L. P. M. (The End of The Great War) | Page 3

to time, while your device is held over the nations like a
policeman's club, with America as its custodian. What a thought!
Universal dominion for our country; Universal Peace!"
Some sense of opposition on the part of his companion aroused him,
and he levelled a quick and searching glance at the other.
"That is your intention, is it not, Mr. Edestone?" he demanded. "That,
upon the completion of your present mission, the Government shall
take over this discovery of yours?"
Edestone moved uneasily in his seat. He had naturally anticipated this
question, and yet he was unprepared to meet it.
The Secretary frowned and repeated his question. "That is your
intention, is it not?"
Hesitating no longer the inventor answered quietly:
"Mr. Secretary, I yield to no man in my devotion to my country, but I
am one of those who believe that the highest form of patriotism is to
seek the best interest of mankind, and standing on that I tell you frankly
that I cannot at this time answer your question. Just now I look no
farther than the end of this brutal war. After that is accomplished it will
be time enough for me to decide the ultimate disposition of my
invention. Its secret is now known to no living soul but myself, and is
so simple that it requires no written record to preserve it, and would die

with me. It is the result, it is true, of many years of hard work, but the
finished product I can and often do carry in my waistcoat pocket.
"Do not misunderstand me," he lifted his hand as the Secretary
endeavoured to break in. "I thoroughly realize the responsibility of my
position and that my great wealth is a sacred trust. Upon the answer to
the question you have just put to me depends the destiny of the world,
whether it is answered by myself at this time or by others in the future.
Exactly what I will do when the time comes I cannot say, but I will tell
you this much, that in reaching a decision I will call to my assistance
men like yourself and abide by whatever course the majority of them
may dictate."
"But, my dear young fellow, that will not do." The Secretary shook his
head. "You are called upon to answer my question right here and now."
He dropped his bland and diplomatic manner as he spoke, and with his
jaw thrust forward showed himself the unyielding autocrat, who, in the
rough and tumble of politics, had ruled his party with a rod of iron.
This man whose wonderful talents and personality had fitted him for
his chosen position of champion of the plain people, and whose great
motive power, against all odds, that had forced him into the first place
in their hearts, was his sincere and honest love of office.
He had now assumed a rather boisterous and bullying tone, showing
that perhaps his great love for the rougher elements of society was due
to the fact that in the process of evolution he himself was not far
removed from the very plain people.
"You have been talking pretty loud about using the 'big stick' over on
the other side," he went on sternly, "but that big-stick business you will
find is a thing that works two ways. Suppose then I should tell you, 'No
answer to my question, no credentials.' What would you have to say?"
"I should say," Edestone's face was set, "simply this, Mr. Secretary, if I
must speak in the language of the people in order that you may
understand me: 'I should like very much to have your backing in the
game, but if you are going to sit on the opposite side of the table, I hold

three kings and two emperors in my hand, and I challenge you to a
show-down.' I should further say that, credentials or no credentials, I
am leaving tomorrow on the Ivernia, and that inasmuch as I have a taxi
at the door, and a special train held for me at the Union Station, I must
bid you good-day, and leave you to your watchful waiting, while I
work alone."
He rose from his seat, and with a bow started for the door.
"Hold on there, young fellow, keep your coat on!" the Secretary
shouted, throwing his head back and laughing loud enough to be heard
over on the Virginia shores. "You remind me of one of those gentle
breezes out home, which after it has dropped the cow-shed into the
front parlour and changed your Post-Office address, seems always to
sort of clear up the atmosphere. When one of them comes along we
generally allow it to have its own way. It doesn't matter much whether
we do