The War Terror Read online

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  THE CRAIG KENNEDY SERIES

  THE WAR TERROR

  BY ARTHUR B. REEVE

  FRONTISPIECE BY WILL FOSTER

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  INTRODUCTION I. THE WAR TERROR II. THE ELECTRO-MAGNETIC GUN III. THE MURDER SYNDICATE IV. THE AIR PIRATE V. THE ULTRA-VIOLET RAY VI. THE TRIPLE MIRROR VII. THE WIRELESS WIRETAPPERS VIII. THE HOUSEBOAT MYSTERY IX. THE RADIO DETECTIVE X. THE CURIO SHOP XI. THE "PILLAR OF DEATH" XII. THE ARROW POISON XIII. THE RADIUM ROBBER XIV. THE SPINTHARISCOPE XV. THE ASPHYXIATING SAFE XVI. THE DEAD LINE XVII. THE PASTE REPLICA XVIII. THE BURGLAR'S MICROPHONE XIX. THE GERM LETTER XX. THE ARTIFICIAL KIDNEY XXI. THE POISON BRACELET XXII. THE DEVIL WORSHIPERS XXIII. THE PSYCHIC CURSE XXIV. THE SERPENT'S TOOTH XXV. THE "HAPPY DUST" XXVI. THE BINET TEST XXVII. THE LIE DETECTOR XXVIII. THE FAMILY SKELETON XXIX. THE LEAD POISONER XXX. THE ELECTROLYTIC MURDER XXXI. THE EUGENIC BRIDE XXXII. THE GERM PLASM XXXIII. THE SEX CONTROL XXXIV. THE BILLIONAIRE BABY XXXV. THE PSYCHANALYSIS XXXVI. THE ENDS OF JUSTICE

  INTRODUCTION

  As I look back now on the sensational events of the past months sincethe great European War began, it seems to me as if there had never beena period in Craig Kennedy's life more replete with thrilling adventuresthan this.

  In fact, scarcely had one mysterious event been straightened out fromthe tangled skein, when another, even more baffling, crowded on itsvery heels.

  As was to have been expected with us in America, not all of theseremarkable experiences grew either directly or indirectly out of thewar, but there were several that did, and they proved to be only thebeginning of a succession of events which kept me busy chronicling forthe Star the exploits of my capable and versatile friend.

  Altogether, this period of the war was, I am sure, quite the mostexciting of the many series of episodes through which Craig has beencalled upon to go. Yet he seemed to meet each situation as it arosewith a fresh mind, which was amazing even to me who have known him solong and so intimately.

  As was naturally to be supposed, also, at such a time, it was not longbefore Craig found himself entangled in the marvelous spy system of thewarring European nations. These systems revealed their devious and darkways, ramifying as they did tentacle-like even across the ocean intheir efforts to gain their ends in neutral America. Not only so, but,as I shall some day endeavor to show later, when the ban of silenceimposed by neutrality is raised after the war, many of the horrors ofthe war were brought home intimately to us.

  I have, after mature consideration, decided that even at presentnothing but good can come from the publication at least of some part ofthe strange series of adventures through which Kennedy and I have justgone, especially those which might, if we had not succeeded, havecaused most important changes in current history. As for the otheradventures, no question can be raised about the propriety of theirpublication.

  At any rate, it came about that early in August, when the war cloud wasjust beginning to loom blackest, Kennedy was unexpectedly called intoone of the strangest, most dangerous situations in which his peculiarand perilous profession had ever involved him.

  CHAPTER I

  THE WAR TERROR

  "I must see Professor Kennedy--where is he?--I must see him, for God'ssake!"

  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 followedthe vision that shot past me as I opened our door in response to asudden, sharp series of pushes at the buzzer, Kennedy bounded swiftlytoward me, and the girl almost flung herself upon him.

  "Why, Miss--er--Miss--my dear young lady--what's the matter?" hestammered, catching her by the arm gently.

  As Kennedy forced our strange visitor into a chair, I observed that shewas all a-tremble. Her teeth fairly chattered. Alternately her nervous,peaceless hands clutched at an imaginary something in the air, as iffor 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 vergeof hysteria.

  She was a striking girl, of medium height and slender form, but it washer face that fascinated me, with its delicately molded features,intense unfathomable eyes of dark brown, and lips that showed heridealistic, high-strung temperament.

  "Please," he soothed, "get yourself together, please--try! What is thematter?"

  She looked about, as if she feared that the very walls had eyes andears. Yet there seemed to be something bursting from her lips that shecould not restrain.

  "My life," she cried wildly, "my life is at stake. Oh--help me, helpme! Unless I commit a murder to-night, I shall be killed myself!"

  The words sounded so doubly strange from a girl of her evidentrefinement that I watched her narrowly, not sure yet but that we had aplain 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 shereplied desperately, "Yes--Baron Kreiger--you know, the German diplomatand financier, who is in America raising money and arousing sympathywith his country."

  "Baron Kreiger!" exclaimed Kennedy in surprise, looking at her morekeenly.

  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 bymany of the more advanced of old world financial and political leaders,one who had made a most favorable impression on democratic America at atime when such impressions were valuable.

  Glancing from one of us to the other, she seemed suddenly, with a greateffort, to recollect herself, for she reached into her chatelaine andpulled out a card from a case.

  It read simply, "Miss Paula Lowe."

  "Yes," she replied, more calmly now to Kennedy's repetition of theBaron's name, "you see, I belong to a secret group." She appeared tohesitate, then suddenly added, "I am an anarchist."

  She watched the effect of her confession and, finding the look onKennedy's face encouraging rather than shocked, went on breathlessly:"We are fighting war with war--this iron-bound organization of men andwomen. We have pledged ourselves to exterminate all kings, emperors andrulers, ministers of war, generals--but first of all the financiers wholend money that makes war possible."

  She paused, her eyes gleaming momentarily with something like themilitant enthusiasm that must have enlisted her in the paradoxical waragainst 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 socialbetterment. "How were you to--reach the Baron?"

  "We had a drawing," she answered with amazing calmness, as if the meretelling relieved her pent-up feelings. "Another woman and I werechosen. We knew the Baron's weakness for a pretty face. We planned tobecome acquainted with him--lure him on."

  Her voice trailed off, as if, the first burst of confidence over, shefelt something that would lock her secret tighter in her breast.

  A moment later she resumed, now talking rapidly, disconnectedly, givingKennedy no chance to interrupt or guide the conversation.

  "You don't know, Professor Kennedy," she began again, "but there aresimilar groups to ours in European countries and the plan is to striketerror and consternation everywhere in the world at once. Why, at ourheadquarters there have been drawn up plans and agreements with othergroups and there are set down the time, place, and
manner of allthe--the removals."

  Momentarily she seemed to be carried away by something like thefanaticism of the fervor which had at first captured her, even stillheld her as she recited her incredible story.

  "Oh, can't you understand?" she went on, as if to justify herself. "Theincrease in armies, the frightful implements of slaughter, the totalfailure of the peace propaganda--they have all defied civilization!

  "And then, too, the old, red-blooded emotions of battle have all beeneliminated by the mechanical conditions of modern warfare in which menand women are just so many units, automata. Don't you see? To fight warwith its own weapons--that has become the only last resort."

  Her eager, flushed face betrayed the enthusiasm which had once carriedher into the "Group," as she called it. I wondered what had brought hernow to us.

  "We are no longer making war against man," she cried. "We are makingwar against picric acid and electric wires!"

  I confess that I could not help thinking that there was no doubt thatto 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 thehead of his troops. Remember Nazim Pasha, too. Such people are easilyreached in time of peace and in time of war, also, by sympathizers ontheir own side. That's it, you see--we have followers of allnationalities."

  She stopped, her burst of enthusiasm spent. A moment later she leanedforward, her clean-cut profile showing her more earnest than before."But, oh, Professor Kennedy," she added, "it is working itself out tobe more terrible than war itself!"

  "Have any of the plans been carried out yet?" asked Craig, I thought alittle superciliously, for there had certainly been no such wholesaleassassination yet as she had hinted at.

  She seemed to catch her breath. "Yes," she murmured, then checkedherself 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 ahand 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 haveyou come to see me?"

  The question, pointblank, seemed to startle her. Evidently she hadthought to tell only as little as necessary, and in her own way. Shegave a little nervous laugh, as if to pass it off. But Kennedy's eyesconquered.

  "Oh, can't you understand yet?" she exclaimed, rising passionately andthrowing out her arms in appeal. "I was carried away with my hatred ofwar. I hate it yet. But now--the sudden realization of what thiscompact all means has--well, caused something in me to--to snap. Idon't care what oath I have taken. Oh, Professor Kennedy, you--you mustsave him!"

  I looked up at her quickly. What did she mean? At first she had come tobe 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 hadeven 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 tohis room. He paused for an instant, hurriedly. "Tell me--have you andthis other woman met the Baron yet? How far has it gone?"

  The look she gave him was peculiar. I could not fathom what was goingon 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 fromWashington to-day--this afternoon--to arrange a private loan of fivemillion dollars with some bankers secretly. We were to see himto-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 peculiarcatch in her voice. "To-night was the time fixed in the drawing forthe--"

  The word stuck in her throat. Kennedy understood. "Yes, yes," heencouraged, "but who is the other woman?"

  Before she could reply, the buzzer had sounded again and she hadretreated from the door. Quickly Kennedy closed it and opened theoutside door.

  It was our old friend Burke of the Secret Service.

  Without a word of greeting, a hasty glance seemed to assure him thatKennedy and I were alone. He closed the door himself, and, instead ofsitting down, came close to Craig.

  "Kennedy," he blurted out in a tone of suppressed excitement, "can Itrust 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 soexcited, I wasn't thinking--"

  "Once is enough, Burke," laughed Kennedy, his good nature restored atBurke's crestfallen appearance.

  "Well, you see," went on the Secret Service man, "this thing is so veryimportant that--well, I forgot."

  He sat down and hitched his chair close to us, as he went on in alowered, almost awestruck tone.

  "Kennedy," he whispered, "I'm on the trail, I think, of somethinggrowing out of these terrible conditions in Europe that will tax thebest in the Secret Service. Think of it, man. There's an organization,right here in this city, a sort of assassin's club, as it were, aimedat all the powerful men the world over. Why, the most refined andintellectual reformers have joined with the most red-handed anarchistsand--"

  "Sh! not so loud," cautioned Craig. "I think I have one of them in thenext room. Have they done anything yet to the Baron?"

  It was Burke's turn now to look from one to the other of us inunfeigned surprise that we should already know something of his secret.

  "The Baron?" he repeated, lowering his voice. "What Baron?"

  It was evident that Burke knew nothing, at least of this new plot whichMiss Lowe had indicated. Kennedy beckoned him over to the windowfurthest from the door to his own room.

  "What have you discovered?" he asked, forestalling Burke in thequestioning. "What has happened?"

  "You haven't heard, then?" replied Burke.

  Kennedy nodded negatively.

  "Fortescue, the American inventor of fortescite, the new explosive,died very strangely this morning."

  "Yes," encouraged Kennedy, as Burke came to a full stop to observe theeffect of the information.

  "Most incomprehensible, too," he pursued. "No cause, apparently. But itmight have been overlooked, perhaps, except for one thing. It wasn'tknown generally, but Fortescue had just perfected a successfulelectro-magnetic gun--powderless, smokeless, flashless, noiseless andof tremendous power. To-morrow he was to have signed the contract tosell it to England. This morning he is found dead and the final plansof the gun are gone!"

  Kennedy and Burke were standing mutely looking at each other.

  "Who is in the next room?" whispered Burke hoarsely, recollectingKennedy's caution of silence.

  Kennedy did not reply immediately. He was evidently much excited byBurke's news of the wonderful electro-magnetic gun.

  "Burke," he exclaimed suddenly, "let's join forces. I think we are bothon the trail of a world-wide conspiracy--a sort of murder syndicate towipe out war!"

  Burke's only reply was a low whistle that involuntarily escaped him ashe reached over and grasped Craig's hand, which to him represented thesealing of the compact.

  As for me, I could not restrain a mental shudder at the power thattheir first murder had evidently placed in the hands of the anarchists,if they indeed had the electro-magnetic gun which inventors had beenseeking for generations. What might they not do with it--perhaps evenuse it themselves and turn the latest invention against society itself!

  Hastily Craig gave a whispered account of our strange visit from MissLowe, while Burke listened, open-mouthed.

  He had scarcely finished when he reached for the telephone and askedfor long distance.

  "Is this the German embassy in Washington?" asked Craig a few momentslater when he got his number. "This is Craig Kennedy, in New York. TheUnited States Secret Service will vouch for me--mention to
them Mr.Burke of their New York office who is here with me now. I understandthat Baron Kreiger is leaving for New York to meet some bankers thisafternoon. He must not do so. He is in the gravest danger if he--What?He left last night at midnight and is already here?"

  Kennedy turned to us blankly.

  The door to his room opened suddenly.

  There stood Miss Lowe, gazing wild-eyed at us. Evidently hersupernervous condition had heightened the keenness of her senses. Shehad heard what we were saying. I tried to read her face. It was notfear that I saw there. It was rage; it was jealousy.

  "The traitress--it is Marie!" she shrieked.

  For a moment, obtusely, I did not understand.

  "She has made a secret appointment with him," she cried.

  At last I saw the truth. Paula Lowe had fallen in love with the man shehad sworn to kill!