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You are fast losing the respect of the other nations by your present methods, always looking after your own pocket-books while the rest of the world is bleeding to death." Edestone was thoughtful, and appeared to have no answer for this, and Lindenberry reverted to his request. "If you really want to have an interview with Lord Rockstone, Jack, I think I can possibly arrange it.
Smith read from a memorandum book: "Lord Lindenberry, who is a widower, lives there with his mother, the Dowager. The old lady is now up at their country place, in Yorkshire, and the Marquis went on to Aldershot last night after having dined with Edestone at Brooks's and dropping him at Claridge's at 12:15 A.M. The house is only partially opened; there are only a few of the old servants there."
Lindenberry at once telephoned to Colonel Wyatt, who said that Lord Rockstone was in and that if Edestone would come around at once he would see to it that his letters were presented. As to an appointment, he could promise nothing, but he did say to Lindenberry, not to be repeated, that the Department was not at that time very favourably disposed toward Americans.
"Well, wouldn't that be better than killing a lot of these fine young fellows you have here?" demanded Edestone, although he smiled at his friend's fantastic idea. "You Americans are developing into a nation of foolish old women," taunted Lindenberry, "and the sooner that you get into a muss like this one we're in, the sooner you will get back that fighting spirit which has made you what you are.
"It does seem a pity that all these fine young fellows should be sacrificed in order to settle a question which I could settle in a very short time," he said, becoming more serious. "Settle it in a very short time?" repeated Lindenberry. "I would like to know how you propose to do it.
It was not the voice of his friend, and he answered a trifle impatiently: "Yes. Who are you? Are you speaking for the Marquis of Lindenberry?" "No, I am not," came the reply. "And I must apologize for having used his name." The voice bore the unmistakable intonation of an English gentleman. "I am the Count Kurtz von Hemelstein.
"I beg pardon, sir, but the Marquis of Lindenberry wishes to speak to you on the telephone. "I am sorry, sir, but you will have to go to the booth in the room behind the stairs. Mr. Rebener's telephone is out of order." "What do you mean, 'my telephone is out of order'?" Rebener glanced up sharply. "I used it not twenty minutes ago."
"Well, the first thing I want, Lindenberry, is a little chat with Lord Rockstone." "Oh, is that all?" with a satiric inflection. "Well, why in the name of common sense didn't you say so at first? I do not know, however, that I can positively get you an appointment today.
"Oh, I see," Lindenberry nodded when he found that he got no satisfactory answer to this or the other inquiries he put; "you evidently do not propose to take me into your confidence. Still, I would not be so deucedly mysterious, if I were you. I call it beastly rude, you know.
Stanton and Black were left behind with James, who condescended with his superior knowledge to assist them in getting the luggage through the custom-house. "Well what in the name of common sense has brought you over to England at such a time as this?" demanded Lindenberry, after the automobile had swept clear of the town and with a gentle purr had settled down to its work.
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