Havoc | Page 7

believe, then, that we are like
those ancient races who felt the presence of a conqueror because their
hosts were scattered in battle, and who suffered themselves passively to
be led into captivity? My country can be conquered in one way, and
one way only, - not until her sons, ay, and her daughters too, have
perished, can these people rule. They will come to an empty and a
stricken country - a country red with blood, desolate, with blackened
houses and empty cities. The horror of it! Think, my friend David, the
horror of it!"
Bellamy threw his head back with a sudden gesture of impatience.
"You take too much for granted," he declared. "England, at any rate, is
not yet a conquered race. And there is France - Italy, too, if she is wise,
will never suffer this thing from her ancient enemy."
"It is the might of the world which threatens," she murmured. "Your
country may defend herself, but here she is powerless. Already it has
been proved. Last year you declared yourself our friend - you and even
Russia. Of what avail was it? Word came from Berlin and you were
powerless."
Then tragedy broke into the room, tragedy in the shape of a man
demented. For fifteen years Bellamy had known Arthur Dorward, but
this man was surely a stranger! He was hatless, dishevelled, wild. A
dull streak of color had mounted almost to his forehead, his eyes were
on fire.
"Bellamy!" he cried. "Bellamy!"
Words failed him suddenly. He leaned against the table, breathless,
panting heavily.
"For God's sake, man," Bellamy began, -
"Alone!" Dorward interrupted. "I must see you alone! I have news!"

Mademoiselle Idiale rose. She touched Bellamy on the shoulder.
"You will come to me, or telephone," she whispered. "So?"
Bellamy opened the door and she passed out, with a farewell pressure
of his fingers. Then he closed it firmly and came back.

CHAPTER II
ARTHUR DORWARD'S "SCOOP"
"What's wrong, old man?" Bellamy asked quickly.
Dorward from a side table had seized the bottle of whiskey and a
siphon, and was mixing himself a drink with trembling fingers. He
tossed it off before he spoke a word. Then he turned around and faced
his companion. "Bellamy," he ordered, "lock the door."
Bellamy obeyed. He had no doubt now but that Dorward had lost his
head in the Chancellor's presence - had made some absurd attempt to
gain the knowledge which they both craved, and had failed.
"Bellamy," Dorward exclaimed, speaking hoarsely and still a little out
of breath, "I guess I've had the biggest slice of luck that was ever dealt
out to a human being. If only I can get safe out of this city, I tell you
I've got the greatest scoop that living man ever handled."
"You don't mean that - "
Dorward wiped his forehead and interrupted.
"It's the most amazing thing that ever happened," he declared, "but I've
got it here in my pocket, got it in black and white, in the Chancellor's
own handwriting."
"Got what?"

"Why, what you and I, an hour ago, would have given a million for,"
Dorward replied.
Bellamy's expression was one of blank but wondering incredulity.
"You can't mean this, Dorward!" he exclaimed. "You may have
something - just what the Chancellor wants you to print. You're not
supposing for an instant that you've got the whole truth?"
Dorward's smile was the smile of certainty, his face that of a conqueror.
"Here in my pocket," he declared, striking his chest, "in the
Chancellor's own handwriting. I tell you I've got the original verbatim
copy of everything that passed and was resolved upon this afternoon
between the Czar of Russia, the Emperor of Austria and the Emperor of
Germany. I've got it word for word as the Chancellor took it down. I've
got their decision. I've got their several undertakings."
Bellamy for a moment was stricken dumb. He looked toward the door
and back into his friend's face aglow with triumph. Then his power of
speech returned.
"Do you mean to say that you stole it?"
Dorward struck the table with his fist.
"Not I! I tell you that the Chancellor gave it to me, gave it to me with
his own hands, willingly, - pressed it upon me. No, don't scoff!" he
went on quickly. "Listen! This is a genuine thing. The Chancellor's mad.
He was lying in a fit when I left the Palace. It will be in all the evening
papers. You will hear the boys shouting it in the streets within a few
minutes. Don't interrupt and I'll tell you the whole truth. You can
believe me or not, as you like. It makes no odds. I arrived punctually
and was shown up into the anteroom. Even from