage smiled. "Not through capturing Yeasky. He hasn't it now. You don't suppose he is enough of a fool to risk being caught with the goods, do you? He got that thing off his hands, quick." "Transferred it! Who to?" Armitage shrugged his shoulders. "To Prince Koltsoff." "Koltsoff! How do you know?" "How do I know anything that isn't as plain as a pikestaff? Common sense! Prince Koltsoff has that thing right now." Armitage grinned. "The noble guest of the house of Ronald Wellington playing the spy—and rather successfully. Quite an interesting society item, eh?" Thornton did not smile. "Look here, old man, what is your drift? Prince Koltsoff! Old boy, this is serious! It is nothing to smile about. Say, do you know what this means?" "Oh, no!" said Armitage sarcastically. "Oh, I don't mean the loss to yourself and the Government, I mean the politics of it. Jack, every nation knows about that torpedo. You know the attachés that have been snooping round here on one pretence or another since you have been working. Japan knows about it; you know her situation with Russia. Russia gets your torpedo—what's Japan going to do? What will England say? How can the Government prove it was stolen? Oh, we can say so but we 'd say so anyway, would n't we? How will you look?" Thornton threw up his hands and confronted Armitage. "I tell you, Jack, it's a nasty mess. Your status in the matter will size up about like a pin point at Washington. You 've got to catch Yeasky, somehow." "Fine, bright boy!" Armitage twisted a newspaper in his hands, broke it, and tossed the two ends away. "I don't want Yeasky, I tell you. You 're off the track. I want Koltsoff. The secret service fellows can go after Yeasky. It's perfectly certain he turned that control over to Koltsoff, after, if not before, I held him up. He knew he was suspected. Anyway, the Russian was undoubtedly here to receive it. Why else would he be here?" "Anne Wellington, so the Saunterer says." Armitage turned quickly upon his friend and brother officer. "Anne, nothing!" he fairly snarled. "I remember about Koltsoff now. Worcester was once attaché at St. Petersburg and told me all about him last summer. He 's just a plain, ordinary, piking crook. But he 's up against the wrong kind of diplomacy this time. I 'll get him before he leaves Newport and choke that magnetic control out of him. Come over to the D'Estang a minute, Joe; I want to show you something.… Well, Mr. Jackson, cleaned out? I thought so. Thank you, I am going to be away for a few days. Don't let anything be touched, please. Let the work stop until I return. Come on, Joe." In his cabin on the D'Estang, Armitage pointed to several more or less disreputable garments lying on his berth. "Say," he said, "would a candidate for physical instructor for the Wellington boys wear such clothes?" Thornton looked hard at his friend for a minute and then his face broadened into a huge smile of understanding. "Not if he wanted the job," he said. "You 'll make more of a hit as you are." "All right, and now, Joe, go into the yeoman's office like a good chap, pick out a time-stained sheet of paper and typewrite a letter, signing your name as captain of the 19— football eleven at Annapolis, saying that the bearer, Jack—Jack—who?" "McCall," suggested Thornton. "Yes, McCall—saying that Jack McCall had given great satisfaction as trainer for the eleven and was honest and God-fearing; you know how to do it." "All right," said Thornton, starting for the door. He paused in the corridor. "Say, Jack, do you know you're taking all this mighty light?" He frowned. "This is serious." Armitage frowned too. "I know, but I 'll be serious enough before it's over, I reckon." "You will," said Thornton dryly. "How do you expect to get the job anyway?" Armitage shrugged his shoulders. "Leave that to me," he said. "Oh, Joe, are you going to be on the island for supper?" "No—not for supper," he said. "I 'll be over from Newport about eleven o'clock though." "All right, drop aboard then, will you? I want to see you." "Right-o," said Thornton. For some time after his departure Armitage sat writing a document, covering the case to date, outlining his plans, his suspicions and the like. It turned out to be lengthy. He sealed it in an envelope, labelled it, "Armitage vs. Koltsoff," and locked it in a small safe in the yeoman's room. One of the engineer's force came in to say that they had made progress in repairing the boiler baffle plates, designed to keep the funnels from torching when under high speed, but that they were at the point where advice was needed. Armitage arose, put on a suit of greasy overalls, and went into the grimy vitals of the destroyer, a wrench in one hand, a chisel in the other. In about ten minutes he had solved the problem, explained it to the mechanics gathered about him, and then demonstrated just how simple the remedial measures were. All torpedo boat officers do this more often than not. It explains the blind fidelity with which the crews of craft of this sort accompany their officers without a murmur under the bows of swiftly moving battleships or through crowded ocean lanes at night without lights, with life boats aboard having aggregate capacity for about half the crew. Armitage was alone at supper, his junior taking tea aboard a German cruiser in the harbor. With the coffee he lighted a cigar and half closed his eyes. He marvelled at the strange thrill which had possessed him since Thornton had gone. The loss of that control was something which justified the gravest fears and deepest gloom. And yet—and yet—whenever he thought about it he saw, not Yeasky, nor Koltsoff, nor the torpedo—just a tall, flexible girl, with wonderful hair and eyes and lips. He puffed impatiently at his cigar. Hang it all, he had gone to church that morning because he felt he had to see her, and the morrow had been a blank because he knew he should not be able to see her again. But now, well, it looked as though he should see her; swift blood tingled in his cheeks. Precisely at eleven Thornton looked in. Armitage gave him the combination of the safe, told him about the letter, and explained how he expected to obtain employment. They parted at midnight. "Good-night, Jack," said Thornton, placing his hand affectionately on his brother officer's shoulder. "Now don't forget to dodge the interference and tackle low. And if you want me, 'phone. Consider me a minute man until you return." "Thanks," replied Armitage. "Oh, Joe, will you mail this letter to the Department?" His voice lowered as he added half humorously, "It seems almost a shame to set the dogs on a man who may prove to be a benefactor." "What?" asked Thornton. "Nothing; good-night, Joe." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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