There was something tomb-like about the atmosphere of the room, I thought, as I faced these men and then I changed my opinion, for I saw lying open on the table around which they were seated a box of cigarettes. I reached forward to take one, forgetting all politeness (for I had not smoked for six weeks), when my eye caught sight of a little pink slip of paper which one of them held in his hand a slip which, I knew at once, was the cause of my presence there.
It read:
"WASHINGTON, D.C.
"September 1, 1914.
"The Riggs National Bank,
"Pay to the order of Mr. Bridgeman Taylor two hundred dollars.
"F. VONPAPEN."
One of the company turned over the cheque so that I could see the endorsement.
They were all watching me. The room was very still. I could hear myself breathe. They handed me a pen and paper.
"Sign this name, please Mr. Bridgeman Taylor."
I knew it would be folly to attempt to disguise my handwriting. I wrote out my name. It corresponded exactly with the endorsement on the back of the cheque.
"Do you know that cheque?" I was asked.
"Yes," I admitted, racking my wits for a possible explanation of the affair.
"Why was it issued?"
I had an inspiration.
"Von Papen gave it to me to go to Europe and join the army but you see I didn't--"
"Ah! Von Papen gave it to you.
I was doing quick thinking. My first fright was over, but I realised that that little cheque might easily be my death-warrant. I knew that von Papen had many reports and instructions bearing my name. I was afraid to admit to myself that after all these months of security I had at last been discovered. Von Papen's cheque proved that I had received money from a representative of the German Government. There might be other papers which would prove everything needed to sentence me to execution. I was groping around for an idea and then in a flash I realised the truth. It angered and embittered me.
There passed across my memory the year and more of solitary confinement, during which I had held my tongue.
I swung around on the Englishmen.
"Are you the executioners of the German Government?" I asked. "Are you so fond of von Papen that you want to do him a favour? If you shoot me you will be obliging him."
"We are going to prosecute you on this evidence," was the only answer.
"You English pride yourselves," I said, "on not being taken in. Von Papen is a very clever man. Are you going to let him use you for his own purposes? Do you think he was foolish enough not to realise that those papers would be seized? Do you think" this part of it was a random shot, and lucky "do you think it is an accident that the only papers he carried referring to a live, unsentenced man in England refer to me? Just think! Von Papen has been recalled. The United States can investigate his actions now without embarrassment. And he, knowing me to be one of the connecting links in the chain of his activities, and knowing that I am a prisoner liable to extradition, would ask nothing better than to be permanently rid of me. And in the papers he carried he very obligingly furnished you with incriminating evidence against me. You can choose for yourselves. Do him this favour if you want to. But I think I'm worth more to you alive than dead. Especially now that I see how very willing my own Government is to have me dead."
My hearers exchanged glances. I had made the appeal as a forlorn hope. Would they accept it and the promise it implied? I could not tell from their next words.