L.P.M. : The End of The Great War Part 31

The Count was now laughing and explaining to Jones what was going to happen to him, to the United States, and especially to Edestone, and Jones was beginning to look as if he thought there might be some truth in what he was saying.

It was nearly half-past eight when the long-expected ring at the front door came. The Count laughed out loud in triumph.

"Mr. Edestone," he said, "don't you think that it is just about time to ask for terms? It is not too late even now. You are a game man, and I hate to see you go to destruction when it is not necessary."

The ring was followed by another longer than the first.

Edestone was leaning well over the table and looking at the Count with a light in his eyes like that in those of a tiger about to spring.

"I return the compliment," he said.

There was now heard on the outside much noise and confusion. The bell was rung again and the sound of someone violently shaking the front door was followed by the breaking of the gla.s.s in the iron grille. Above this din, which was really not so great as it seemed to the overwrought nerves of the three men who had sat looking at each other for the last forty minutes, there came the unmistakable rattle of machine-guns, which at first was distant and light in volume, but with incredible rapidity increased until it was a roar that seemed like a great wave rolling up from the southern part of the city.

Edestone, who knew that this meant that the Little Peace Maker must have been sighted by the German look-outs on the roofs, ran to the window.

The Count hesitated for just one moment, as if there were two forces within him fighting for mastery, and then with a quick movement he made a jump for the door.

"Sit down, you dog!" cried Edestone turning just in time to see him, and he sent a bullet cras.h.i.+ng through the door just above the Count's hand where it rested on the k.n.o.b.

Count von Hemelstein stopped, and turning braced himself to receive the ball that he thought must certainly follow.

"Come back and sit down, you poor thing. If you cannot keep your word without help, I will help you next time."

But the soldiers on the outside, on hearing the shot, redoubled their efforts to get in, and now could be heard running around the house and trying the other doors. In the midst of all this uproar, Lawrence came down, and in imitation of one of his favourite characters, the sailor who announced to Captain Sigsbee the sinking of the _Maine_, said:

"Sir, I have the honour to report that the Little Peace Maker has been sighted on our starboard bow." Then throwing off his a.s.sumed character he added: "Get a move on you, they will be in at the front door in a minute!

"And what are you going to do with this?" he asked on seeing the Count. "Don't you think we had better wing it before we leave? Ish ka bibble."

"No." Edestone pushed him ahead of him out of the room. And to Jones: "Good-bye, William," he called over his shoulder. "I am sorry to have given you so much trouble."

When he had closed the door they both ran into the elevator and started for the roof.

"Where are all of those who are going with us?" asked Edestone.

"They are all on the roof. No, by Jove!" Lawrence interrupted himself, "Fred is still down in the front hall."

"We must go for him," said Edestone, halting the car and starting it down.

"Why not leave him? Mr. Jones can take care of him."

"No, they won't stop at anything." Edestone shook his head.

By this time the car had arrived at the main-floor level, and as Edestone flung open the door the Count was seen just coming out of the library, while Fred, who had seen Edestone and Lawrence take the lift, was running up the stairs. In the dim light the Count saw him, and cried to the soldiers who had their guns through the grille:

"Shoot that man!"

There was the report of several rifles in quick succession, and the Bowery boy, who was now at the top of the great monumental stairs, fell dead. His body rolled to the bottom and lay there perfectly still.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

L. P. M.

Almost beside himself, Lawrence resisted all of Edestone's efforts to get him back into the elevator.

"You d.a.m.n' dirty Dutchman, I'll pay you for this!" he yelled over his shoulder, as he struggled to break loose from the firm grip which held him, and get at the Count.

It was not a time to permit of argument. Overpowering him with his great strength, Edestone simply dragged him back, and flung him into a corner of the car, where he sat crying like a baby with uncontrollable rage.

After he had started the lift, however, Edestone went over and patted him soothingly on the shoulder.

"I am sorry, old man," he said regretfully, "awfully sorry! He thought it was I, and I almost wish it had been."

This brought Lawrence back to himself. He knew that Edestone meant every word he said and, jumping to his feet, he threw his arms around his friend's neck.

"Bo!" he exclaimed, half-laughing, half-sobbing, "you are a king among men!" little dreaming of the amount of truth there was in what he said.

A moment later he dropped back into the vernacular, where he was more at home.

"You are the best sport I ever knew," he said, "and I am nothing but a rotten squealer! Forgive me, and I will try to be good. But, Bo! that did hurt!" The tears came to his eyes once more. "He was such a nervy little chap!"

By this time they had gotten to the roof, where they found Black, Stanton, and James eagerly awaiting them.

"Where is Fred?" asked Black, noting his absence as the other two stepped out to join them.

"Dead by G.o.d!" Lawrence started again to become hysterical. "That devil, Count von Hemelstein, killed him!"

"Shut up, Lawrence!" broke in Edestone sharply. "Cut out that swearing and get to work. We have no time to lose."

In the same quick, authoritative tone, he issued his orders to the others, as they stood staring at the news, each in his different way showing his breeding. Black was commencing to whine; Stanton with a scowl of rage was in sympathy with Lawrence; while James, demonstrating his years of training, stood statue-like with hand behind his back, leaning forward as if to catch his master's next order, and carry it out with perfect decorum.

"Have you locked the door at the foot of the stairs? Ah! That is good!"

he exclaimed, as he saw that they had barricaded the door of the bulkhead by putting a piece of timber between it and the coping around one of the skylights.

It had grown quite dark in the interval, but in the glare of the great searchlights which were playing upon her he could plainly see above him the Little Peace Maker which had swung into a position directly over the Emba.s.sy, and was now slowly descending.

She was not over a thousand feet above the roof as she hung there, three of her great searchlights bearing steadily on three different points in the city, and giving to her the aspect of an enormous spygla.s.s standing on its gigantic tripod, and by its own weight forcing the feet of the tripod into the soft earth, as the s.h.i.+p slowly settled.

Shrapnel sh.e.l.ls were exploding all about her, and at times she was almost entirely enveloped in smoke. Between the reports of the heavier artillery could be heard the staccato spatter of bullets on her iron sides as the machine-guns sprayed her from end to end. Now and then one of the gunners would reach one of her searchlights, and as the ray was extinguished, one almost expected to see her topple in the direction of her broken support, but in each case it was quickly replaced by another, and she continued to drop nearer and nearer to the earth.

Excepting for the searchlights there was no sign of life on board. Silently and without response of any kind, she came. But as she approached nearer, and the angle of the German guns was still further reduced, although they must already have been doing frightful damage in all parts of the city, the shrapnel and small bullets could be heard screaming over the heads of the little party on the roof.

"It is getting pretty hot here, and we had better lie down," Edestone said. But the words were hardly out of his mouth before Stanton fell with a bullet in his head, and James sat down, probably more abruptly than he had ever done anything before in all his life.

"I beg pardon, sir," he observed with a little gasp, "but I think, sir, as how they have got me in the leg, sir."