How could I prevent it? That was the rub. I went up to the Press Club thinking this out.

If I could have been certain that the bomb which I had thrown into the river was really that which was to be used, I should almost have been willing to let the matter rest where it was, for I had already prevented disaster.

But a little further consideration almost made my flesh creep. The bomb I had given the Baron would do no harm to the vessel, but it might very well blow me into prison. It would be found, of course; inquiries would follow, and the obliging young man who had made it for me, "for private theatricals," would give a description of me and an account of the transaction which I should be unable to explain away; while the agreeable fellow at the wharf would be able to tell how I had gone down to "inquire about the untenanted premises."

That wouldn't do; so with a curse at the Baron and all his works--except paternity of Althea--I turned to think of some other plan.

There was only one way. I must get such information to the authorities as would induce them to choose some other moorings for the warship. And I must do it at once.

My old press connexions must find the means. There were plenty of German newspaper men who would have given their ears for such a story as I could tell them; but I could not trust them to hold their tongues as to the source of the information. And that was of course essential.

The story must come from London, or better, from Paris; and the only man I dared to trust in the matter was Ba.s.sett--the correspondent who had taken my place. I telephoned him to come to me at the club, and when he arrived I told him as much of the case as was necessary.

I explained that I had stumbled on the information by chance, but in a manner which rendered it impossible for my name to be mentioned. He was anxious enough to get a "scoop," and readily promised to keep my connexion absolutely secret. Together we drew up such a paragraph as would set the ball rolling, and he agreed to warn the naval authorities in his own name that the object of attack was the _Wundervoll_, and that her safety depended upon her not being taken to the proposed moorings.

It was a common enough thing for newspaper men to get hold of information a long way ahead of the authorities, and for the sources of it to be kept secret.

"I'll hold my tongue about you, of course," he said as we were parting.

"And I'm awfully obliged to you. It's just what I want, as a matter of fact. The navy people here have been awfully close with me and standoffish, and this will put matters on just the footing I need."

I went home in a well satisfied mood. One of the many tangles was unravelled. There would be no outrage of any sort; and for my own protection I must get that bogus bomb back into my own hands as soon as possible. That was almost as essential as getting the Baron away.

But I found trouble waiting for me at home. The Baron had gone to bed ill, and Althea was at her wits-end to know whether she dared call in a doctor. I went up with her to his room, and found him apparently very bad indeed. He looked very ill, and had been complaining of intense pain.

To move him was clearly impossible, even if he had been willing to go away.

"For his own sake we must do without a doctor if we can," I told her.

"I thought he was going to die a little time ago, but he appears to be easier now. I did not know what to do for the best," she replied as she bent over him and smoothed his pillows and kissed him.

"After Borsen's letter I meant to get him to leave the city. Every hour after to-morrow will be one of danger for him."

Unfortunately he heard this, and between his gasps and groans of pain he abused me for a traitor and ordered me out of the room. I did not pay any heed at first, but it soon became evident that my presence excited him so much that Althea begged me to go.

His illness was checkmate so far as getting him out of the house for the present was concerned; and as that was all important, I deemed it best to take the additional risk of having a doctor to get him well enough to travel.

While I was still considering this, Althea came down, and I told her.

"Not yet," she said decidedly. "I think he is better again. He raved almost deliriously after you had left the room; that you and all of us in fact were bent upon betraying the cause, and that if any attempt were made to get him out of the city he would---- Oh, he talked most wildly.

What can we do, Mr. Bastable? I am so grieved that I have brought all this on you."

"I told you before that we would not go out to look for trouble. After all, it may end in nothing serious. We have all to-morrow; and it will be quite time enough if he goes then."

"You try to make so light of it, but----" She broke off and threw up her hands.

"We shall have plenty of time to worry when the need comes, if it is to come," I answered with a smile. "You will be ill yourself if you are not more careful."

"The excitement has worn him out so that he is sleeping a little now,"

she said. "I dare not leave him for long; but I felt I must come down to you for a minute."

"It may be the beginning of an improvement. Of course there is one way in which we might venture to move him."

"How?"

"A sleeping draught, and take him away as an invalid."

But she shook her head vigorously at the suggestion.

"I dare not. His heart is so weak, he might die under it."

"That closes that door then"; and I endeavoured to make her feel that I refused to take things too seriously.

There was a slight pause during which she glanced at me twice nervously and said hesitatingly: "There is another way if you will take it."

"Not the last resource, yet. It has not come to that by a long way."

"No. I--I mean--you ought to think of Bessie. I wish that. You must."

"Do you mean she should go away? I am afraid she would not care to go.

I wish she would."

"But you--you might take her."

"Althea!" The Christian name slipped from me unwittingly in my quick protest against the suggestion that I should desert her. I stopped in confusion, and the colour rushed to her face. We were both embarra.s.sed by the blunder.

Presently she raised her eyes to mine. "Please do it. I wish it," she urged in a low, intensely earnest tone.

"Do you believe it possible?"

"If you care at all for what I say or wish, you will do it."

"Then I am afraid we must take it that I do not," I answered, smiling.

"But if Bessie were only safely away, I should not mind so much."

"She is not in any serious danger. They would not do anything to her."

"You know what I mean," she cried quickly. "Why force me to say it? I cannot bear the thought of bringing you into this danger. The fear of what may happen haunts me every moment, day and night. You must go."

"You are letting your fears exaggerate the danger. I cannot go."

"You must. I insist." Quite vehemently uttered, this.

"Don't force me to the discourtesy of a flat refusal."

Her earnestness was only magnified. "You shall go. I am quite determined. You shall go or----" Her eyes were flashing and her features set with resolve.

"I am just as determined as you."