“I can see,” laughed Menzone.
“Yes,” resumed Rochelle. “What, for instance, would happen in Colombia and Ecuador if the people of Bogota and Quito learned that Peru, in settling the Acre question with Brazil, should express a desire to extend northern and western boundaries into Colombia and Ecuador?”
“There would be excitement in Colombia and Ecuador,” decided Menzone.
“Excitement?” Rochelle laughed. “There would be riot! Jingoists in Bogota and Quito would dominate popular thought. Those factions, Menzone, are waiting for my word. Only one step prevents the completion of my plan.
“A few nights ago” — Rochelle eyed Menzone narrowly — “the attache of a certain foreign legation was attacked while on the speedway — across the Potomac River. I am speaking of Lito Carraza. You have heard the name?”
“I read about him in the newspapers, senor. In fact, I had passed the very spot not long before.”
“You know the man I mean. That is sufficient. My plans, Menzone, have passed the mere state of creating havoc in Colombia and Ecuador. They are also ready to cause retaliatory measures in Peru, Brazil, and Venezuela. To reach perfection, they must justify Bolivia’s entrance into the grand alliance.
“The correspondence which Lito Carraza carried would have created the result that I desired. The papers are now safely guarded — in the vault of Carraza’s legation. To obtain them, I need a man who can gain access to that embassy: one whose craft is equal to the task of entering the vault unseen.”
“Difficult,” suggested Menzone. “You would need a man, senor, who could discover the combination of the vault.”
“No. I possess the combination. My espionage has been far-reaching. But I am afraid to intrust the task to mere safe-crackers. Failure would disturb my final plans. Suppose” — Rochelle was tapping the file on his desk — “that this information should be forgotten. Would that promise spur you to do the work I want?”
Menzone smiled broadly. This was an offer that evidently pleased him.
“I am at your service, senor,” he declared. “But you have forgotten one thing. What good will it be for me to interest American capital in railways for the southern continent? If war is to break loose—”
“You are wise,” interposed Rochelle. “But you need have no worry of the future. First, by working swiftly, you can start your scheme. War will end it; you will not be blamed when millions of dollars are lost.
“Then afterward — if you continue to serve me well — your opportunity will come. You will have a place in my empire, Menzone! Beginning with tonight” — Rochelle’s tone brooked no opposition — “you are in my service. If you succeed in gaining the correspondence that I require, there will be further work for you.
“Your activities will be covered by your railway promotion, just as mine are covered by the International Peace Alliance. If you succeed, Menzone, you will become my chief aid. Then you will learn the secrets of my system. Do you accept?”
“Si, senor,” responded Menzone, with a knowing smile.
“That is well,” laughed Rochelle. He tapped the file in significant fashion. “If you had refused, the publication of the truth about you would be my answer. Remember, Menzone” — Rochelle was adopting the tone that he had used with Herkimer — “that you have no alternative. I hold you thus.”
Leering, the limping fiend extended his left hand and clenched it like a fist.
AGAIN, Menzone bowed. His smile, however, showed that the arrangement was satisfactory to him. Rochelle gleamed with evil satisfaction.
“You are in my service.” Rochelle reached into a desk drawer and produced a small pamphlet. “Therefore, you may receive communications from me. You may also be forced to talk with me, by telephone — or with others in my service.
“For this purpose, we use the rudiments of the new international language — Agro. You can learn it from this little book. It is simple and easily understood. Keep the pamphlet until you have learned its contents. Be sure that it reaches no hands other than your own.
“Between now and the night when I shall require your aid, you can master this simple language. When I give the word for action, you will obey.”
“With pleasure, senor,” declared Menzone, with another bow.
“Come.” Rochelle arose. “Our meeting is ended. Remember its details, Menzone. You can come here, when necessary. Our pretended activities in the cause of peace will be sufficient coverage.”
Limping to the anteroom, Darvin Rochelle conducted his visitor to the marble staircase. Leaning on his cane, Rochelle watched Menzone’s departure. As an attendant opened the front door, Menzone turned toward the stairway. At the top, he saw Rochelle, his left hand raised in token of farewell.
As Menzone gazed, Rochelle’s clinging fingers formed a fist. It was a reminder of Rochelle’s power. Menzone’s answer was a glittering smile: the recognition of one schemer for another.
The outer door closed. Darvin Rochelle strode haltingly back into his office, to find Thurk, the dwarf awaiting.
“Sovo,” declared Rochelle. “Exat vodo zo sovo sovo. Co kay zee toko, Thurk. Kay zay sovo sovo.”
A pause; then with a wise gleam in his eye, Rochelle added, warningly:
“Alk alk zee thone, Thurk. Bole zee fela — foro.”
The dwarf grinned and nodded. Darvin Rochelle, still thinking of Alvarez Menzone, clenched his left fist. Thurk copied the gesture.
Rochelle chuckled. His agents had never attempted to betray him, for he held them in his power. Alvarez Menzone would be like the rest. But should a final emergency arise, there was one upon whom Rochelle could rely without fail. That one was Thurk.
The evil-faced dwarf was completely the creature of the insidious fiend whom he served.
CHAPTER XIII
THE THEFT
THE lights of a large embassy were aglow. A diplomatic function of consequence was taking place upon this evening. Situated near a broad avenue, the building formed a spot of interest to people who were driving past in the direction of the northwest.
This embassy housed the legation of which Lito Carraza was a member. The gay function now in progress was a prelude to the opening of the Pan-American Convention, which was scheduled to begin upon the morrow.
The ambassador, a dignified, bearded South American, was attired in military uniform. Formerly a general in the army of his native land, he adopted this attire at important receptions. Kindly-faced, this elderly ambassador lacked the warlike pose that might have been expected by those who viewed his medalled chest.
As proof that his thoughts turned to peace rather than war, the ambassador was listening with nods of approval to the talk of Darvin Rochelle. The head of the International Peace Alliance, surrounded by a lionizing throng, was beaming with good will as he discussed his favorite subject — that of friendship between nations.
“South America!” Rochelle was enthusiastic, as he leaned upon his cane. “One great country, gentlemen. A continent divided into separate nations, it is true, but all have the same purpose. All but one speak the same language; and that one has a kindred tongue. All are republics. It is the new world that shows the example to the old!”
Murmurs of approval greeted this statement. Most of the listeners were Spanish-Americans; diplomats, they understood the English phrases which Rochelle uttered. The spirit of good will seemed to prevail, with Darvin Rochelle as its sponsor.
Alvarez Menzone was present. A guest at the embassy function, the shrewd-faced adventurer was avoiding the limelight. Although away from the group of which Rochelle was the center, Menzone could catch the words that the other said. Also, Menzone was close enough to overhear the talk between two other men — Americans — who had drawn away from the group about Rochelle.