XIX
THE SUBMARINE MYSTERY
"The Star was not far from right, Walter," he added, seriously. "If thebattleship plans could be stolen, other things could be--other thingswere. You remember Burke of the secret service? I'm going up to LookoutHill on the Connecticut shore of the Sound with him to-night. Therewrite men on the Record didn't have the facts, but they had accurateimaginations. The most vital secret that any navy ever had, that wouldhave enabled us in a couple of years to whip the navies of the worldcombined against us, has been stolen."
"And that is?" I asked.
"The practical working-out of the newest of sciences, the science oftelautomatics."
"Telautomatics?" I repeated.
"Yes. There is something weird, fascinating about the very idea. I situp here safely in this room, turning switches, pressing buttons,depressing levers. Ten miles away a vehicle, a ship, an aeroplane, asubmarine obeys me. It may carry enough of the latest and most powerfulexplosive that modern science can invent, enough, if exploded, to rivalthe worst of earthquakes. Yet it obeys my will. It goes where I directit. It explodes where I want it. And it wipes off the face of the earthanything which I want annihilated.
"That's telautomatics, and that is what has been stolen from our navyand dimly sensed by you clever newspaper men, from whom even the secretservice can't quite hide everything. The publication of the rumouralone that the government knows it has lost something has put thesecret service in a hole. What might have been done quietly and in afew days has got to be done in the glare of the limelight and with theblare of a brass band--and it has got to be done right away, too. Comeon, Walter. I've thrown together all we shall need for one night--andit doesn't include any pajamas, either."
A few minutes later we met our friend Burke of the secret service atthe new terminal. He had wired Kennedy earlier in the day saying thathe would be in New York and would call him up.
"The plans, as I told you in my message," began Burke, when we hadseated ourselves in a compartment of the Pullman, "were those ofCaptain Shirley, covering the wireless-controlled submarine. The oldcaptain is a thoroughbred, too. I've known him in Washington. Comes ofan old New England, family with plenty of money but more brains. Foryears he has been working on this science of radio-telautomatics, hasall kinds of patents, which he has dedicated to the United States, too.Of course the basic, pioneer patents are not his. His work has been inthe practical application of them. And, Kennedy, there are some secretsabout his latest work that he has not patented; he has given themoutright to the Navy Department, because they are too valuable even topatent."
Burke, who liked a good detective tale himself, seemed pleased atholding Kennedy spellbound.
"For instance," he went on, "he has on the bay up here a submarinewhich can be made into a crewless dirigible. He calls it the Turtle, Ibelieve, because that was the name of the first American submarinebuilt by Dr. Bushnell during the Revolution, even before Fulton."
"You have theories of your own on the case?" asked Craig.
"Well, there are several possibilities. You know there are submarinecompanies in this country, bitter rivals. They might like to have thoseplans. Then, too, there are foreign governments."
He paused. Though he said nothing, I felt that there was no doubt whathe hinted at. At least one government occurred to me which would likethe plans above all others.
"Once some plans of a submarine were stolen, I recall," ruminatedKennedy. "But that theft, I am satisfied, was committed in behalf of arival company."
"But, Kennedy," exclaimed Burke, "it was bad enough when the plans werestolen. Now Captain Shirley wires me that some one must have tamperedwith his model. It doesn't work right. He even believes that his ownlife may be threatened. And there is scarcely a real clue," he addeddejectedly. "Of course we are watching all the employes who had accessto the draughting-room and tracing everybody who was in the buildingthat night. I have a complete list of them. There are three or four whowill bear watching. For instance, there is a young attache of one ofthe embassies, named Nordheim."
"Nordheim!" I echoed, involuntarily. I had expected an Oriental name.
"Yes, a German. I have been looking up his record, and I find that oncehe was connected in some way with the famous Titan Iron Works, at Kiel,Germany. We began watching him day before yesterday, but suddenly hedisappeared. Then, there is a society woman in Washington, a Mrs.Bayard Brainard, who was at the Department that night. We have beentrying to find her. To-day I got word that she was summering in thecottage colony across the bay from Lookout Hill. At any rate, I had togo up there to see the captain, and I thought I'd kill a whole flock ofbirds with one stone. The chief thought, too, that if you'd take thecase with us you had best start on it up there. Next, you will no doubtwant to go back to Washington with me."
Lookout Hill was the name of the famous old estate of the Shirleys, ona point of land jutting out into Long Island Sound and with aneighbouring point enclosing a large, deep, safe harbour. On thehighest ground of the estate, with a perfect view of both harbour andsound, stood a large stone house, the home of Captain Shirley, of theUnited States navy, retired.
Captain Shirley, a man of sixty-two or three, bronzed and wiry, met useagerly.
"So this is Professor Kennedy; I'm glad to meet you, sir," he welcomed,clasping Craig's hand in both of his--a fine figure as he stood erectin the light of the portecochere. "What's the news from Washington,Burke? Any clues?"
"I can hardly tell," replied the secret service man, with assumedcheerfulness. "By the way, you'll have to excuse me for a few minuteswhile I run back into town on a little errand. Meanwhile, Captain, willyou explain to Professor Kennedy just how things are? Perhaps he'dbetter begin by seeing the Turtle herself."
Burke had not waited longer than to take leave.
"The Turtle," repeated the captain, leading the way into the house."Well, I did call it that at first. But I prefer to call it the Z99.You know the first submarines, abroad at least, were sometimes calledAl, A2, A3, and so on. They were of the diving, plunging type, that is,they submerged on an inclined keel, nose down, like the Hollands. Thencame the B type, in which the hydroplane appeared; the C type, in whichit was more prominent, and a D type, where submergence is on aperfectly even keel, somewhat like our Lakes. Well, this boat of mineis a last word--the Z99. Call it the Turtle, if you like."
We were standing for a moment in a wide Colonial hall in which a firewas crackling in a huge brick fireplace, taking the chill off the nightair.
"Let me give you a demonstration, first," added the captain. "PerhapsZ99 will work--perhaps not."
There was an air of disappointment about the old veteran as he spoke,uncertainly now, of what a short time ago he had known to be acertainty and one of the greatest it had ever been given the inventivemind of man to know.
A slip of a girl entered from the library, saw us, paused, and wasabout to turn back. Silhouetted against the curtained door, there washealth, animation, gracefulness, in every line of her wavy chestnuthair, her soft, sparkling brown eyes, her white dress and hat to match,which contrasted with the healthy glow of tan on her full neck andarms, and her dainty little white shoes, ready for anything from tennisto tango.
"My daughter Gladys, Professor Kennedy and Mr. Jameson," introduced thecaptain. "We are going to try the Z99 again, Gladys."
A moment later we four were walking to the edge of the cliff whereCaptain Shirley had a sort of workshop and signal-station.
He lighted the gas, for Lookout Hill was only on the edge of the townand boasted gas, electricity, and all modern improvements, as well asthe atmosphere of old New England.
"The Z99 is moored just below us at my private dock," began thecaptain. "I have a shed down there where we usually keep her, but Iexpected you, and she is waiting, thoroughly overhauled. I havesignalled to my men--fellows I can trust, too, who used to be with mein the navy--to cast her off. There--now we are ready."
The captain turned a switch. Instantly a
couple of hundred feet belowus, on the dark and rippling water, a light broke forth. Anothersignal, and the light changed.
It was moving.
"The principle of the thing," said Captain Shirley, talking to us butwatching the moving light intently, "briefly, is that I use theHertzian waves to actuate relays on the Z99. That is, I send a childwith a message, the grown man, through the relay, so to speak, does thework. So, you see, I can sit up here and send my little David outanywhere to strike down a huge Goliath.
"I won't bore you, yet, with explanations of my radio-combinator, thetelecommutator, the aerial coherer relay, and the rest of thetechnicalities of wireless control of dirigible, self-propelledvessels. They are well known, beginning with pioneers like Wilson andGardner in England, Roberts in Australia, Wirth and Lirpa in Germany,Gabet in France, and Tesla, Edison, Sims, and the younger Hammond inour own country.
"The one thing, you may not know, that has kept us back while wirelesstelegraphy has gone ahead so fast is that in wireless we have been ableto discard coherers and relays and use detectors and microphones intheir places. But in telautomatics we have to keep the coherer. Thathas been the barrier. The coherer until recently has been spasmodic,until we had Hammond's mercury steel-disc coherer and now my own. Why,"he cried, "we are just on the threshold, now, of this great sciencewhich Tesla has named telautomatics--the electric arm that we canstretch out through space to do our work and fight our battles."
It was not difficult to feel the enthusiasm of the captain over aninvention of such momentous possibilities, especially as the Z99 waswell out in the harbour now and we could see her flashing her red andgreen signal-lights back to us.
"You see," the captain resumed, "I have twelve numbers here on the keysof this radio-combinator--forward, back, stop propeller motor, rudderright, rudder left, stop steering motor, light signals front, lightsignals rear, launch torpedoes, and so on. The idea is that of adelayed contact. The machinery is always ready, but it delays a fewseconds until the right impulse is given, a purely mechanical problem.I take advantage of the delay to have the message repeated by a signalback to me. I can even change it, then. You can see for yourself thatit really takes no experience to run the thing when all is going right.Gladys has done it frequently herself. All you have to do is to payattention, and press the right key for the necessary change. It is whenthings go wrong that even an expert like myself--confound it--there'ssomething wrong!"
The Z99 had suddenly swerved. Captain Shirley's brow knitted. Wegathered around closer, Gladys next to her father and leaning anxiouslyover the transmitting apparatus.
"I wanted to turn her to port yet she goes to starboard, and signalsstarboard, too. There--now--she has stopped altogether. What do youthink of that?"
Gladys stroked the old seafarer's hand gently, as he sat silently atthe table, peering with contracted brows out into the now brilliantlymoonlit night.
Shirley looked up at his daughter, and the lines on his face relaxed asthough he would hide his disappointment from her eager eyes.
"Confound that light! What's the matter with it?" he exclaimed,changing the subject, and glancing up at the gas-fixture.
Kennedy had already been intently looking at the Welsbach burneroverhead, which had been flickering incessantly. "That gas company!"added the Captain, shaking his head in disgust, and showing annoyanceover a trivial thing to hide deep concern over a greater, as some mendo. "I shall use the electricity altogether after this contract withthe company expires. I suppose you literary men, Mr. Jameson, wouldcall that the light that failed."
There was a forced air about his attempt to be facetious that did notconceal, but rather accentuated, the undercurrent of feelings in him.
"On the contrary," broke in Kennedy, "I shouldn't be surprised to findthat it is the light that succeeded."
"How do you mean?"
"I wouldn't have said anything about it if you hadn't noticed ityourself. In fact, I may be wrong. It suggests something to me, but itwill need a good deal of work to verify it, and then it may not be ofany significance. Is that the way the Z99 has behaved always lately?"
"Yes, but I know that she hasn't broken down of herself," CaptainShirley asserted. "It never did before, not since I perfected that newcoherer. And now it always does, perhaps fifteen or twenty minutesafter I start her out."
Shirley was watching the lights as they serpentined their way to usacross the nearly calm water of the bay, idly toying with the nowuseless combinator.
"Wait here," he said, rising hurriedly. "I must send my motor-boat outthere to pick her up and tow her in."
He was gone down the flight of rustic steps on the face of the cliffbefore we could reply.
"I wish father wouldn't take it to heart so," murmured Gladys."Sometimes I fear that success or failure of this boat means life ordeath to him."
"That is exactly why we are here," reassured Kennedy, turning earnestlyto her, "to help him to settle this thing at once. This is a beautifulspot," he added, as we stood on the edge of the cliff and looked farout over the tossing waves of the sound.
"What is on that other point?" asked Kennedy, turning again toward theharbour itself.
"There is a large cottage colony there," she replied. "Of course manyof the houses are still closed so early in the season, but it is abeautiful place in the summer. The hotel over there is open now,though."
"You must have a lively time when the season is at its height,"ventured Kennedy. "Do you know a cottager there, a Mrs. Brainard?"
"Oh, yes, indeed. I have known her in Washington for some time."
"No doubt the cottagers envy you your isolation here," remarkedKennedy, turning and surveying the beautifully kept grounds. "I shouldthink it would be pleasant, too, to have an old Washington friend here."
"It is. We often invite our friends over for lawn-parties and otherlittle entertainments. Mrs. Brainard has just arrived and has only hadtime to return my first visit to her, but I expect we shall have somegood times this summer."
It was evident, at least, that Gladys was not concealing anything abouther friend, whether there was any suspicion or not of her.
We had gone into the house to await the return of Captain Shirley.Burke had just returned, his face betraying that he was bursting withnews.
"She's here, all right," he remarked in an undertone to Kennedy, "inthe Stamford cottage--quite an outfit. French chauffeur, two Japaneseservants, maids, and all."
"The Stamford cottage?" repeated Gladys. "Why, that is where Mrs.Brainard lives."
She gave a startled glance at Kennedy, as she suddenly seemed torealise that both he and the secret-service man had spoken about herfriend.
"Yes," said Burke, noting on the instant the perfect innocence of herconcern. "What do you know about Mrs. Brainard? Who, where is, Mr.Brainard?"
"Dead, I believe," Gladys hesitated. "Mrs. Brainard has been well knownin Washington circles for years. Indeed, I invited her with us thenight of the Manila display."
"And Mr. Nordheim?" broke in Burke.
"N-no," she hesitated. "He was there, but I don't know as whose guest."
"Did he seem very friendly with. Mrs. Brainard?" pursued the detective.
I thought I saw a shade of relief pass over her face as she answered,"Yes." I could only interpret it that perhaps Nordheim had beenattentive to Gladys herself and that she had not welcomed hisattentions.
"I may as well tell you," she said, at length. "It is no secret in ourset, and I suppose you would find it out soon, anyhow. It is said thathe is engaged to Mrs. Brainard--that is all."
"Engaged?" repeated Burke. "Then that would account for his being atthe hotel here. At least, it would offer an excuse."
Gladys was not slow to note the stress that Burke laid on the last word.
"Oh, impossible," she began hurriedly, "impossible that he could haveknown anything about this other matter. Why, she told me he was to sailsuddenly for Germany and came up here for a last visit before he went,and to arrange to c
ome back on his return. Oh, he could knownothing--impossible."
"Why impossible?" persisted Burke. "They have submarines in Germany,don't they? And rival companies, too."
"Who have rival companies?" inquired a familiar voice. It was CaptainShirley, who had returned out of breath from his long climb up thesteps from the shore.
"The Germans. I was speaking of an attache named Nordheim."
"Who is Nordheim?" inquired the captain.
"You met him at the Naval building, that night, don't you remember?"replied Gladys.
"Oh, yes, I believe I do--dimly. He was the man who seemed so devotedto Mrs. Brainard."
"I think he is, too, father," she replied hastily. "He has beensuddenly called to Berlin and planned to spend the last few days here,at the hotel, so as to be near her. She told me that he had beenordered back to Washington again before he sailed and had had to cuthis visit short."
"When did you first notice the interference with the Turtle?" askedBurke. "I received your message this morning."
"Yesterday morning was the first," replied the captain.
"He arrived the night before and did not leave until yesterdayafternoon," remarked Burke.
"And we arrived to-night," put in Craig quietly. "The interference isgoing on yet."
"Then the Japs," I cut in, at last giving voice to the suspicion I hadof the clever little Orientals.
"They could not have stolen the plans," asserted Burke, shaking hishead. "No, Nordheim and Mrs. Brainard were the only ones who could havegot into the draughting room the night of the Manila celebration."
"Burke," said Kennedy, rising, "I wish you would take me into town.There are a few messages I would like to send. You will excuse us,Captain, for a few hours? Good evening, Miss Shirley." As he bowed Iheard Kennedy add to her: "Don't worry about your father. Everythingwill come out all right soon."
Outside, in the car which Burke had hired, Craig added: "Not to town.That was an excuse not to alarm Miss Shirley too much over her friend.Take us over past the Stamford cottage, first."
The Stamford cottage was on the beach, between the shore front and theroad. It was not a new place but was built in the hideous style of somethirty years ago with all sorts of little turned and knobby ornaments.We paused down the road a bit, though not long enough to attractattention. There were lights on every floor of the cottage, althoughmost of the neighbouring cottages were dark.
"Well protected by lightning-rods," remarked Kennedy, as he looked theStamford cottage over narrowly. "We might as well drive on. Keep an eyeon the hotel, Burke. It may be that Nordheim intends to return, afterall."
"Assuming that he has left," returned the secret-service man.
"But you said he had left," said Kennedy. "What do you mean?"
"I hardly know myself," wearily remarked Burke, on whom the strain ofthe case, to which we were still fresh, had begun to tell. "I only knowthat I called up Washington after I heard he had been at the hotel, andno one at our headquarters knew that he had returned. They may havefallen down, but they were to watch both his rooms and the embassy."
"H-m," mused Kennedy. "Why didn't you say that before?"
"Why, I assumed that he had gone back, until you told me there wasinterference to-night, too. Now, until I can locate him definitely I'mall at sea--that's all."
It was now getting late in the evening, but Kennedy had evidently nointention of returning yet to Lookout Hill. We paused at the hotel,which was in the centre of the cottage colony, and flanked by a hillthat ran back of the colony diagonally and from which a view of boththe hotel and the cottages could be obtained. Burke's inquiriesdeveloped the fact that Nordheim had left very hurriedly and in someagitation. "To tell you the truth," confided the clerk, with whom Burkehad ingratiated himself, "I thought he acted like a man who waswatched."
Late as it was, Kennedy insisted on motoring to the railroad stationand catching the last train to New York. As there seemed to be nothingthat I could do at Lookout Hill, I accompanied him on the long andtedious ride, which brought us back to the city in the early hours ofthe morning.
We stopped just long enough to run up to the laboratory and to secure acouple of little instruments which looked very much like smallincandescent lamps in a box. Then, by the earliest train from New York,we returned to Lookout Hill, with only such sleep as Kennedy hadpredicted, snatched in the day coaches of the trains and during a briefwait in the station.
A half-hour's freshening up with a dip in the biting cold water of thebay, breakfast with Captain Shirley and Miss Gladys, and a return tothe excitement of the case, had to serve in place of rest. Burkedisappeared, after a hasty conference with Kennedy, presumably to watchMrs. Brainard, the hotel, and the Stamford cottage to see who went inand out.
"I've had the Z99 brought out of its shed," remarked the captain, as werose from the breakfast-table. "There was nothing wrong as far as Icould discover last night or by a more careful inspection this morning.I'd like to have you take a look at her now, in the daylight."
"I was about to suggest," remarked Kennedy, as we descended the stepsto the shore, "that perhaps, first, it might be well to take a shortrun in her with the crew, just to make sure that there is nothing wrongwith the machinery."
"A good idea," agreed the captain.
We came to the submarine, lying alongside the dock and looking like ahuge cigar. The captain preceded us down the narrow hatchway, and Ifollowed Craig. The deck was cleared, the hatch closed, and the vesselsealed.