The War Terror | Page 2

is he?--I must see him, for God's
sake!"
I was almost carried off my feet by the inrush of a wild-eyed girl,
seemingly half crazed with excitement, as she cried out Craig's name.
Startled by my own involuntary exclamation of surprise which
followed the vision that shot past me as I opened our door in response
to a sudden, sharp series of pushes at the buzzer, Kennedy bounded
swiftly toward me, and the girl almost flung herself upon him.

"Why, Miss--er--Miss--my dear young lady--what's the matter?" he
stammered, catching her by the arm gently.
As Kennedy forced our strange visitor into a chair, I observed that she
was all a-tremble. Her teeth fairly chattered. Alternately her nervous,
peaceless hands clutched at an imaginary something in the air, as if for
support, then, finding none, she would let her wrists fall supine, while
she gazed about with quivering lips and wild, restless eyes. Plainly,
there was something she feared. She was almost over the verge of
hysteria.
She was a striking girl, of medium height and slender form, but it was
her face that fascinated me, with its delicately molded features, intense
unfathomable eyes of dark brown, and lips that showed her idealistic,
high-strung temperament.
"Please," he soothed, "get yourself together, please--try! What is the
matter?"
She looked about, as if she feared that the very walls had eyes and ears.
Yet there seemed to be something bursting from her lips that she could
not restrain.
"My life," she cried wildly, "my life is at stake. Oh--help me, help me!
Unless I commit a murder to-night, I shall be killed myself!"
The words sounded so doubly strange from a girl of her evident
refinement that I watched her narrowly, not sure yet but that we had a
plain case of insanity to deal with.
"A murder?" repeated Kennedy incredulously. "YOU commit a
murder?"
Her eyes rested on him, as if fascinated, but she did not flinch as she
replied desperately, "Yes--Baron Kreiger--you know, the German
diplomat and financier, who is in America raising money and arousing
sympathy with his country."

"Baron Kreiger!" exclaimed Kennedy in surprise, looking at her more
keenly.
We had not met the Baron, but we had heard much about him, young,
handsome, of an old family, trusted already in spite of his youth by
many of the more advanced of old world financial and political leaders,
one who had made a most favorable impression on democratic America
at a time when such impressions were valuable.
Glancing from one of us to the other, she seemed suddenly, with a great
effort, to recollect herself, for she reached into her chatelaine and
pulled out a card from a case.
It read simply, "Miss Paula Lowe."
"Yes," she replied, more calmly now to Kennedy's repetition of the
Baron's name, "you see, I belong to a secret group." She appeared to
hesitate, then suddenly added, "I am an anarchist."
She watched the effect of her confession and, finding the look on
Kennedy's face encouraging rather than shocked, went on breathlessly:
"We are fighting war with war--this iron-bound organization of men
and women. We have pledged ourselves to exterminate all kings,
emperors and rulers, ministers of war, generals--but first of all the
financiers who lend money that makes war possible."
She paused, her eyes gleaming momentarily with something like the
militant enthusiasm that must have enlisted her in the paradoxical war
against war.
"We are at least going to make another war impossible!" she exclaimed,
for the moment evidently forgetting herself.
"And your plan?" prompted Kennedy, in the most matter-of-fact
manner, as though he were discussing an ordinary campaign for social
betterment. "How were you to--reach the Baron?"
"We had a drawing," she answered with amazing calmness, as if the

mere telling relieved her pent-up feelings. "Another woman and I were
chosen. We knew the Baron's weakness for a pretty face. We planned
to become acquainted with him--lure him on."
Her voice trailed off, as if, the first burst of confidence over, she felt
something that would lock her secret tighter in her breast.
A moment later she resumed, now talking rapidly, disconnectedly,
giving Kennedy no chance to interrupt or guide the conversation.
"You don't know, Professor Kennedy," she began again, "but there are
similar groups to ours in European countries and the plan is to strike
terror and consternation everywhere in the world at once. Why, at our
headquarters there have been drawn up plans and agreements with
other groups and there are set down the time, place, and manner of all
the--the removals."
Momentarily she seemed to be carried away by something like the
fanaticism of the fervor which had at first captured her, even still held
her as she recited her incredible story.
"Oh, can't you understand?" she went on, as if