WORLD'S END

So Lanny and his employer knew that they had found a real Bolshevik; one who could tell President Wilson exactly what was in the hearts of men and women who were risking their lives trying to make revolutions throughout Europe!

X

Jesse Blackless appeared to be showing the effects of mental strain. The lines around his eyes were more plentiful and those at the sides of his mouth more deeply graven. He was balder than ever, but the bare scalp wasn't so bronzed - he had, presumably, been living in cities and wearing a hat. He was even more gaunt and his voice seemed hoarse, as if he had been talking a lot. Doubtless he had much to say to proletarians, as he called them; but with bourgeois persons like Lanny and his chief he didn't care to be bothered - or so his manner seemed to say. He didn't argue, he told you, and there came that disagreeable twist of the mouth. Lanny had always disliked this strange man, and did now; but he had to admit that he had convictions and stood by them.

Just now the painter was convinced that the Bolsheviks had Central Europe in their grasp. He announced it defiantly; but Alston, who had inside knowledge, stopped him with the remark: "That is all right for a stump speech or a manifesto; but are you sure it's the attitude of Lenin? Mightn't it be that he'd like a little time to collect his forces?"

The painter eyed his visitor sharply, and decided to take a different tone. "Just what is it you propose, Professor?"

"First, that you should understand me. I know you are suspicious, and doubtless you have reason in many cases. But you waste time if you suspect me. I am a scholar who doesn't like bloodshed and has come over here to help make peace. In this visit to you I have no authority from anybody. I came on my own impulse, when Lanny told me about his uncle. Knowing the situation at the Crillon, I thought some of my superiors might like to confer with you."

"A fine time I'd have explaining to my friends if I took up with the Crillon!"

"Don't your friends trust you, Mr. Blackless?"

"A certain distance; but not that far!"

"There's no reason why you shouldn't tell them in advance that you are going, and why. There is nothing secret about my visit. You will see that I ask you no questions - who your associates are, or anything of that sort. I take it for granted that you may know where to find some persons who are in touch with the Bolsheviks and could discuss with us the basis for a conference."

"Suppose I should go to the Crillon and not come out again?"

The professor smiled. "Be reasonable, Mr. Blackless. Undoubtedly the French military authorities know your address, and can come here just as well as I can. That goes for the Americans also. I can't give you any guarantees - except that anything that happens to you won't be of my doing. On the other hand, if the Crillon should invite you to come and talk to them, it would certainly be a bona-fide invitation to a conference and would confer immunity upon you for the time being."

Said Jesse Blackless: "I think the man you need to talk with is Sazonov." This was the former Foreign Minister of the Tsar, now in Paris, and the remark was, of course, a sneer.

"We don't have to go to any of the Whites," replied Alston, patiently. "They come to us in droves. They tell us they will have nothing to do with assassins and bloody-handed murderers, and so on. They demand that we give them unlimited arms and money so that they can crush the Reds. That happens to be the idea of the military men, including some of the Americans, I am sorry to say. But fortunately it is the civil authorities who have the decision. Trust me, Mr. Blackless, and help me to get your point of view before the Council of Ten, right now while the subject is up for settlement."

"You mean, it's your idea that the Bolsheviks shall come to Paris and sit down with the Whites?"

"Not in Paris - Clemenceau would never allow that. It would be somewhere close to Russia, and far from here."

"You think the Whites would come?"

"I'll put it crudely, Mr. Blackless, as you seem to prefer. The Allies are the paymasters."

Uncle Jesse smiled one of his crooked smiles. "And you imagine that we would give up to the Whites - is that it?"

"At a conference, Mr. Blackless, both sides have to give up something, unless the conference is to fail. But first there has to be a conference - that is the most difficult point."

The painter considered for a while longer. Finally he said: "All right, Professor. I'll talk to some other persons, and let you hear from me in a few hours."

28

The Red Peril

I