Shot With Crimson

d well in his profession, he stood high as a citizen. No one questioned his integrity, his ability or his loya

cog in a smooth-running piece of machinery. Her name was Mildred,—Mildred Agnew, and she had a brother in the British navy, from whom she received infrequent letters of a most unillumi

indows you could look down fourteen storeys to the roof of an eight storey building below. Presently you would be invited into Mr. Zimmerlein’s private o

icans; you could see them quite plainly throug

dy enterprise,—such as the exploitation of a “get-rich-quick” mining proposition or any kindred opening for the un

All you would have to do would be to point in triumph to the men who were his associates professionally, commercially and socially. The list would include many of the really significant figures in public life. Among them, for instance, you would mention several United States senators, at least two gentlemen high up in Administrative circles, practically all of the big financiers, certai

htly in them that invited confidence and comradeship. The thick, dark hair was touched with grey at the temples, and there was a deep scar on his left cheek, received—not in a German university, as you might suppose,—but during a fierce and sanguinary encounter with Yaqui Indians

well-known New York merchants and a gentleman from Brazil. Half-a-dozen morning newspapers, with their sinister head-lines, lay upon his desk, neatly folded and stacke

n from Brazi

ein curtly. “They will b

,” said the Brazilian, nervously glancing over hi

his gaze directed at the upper sash of the broad, high window, beyo

moment. He had not removed his overcoat. The fur

urned toward

ourself comfortable,” he said, af

emoved his coat. “The appointment was for eleven o’clock, Mr. Zimmerlei

ed in ten minutes,—or even less time than that,—if there is no further haggling on your part.” He closed on

for nearly two months,” obse

pt the signatur

d invitingly open in a corner of the room. He removed a small but important-looking package of pap

z, and sat down

hey would say in the melodrama. By the way, do you go in for

ular with us as it is with you Americans,”

alued at ten millions, and no one will question the validity of the transaction. You see, my dear Riaz, you do own these mines and they are exactly what they are rep

ly,—“except the damned little slip that so

lip,” said Zimmerlein buoyantly.

s some one’s lip splits.” He shot an

. Every cog has been tested and is of the staunchest steel. Every

that a few cogs in the Forei

mit two brisk, prospe

d the foremost. “It was u

Then, while they were laying aside their overcoats, he stepped swiftly to the door of t

fidently into the private office. He was a middle-aged, stoop-shouldered, sunken-faced man, with a drooping moustache that lacked not only in pride but in colour as well. The ends were gnawed and scraggly, and there were cigarett

aiser’s vast establishment. Not Zimmerlein, nor Riaz, nor any of the important-looking individuals who skulked behind respectable names, not one of them was the head and heart of the sinister, far-reaching octopus that spread its slimy influence across the United States of America. John Thorsensel, an ins

ion between the three principals to a transaction involving the sale of great mining properties in South America. Everything was perfectly prepared, even to the abrupt termination of the conference that would come naturally in case agents of the government took it into their heads to appear. Martin’s notes,

iminating line, or article, or suggestion of either,—for the simple reason that no su

bility existed was enough for them. He was an ordinary window-washer who came twice a month to the office,—not oftener,—in his regular round of the building. Always it was the same man who washed Zimmerlein’s windows, and always a few

s. Here were the shrewdest, the safest, the soundest agents of the cruelest system in all the world. No small, half-hearted undertaking in frightfulness ever grew out of thei

of both sexes; sly, secret, mysterious forces supplied them with facts that no man was supposed to know; the magic of the

ers and idlers throughout the land; the very thoughts of the people in control of the country’s affairs, it would seem. Everything! Everything was known to this resourceful clique. They were the backbone of the unrest, the une

f day; a hand-shake in restaurant or club; brief and seemingly innocuous exchanges of pleasantries at the theatre; perfunctory contact with stenographers, employes, and customers in the course of

rly, grey-whiskered man. “Rhine did not get in from Chicago till nearly ele

emanded T

as had reports from many sources. It is too soon. A partial succes

disposed of. He did not believe in wasting time or words. He turne

ight,” said that worthy, resp

his head with li

hing

ning. He appears to be interested in a very good-looking shop-girl on the second floo

w,” impatientl

out this fellow, are we, El

no. Ill stake

aid Thorse

e Elston. There is no question about it. He had it from

on the wing immediately,” said Thors

very restricted circle in Washington. I’ve never known anything to be kept so completely under cover. Some of the biggest men in France and England land on our shores, transact the most important business conceiv

with its precious cargo will never se

ll over again, eh?”

itania, ame

ed Thorsensel, irritably. “You know how

t all the time, I k

s is no time to talk about it. Every one has reported on last ni

h eyes sparkling. “No one killed or injured or missing,

ole days. It appears he was trapped and had to lie hidden in an empty bin. He got away just in time, and wit

next week, I will say that Go

ht, Elberon?” demanded t

s and went to the theatre

were

d Mrs.

. “I want to warn you again not to take them into y

s a general in

The worst enemy, the direst peril we have to contend with is the American-German, if you grasp the distinction. No one seems to have used the hyphen in just that way, Elberon, but there is such a thing as the American-German, and we’ve got to s

other, flushing. “He’s either a German or

ame and his antecedents. I happen to know. Somewhere in this city there is a list of the people I define as

ought you said

n German soil,” said Thorsensel, and it was not difficult, e

plant. Remote assassinations were drawn a trifle nearer; plans leading to the bombing of New York by aeroplanes that were to rise up out of the sea from monster submarines; a new and not to be denied smashing of the Welland Canal; well-timed collisions of ships in the lower Hudson, and other basins, with

ving in singularly accurate figures the military losses sustained by the Allies at a