Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 January 1911 — Page 3

The Stolen Treaty

\ i . fi Taken from the Archives of Bullivants, Limited, the greatest inquiry and detective agency of modern 'times

By FREDERICK REDDALE

Bparkling forenoon O early in October —perhaps the most delectable month of all the year 'at our national MT-iwTiwirgg capital—the curious observer of men and mania ners might have no ticed strolling up PennInfrA sylvania avenue the figure of a little man | whose appearance and J IU. get-up not to say gj make-up—might be best H described by s the terms dapper and foppish. From the top of his shiny tile to the tips of his glittering patent-leather shoes—frock coat, fancy waistcoat, immaculately creased gray trousers, with gloves and spats to match, his ensemble was strictly de riguer. There was not a false note anywhere. —five feet four at the most, with a cleanly-shaven boyish and chubby face; in age he might have been anywhere from twenty-five to .forty. It required a second glance and perhaps a third to detect the square chin and the quiet, steely gray eyes that gave the otherwise youthful countenance and the man’s whole personality an air of quiet determination and force. But although his glances to right and left were apparently careless, nothing escaped his ken; in reality he w r as the accredited representative of the most powerful and celebrated inquiry agency in the world. Past the treasury and the White House slowly sauntered pur little friend, swinging his cane nonchalantly. Entering the ornate renaissance and mansarded building of the state department, he ascended by the elevator to the imposing suite occupied by the secretary of state. To the colored, uniformed "messenger” in the outer office he handed an immaculately engraved visiting card bearing the words, “Mr. Percy Nagel,” adding two whispered words, “From Bullivants.” The card was immediately passed along to Mr. Deputy This, Mr. Undersecretary That, and various other underlings, until it reached the hands of the secretary’s secretary himself. While Mr. Nagel is cooling his heels in the outermost rodm of all, let us inquire what was the magic shibboleth in those two whispered words, "From Bullivants,” which advanced the pasteboard credential through so many barriers while two-score other callers waited for an audience, Bullivants, Limited, to give its full name, was the official title of the most wonderful and effective secret investigating agency in Europe and America. They maintained offices or branches in most of the principal cities; their sources of information were as marvelous as they were apparently unlimited; they were served by an army of discreet representatives who in appearance, manners, and methods were as far removed from those of the ordinary detective as the equator is distant from the poles. Add to this that Bullivants grudged neither time nor expense; that they shunned and even deprecated publicity; that they were generally markedly successful where every one else had failed; and that no case was too hopeless or too impossible for them to tackle, and you have a faint idea of the reputation enjoyed by Bullivants, Limited, among the world’s elect. ■ , In a surprisingly short time word filtered thrpugh various Jacks-in-office that Mr. Secretary would see Mr. Nagel forthwith. With airy nonchalance the visitor followed his guide until he came to the large and lofty sumptuously furnished apartment, half office, half reception room, presided over by the then foremost diplomat in America. That gentleman’s distrust had been roused by the manner of Nagel’s entrance, but when he cast his eyes on the rather boyish-looking exquisite who dropped uninvited into a leather chair at the secretarial elbow, the cabinet officer’s disgust, though wellbred, was perfectly patent. His private thoughts ran thus: “What egregious nonsense to send me a manikin like that! Must be some mistake!” Then aloud: "Pardon me. Are you Mr. Nagel? Mr. Percy Nagel T’ “That Is correct, Mr. Secretary," was the quiet reply. “From——” "Bullivant’s Limited, in the matter of ” The great man —who was a very great man, Indeed —raised his hand imperiously for silence. “We’ll come to that presently, Mr. —«r —Nagel. Are yqu sure there is no mistake?” "In what respeet?” inquired the little man, with a shrewd twinkle In bis cool gray eyes and Just the suspicion of a dimple showing in his smooth chin. "Why—er—began the bead of the state department, clearing his throat to gain time, *T rather thought— -er—-that-^-er—you know "

(Copyright, 1910, by W. G. Chapman)

“ That I’m scarcely big enough for the Job?” put in Percy Nagel, smilingly. “Set your mind at rest, Mr. Secretary; I’ve handled bigger cases than !• yours. Here are my personal and official credentials,” handing over a typewritten letter bearing the imprint of the New York branch of Bmlivants, Limited, duly signed, and stating that “the bearer, our Mr. Percy Nagel, may be trusted implicitly and to the fullest and will serve you capably in whatever matter is entrusted to his Judgment.” This left no doubt in Mr. Secretary’s mind as to the official standing of his visitor, whose quiet and self-assured manner was gradually, effacing those earlier feelings of annoyance over what had at first sight looked like “sending a boy to do a man’s work.” But perhaps, he reflected, Nagel’s misleading appearance might be one of his best assets in any inquiry requiring delicate handling. So when the caller got down to brass tacks with a leading question the official’s reserve vanished. “What is the trouble, Mr. Secretry,” inquired the man from Bullivants. “Let me have the facts frankly and fully, please—no, thank you, I won’t smoke now.” For the secretary’s wellknown' olive-branch was always a choice cigar. “In three words, Mr. the trouble is—a stolen treaty! Stolen, sir, from right under my own nose, from this very table,” sihiting the massive mahogany with his clenched fist. “Until it is recovered, certain important negotiations are at a standstill; while if, as I suspect, it has fallen into the wrong hands, the gravest international complications may ensue —perhaps, the greatest this world has ever seen!” *► Percy NagdVs eyes had narrowed to a couple of gleaming slits and he nodded comprehendingly. The secretary went on: “The document in question, Mr. Nagel, for I shall be entirely frank with you, is the completed draft of our new secret treaty with Japan. All it lacks is the signature of the two representatives of the high-contracting powers. As you may, perhaps, infer, there are clauses, defensive and offensive, which will materially affect the course of affairs in the orient during the next ten years. These policies a certain European government has long been desirous of controlling.” “Belgaria?” put in Nagel. "Precisely,” was the answer. “The emperor, through his regularly accredited agents as well as by paid spies, has left no Stone unturned to learn the contents of this treaty, ' with a view, no doubt, to checkmate -certain features which he chooses to regard as inimical to himself and to Belgaria.” Nagel nodded to signify that he was intently following the argument. “Five days ago, Mr. Nagel, that treaty disappeared in broad daylight.” “And whom do you suspect?” asked Nagel, going right to the point. “There you’ve hit the nail on the head,” countered the official.- “Absolutely no one!” “How many people besides yourself and the Japanese ambassador knew of the existence of this tregty in its completed form?” persisted Nagel. “Only three —Mr. Pargette, the assistant secretary of state, my own nephew, who is my personal secretary, and the engrossing clerk. I would as soon suspect myself as any one of them.” “Naturally,” murmured the man from Bullivants, with an impassive face. "And you say the treaty disappeared in broad daylight?” * “Precisely—that is the mysterious feature about the whole matter. It was here, on this very spot,” indicating a wide pad of blue blotting paper. “I was alone in the room at the moment. I went to the window for an instant to watch the tennis match being played on the White House court, and when I again seated myself it was gone. I don’t mean, you understand, that I consciously missed it at that very moment; but when, ten or twelve minutes later, I looked, it dawned on me that I had subconsciously noticed when resuming my chair, that the spot where the folded document lay had been vacant.” “No one entered the room while you stood at the window?" * , “No one—only two persons have the entree unannounced, Mr. Pargette and my private secretary. "The questional* superfluous, but it must be asked: Could the treaty have been gathered up or filed away with other payers?" “Equally impossible, yet even that solution has been exploded; every nook and corner has been searched." “By whom?” “At first by myself, Mr. Pargette and my nephew. Then we called in the secret service—you know we are rather proud of our secret service down here, Mr. Nagfl—but this time they’re up a tree, 'so, as a forlorn hope, I telegraphed your people. I’ve heard that Bullivants make a specialty of forlorn hopes. In three days

the treaty Is to be signed; there’s a' cabinet meeting to-morwr afternoon, and I’m at ihy wits’ end, for the president is almost certain to ask for it. Can yon see any solution?" the secretary ended anxiously. ( “It’s a little early for thdt question," answered Nagel, rising and walking over to the window, from which vantage point he turned and surveyed the room. Then he reseated himself in his former place. . “And what have our clever friends of the secret service accomplished?” he inquired, selecting a cigar from *the open box. “Absolutely nothing, although I believe they left no stone unturned. They have extraordnary powers, you know at such times.” “Would they—er—assert the —er — very un-American right of search, for instance personal or domiciliary?” “If need be—l presume they would.” “And you have no suspicions, Mr. Secretary?” “Again, absolutely nqnq.” “Tell me,” purred Mr. Nagel, between puffs of his cigar, “how much — would it be worth—to the emperor’s —representative to get a copy—or even a glimpse—of that treaty? Put yourself in his place, Mr. Secretary. How much would you give?” The secretary laughed uneasily. -“Why—er—l don’t know that I’d care to put a name to it—oh, well, say fifty or perhaps a hundred thousand dollars.” Nagel nodded. Already he had formed a working theory—or rather two. Either the treaty had been ab-

stracted by some one who had the entree at all times to the secretary’s' room, stealing In unobserved the Wilton carpet gave forth no sound of footsteps—while Mr. Secretary stood at the window; or else it had been surreptitiously picked up under cover of other documents and carried out of the building. Hence Nagel’s next query: "Your secretary, I presume, is continually bringing documents for your signature?’’ "Certainly. I fall to see ” "And it would be perfectly possible, we will say, to pick up this Japanese treaty under cover of other documents?” “Such a thing might be done, of course, by anyone ” Here Nagel broke in with apphrent irrelevance: "I’ve never seen your state department at work. Suppose you stroll with me through the nearest rooms as though I were some personal friend, pointing out the assistant secretaries and the chief clerks. But no introductions, please.” Concealing his disappointment over this trivial request the secretary rose and led the way to a connecting door. Passing through they came to a x second room and then to a third. As they walked slowly, along the official named, with accompanying waves of the hand: "The assistant secretary.’V In the third office were four clerks. Again the secretary: "My nephew, Felix Olivier; the other three are all old and trusted attaches of the department, Paul Carroll, George Vennor and Mason Petty, the engrossing clerks.” From this they passed into g fourthroom filled with desks and clerks — the routine force of the department of state, and from thence stepped out into the public corridor. “Where can 1 find you after office hburs, Mr. Secretary?*’ inquired Percy Nagel. - ’ •

“At my house oil Farragut square, 1 * sas5 as the reply. “Do not hesitate to ill me at any hour, should you have anything to report.” “I’ll keep it in mind,” promised Nagel gravely as he entered the elevator. As he strolled westward along Pennsylvania avenue Nagel's reflections ran in this wise, with an inward" chuckle of derision: “These secret service fellows may do very well for counterfeiters Or moonshiners or even congressmen, but their methods are too coarse where really fine work’s required. Search! Of course' they’d search, and miss it while what they were looking for would be right under their noses! They’d look for it where a woman or an ordinary thief would put it out of sight! But our slick young friend is no Ordinary hand. He knows a thing or two, else I’m greatly mistaken. No doubt they’d turn a suspect’s room upside down looking for the treaty, and then never hit upon the most likely spot. Hope they haven't put my man upon his guard, that’s all.” By this time Percy Nagel had arrived at the corner of Fourteenth street, where a “Seeing Washington” wagon was about to start for a tour of the city with a full complement of “rubber-necks.” He hopped aboard and squeezed himself inconspicuously into a back seat. The usual rpunds were made amid megaphonlc announcements and an accompaniment of ” Ohs” and “Ahs” —the monument, the capitol, the Smithsonian, the congressional library, the pension build-

ing, and all the other architectural lions. It was all an old story to Percy Nagel. Not until Dupont circle was reached did he even mentally "sit up and take notice.” Then the sole comment for which he had been waiting issued forth from the brass-lunged “demonstrator.” “On your right is the residence of the Belgarian ambassador,” etc. A quick glance at the imposing and ornate mansion thus designated, originally built by some western plutocrat, was all that Nagel vouchsafed; then, he lit a cigar and humped himself in his seat until the “rubberwagon” had completed Its round and set him down within a block of tbe Raleigh. In the case he picked up some information —after Judiciously leading the gossip in that direction — that a certain Felix Oliver was a “high-roller” who sported an, expensive motor car after hours and otherwise lived greatly in excess of his modest salary as a clerk in the state department. All of which Nagel digested as easily as the olive at the bottom of his dry Martini. Then he glanced at the city directory under the Os, and went into the case for a belated luncheon, where, as the English say, he “did himself well.” It grows dark in Washington during October at about 6:30. At about that hour a dapper little man alighted from a tram-car near the residence of the Belgarian ambassador and sentineled the corner where he might see without being seen. For a solid hour and a half he kept vigil, when his watch was rewarded by seeing a swift auto approach from which a solitary man visitor ascended the wide steps and gained almost instant admittance; he was in evening dress and his features were plainly visible under the electric lights that flooded steps and vestibule. : “I thought soi” Nagel, muttered, for

he was tbe watcher. "He wouldn’t dare come till after dark.” - * In less than ten minutes the same caller made his exit and was whirled away. Nagel took the.next car on the nearest corner,, transferred, and finally alighted at G and Eleventh streets. Walking quickly over to H street, between Eleventh and Twelfth streets, he pressed the electric bell of a fashionable rooming house of the better sort. To the maid who answered he said: ■; r "\ “Is Mr. Oliver at home?” “I’ll see,” was the answer, as she tripped up-stairs. “No, Mr.. Oliver has gone out.” “Will he be long, do you suppose?” queried Percy Nagel. “Well, he usually spends his evenings away, but—would you like to wait?” “My business is rather pressing, so I think T will,” answered Bullivants’ man.: “May I go up?” “Certainly—his room's the next floor front. I’ll go with you and make a light.” That Felix Oliver was the culprit and the purloiner of the treaty Nagel had no manner of doubt since seeing him mount the steps of the house of the ambassador from Belgaria less t,han aTn hour back. He had formed his theory intuitively Percy Nagel’s intuitions were as unerring as a woman’s while interviewing the secretary, and he was now prepared to test its truth. The young spendthrift probably needed money—lots of money—and had succumbed to the blandishments of the

Belgarian agents. But whether the precious document was here in his room or in the possession of thg ambassador he had no means of knowing. In either event Nagel’s. p)an of campaign was mapped out. His theory was that the young gentleman might be holding out for a price that should be worth while—either for a copy of the treaty of for a summary of its contents. When the negotiations with Belgaria were concluded the “lost” document would be mysteriously “found” on the desk of the secretary some fine morning. If he failed to locate the missing treaty before Oliver’s return he proposed to call for a show-down. But what he chiefly hoped was that the treaty had not yet been sold to the Belgarian representative that young Felix was either dickering for his price or that perchance he would sell only an abstract of its contents, or a copy. In the latter event, of course, after completing his double treachery, he would seek an early op-, portunity of restoring the document to its rightful place—which his frequent access to the secretary’s room would render comparatively easy. But .in either contingency the mischief would have’ been done, and Nagel devoutly hoped that he might be in time to circumvent the contemplated villainy. The instant be was alone he tpok a quick survey of the outer sitting room; young Oliver’s bedroom was an inner and smaller chamber. Not for Percy Nagel were the usual cut-and-dried methods of search —in desks, drawers, under mattresses, carpet, or rugs, in a vase, or behind a hanging picture on the wall —such might be left to the ordinary detective, or even to his friends, the secret service men. For the success of Percy Nagel had been largely based upon his ability to put lpimself in the other fellow's place—to ask himself what he, as a criminal, would have done in similar circumstances. He had never known the test to fall, apd he had gained access to Oliver’s private room fully prepared to find the missing treaty in the most unlikely spot—not hidden at all, in fact, but in such plain view that the average suspicious person entering and conducting a search would pass right by unsuspectingly. Being, among other accomplishments, no mean pianist, he seated hiipself at the baby-grand in one corner and began to improvise softly, equally to disarm suspicion on the part of the people In the house and to get his bearings. As he played t his gaze I%ok in every detail of the cosy bachelor

~ ... . . . . ... room —— pipe-raco* ibww cabinet, Morris chaff, leather lounge and flat-topped table, nearly covered with magazines, newspapers, and some piles of printed official documents. A bungler would have taken deliberate pains to hide the treaty; bot Felix Oliver wasnO bungler, else had he been bowled out by the secret service men. Nagere modulations led insensibly Into the lovely Schumann “Abenlied,” which be could havw played’with his eyes shut. Rovingly his gaze scanned tbe room and its furniture. A spot of glaring scarlet on a little tabouret insistently caught his gaze again and, again, almost The “Abenlied’*' came to its fihhl dying cadences ere he rose and went toward the corner and bent over the splotch of vivid color. It was* a riohly-bound book—a copy of Lafcadio Hearns’ “Island Days in Japan.” 1 Nagel chuckled. It was like playing a game of “Hot-boiled beans,” and he was decidedly “warm.” What more simply appropriate yet daring place to hide a document concerning Japan than a book on the island empire? For there within the last cover reposed the stolen treaty! Nagel grasped the precious document and thrust it into his breast pocket. Part of hie work was done, but not all. It re mained for him to ascertain whether the thief had already informed the Belgarian ambassador of the contents of the treaty, or was merely dickering ’ with the representative of the foreign government regarding its price. He stole swiftly down the staircase, walking with a soft, cautious tread, and gained the hallway unseen. The next moment he was in the street, and boarded a.passing car en route for the Bulgarian ambassador’s residence. Half an hour later he was in the presence of that august diplomat—a tall, dark man with penetrating black eyes which surveyed the Bullivante expert with curious intentness. In a few brief words Nagel explained the object of his call. “My name is Randall and I come from Mr. Oliver,” he said. “Shortly after leaving here to-night he met with a slight accident, slipped on the sidewalk and fell, spraining his ankle. I am a particular friend of his, and on calling at his apartments an hour ago, found him suffering a good deal of pain and greatly upset because he will be unable to' keep an appointment with yqu.” Nagel paused for an instant. It / was a chance shot he was making, and he awaited the ambassador’s reply anxiously. If Oliver really had another appointment with the would-be purchaser of the treaty, it was proof that negotiations. were still pending, and the secret not yet revealed. “I am much obliged, Mr. —er —Randall," said the diplomat suavely. “Mr. Oliver had promised to call upon me to-morrow. By the way, did your friend mention the nature of the business which we were to discuss?” Th® question was hurled at the Bullivants sleuth with crisp suddenness and tha speaker eyed him sharply.

Nagel was equal to the occasion. “No,” he replied with convincing candor. “Oliver merely asked me to call here and deliver his message. His house telephone was out of order, and he was therefore unable to communicate with you personally.” The ambassador reflected a moment. “You can tell Mr. Oliver that 1 have considered the matter carefully, and will comply with his terms when he gives me the information I require,* he said. Nagel’s heart throbbed exultantly. It was evident that the ambassador was ignorant of the contents of the all-important document now reposing in his* breast pocket. Bidding the diplomat a respectful adieu, he hastened back to Oliver’s residence. That worthy had not yet returned, the maid informed him. “I found it a little close upstairs; and took the liberty of letting myself out for a short walk,” explained Nagel, in response to her look of surprise upon seeing the strange visitor for the second time that night “If you permit me, I will go upstairs again and wait for Mr. Oliver.” The maid assented, and Nagel mounted the stairs to Oliver’s apartments. Before many minutes had passed, a quick step sounded in the corridor and a very much astonished gentleman stood in the doorway. Confronting him was Percy Nagel, holding in his right hand a folded official-look-ing document. The secretary’s nephew attempted to bluster, demanding what right Nagel had in his room. “Merely a friendly call, Mr. Oliver,*' was the quiet response. “You recognize this paper, 1 presume, but ! shall not ask you how It •name into your possession because you would probably lie to me In any event’’ "I don’t know what you mean,” was the truculent answer. • “No? Well, I won’t press the question, Mr. Oliver. I visivqd the Belgarian ambassador to-night In the rols of an intimate friend of .spurs, and found that the terms of salp had not been completed. Now, let- me givs you Borne seasonable advice. Keep away from your foreign acquaintances; .in future don't pay so muck attention to Japanese affairs; and lastly—hand in your resignation employe of the state department within 24 hours. That Is the only saf* course for you to follow. From now on you are a marked man.” During this curt sermon young Oliver stood speechless, but at length hefound his tongue. "Curse you for a meddle some devil l* be snarled. < . Nagel paused In the doorway smiling. “Remember!" he said la parting, and left the youthful traitor to hlSr own thoughts.