Consequences manifold and various ensued.
When the telegram had been delivered and decoded—both transactions being marked by reasonable promptitude—the head of the British Secret Service in New York called the British Embassy in Washington on the long distance telephone.
Shortly thereafter an attaché of the British Embassy jumped into a motor-car and had himself driven to one of the cardinal departments of the Federal Government.
When he had kicked his heels in an antechamber upward of an hour, he was received, affably enough, by the head of the department, a smug, open-faced gentleman whose mood was largely preoccupied with illusions of grandeur, who was, in short, interested far more in considering how splendid it was to be himself than in hearing about any mare's-nest of a German U-boat base on the south shore of Martha's Vineyard.
He was, however, indulgent enough to promise to give the matter his distinguished consideration in due course.
He even went so far as to have his secretary make a note of what alleged information this young Englishman had to impart.
During the night he chanced to wake up and recall the matter, and concluded that, all things considered, it would do no harm to give the United States Navy a little amusement and exercise, even if it should turn out that the rumour of this submarine base was a canard.
So, the next morning, he went to his desk some time before noon, and issued a lot of orders. One of them had to do with the necessity for absolute secrecy.
