Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 145, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 June 1916 — The Stolen Treaty [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Stolen Treaty

By H. M. EGBERT

(Copyright. 1918. by W. G. Chapman.) Imbrie passed his hand over his daipp forehead and stared at the paper in his hand. He could not believe either his eyes or the good fortune which had placed it there. A subordinate clerk in the war office at Washington, Imbrie had faced life on a salary* of $25 weekly. This was his sole means of support for himself and Dolly, his pretty young wife, as well as Dolly’s mother, who lived with them. He had been shifted into a new department recently—that in touch with the secretary of state’s office. Of course Imbrie never saw the great man himself, or anyone but an occasional permanent under-secretary. For weeks Imbrie had been a prey to increasing despair. There had been Dolly’s Jong illness, after their little son had been born and died a few hours later. Like every man with=a government position, Imbrie had found it not at all difficult to negotiate a loan with a money lender at an exorbitant interest. He had paid off the loan by increasing it; then, rendered desperate, he had gone to another money lender, and then another. He had no notion that all three were watching him and dividing the money that came to them every pay day, while the capital actually Increased in

volume. Imbrie was paying $lO a ■week, and the hundred which he had borrowed originally had swollen to three hundred.' He had not dared let Dolly know, and though she had looked surprised at the diminishing returns each pay day, Imbrie had invented a heap of excuses. However, the crisis was almost at hand. Then, a few days before, a little, dark-haired man, who looked like a cross between a Chinaman and a Portuguese, had accosted him as they were leaving the street car together. He seemed to know Imbrie very well and had drawn him aside and made a proposition which made the pulses throb in Imbrie’s cheeks. “It will be nothing dishonorable,” he said. “It is only what everybody does. Think, my friend, Is it reasonable that your government should intrust Its secrets to a man whom it pays a beggarly sllO a month?” “But I don’t know anything about It,” faltered Imbrie. “I shall see that you know. Think again. A man’s work—a big man’s work on an office boy’s pay. Besides, jit is not as if you were betraying anything. My government knows all about this Chinese treaty, but it requires its suspicions to be confirmed. You will confirm them, but you will betray nothing.” “I tell you—” Imbrie began. “In proof of what I say I have arranged that the treaty be placed in your hands for copying tomorrow. And your money difficulties will b> at an end. Look at this —come under the lamp and look!” He counted out 50 hundred-dollar bills and placed them in Imbrie’s hands. Imbrie’s hands, clutching feverishly at them, trembled. “You see, you are dealing with gentlemen who trust you,” the stranger continued. “And if you prove false — which is Impossible—we shall know how to punish you. Also, we shall know if it is the genuine treaty you bring us.” ■ ' Before Imbrie had quite understood the gist of the proposition the little man was gone, leaving him to his soliloquies, his bribe and Dolly’s anxious face. It was in the sleepy part of the day the following afternoon that the high official entered and looked about the room. "Here, Mr. Imbrie,” he said, laying down a closely typewritten paper before him. "Copy this, will you? R T s rather confidential and we must have some more copies. Make a couple of carbons and don’t let anyone see.

Bring them to me when you have finished.” Imbrie stared at the paper. It was the secret treaty with China which the Japanese government would have sold its soul to obtain. Imbrie made an extra carbon eopy and slipped it into his pocket. He took the remainder in to the high, official, and, side by side, they compared the copy with the original. Imbrie went home in a daze. Dolly and he had long talked of what they would do if ever, by some miracle, $5,000 were to come to them. They had envisaged a pretty little farm in Virginia, with roses growing up the walls, a horse and buggy and fields of corn and peach trees. And now all this seemed about to come to pass. As he stepped off the car the little Japanese came up to him. Silently Imbrie slipped the carbon copy into the man’s hand and left him. A month passed. Imbrie had told Dolly that his uncle had died and left him that $5,000 which they had always talked about and never hoped for. Dolly was delighted. The color came back into her cheeks. She was happy. But in Imbrie’s heart was the burning shame of betrayal. It was three months before he sent in his resignation. He wanted to allay suspicion. He expected to be watched. He had omitted to discharge his debt to the money lenders for fear that he would come under suspicion Tt required all his courage to send in notice. Then, toward the end of his last month, he began to realize what his treachery meant. He knew that, under the official silence, somebody was suspected, somebody was watched, somebody was suffering wrongly for his abominable deed. He could not endure his position. And he told Dolly. He confessed to her one evening when she had questioned him about his distress. He told her that there could be no future for them upon the money earned by his betrayal of his native land. He bowed his head when he had ended, for he expected that Dolly would herself denounce him. But when he raised his head after a long silence, it was ta see Dolly standing beside him, her face expressive of pitying wonder. •‘The bitter thing is that you did it for me, Ronald,” she said, and suddenly dropped to her knees. "Ronald, dearest, you know now what you must do. - ” "But, Dolly—” "I know. You are going to say that my happiness is worth more than the nation. But it isn’t, it Isn’t.” “I have made purchases. I have resigned my position. We shall be beggars, even after I have served my term of imprisonment.” “At least, Ronald, we can hold up our heads,” she answered proudly. On the following morning Imbrie went down to the office with a resolution to which he had come, as a result of his talk with his wife. He would confess everything; and the $5,000 he would turn into charity. The world’s weight seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders. Washington had never seemed so beautiful, nor life so free. He looked 10 years younger as he went to his desk, and his fellow clerks, too, noticed the change in him.

It was a long and difficult wait till he was able to see the high official who had given him the treaty to copy. As he kicked his heels in the man’s office, watching dignitaries come and go, a little sense of resentment began to assail him. What right had Mr. Mowbray had to place temptation in his path—in his, a $25 clerk’s? Would not anyone with a sick wife have been tempted too? And tie had worked himself up to such a degree of anger that he had almost decided to turn back when Mr. Mowbray’s secretary came out and ushered him in. The great man was sitting alone at his desk, and his face was quite impassive; but there was a cynical smile upon the lips of the secretary as he sat down beside him. Mowbray, idly turning over the pages of a document 1 , did not look up for an unconscionable time. All the while Imbrie was growing more and more uncomfortable. At last he could no longer endure the suspense. “Mr. Mowbray!" he blurted out. Mowbray looked up. “Yes?” he inquired blandly. Then Imbrie told Mm, without extenuation.

When he had ended speaking Mowbray turned to the secretary. "Will you read me that letter from File 13 ?” he asked. The secretary read it. It was from the head of Imbrie’s department. “With regard to our conversation of yesterday, I can suggest nobody better than Mr. Imbrie of our department. He is a fellow of poor character and in debt, as I have ascertained, to money lenders. I have little doubt that he can be trusted to betray the document to the person in question.” Imbrie stood dumfounded. “It’s all right, Mr. Imbrie,” said Mowbray. “That was a fictitious treaty which we wanted to get into the hands of a certain government.” “Then you have led me on to betray my country ak I supposed,” blurted out Imbrie. “We had to,” answered Mowbray, his thin lip curving in a scoffing smile. “That’s what men of your type are employed for." “What about the $5,000?” “Take it to the devil,” said Mr. Mowbray. Dazed, bewildered, but conscious of his intense humiliation, Imbrie went out into the sunlight.

“Take It to the Devil.”