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The War Secretary's Bicycle.…

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The War Secretary's Bicycle. By WARD MUIR AND ARTHUR IRELAND. I. Frank Bassett, the editor of the Daily Post," flung the letter which had brought a worried expression to his face, on his desk, and groaned audibly. 'Pon my soul," he muttered, that fellow *11 come a mucker before he's done—not that that's of much account—but lie 11 drag the 'Post' with him. Good old Curt," be con- tinued, softening. I can't help being fond of the rascal: and yes, by George, I'll trust him. never failed me yet." Bassett rang through to the composing room, and put the receiver to his ear. Is that you, Mr Johnson 1 Keep Mr Curt's columns open. Yes, I know, Never mind that. He switched 0: I'll risk it," he said, taking up a pile of proofs; "though that chap and he'll kill the paper or make it. 1 wonder what his game is now. I'll have to speak to him seriously when he comes." He tossed aside the proofs carelessly. But those who knew him were aware that Bassett's apparent carelessness was nothing more than a cloak his mind was ever alert. Then be re- read the letter, crumpled it into a ball, and flung it into the fire. Some sympathetic ass should write a song about tbe lot of an editor, a la Gilbert and Sul- livan," he grumbled. With a man like Curt What's that you're saying about me ?" Bassett swung his chair round. The slight, tadolent figure of Jacob Curt, special corre- ipondent, was in the doorway. Curt he exclaimed. The very man I've been sending to perdition." Quite aware of that," laughed Curt, pla- cidly. He strolled across the room and helped himself to a handful of Bassett's cigarettes. I like your brand," he explained, pocketing his spoils. I wish they weren't so expen- sive." So I do," groaned Bassett, as he saw half tho contents of the box vanishing into the ex- tremely capacious pocket of Curt's all-envelop- fag dust-coat. But look here. Curt, I want to speak to you seriously. "Never hear you say anyhing frivolous in Illy life," said Curt. Fire away." He seated himself on the edge of Bassett'si table and waited, patiently and blissfully in- iifferent, for his lecture. Seriously," said Bassett, contracting his brows, the game's up. The Cable's on our track, and Dupont is an awkward cus- mer." Did you get my letter?" asked Curt, ir- relevantly. ?" Yes. what does it mean ?" Curt moved slowly (he always seemed to move slowly, yet reached his destination with Extraordinary rapidity) from the table to a chair, and Bassett swung round to keep his eyes on him. Simply this: I'm quite aware that the Cable's on our track, and l want to take a little rise out of Dupont. He's no fool, Frank. and he's a bit of an old fox—in fact," he added more gravely than usual, John Dupont's the man who can burst our bubble—and he will, unless we burn his fingers. Mixed metaphors Never mind, they'll pass. Now I've got a little plan Quite childlike in its simplicity. Will you trust me this once? If I fail you there's no harm done. If I succeed, Dupond will keep his nose in his own porridge in future." For heaven's sake. Curt, speak plainly. You can't manage metaphors. Out with your Idea." cried Bassett. I told you I had a plan. You'll understand It better when vou read this article." Curt began a wild search. Now where the dickens is that copy ?" lIe growled. Pocket after pocket was turned out, and a strange mixture lay on Bassett s table when the search was ended—amongst other things a wig, a beard, and a neat little box of grease paints. What on earth are these for ?" asked Bassett, examining the articles with amuse- ment. 'Poa my soul, CUlt, you're cracked." Shouldfl.t wonder," agreed Curt. "You've driven me iad, you and your unhealthy crav- in for se sational news. Now, where the mis. chief is tnat article ? Afraid I've left it at home. Ah! Here it is!" Bassett took the manuscript and glanced through it. Your letter," he said at length, "men- tioned an impersonation. But this Why man," he glanced up and started from his chair with an exclamation of surprise. Lord St John While Bassett had been reading the article, Curt had left his chair unobserved. He had taken his wig, beard and paints with him and whan Bassett turned to face him, Jacob Curt had gone. But in his place sat Lord St John, the Secretary of State for War—the man of the moment; upon whom all eyes were cen- tered, the man about whom he had been read- ing in Curt's article. His face was in the shadow: but there was no mistaking him. My Lord, began Bassett, and rose. A peal of laughter broke from the bearded mouth. Bassett saw the plot and had the man by the throat. Curt, you scoundrel." he groaned. •' Not so bad ?—Eh ? laughed Curt. Quick change was one of my fortes when I vpas on the hoards." And this ?" asked Bassett. Is this your ■game 1" He turned the neatly-written pages again. While he removed his make-up, Curt briefly ex- plained his plan of campaign. It's a terrible risk." Bassett demurred. "Purely personal," replied Curt. "If I get smashed up badly it's my affair." Bassett turned another page. He bad risen apidly in his profession, and at the age of thirty he was an acknowledged master of the irt of news purveying. He had made the u Daily Post." In three years he had brought it into such prominence that it stood out the only formidable competitor with the Morning Cable in the great struggle for the largest circulation. People spoke of him as a lucky man he accounted for his success by saying that he never neglected the most trivial de- laifl. Are you sure St. John cycles home ?" he ISked. Perfectly." replied Curt I've watched him every night for the past week." You specify the make of his machine?" All details—costume—even to the hang of ais coat are correct." It's a bold game Bassett still hesitated. Dupont's on the trail. You know, Curt, it's rather remarkable that we alone had full re- ports of some of the most sensational occur- ences of the last three years. There was the case of Miss Vandersee's disappearance the Imperial Club wager the Carden jewel affair. It's too thick, I'm afraid." Curt ostentatiously packed up his wig, beard, and paints. Frank Bassett," he said, you're boss here- Say what I'm to do—rather what I'm not to do. Before you chuck this scoop—which you see is given to the Cable,' that's where It's strength lies-think. of the effect of those exclusive items on the circulation, Bassett was beaten. I know," he said, "it's hoggish of me to gpeak like this. You've made the paper. But apon my soul you scare me." Take a dose of soothing syrup," suggested Curt. Bassett was compelled to fall in with Curt's humour. StDl he did not sanction this scheme onder consideration without one last inquiry. But supposing Dupont isn't caught 7" he asked. If he's not caught." laughed Curt, I'll be back here in no time. You must tell off some- body to watch the Cable's office. Let him report to you when DupontJeave. Give me half-an-hour from that. If you don't hear from me, go ahead. Will you trust me, Bassett ? It's a grand game." Bassett held out his hand. Yes." he said, 111 trust you, Jacob, though I swear you're madman," Very likely." As Curt left the room he heard Bassett's voice at the telephone Send through for Mr Curt's article." Then he smiled, and with a lazily jaunty step left the office, which was already beginning to vibrate with the pent-up energy needed for the night's run the run of machinery, the run of brains. II. John Dupont. the influential editor-in-chief of the "Mining Cable." left Fleet-street shortly after midnight, and steered his motor car to the Embankment. He was in a good humour. Things were developing along the lines he desired—the lines he considered cal- culated to strengthen the nation's position and even dearer to his journalistic heart was the triumph of having predicted the course of events. As he passed the Daily Post's office his eyes glittered and his face set. I'd give a good deal to have the man who does those articles," he thought. I'd buy him if I could since I can't, I'll lay him by the heels. I believe I'm he only man in London who can—and I will. Put up jobs every one of them—but devilish clever and well thought out." ° Dupont was right. He was the only man who could npset the Post's game; but in oraer to do so, he had to get level with Curt. • lnt.he duel Cui't had started with anadvan- ta.ge which he was not likely to forego he knew his foe (whom lie instinctively suspected) and *ras unknown. Dupont realised this, and moved tautiously. I He turned on to the Embankment and in- leased his speed. Rushing through the keen light air (with just a suspicion of mist rising' *qbj the Tiivrjj) this mau of manor affairs had soon pushed aside the thought of the Post's anonymous informant, He fell to speculating on the next move in the great drama that was developing, and in a few minutes he was com- pletely absorbed in his attempt to answer the question which was agitating the world Did England intend to declare war ? Tbe answer depended, it was rumourerl in the best informed circles, upon one man. That man was Lord St. John. the Secretary of State lor War. The eyes of England—the eyes of the world—were on him. He was the strong man of the day. The very fact that he dared to please himself by riding to and fro from the House on his bicycle (as Curt had discovered with delight) showed his strength; it was a. proof that public opinion did not weigh him down. In private life he pleased himself, his conduct of public affairs was regulated by the highest principles. Though another's lips would pronounce the fateful words, it was Lord St. John's brain that would direct the course. If he decided to fight, the country would go to war. Blindly and confidently it would accept his dictates. This state of affairs was particularly pleas- ing to Dupont, because he considered that he had discovered and nursed the young statesman, and that his iniluenee had made his position stronger than otherwise it could have been. St. John had climbed high, but he had not lost his head; and, therefore, when the crisis came— when the man's mettle was to be proved—the editor of the Morning Cable watched nnxiously but with unshaktn conndence, for the next move. "I wish I could Ineet him." muttered Dupont. There'll be news to- morrow—there must be, He might let fall a b int-he might even give me a hint." Big Ben clamed the half-hour, and at the same instant Dupont turned off the Embank- ment and ran down the slope towards Parlia- ment Square. His eves rested longingly on tbe House (he was a journalist), and he re- peated his wish. Yes," he said, I wish I could meet him. There'll be important work done there before sunrise." He was running at a fair speed, and in his absorption forgot to slow down for the crossing at the end of Parliament-street. Suddenly there was an excited shout from a policeman who a moment before had raised his hand in salute. "Stop there !-Look out wberc you're goiDg —Mind, my lord Dnpont was only vaguely conscious of what was happening. As he was about to cross the end of Parliament-street, a man in adust coao cycled rapidly out from the Commons' Yard and half turned to reach Storey's Gate. He had, apparently, only just mounted, for his machine was not uuder control. As Dupont approached, be saw that a. collision was inevit- able, and at the same moment e recognised the rider. The loosely-hung dust coat, the slight figure, the beautifully nickeled machine, tbe cud of cigare1te smoke-there was no mis. taking the man—it was Lord St. John Dupont realised all this, and a cold horror seized him. What if he should kill the nation's one strong man ? Jump, my lord throw yourself off," ho shouted. i can't stop in time There was no reply. He put on the brake savagely and made a desperate spring to catch the cyclist and avert the accident, Ue touched the machine. At the same instant bt. John slipped, and there came a sickening crunch as the car passed over the doomed man. Shouts were raised on every side. A crowd had. collected as only London crowd, do- apparently from the earth—and execrations were heaped on Dupont's head. It's Lord SL John," said one, in a husky whisper. He's killed." prophesied another. You thick-headed fool, do you know what you've done 7" Now then, s!and aside," said a constable. The crowd fell back and he turned to Dupont I must take your name and address. It's a pretty mess you've made of it. Do you know who you've run down ?" Yes," said Dupont. and handed the con- stable his card. I'll wait in case I can be of any help." The confusion increased everymoment. The cries of the onlookers (people in crowds always speak in shrieks} fell upon Dupont's ear? with- out conveying anything- Tie stood dazed, and looked upon his handi work powerless to move or think. For the time nobody/seemed to think of the man who lay on the road. mixed up with the crumpled machine. That he was dead was assumed and that being so, no attention was paid to him. And when, at length (after one of those moments which seem an eternity), the excitement had somewhat subsided, everybody was startled to see the dust-coated figure slowly rising from the muddy road. it was a skock to the strongest to see the strange appari- tion scramble from amid the wreckage the weaker screamed and one fainted. Mv Lord, cried Dupont. hastening to the minister's side, "how can I express my sorrow Are you seriously injured 7" Dupont was himself again, and he read the intense suffering his victim was enduring be- fore he received a reply. Bight arm broken." The terse mode of expression was characteristic of the man. Pray don't blame yourself—it was as much my fault as yours. Will you allow me to take you home 1" asked Dupont. "Not for worlùs:" replied St. John deci- sively. Uj very serious at the present juncture—more serious than I care to say and 1 he less fuss made about it the better. Ah here's a hansom." The loose hanging sleeve told its own tale. The Secretary of State for War had broken his right arm. Allow me," said Dupont. He helped the injured man into the hansom and murmured some further apologies. The man's endurance was sunerb. Even while he grieved, Dupont (being before all else a great journalist), could appreciate every side cf the question, and he waaoverjoyed to see his belief in the man justified. Please oblige me by exonerating yourself, Mr Dupont. Can you do anything ? I don't think so. Oh yes. Will you take the old machine home with you? It shall be called for." The hansom rolled away, and Dupont stood gazing after it lost in thought. Lord St. John's words, more serious than I care to say," were ringing in his ears. What did he mean ?" he asked himself. I think-yes-the only thing possible—it's war. I must go to the omcp-o This acc'dent must be chronicled to-morrow. And I think I'll venture a prophesy—though it's not much in my line except about certainties." Lord St. John's recognition had silenced the hostile criticism—besides, Dupont's identity was being whispered by one to the other. The people stood whispering (reaction had set in) and watching and the constable lent a willing hand with the broken bicycle, and saluted as the motor car swung round. Dupont hardly noticed the change in manner. He turned and Lore (regardless of speed regulations) citywards along the Embankment, and as he sped Big Ben chimed three-quarters. All this had taken place in one short quarter of an hour. At the same instant the driver of a hansom in Whitehall raised the trap. Where to, sir ?" he asked. Home as fast as yen can. Did you see the performance, Jim asked tbe oc<up3.nt, Did I !— just think so. It was beautiful— never seed the like," replied Jim. He shut the trap and whipped up his horse. He's a plucked 'un, is Mr Curt," he soli- loquised. III. Frank Bassett kept back Curt's article until it was absolutely necessary to send the paper to press. He fully expected to bear that the scheme had failed. Then the newsagency account arrived, and Bassett smiled. But still no word came from Jacob Curt, and he passed the article which stated briefly and succinctly that a serious accident had occurred In Parlia- ment-square at a late hour-in fact, as the paper was going to press. The details were circumstantially correct as they would appear in every London paper but a startling state- ment was contained in the words which ex- plained that the chance resemblance had led those present to believe that the injured man was Lord St John, the Secietary of State for War. Should this belief be published as an estab- I lished fact," wrote Curt, incalculable harm may be done. The situation at the present moment is so critical (and Lord St John's health of such importance) that no pains should be spared to verify rumours that affect it. To cry aloud idle gossip is (under the cir- cumstances) nothing short of criminal. The fact that Mr John Dupont, the well- known and highly respected editor of the 'Morning misled, will excuse the mistake made bv less well-informed witnesses of the scene. And this, in conjunction with the lateness of the hour, justified the accept- ance of the report without inquiry. Our representative who was present when the accident occurred, was doubtful about the injured man's identity, and we are glad to state that his injuries justify an unqualified contradiction of the rumour. There is no ground for supposing that Lord St John met with an accident. He is in perfect health. The injured man was like him—but not so like as to deceive anybody who knows his lordship." Bassett read and re-read this passage before he could make up his mind to pass it. If Curt's scheme succeeded, it was a direct slap in the face for John Dupont. If it failed Why. he had promised to trust Curt, and he passed the proof unhesitatingly. And having sent the paper to press, Bassett went home to bed. He lay tossing uneasily, worried by dreams of picturing terrible acci- j dents and disasters. Hour after hour he lay awake, and daylight was streaming into his room before he fell into a heavy sieep. Curt entered the room noiselessly, and stood beside the bed for a moment smiling affection- ately a.t the sleeping man. Wake up, vou sleepy-headed owl." It svas lout of hours, and Cart's manner was intimate. I expected to see you up and gloating over the Cable « scoop." Bassett started up and snatched the bundle I (If papers Curt had brought i [1. He threw them all aside until he came to the "Moruin Cable." He turned to the middle opening, without a woid o! greeting or apology to his visitor, anù feverishly scanned the headlines. Then he heaved a sigh of great contentment as his eyes fell on the words— ACCIDENT TO LORD ST. JOHK. POLITICAL OUTLOOK. He read on through half a column of descrip. tion in which Dupont stated the details of the accident, expressed his deep regret and hinted darkly at the confidences which the injured man had whispered in his ear. His eyes were glued to the page the extraordinary thing was that Curt had compelled Dupont so to play into his hands that his own article was a very lucid and well-phrased report of the event. Thank Heaven," he cried, and sank on his pillow. "Curt, you're a marvel. But you'll kill me." Curt laughed. Never mind, Frank," he said, cheerily, "Thisis)ifc. By Jove 1 it's grand. They've all got the same story." Then a twinkle came into his eye, But you haven't read the Post's contradiction. Wonderful man, that editor Haven't read it he sighed. Haven't I ? I read the confounded thing twenty times— nearer a hundred, I think—beiore I let it go." Well, it's a great scoop." laughed Cmt. Gad. Frank, you're a brick. Look here, I'm starving. Do get up." Over the breakfast table Curt related his experiences. "But that's expert trick-riding," aid Bas- sett. How the dickens did you learn the dodges ?" Well, it wasn't a very pleasant experience," replied Curt. I was stranded and had to pick up a living, so I took to trick-riding. it's pain- ful in tbe beginning." Bassett watched him curiously. How old are you, Jacob ?" he asked. "Thirty-three." You'll kill yourself some day." I shall probably die sooner or later," ab- sented Curt. But I don't want to be much nearer than I was last night, just at present. The car was almost on me—you should see the poor old bike. Fact is, I went too far, and slipped. The wheel passed clean over me so, only for the good old biks you'd have wanted sackcloth and ashes for a bit." Great Heavens 1" gasped Bassett. Do you mean that Dupont's huge thing went over you." Not over me; over the ma{;hine," Curt explained that he had nhot under the car further than he intended, and that he had only just managed to get himself under the framework of his bicycle in time. He told the story lightly (as he: always spoke of his own performances) but Bassett could see that even Curt's iron nerve bad been shaken. For a time they were both subdued. "What happeued to the bike after the play asked Bassett. He had recovered suffici- ently to essay a joke. Curt by back and laughed. That," he said, is the best joke of the whole affair. I begged Dupont to take it home with him tenderly. So if you'll send along to his house, it'll be safely delivered k the mes- senger. Gad, I'd have enjoyed breakfast more if I could see Dupont's face this morn- ing." «

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DETECTIVE CHARGED.

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