Without waiting to learn how the rulers of Europe received the confidential reports made to their governments by the delegates, Brent took passage for New York on the first steamer leaving after the adjournment of the conference. Every man who shared the great secret feared that a dangerous crisis, requiring sharp, decisive action, might arise at any moment. The deep discretion of diplomacy successfully conceals many momentous truths, but here was a fact less easy to control than the contents of Pandora’s box, once the cover had been raised. It was to be made known, under pledge of secrecy, to be sure, in six capitals of Europe. Was it reasonable to expect that a piece of knowledge of stupendous interest to the whole world would remain long in the keeping of several scores of men without a hint of it transpiring?

It had been the judgment of the conference that simultaneous announcement should be made in all countries of the result of the deliberations within two weeks of the adjournment. Brent desired to reach New York in time to arrange for the loading upon a{328} man-of-war such portion of his treasure as was to be sacrificed before the public disclosure of his plans should make their execution a matter of supreme popular curiosity and interest. If the verdict of the conference should fail to win the approval of the great powers, the only safety would lie in coupling the news of the existence of the gold with the announcement that it had already been sent to its fathomless grave. He took the precaution before sailing to cable Wharton to begin at once the transfer of three thousand tons of the treasure from the vault to a suitable dock, whence it could be shipped at a few hours’ notice to a vessel moored alongside.

Brent arrived in New York eight days after the dissolution of the Paris conference. He found dispatches assuring him that his secret was still safe and that all the powers concerned except Great Britain had already given unreserved indorsement to the recommendations of the international board. Not only that: the cable told him that personal acknowledgments of his generosity and humanity from all the sovereigns of Europe would soon be in his hands. England’s assent was hourly expected, and then the judgment of the world would be unanimous. A letter from the president contained warmest congratulations, and a request that Brent would visit Washington as soon as possible after landing.{329}

Wharton greeted him with a return of that almost boyish enthusiasm which Brent feared had been permanently banished from his friend’s nature by the anxieties of the last few months. His task during the time that the great problem was under discussion in Paris had been an arduous one, but with the help of the government, serious evils had been successfully combated. More than half the contents of the vault—more dangerous than dynamite—was safely stored and guarded in a North River dock, and the new battleship Massachusetts lay with steam up in the stream ready to respond to any call.

Wharton advised Brent to go at once to Washington, and early the next morning both men called at the White House. They were warmly welcomed by the president. Brent described at some length the work at Paris, and the final arguments which produced substantial unanimity among the delegates. The president’s congratulations were heartily sincere, and he expressed himself in unreserved accord with the verdict which had been reached. While they were talking, a message arrived from the State Department announcing Great Britain’s approval of the findings of the conference. The dispatch added that in compliment to the United States government, the flagship of the British North Atlantic Squadron had been ordered to New York to act as escort to the American{330} man-of-war which should carry the condemned portion of the treasure to its ocean grave.

Wharton expressed an ill-natured suspicion that the real motive behind this compliment was a desire to make sure that the mid-ocean burial actually took place. The president smiled at the suggestion, but he said nothing. The British government evidently notified this action to the other powers, for later in the day similar messages from Paris, Berlin, and Rome announced that men-of-war of the respective countries had been ordered to New York on the same errand.

The president discussed with his visitors the time and manner of making the momentous announcement to the public. The Paris plan to publish the news simultaneously in all countries two weeks after the conference adjournment, or five days from the present date, could now be carried out without difficulty. Brent desired to send the Massachusetts to sea with her condemned cargo before the news was made public, but the courtesy of European governments in sending ships to take part in the ceremony made this impossible. It would be at least a week, in all probability, before the fleet could be assembled. There was no way, therefore, of avoiding the big popular demonstration that would surely be made over the affair.{331}

“It is just as well,” said the president, smiling a little at Brent’s evident shrinking from the ordeal of public clamor. “It will furnish a harmless vent for the excitement that the news will arouse, and it will enable you to get over once for all the lionizing that the public will insist on giving you.”

“I suppose so,” replied Brent, sighing so ruefully that both the president and Wharton burst out laughing.

It was determined, if possible, to bring to Washington within the next four days the 2,500 tons of gold remaining in the New York vault, and to store it in the United States Treasury, according to the conference plan. The condemned gold was to be loaded at once on the Massachusetts, and the battleship was to be ready to proceed to sea the moment her foreign convoys arrived. Then the news should be given to the country in the form of a proclamation from the president, to be distributed to the press by telegraph late the night before the day agreed upon for publication.

Brent and Wharton returned the same day to New York. It required sharp work to arrange for the transportation of the remaining contents of the big vault to the custody of the Treasury at Washington in the short time available. There was risk of discovery, too, in the large number of men employed{332} at the task at both ends of the line, and some of the safeguards against detection and loss which had been used in all previous movements of portions of the treasure were now disregarded. Extraordinary precautions were hardly necessary now that the hour of disclosure was close at hand. The secret did not escape, in spite of the almost careless publicity of the hurried transfer by means of scores of wagons and several special trains.

The clerks of the Treasury received the strange boxes, and made room for them with difficulty in the already crowded vaults. Their instructions were to store them unopened for the present in the strongrooms reserved for gold bullion, giving merely receipts for so many wooden boxes, “contents unknown.”

Late in the afternoon of Friday, February 14, the managers of the Washington bureaus of the great news agencies received an intimation from the White House that an important piece of information would be given out by the president’s private secretary at eleven o’clock that evening. The correspondents who called at the Executive Mansion at the hour named received from the secretary a document which caused them some surprise when they first glanced at it. The secretary remarked in handing them each a copy that there was not a word additional to be said{333} that night in regard to the matter contained in the paper either by the president or any member of the administration. The newspaper men read a paragraph or two, and then suddenly even the serene stoicism of well-seasoned Washington correspondents was disturbed. They scanned the succeeding pages of type-written manuscript hastily, and one or two of the men slipped out without waiting to say good-night. Others stopped to ask a vain question or two before joining in the race for the wires.

An hour later the excitement had spread to the editorial rooms of every morning newspaper in the country. It was too late at night to do more than print without comment the stupendous news contained in the president’s proclamation. None of the devices for giving emphasis to intelligence of the highest moment were omitted. Black type and wide-spaced lines made the first pages of the morning papers bristle with importance as on the day after a presidential election. Soon the news was in everybody’s mouth—not in America only, but throughout civilization. It was a story which, although told in official language, appealed to every one who knows the passion of envy. Few outside the small circles of finance tried to estimate the effect of the strange news upon their own affairs, few imagined it would have any such influence. It was simply to the masses{334} the most marvelous tale of the age, and another proof that fact is stranger than fiction.

But American curiosity promptly demanded something more. Who was this strange billionaire who quietly sacrificed his wealth upon the recommendation of a board of advisers? His fellow-countrymen clamored for his personality, and the whole machinery of journalism was brought into action to comply with the demand. The president’s proclamation gave no clue to the present whereabouts of “Mr. Robert Brent of New York,” nor to the location of the private vault in which the treasure had been stored. No other name had been mentioned in the proclamation, but it did not take long for the New York editors to identify Strong & Co. as the agents of the new king of finance, and to see in the news the explanation of many of the mysteries of the previous year.

The Wall Street representatives of all the papers were very early at the Nassau Street banking house on the morning of the publication of the president’s proclamation. Most of them were personal friends of John Wharton by this time, as are all the magnates of “The Street” with this trusty corps of newspaper men. Wharton came in about nine o’clock, accompanied by a man about his own age whom some of the writers remembered having seen at the office before. The reporters smilingly barred{335} their passage to the inner office. Wharton threw up his hands in mock despair. The other man smiled slightly.

“You can’t go in unless you take us with you and tell us the whole story,” remarked a genial young man, who smilingly headed the intimidating squad.

“What—” Wharton began, then changed his mind. “No, I’ll not bluff you, gentlemen. It’s of no use. But I can’t talk now, really. Come back at three o’clock, and I’ll give you all I can.”

“That won’t do. Where’s Robert Brent?” insisted the head of the journalistic corps.

“He’ll be here at three o’ clock,” replied Wharton conciliatingly, and edging toward the door by a flank movement.

“And will you promise us a talk with him?”

“Yes.”

“All right, Mr. Wharton, you may go in,” and the group stepped on either side and bowed with mock humility to the young banker and his companion.

They were busy enough, and scores of their fellows also, in the intervening six hours, in watching the effect of the great news upon trade and finance, and in collecting the opinions of men whose advice in such a crisis might prove valuable. The first effect everywhere in great markets was paralysis. The{336} tidings were so unexpected, so stupendous, that even the masters of finance were dumfounded. There was no precedent to guide them. They did not even know at first whether the news was good or bad. Self-protection was the only instinct aroused in most cases, but in what direction was this to be sought? Many put themselves on the qui vive to watch the tendency of the current, ready to act accordingly.

Brent and Wharton, in co?peration with some of the members of the Paris conference, had made such preparations as were possible to prevent any extreme fluctuations of values either way during the first hours following the disclosure of the secret. The London, Berlin, and Paris markets opening some hours before those of New York, set an example of steadiness. So great was the popular timidity and hesitation that for some hours the markets were almost stagnant. It was London, the controlling head of the financial world, that preserved the general equilibrium. It was apparent, before the close of the day’s business there, that the new element suddenly added to the monetary situation was not regarded as a serious menace to financial stability. Most of the precautionary measures which had been provided in the principal centers proved to be unnecessary. There was nothing extraordinary in the course of the markets during the day in Europe or America.{337}

Anxious hours for the two men in Strong & Co.’s New York office were followed by genuine relief and satisfaction, when three o’clock came without panic or serious disturbance in that most excitable of all thoroughfares—Wall Street. The promised interview with the newspaper men became a congratulatory reception. Brent felt an uncomfortable resemblance between himself and a museum freak when the group of writers was presented to him, but he speedily found himself chatting affably and familiarly with gentlemen who regarded and treated him in no other way than as a man of the world like themselves. They were genuinely interested in the brief personal narrative which they encouraged him to tell. He quite forgot that his companions were journalists. The conversation was general and it didn’t become serious for some time.

There are no better judges of human nature, no men whose knowledge of affairs is more varied, practical, and symmetrical, than the leading news-gatherers of the New York press. The ordeal which Brent had dreaded became a pleasure. His interviewers talked more than he did, and talked in such an entertaining way that his mood soon changed. Their jokes and cynicisms, their bon mots and good-natured raillery, which held nothing sacred—not even his billions, furnished a relief which he enjoyed with{338} keenest relish after the unremitting anxieties of many days. He did not realize until afterwards that every man in that gay, careless group knew instinctively at the first moment his aversion to the meeting, and sought first of all to overcome that aversion and establish a footing of good fellowship.

The natural result followed. Brent finally discussed with far greater freedom than he had intended the details of his own life and the history of his treasure. Two hours passed in conversation so absorbing that nobody noticed the flight of time. At last Brent glanced at his watch, and exclaimed:

“I declare, gentlemen, it is nearly six o’clock. You have made the time pass so pleasantly that I had no idea it was so late. Well, we must make the interview very short. Get out y............