The War Terror | Page 3

to justify herself. "The
increase in armies, the frightful implements of slaughter, the total
failure of the peace propaganda--they have all defied civilization!
"And then, too, the old, red-blooded emotions of battle have all been
eliminated by the mechanical conditions of modern warfare in which
men and women are just so many units, automata. Don't you see? To
fight war with its own weapons--that has become the only last resort."
Her eager, flushed face betrayed the enthusiasm which had once carried
her into the "Group," as she called it. I wondered what had brought her
now to us.
"We are no longer making war against man," she cried. "We are
making war against picric acid and electric wires!"
I confess that I could not help thinking that there was no doubt that to a

certain type of mind the reasoning might appeal most strongly.
"And you would do it in war time, too?" asked Kennedy quickly.
She was ready with an answer. "King George of Greece was killed at
the head of his troops. Remember Nazim Pasha, too. Such people are
easily reached in time of peace and in time of war, also, by
sympathizers on their own side. That's it, you see--we have followers of
all nationalities."
She stopped, her burst of enthusiasm spent. A moment later she leaned
forward, her clean-cut profile showing her more earnest than before.
"But, oh, Professor Kennedy," she added, "it is working itself out to be
more terrible than war itself!"
"Have any of the plans been carried out yet?" asked Craig, I thought a
little superciliously, for there had certainly been no such wholesale
assassination yet as she had hinted at.
She seemed to catch her breath. "Yes," she murmured, then checked
herself as if in fear of saying too much. "That is, I--I think so."
I wondered if she were concealing something, perhaps had already had
a hand in some such enterprise and it had frightened her.
Kennedy leaned forward, observing the girl's discomfiture. "Miss
Lowe," he said, catching her eye and holding it almost hypnotically,
"why have you come to see me?"
The question, pointblank, seemed to startle her. Evidently she had
thought to tell only as little as necessary, and in her own way. She gave
a little nervous laugh, as if to pass it off. But Kennedy's eyes
conquered.
"Oh, can't you understand yet?" she exclaimed, rising passionately and
throwing out her arms in appeal. "I was carried away with my hatred of
war. I hate it yet. But now--the sudden realization of what this compact
all means has--well, caused something in me to-- to snap. I don't care

what oath I have taken. Oh, Professor Kennedy, you--you must save
him!"
I looked up at her quickly. What did she mean? At first she had come to
be saved herself. "You must save him!" she implored.
Our door buzzer sounded.
She gazed about with a hunted look, as if she felt that some one had
even now pursued her and found out.
"What shall I do?" she whispered. "Where shall I go?"
"Quick--in here. No one will know," urged Kennedy, opening the door
to his room. He paused for an instant, hurriedly. "Tell me-- have you
and this other woman met the Baron yet? How far has it gone?"
The look she gave him was peculiar. I could not fathom what was
going on in her mind. But there was no hesitation about her answer.
"Yes," she replied, "I--we have met him. He is to come back to New
York from Washington to-day--this afternoon--to arrange a private loan
of five million dollars with some bankers secretly. We were to see him
to-night--a quiet dinner, after an automobile ride up the Hudson--"
"Both of you?" interrupted Craig.
"Yes--that--that other woman and myself," she repeated, with a peculiar
catch in her voice. "To-night was the time fixed in the drawing for
the--"
The word stuck in her throat. Kennedy understood. "Yes, yes," he
encouraged, "but who is the other woman?"
Before she could reply, the buzzer had sounded again and she had
retreated from the door. Quickly Kennedy closed it and opened the
outside door.
It was our old friend Burke of the Secret Service.

Without a word of greeting, a hasty glance seemed to assure him that
Kennedy and I were alone. He closed the door himself, and, instead of
sitting down, came close to Craig.
"Kennedy," he blurted out in a tone of suppressed excitement, "can I
trust you to keep a big secret?"
Craig looked at him reproachfully, but said nothing.
"I beg your pardon--a thousand times," hastened Burke. "I was so
excited, I wasn't thinking--"
"Once is enough, Burke," laughed Kennedy, his good nature restored at
Burke's crestfallen appearance.
"Well, you see," went on the Secret Service man, "this