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Updated: June 28, 2025
In a second Baron Frederic von Fincke was by her side, and with a sigh of thankfulness Kathleen accepted his eager demand for a dance, and they hastened into the assembly room, which, stripped of its furniture, was already filled with dancers. It was the regular Wednesday night dance at the club and the room was crowded. Kathleen had no difficulty in avoiding Captain Miller.
"And the so-called 'four hundred," growled Foster. The close atmosphere had started him coughing, and he scowled at Baron Frederic von Fincke who was seated near by. "Where is the jury?" he asked, as soon as the paroxysm of coughing was over. "Viewing the body in that room." Miller indicated a closed door to his right. "The jury is sworn in there by the morgue master."
"Go-going to ask Kathleen tonight," replied Spencer, with drunken dignity. "I'm no la-laggard. Speak to Whitney, too; though that isn't important he won't refuse." He cogitated darkly for a moment. "If he does ... I'll make things hot for him...." "Hush!" Von Fincke laid a heavy hand on Spencer's shoulder as he looked carefully about them; apparently no one was within earshot. "Collect your wits.
"Excellent!" and von Fincke beamed with pleasure. "I shall instigate strikes in the munitions factories," continued Hartzmann. "Tell me, how have you succeeded with the passports?" Von Fincke's expression changed. "Not so well as I hoped. The Secret Service are active in investigating all that are issued. It is difficult to circulate them under such espionage." "It is risky," agreed Hartzmann.
Spencer this morning?" asked von Fincke genially, offering his guest a chair. Spencer, however, remained standing and disregarded the question as well as the chair. "Who is this fellow, Charles Miller?" he asked in his turn. Von Fincke laughed softly. "Consult your 'Who's Who, my dear friend; do not come to me, an outsider." "You know why I come to you," with pointed accentuation.
"Well done; it is a wise move." Hartzmann helped himself to a cigar. "What about this Spencer mystery, Baron? As our agent in Mexican affairs he received a small fortune. Does not his death come at a most unfortunate moment?" Von Fincke pursed up his lips. "No.
"Is Heinrich here?" he asked a moment later as his servant entered. "Yes, Baron." "Then show him in." Von Fincke turned back to his guest. "A clever man, Heinrich, and useful. Come in," as a discreet tap sounded on the door; and the chauffeur, carefully closing the door, saluted. "Any news of the Atlantic fleet, Heinrich?"
"I am determined to find out Miller's antecedents, and I am convinced you can tell me if you will." Von Fincke shook his head. "You overrate my powers," he insisted suavely. "I have met Captain Miller as one meets any visitor to this cosmopolitan city. My acquaintance extends no further than our meeting at Miss Grey's dinner at the Chevy Chase Club six weeks ago."
"Its departure for the Panama-Pacific Exposition at San Francisco via the Panama Canal has been indefinitely postponed." "The Department must have awakened to the fact that if sent there the fleet would have to return by rail," growled von Fincke.
"They are the best propagandists in the country, and Senator Foster proves an able advocate of peace when urged by a woman." "He is a clever speaker," agreed Hartzmann. "Most men in public life have their uses. Have you nothing to report of the pernicious activities of the United States Government?" Without replying von Fincke pressed the button of his electric bell.
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