PROLOGUE In ‘the month of December, 1018, and on the very day that a British cavalry division marched into Cologne, with flags flying and bands playing as the conquerors of a beaten nation, the manager of the Hotel Nationale in Berne received a letter. Its con- tents appeared to puzzle him gome- what, for having read it twice he rang the bell on his desk to summon his secretary. Almost immediately the door opened, and a young French girl came into the room. “Monsieur rang?” “Have we ever had staying in the hotel a man called le Comte de Guy?’ He leaned back in his chair and Jooked at her through his pince-nez. The secretary thought for a me- ment and tien shook her head. “Not ‘as far as I can remember,” she said. “Do we know anything about him? Has he ever fed here, or taken & pri- vate room?" “ap = #Not that I know of.” The manager handed her the letter, and waited in silence until she had read it. 3 «Jt seems on the face of it a pecu- liar request from an unknown man,” he remarked as she laid it down. “A dinner of four covers; no expense to be spared. Wines specified and if not in hotel to be obtained. A private room at half-past seven sharp. Guests to ask for room X.” The secretary nodded in agreement. «It can hardly be a hoax,” she re- marked after a short silence. «No The manager tapped his teeth with his pen thoughtfully. “But 1 by any chance it was, it would prove an expensive one for us. I wish I could think who this Comte de Guy is.” He took off his pince-nez and laid them on the desk In front of him. “gend the maitre dhotel to me at . once.” Whatever may have been the man- ager’'s misgivings, they were certainly not shared by the head waiter as he jeft the office after receiving his in- structions. War and short rations had not been conducive to any partic- ularly lucrative business in his sphere; and the whole sound of the proposed entertainment seemed to him to contain considerable promise. And so at about twenty minutes past seven the maitre d’hotel was hovering around the hall-porter, the manager was hovering round the maitre d’hotel, and the secretary Was hovering around both. At five-and- twenty minutes past the first guest arrived. . . . He was a peculiar-looking man, in a big fur coat, reminding one irre- gistibly of a codfish. «1 wish to be taken to Room xX The French secretary stiffened invol- wuntarily as the maitre d’hotel stepped obsequiously forward. Cosmopolitan as the hotel was, even now she could never hear German spoken without an inward shudder of digust. «A Boche,” she murmured in disgust. Almost immediately afterward the second and third members of the par- ty arrived. They did not come togeth- er, and what seemed peculiar to the manager was that they were evidently strangers to one another. The leading one—a tall gaunt man with a ragged beard and a pair of piercing eyes—asked in a nasal and by no means an inaudible tone for Room %. As he spoke a little fat man who was standing just behind him started perceptibly, and shot a birdlike glance at the speaker. Then in execrable French he too asked for Room X. «He's not French,” said the secre- tary excitedly to the manager. “That last one was another Boche.” The manager thoughtfully twirled his pince-nez between his fingers. “Two Germans and an American.” He looked a little apprehensive. “Let ug hope the dinner will appease every- body. Otherwise—" But whatever fears he might have entertained with regard to the furni- ture in Room X, they were not des- tined to be uttered. Even as he spoke the door again swung open, and a man with a thick white scarf around his neck, so pulled up as almost com- pletely to cover his face, came in. All that the manager could swear to as regards the newcomer’s appearance was a pair of deep-set, steel-gray eyes which seemed to bore through him. “You got my letter this morning?” «Msieur le Comte de Guy?’ The manager bowtd deferentially and rubbed his hands together. “Every- thing is ready, and three guests have arrived.” “Good. once.” As he followed his guide his eyes swept round the lounge. Save for two or three elderly women of doubtful pationality, and a man in the Amer} can Red Cross, the place was desert- ed; and as he nassed tlirough the 1 will go to the rcom at The Adventures of A Demobilized Officer ‘Who Found Peace Dull Copy CYRIL MENEILE "SAPPER" Y MYERS right by Geo H Doran Co swing doors he turned to the head walter. «Business good?” he asked. No—business decidedly was not good. The waiter was voluble., Busi- ness had never been so poor in the memory of man. But it was to be hoped that the dinner would be to Monsieur le Comte’s liking. . . Also the wines. “If everything is to my satisfaction you will not regret it,” said the count tersely. “But remember one thing. After the coffee has been brought in, I do not wish to be disturbed under any «M’sicur le Comte de Guy?” “elrcumstances whatever.” The head waiter paused as he came to a door, and the count repeated the last few words. “Under no circumstances whatever.” “Mais certainement, Monsieur Ile Comte, . . toll... 2 As he spoke he flung open the door and the count entered. It cannct be said that the atmosphere of the room was congenial, The three occupants were regarding one another in Lostlle silence, and as the count entered they, with one accord, transferred their sus- plieious glances to him. For a moment he stood motionless, while he looked at each one in’ urn. Then he stepped forward. : “Good evening, gentlemen’-—he st. spoke in French—*I am honored at your presence.” He turned to the head waiter. “Let dinner be served in five minutes exactly.” With a bow the man left the room. and the door closed, “During that five minutes, gentle- men, I propose to introduce myself to you, and you to one another. The business which I wish to discuss we will postpone, with your permission, till after the coffee, when we shall be | undisturbed.” | In silence the three guests waited i until he unwound the thick white muf- fler; then, with uncisguised curiosity, ' they studied their host. In appearance he was striking. He had a short dark beard, and in profile his face was aqui- line and stern. The eyes, which had so impressed the manager, seemed now to be a cold grey-blue; the thick brown hair, flecked slightly with grey, was brushed back from a broad fore- head. To even the most superficial ob- ‘gerver the giver of the feast was a man of power; a man capable of form- ing Instant decisions and of carrying them through. . . . | And if so much was obvious to the superficial observer, it was more than | obvious to the three men who stood by the fire watching him. Each one of them, as he watched the host, realized that he was in the presence of a great man. It was enough: great men do not send fool invitations to dinner to men of international repute. It mat- tered not what form his greatness took —there was money in greatness, big money. And money was their life. The count advanced first to the Am- erican. «Mr. Hocking, 1 belleve,” he re- marked in English, holding out his hand. “I am glad you managed to come,” The American shook the proffered hand, while the two Germans looked at him with sudden interest. As the man at the head of the great American cot- ton trust, worth more in millions than he could count, he was entitled to their respect. . . . “That's me, Count,” returned the mil- lionaire in his nasal twang. “I am in- terested to know to what I am indebt- ed for this invitation.” . 1, personally will see | a “The war was the act of a fool,” “All in good time, Mr. Hocking.” smiled the host. “I have hopes that Jie dinner will fill in that time satis-! Juctorily.” i He turned to the taller of the two: Germans, who without his coat seemed more like a codfish than ever. “Herr Steinemann, is it not?” This, time he spoke in German. : The man whose interast in German: coal was hardly less well known than: Hocking’s in cotton, bowed stiffly. ! “And Herr Von Gratz?’ The Count turned to the last member of the par-' ty and shook hands. Though less well; known than either of the other two in: the realms of international finance, von Gratz's name in the steel trade of Cen- tral Europe was one to conjure with. “Well, gentlemen,” said the Count, “hefore we sit down to dinner, I may perhaps be permitted to say a few words of introduction. The naticns of the world have recently been en- gaged in a performance of unrivalad stupidity. As far as one can tell that performance is now over. The last thing I wish to do is to discuss the war—except in so far as it concerns our meeting here tonight. Mr, Hock- ing is an American, you two gentlemen are Germans, I"—the Count smiled glightly—“have no nationality. Or rather, shall 1 say, I have every na- tionality. Completely cosmopolitan. . . Gentlemen, the war was waged hy. idiots, and when idiots get busy on a large scale, it is time for clever men to step in. . That is che raison d’- etre for this little dinner . . . claim that we four men are sufficiently international to be able to disregard any stupid and petty feelings about this country and that country, and to regard the world outlook at the present moment from one point of view and one point of view only--our own.” The gaunt American gave a hoarse chuckle. “It will be my object after dinner,” continued the Count, “to try and prove to you that we have a common point of view. Until then—shall we merely concentrate on a pious hope that the! Hotel Nationale will not poison ms: with their food?” : The next moment the head walter opened thie door, and the four men sat down to dine, It must be admitted that the average’ hostess, desirous of making a dinner a‘ success, would have been filled with| secret dismay at the general atmos- here in the room. The American, in] accumulating his millions. had alsoi accumulated a digestion of such an ex-| otic and tender character that dry’ rusks and Vichy water were the limit! of his capacity. i Herr Steinemann was of the common; order of German, to whom food is! sacred. He ate and drank enormously! and evidently considered that nothing! further was required of him. | Von Gratz did his best to keep bis, end up, but as he was apparently in a, -hronic condition of fear that the gaunt American would assault him! with violence, he cannot be said to, qave contributed much to the gaiety of the meal. And so to the host must be given {he credit that the dinner was a sue, cess. Without appearing to inonopo- lize the conversation he talked cease-, lessly and brilliantly. But to even the] most brilliant of conversationalists the| strain of talking to a hypochondriacel' American and two Germans—one greedy and the other frightened—Is considerable; and the Count heaved an, inward sigh of relief when the coffee pad been handed round and the door, closed behind the walter. From now. on the topic was the topic of money—! the common bond of his three guests. And yer, as he carefully cut the end of his cigar, and realized that the eves of the other three were fixed. on him expectantly, he knew that ‘thie hardest’ part of the evening: was in front of himi. Big fnapciérs, in common with- all othe people, gre fonder of having: money put into their pockets than of: taking it out. And that was the very: thing the Count proposed they should do—In large quantities. . . . “Gentlemen,” he remarked, when his’ cigar was going to his satisfaction,’ «we are all men of business. I sald’ before dinner that I considered we: were sufficiently big to exclude any’ small arbitrary national distinctions: from our minds. As men whose inter-: ests are international, such things are beneath us. I wish now to slightly! qualify that remark.” He turned to! the American on his right, who with eyes half closed was thoughtfully pick- ing his teeth, “At this stage, I ad-: dress myself particularly to you.” ‘ “Go right ahead,” drawled Mr. ing. { «I do not wish to touch on the war— or its result; but though the Central. Powers have been beaten by America and France and England, I think I can speak for you two gentlemen"—he bowed to the two Germans—“when I say that it is neither France nor Amer- jep with. whom they desire another round. England: is Germany's malin enemy; she always has been, she al- ways will be. I have reason to be- lieve, Mr. Hocking, that you personally do not love the English?” “1 guess I don’t see what my private feelings have to do with it. But if it's of any interest to the company you are correct in your beliel” “Good,” The Count nodded his head as If satisfied. “I take it then that you would not be averse to seeing England down and out.” “wal,” remarked the American, hvou can assume anything you feel like. Let's go to the show-down.” : Once again the Count nodded his head; then he turned to the two Ger-. mans. , } “Now you two gentlemen must ad- mit that your plans have miscarried; somewhat, . It was no part of your or-\ iginal programme that a British army! should occupy Cologne. . « . a oe het etn rms a emt Hock-. —— TA rR —— snarled Herr Stelnemann, “In a few years more of peace, we should have beaten those swine. > “And now—they have beaten you.” The Count smiled slightly. “Let us admit that the war was the act of a fool, if you like, but as men of busl- ness we can only deal with the result. The result, gentlemen, as it concerns us. Both you gentlemen are sufficiently patriotic to resent the pres- ence of that army at Cologne, I have no doubt. And you, Mr. Hocking, have no love on personal grounds for the English. . . . But I am not propos- ing to appeal to financiers of your rep- utation on such grounds as those to support my scheme, 1t is enough that your personal predilec- tions run with and not against what I am about to put before you—the de- feat of England . . . a defeat more utter and complete than if she had lost the war. id His voice sank a little, and instinct- ively his three listeners drew closer. “Don’t think I aa proposing this through motives of revenge merely. We are Lusiness men, and revenge is only worth our while if it pays. This will pay. There is a force in England which, if it can be harnessed and led properly, will result in millions coming to you. -. . . It is present now in every nation—fettered, inarticulate, un-co-ordinated. It is partly the result of the war—the war that the idiots have waged. . Harness that force, gentlemen, co-ordinate it, and use it for your own ends, . . .. That is my proposal. Not only will vou humble that cursed country to the dirt, bat you will taste of power such as few men have tasted before. ...” The Count stood up, his eyes blazing. “And I—I will do it for you.” He resumed his seat, and his left hand, slipping off the table, beat a tattoo on his knee. “This is our opportunity—the oppor- tunity of clever men. I have not got the money necessary: you have.” . . . He leaned forward in his chair, and glanced at the intent faces of his au- dience. Then he began to speak. . . . Ten minutes later he pushed back his chair. “There is my proposal, gentlemen, in a nutshell. Unforeseen develop- ments will doubtless occur; I have spent my life overcoming the unexpect- ed. What is your answer?’ He rose and stood with his back to them by the fire, and for several minutes no one spoke. Each man was busy with his own thoughts, and showed it in his own particular way. Comte de Guy stared unconcernedly at the fire, as if indifferent to the result of their thoughts. In his attitude at that moment he gave a true expression to iis attitude on life. Accustomed to play with great stakes, he had just dealt the cards for the most gigantic gamble cf his life. . .. What matter 16 the three men, who were looking at | the hands he had given them, that only a master criminal could have con- ceived such a game? The only, ques- tion which occupied their minds was whether he could carry it through. And on that point they had only their judgment of his personality to rely on. Suddenly the American removed the toothpick from his mouth and stretched out his legs. “There is a question which occurs to me, Count, before I make up my mind on the matter. Are you disposed to be a little more communicative about yourself? If we agree to come in on “v's hand, it’s going to cost big money. The handling of that money is with you. Wal—who are you?” von Gratz nodded his head in agree- ment. Steinemann raised his eyes to the Count’s face as he turned and faced them. . . . “A very. fair question, gentlemen,’ and yet one which I regret 1 am unable to answer. I would not insult your in- telligence by giving you thé fictitious address of—a fictitious Count. Enough that I am a man whose livelihood lies in other people's pockets. AS you say, Mr. Hocking, it is going to cost big #} Will Return in Ten Minutes. That Time You Will Have Decided One Way or the Other.” By money; out compared to the results the costs will be a flea-bite. You will have to trust me, even as I shall have to trust you. ... You will have to trust me not to divert the money which you give me as working expenses into my swn pocket, . . . I shall have to trust you to pay me when the job is un ished, . . “And that payment will be—how much?’ Steinemann’s guttural voice broke the silence, “Qne million pounds sterling—to be split up between you in any proportion you may decide, and to be paid within one month of completion of my work. After that the matter will pass into your hands . . . and may you leave that cursed country groveling in the dir. ty ...” His eyes glowed with a fierce, vindictive fury; and then, as if replac- ing a mask which had slipped for a moment, the Count was once again the suave, courteous host. He had stated his terms frankly and without haggling ; stated them as one big man states them to another of the same kid- ney, to whom time is money and inde- cision or beating about the bush ana- thema. “Perhaps, Count, you would be good enough to leave us for a few minutes.” Von Gratz was speaking. “The deci- sion is a big one, and . .."” “Why, certainly, gentlemen.” The Count moved toward the door. “I will return in ten minutes. By that time you will have decided—one way or the other.” the result of that ten minutes deliber- ation, . . And then . . . What then? ... In his imagination he saw him- self supreme in power, glutted with it —a king, an autocrst, who had only to into destruction and annihilation. . . And when he had done it, and the would claim his million and enjoy it as ward. . . . Thus for the space of ten dream dreams. That the force he pro- posed to tamper with was a dangerous force disturbed him not at all: he was a dangerous man. That this scheme would bring ruin, perhaps death, to thousands of innocent men and women preme egoist. him was that he had seen the oppor- tunity that existed, and that he had the nerve and the brain to turn that opportunity to his own advantage. Only the necessary money was lacking ...and. . . With a quick movement he pulled out his watch. They had had their ten minutes . . , The matter was settled, the die was cast. . . . He rose and walked across the lounge. For an appreciable moment the Count paused by the door, and & , faint smile came to his lips. Then he opened it, and passed into the room, { The American was still chewing his | toothpick; Steinemann was still breathing hard. Only von Gratz had changed his occupation and he was . sitting at the table smoking a long i thin cigar. The Count closed the door, and walked over to the fireplace. . . . “Well, gentlemen,” he sald quietly, “what have you decided?” It was the American who answered. i «Jt goes. With one amendment. The money is too big for three of us: there must be a fourth, That will be a quarter of a million eac 2 The Count bowed. “Have you any suggestions as to whom the fourth should be?” | “Yep,” sald the American shortly. wIhese two gentlemen agree with me that it should be another of my coun-