if you begin by telling me your real name. The name you are known by in – Germany."
A pair of simple, startled eyes gazed back into his.
"Has – Vita – told you?" he demanded.
Ruxton shook his head.
"Then how did you know?"
"Does it matter? I desire to make it easier for you."
For a few moments neither spoke. The artificial light in the room had merged once more into daylight. There was again the sound of the opening and shutting of iron doors on deck above them. There were also the harsh tones of orders being given.
Ruxton knew that it was the return of the launch which had conveyed this man's daughter ashore, and that it was being taken on board and stowed within the parent craft. Presently the sounds died away. Once more the light in the saloon became artificial, and the silent throb of engines made themselves felt. The journey had begun.
"Well?"
Ruxton had now given himself entirely to the use of the German language.
The inventor cleared his throat
"My name is Stanislaus. Stanislaus, Prince von Hertzwohl."
Ruxton Farlow did not move a muscle. There was not the quiver of an eyelid, nor one detail of change of expression. Yet he was not unmoved at the mention of the man's real name. Although he had half expected it, it came with something very like a shock.
Stanislaus von Hertzwohl! Did he not know it? Did not the whole wide world know it? Was it not the one name, out of all the great German names associated with the war, which was anathematized more surely even than that of the Kaiser himself?
Stanislaus von Hertzwohl! The man who had perfected the German submarine. The man who had made possible the hideous slaughter of innocent victims upon the high seas. The man at whose door was laid the responsibility for that inhuman massacre – the sinking of the Lusitania. The man whom the world believed was the father of every diabolical engine of slaughter devised to combat his country's enemies.
"Of course, I know the name," he said simply. "Everybody knows it."
His reply seemed to fire the powder train of the Prince's passionate emotion.
"Ach!" he cried, with a desperately helpless gesture of expressive hands. "That is it. Everybody! Everybody knows it! They know the name, but they do not know the truth."
Then, in a moment, the fire of his emotion seemed to die out.
"Mr. Farlow, I want you to know that truth," he went on calmly. "Will you listen to it now? Will you listen to it with an open mind, or – or have you already sat in judgment, and, with the rest of an unthinking, unreasoning world, condemned me?"
Ruxton's thoughts were pacing rapidly with his feelings. They had travelled swiftly back to that moonlit night upon the Yorkshire cliffs. To him had come the woman again, so fair, so radiant in her perfect womanhood, so passionate in her horror of the tragedy of the world war. These things had been beyond all doubt in their sincerity and truth. She was this man's daughter. She was loyally supporting her father now. Then his mind passed on to the scene in the library at Dorby Towers. It had been his work for years to deal with people whose superficial presentment was only calculated to cloak real purpose. He had read these two people out of his experience.
"Judgment is only for those who possess all the facts," he observed quietly. "Will you continue?"
The decision of his attitude seemed to inspire the white-haired man so patiently awaiting his reply. He crossed his legs, and, drawing up one well-shod foot, nursed its ankle in his clasped hands. He was leaning forward full of an anxious, nervous expression of attitude. It almost seemed as if his guest's judgment were to him a last straw of hope. The noble forehead was a-dew with moisture. His bushy eyebrows were sharply drawn in a great effort of concentration. His eyes, so widely simple, usually so expressive of childhood's innocence, were now full of a suffering that was almost overwhelming.
"If I had been guilty of a fraction of that of which the world accuses me could I have dared, or cared, to approach you with my latest invention, and – the other proposals? Keep that question in your mind while I talk. It is so easy to condemn, and, having condemned, reversal of judgment is well-nigh impossible. If I am guilty it is only of a patriot's devotion to the country to which I believed I owed allegiance. That, and an even greater devotion to the problems of making possible those things which seemed impossible. In not one of the problems of invention have I ever possessed a motive other than that which has inspired every engineer engaged upon naval armaments in every other country. Never in my life have I devised any weapon for the army other than the monster siege mortar. The liquid fire, the gases, the dozen and one contrivances for slaughter have found their inception in other brains than mine. I state these facts simply. You must trust them, or dismiss them, as you will. I am a marine inventor solely, except for that one weapon which was legitimate enough – the siege mortar. You, who understand the nature of marine invention, must assuredly realize that one man's brain, one man's lifetime are all too brief and limited to permit a division of his powers with any hope of success."
He paused as though offering opportunity for comment, but none was forthcoming. So he went on, his body slightly swaying to and fro, his eyes assuming a passionate fire that gave to his whole aspect an atmosphere of vigorous protest.
"I am a Pole," he went on presently. "I am a Pole, born in German Poland. My parents were poor, but we claim direct descent from the ancient royal house. Now let me make my own thoughts and feelings clear to you. I was brought up under German methods, German education. I was taught, as every child within the German Empire is taught, to believe that Germany is above and before all the nations of the world, and that, in the brief life of this earth, nothing else but German national interests matter to its people. Now mark the obvious result of such a training. I make no apology. I, beginning life in my father's little engineering shop, finding myself with an abnormal capacity for invention, seeking to make for myself and family a competence – what do I do? I place whatever ability I may possess at the service of Germany. I devote myself to discovery in the one direction in which official Germany has looked since the war of 1870.
"The next step comes quickly. It came so quickly that it well-nigh overbalanced my whole sense of proportion. The problem that appealed to me was the enormous strength of fortresses being built by our neighbors against our borders. We were doing the same against theirs. It was almost a simple problem. I said that if our fortresses were stronger than theirs, and we possessed a secret weapon which could destroy theirs, then our empire was safe from invasion for all time. So it came about that I took plans of my great siege mortars to the authorities. They were considered, and the guns were ultimately made. On experiment they proved an instantaneous success, and I was at once given rank and wealth, and ordered to work on the development of the gun-power of the Navy. It was this that converted me to marine engineering. From then onwards my career became one series of triumphs – from Germany's point of view. Till now, as you know, I have been rewarded with the revival of an old Polish title, to which by birth I am entitled, and am placed – as perhaps you do not know – in supreme command of Germany's naval construction."
There was no atmosphere of triumph in the man's manner. There was no victorious inspiration in the tones of his voice. With each word which announced the progress of his triumph an almost painful dejection seemed to settle more and more heavily upon him.
Still Ruxton refrained from comment. He knew that the vital things had yet to be told. Nor had he any desire to break up the man's train of thought. There still remained the tragedy of triumph which this man's life concealed.
The man's voice came again in level tones which had lost all light and shade. He spoke like one utterly weary in mind, heart, and body.
"If I had only known," he said, with a dreary shake of his snow-white head. "But," he added with a shrug, "I did not know. I was blinded by success, and a passionate devotion to my work." He drew a deep breath. "But I knew later. Oh, yes. I knew. The greatest triumph and the greatest disaster of my life was when I converted the paltry little coast defence submarines into the ocean-going pirates they afterwards became. But it was not until Germany declared a submarine blockade of these shores