DEPOSING A RIVAL
RETREAT AND WOULD-BE REST--WINTRY WEATHER IN THE NORTH SEA--THE
SECRET MESSAGE--RIVAL'S REMOVAL COMMANDED FORTHWITH--SEEMINGLY
IMPOSSIBLE PROPOSITION--SEEKING ONE'S COLLEAGUES--SOLVING THE
RIDDLE--PREPARING THE TRAP--THE LONELY SENTRY AND THE MYSTERIOUS
BOATMAN CAPTURE, ARREST, SEARCH AND FIND--THE INCRIMINATING
DOCUMENT--INSTANT DEPORTATION--EXULTATION--NEXT, PLEASE.
After a coup of importance has been successfully accomplished, it is
sometimes advisable for a Secret Service agent to betake himself to a
quiet, secluded place where his identity and his activities are least
likely to be known, or even suspected.
Towards Christmas, in the first year of the war, I found myself in such
a position; my work for some weeks past had been not only exceedingly
strenuous, but, it was gratifying to remember, it had also been
successful. Perhaps luck had unduly favoured me. Anyway, I knew quite
enough of the enemy to be only too well assured that he would stop at
nothing to get, or to attempt to get, even with me if he possibly could.
I also thoroughly understood it was advisable for more reasons than one
that I should take a well-earned rest, a few days breathing-space until
further demands were made upon my individual efforts.
Thus it was I turned my face towards a lonely, secluded little haven
snugly concealed in an inner fjord of the Norwegian coast where I
intended to sleep and dream and sink all traces of my existence on earth
for a few brief days at least.
December, 1914, in northern seas was a month of record storms and
multitudinous wrecks. The daily life of those unfortunates whose duties
took them there, or compelled them to navigate, was unenviable in the
extreme. Ice, which accumulated and increased in its envelopment hourly,
not only made decks doubly dangerous, but, unless removed from rails,
ropes, deckhouses, and other parts of a ship at periodical intervals
might possibly threaten worse disaster than the wrecks and sunken rocks
around.
Fogs, snowstorms, floating mines, mountainous seas, submerged hulks and
treacherous shoals, coupled with the long, long winter nights, were
enemies more to be feared than the cruel Hun. A few weeks of this work
would try any man; it had been more than enough for me, a landsman whose
soul never yearned for the life of a sailor.
The relief at hearing the cranky, ought-to-have-been-long-ago-condemned
old packet, rejoicing in the high-sounding name of some forgotten
heathen god, bump and scrape and groan against the piling of the quay at
my quiet sleepy little Scandinavian seaport, was a joy not to be
expressed in words. To me who had roughed it, under strenuous
conditions, the coarse fare and the still coarser bed-linen on even a
flea-smothered couch seemed Valhalla adorned.
It was rest. It was peace. It was contentment. It naturally followed
that it was supreme happiness for the immediate moment.
No shack, cottage, or villa in these northern parts runs to window
curtains. Darkness comes early in the afternoon. Daylight follows late
in the morning, varying in time in accordance with latitude. Sleep, the
greatest blessing on earth, after such fatigues and endurance would be
long and profound. There was no reason to arise early. To trust to
Nature's call with the sun would probably mean somewhere about 10 a.m.
or later.
It was, of course, necessary for me to convey to headquarters the
information of my whereabouts, which duty performed, the luxuries and
enjoyments at hand were embraced by me with limitless indulgence.
It was late next day when a frowsy-haired fishwife brought my _café au
lait_, also news that I was wanted. I was not surprised. A Secret
Service agent is never allowed to rest. Holidays, quietude, peace, or
enjoyment are words not known in his vocabulary. Anyone envying those in
the Service should first contemplate that its units are looked upon as
mere chattels of little worth, easily to be replaced should accident or
machination cause them to fall by the way or to be removed to a better
land. Such patriots must sink all home-ties, business relationships,
pleasures, pains, and personal thoughts for the one and only object--to
achieve the seemingly impossible.
Outside it was snowing in big, massive flakes, which added many inches
in a few hours to the deep covering already settled on the
solidly-frozen earth. It was biting cold, but I had to face it.
Struggling along as best I could against the unkind elements, I made
three doubles and a walk back to test whether any possible observer took
interest in my movements, such a precaution being always advisable after
advent on fresh ground. Then, slipping up an unfrequented pathway, I
gained the shelter of another fisherman's hut, where an enthusiastic
welcome from numerous chubby-faced bairns awaited me.
It's a good rule in life to remember the little ones. Every
decent-minded parent worships his or her children. If a home possess
none, then affections are often centred on some four-footed animal. Make
a fuss over these and a weakness in the hardest heart is at once
touched. My annual chocolate bill averaged many pounds, whilst it has
returned to me tenfold its value in the pleasure created. Not a penny of
such outlay could be grudged.
A good friend was awaiting my arrival. He had a small package, which had
come to hand shortly before. He was one of those open-hearted,
unsuspecting innocents who led the simple life and believed ill of no
man. I wished him to continue to hold his good opinions, particularly
regarding myself. In murmuring my thanks for the parcel, I hazarded the
supposition that it probably contained some long-sought smokes. On
opening it before his eyes, so to speak, there was disclosed a tin of
pipe tobacco and a bundle of cigars, which were at once sampled.
Sherlock Holmes would probably have noticed that one, and one cigar
only, had had its smoking-end bitten off. Further, that that particular
cigar was not selected by me, owing perhaps--perhaps not--to the
possibility of its having already been tested in a stranger's mouth. Be
that as it may, after an hour's small talk (one must never be at all
impatient in Scandinavia), I took my departure and carried the precious
tobacco away with me.
A careful dissection of the bitten cigar, in the seclusion of my own
quarters, brought to light a scrap of paper. A pocket glass helped me to
decipher the mystic signs, the interpretation whereof read as follows:
"Karl Von S----, a German Artillery officer, married to a native of
Scandinavia, is posing as a convalescent consumptive and has been
some time in a private villa on the Island of ----. He is much too
friendly with the wireless operator there, also the garrison
officers. Advisable that he be removed at once. You must do it. Act
promptly."
Now I was a matter of 300 miles' travel from the _locus in quo_. It was
in the immediate neighbourhood of large army reserves and was also much
frequented by warships and naval men. Three times I reread the message
in order to memorise it, then I burnt it to ashes. "He must be removed
at once. You must do it."
Now it is very easy to sit in an office and give commands, right and
left, for this and for that, or for anything which strikes the fancy.
But it's altogether a different proposition to find oneself in the shoes
of the commanded one. I soon began to feel worried. The thought of the
seeming impossibility of the carrying out of the order was annoying. I
lit cigar after cigar, as I lay on the couch with closed eyes; I smoked,
and thought, and scratched for an indefinite period; until my all too
lively stable companions effectually did for me what I was so vainly
racking my brains to find some way of bringing about with regard to
another.
Two hours' brisk walk in the open air did not solve the problem. So I
despatched a message to a colleague, N. P., who was then on the Russian
frontier, informing him that we must meet immediately, each coming
half-way towards the other.
N. P. knew that I should never trouble him over trifles, and, good
fellow that he was, he answered the call without delay. We met at a
frontier town, within a day or so of the receipt of original
instructions. When I explained the problem and how the more I had
thought it over the further its solution seemed to fade away, N. P.
naturally wanted to know why I had summoned him to meet me.
"That is easy, my dear Nixie," I exclaimed; "you are without doubt the
cleverest man in the Service. You speak many tongues. You are a garrison
artillery staff officer. What better material could anyone wish for to
help unravel a proposition like this? He must be removed at once. You
must do it."
"Not me, my boy. That won't come off. It's your job, and I would not
deprive you of the honour and glory of it for worlds."
"Ah, Nixie, my dear fellow, we may get the jobs, but all the honour and
glory is appropriated by the gentlemen who remain at home. I think we
both appreciate that point; but what I want to debate with you are
possibilities, actualities, and probabilities. If either of us, for
example, were on a small island and we received a warning that a German
had had orders to shift us--what would you fear most?"
"I should fear nothing."
"I don't mean it that way. What I mean is, wherein would you be most
careful, or most on your guard?"
"He would not get a dog's chance with me, anyway," snapped N. P. Then he
added in a petulant tone, "I want some more whiskey and another cigar.
It helps one to think better."
"How about your line of communications?" I queried.
"No living soul would ever get hold of mine," Nixie replied.
"Of course not; but don't you see it's a danger, it's a weak spot that
can be shot at."
"No, I don't," said Nixie, stretching himself at full length on the
sofa until it creaked again and again.
I was lying on a bed, and the room was in darkness. One can think better
in the dark. There is no counter-attraction for the sense of sight to
divert any stray thought from the objective in being. The brain becomes
more active and more concentrative accordingly.
"If you flatter yourself you can touch his lines of communication--after
he has been established some time, as the message says, you are apt to
get your fingers burnt in the trying. Won't do, Jim, my boy. Try and
think of something else."
"Bide a wee. Don't you see where we are drifting to? My idea is that we
don't try to touch him at all, but that _we make a line of communication
in order to be able to break it_. Twiggez vous?"
A short silence ensued, which Nixie broke, in an emphasised drawling
tone: "You diabolical devil! You mean you will send a note to him which
you will take good care is intercepted before he gets it, and in such a
manner that the local authorities will do the rest to complete the _coup
de grâce_."
"That's my suggestion," I exclaimed in a deliberate tone. "Also that's
where you come in. You, being a garrison expert, will weave the strands
and splice the knot of rope that will eventually hang him. Think it out.
Ponder over how it will work."
For a long time we both smoked in silence, and we smoked in the dark,
which somehow seems entirely different from smoking when one can see the
blue clouds drifting. How long the interval lasted neither of us could
tell. It seemed an age. Then Nixie Pixie demanded lights up. He wanted
to get on with the business. He was keenly interested. His instincts
foretold success, and, what was far sweeter to both of us, we imagined
one more dictatorial militarist would shortly be driven back to stew in
the kultured juice of Teutonic concentrated cruelties, in the
Fatherland.
With lights burning and pens and papers before us, we soon filled in
necessary details of the plan of campaign; chuckling the while in
anticipatory satisfaction at the debacle to come.
Before dawn broke on the day following we had drifted apart; as silent
shadows of the night we flitted to and from our respective destinations,
whilst the world slept, and no watchman had observed our coming or our
going. Nixie was away to the westward by train, whilst I followed the
currents of the ever-restless sea.
* * * * *
Night and day I travelled, in desperate haste. I journeyed to the
northern frontier of Germany, to a small, uninviting place on the map,
where I had a colleague working, who for many years had lived in Germany
and who had only crossed the frontier a short time prior to the
declaration of war.
This English gentleman was perfectly acquainted with both High and Low
Prussian. In a matter of this kind, where straws had to be grasped at
and relied upon, it was essential to any hope of success to carry out
every minute detail with the greatest accuracy.
I was anxious to have a certain message which I had drafted en route
translated into accurate and perfect High German. I did not feel
confident to do this myself, hence my present mission.
I hunted up my colleague, who entered enthusiastically upon the work,
and immediately after its completion I journeyed away again to a small
sleepy hamlet not far removed from the nearest point on the mainland
contiguous to the island in question. I covered several hundreds of
miles during the four days these journeys occupied my attention.
To carry out the plan which I had devolved I secured the necessary
materials at places where no suspicion was likely to be aroused. They
were simple in themselves: an etching pen, some fine, thin foreign
correspondence paper, some oil-silk and a small tin phial. The message,
which will be disclosed later, was most carefully written in German
characters under a magnifying glass, which latter I always carry.
It was then rolled up, carefully protected by an outer covering of
oil-silk and inserted into a tin phial.
The next steps in the plot to remove this obnoxious German officer from
the security of his stronghold, which certain high officials were
convinced he was using to contravene the laws of hospitality, trust, and
friendship, were carried out by another.
The reason for this should be obvious. The risk was nothing in itself,
but it was a matter of importance that I should not be implicated,
either directly or indirectly, with such a matter, so that my own
chances for further activity in the cause of my country might not be
endangered. I remember the old adage, "Sauce for the goose is equally
good sauce for the gander."
I therefore arranged matters down to the smallest details, impressing
every point upon my only too willing assistant, and then I quickly took
my departure to a place many, many miles away from the locality in
question, there to await with impatient interest the report I was
promised, which should tell me whether the scheme attempted had
succeeded or proved a disappointing fiasco.
I had not long to wait. Within three days a message was flashed to me. I
visualise events as I believe they happened.
On the never-to-be-forgotten day a certain sentry was pacing a rocky
promontory on a lonely island overlooking lonely waters. In spite of its
uninviting outward appearance this island was a place of the utmost
importance, because it guarded the watergate to many a European capital.
The sentry was impatient. It was growing dark. He was cold and hungry,
and none too pleased at his job; besides, he imagined the relief guard
was late. Perhaps it was.
Whilst in this uneasy frame of mind a small sailing-boat hove into
sight. She was hugging the shore, or rather the rocky cliffs of which
the shore consisted. When within a few hundred yards of the sentry's
position, the mast and sail were taken down and stowed, and the boatman
proceeded to row.
The sentry was interested.
As the boat approached nearer to his position it disappeared into a
small alcove, formed by overhanging cliffs, and he saw it no more.
Perhaps it was a coincidence that this happened just a quarter of an
hour before the sentry should be relieved. But in that fifteen minutes
he had ample time to work himself into a high pitch of excitement.
The gloaming had increased. He was straining his eyes into the coming
night when the sergeant with the relief arrived.
A quick whispered report caused double guards to be mounted, men to be
sent to cover possible lines of retreat, and a messenger to be
despatched for assistance on the water. These precautions were efficient
and effective. The mysterious boatman was captured.
It was not known whether he was too frightened, or too unintelligent, or
too intoxicated to give a satisfactory account of his movements, but in
a parcel concealed under odd bits of rope and sailcloth was a dead
codfish addressed to Herr K. V. S.
Whilst the captured one was meditating under lock and key, the boat and
its contents were minutely examined. Nothing unusual had been found on
the prisoner, nothing else had been found in the boat. The cod-fish was
ordered to be dissected, when, lo and behold! a small metal tube was
extracted from the gullet. Inside this, tightly rolled and wrapped in
oil-silk, was a small piece of thin foreign correspondence paper, which,
on being held up to the light, revealed hieroglyphics in the smallest of
German characters imaginable.
Subsequent investigation and examination elicited that the boatman had
agreed to deliver the parcel personally to Herr K. von S---- at a
certain place, and at a certain hour in the evening, for which he had
received a generous sum of money. The advisability of remaining in the
alcove until dark to prevent the military from holding him up, or prying
into his parcel, had been suggested to him by his employer, who was
quite a stranger to him. He had never seen him until two hours before he
had arranged to bring the parcel along; he had assured him it was all
right. It was only an act of kindness to a sick man. There could be no
harm done by it.
A thin story indeed, but the fishermen of northern seas are a confiding,
unsuspecting, innocent race.
The letter proved to be written in Prussian or High German. It required
a good magnifying glass to decipher it. It was highly technical in its
terms, and was evidently composed by a thoroughly expert _garrison
artillery officer_. It ran somewhat as follows:
1. You say we can now communicate with you through more open
channels but we doubt this and fear taking any avoidable risk.
2. On the plans you sent us you omitted to mark the ranges of the
guns numbered 1, 5, and 7.
3. The exact location of the magazine was not clearly defined.
4. What are the reliefs? Give exact detail.
5. Ascertain exact amounts of ammunition at present stored, with
full capacity for added reserves.
6. Advise estimated sum to cover wireless operators' requirements
for a year.
7........................................
8........................................
9........................................
10. Next time cut a larger portion off the dorsal fin, as your last
message was nearly missed through difficulty in identification.
The boatman, who was a local man and innocent enough, was lectured and
frightened half out of his wits, and finally permitted to go.
Captain Karl von S---- with his wife and family were given twelve short
hours to clear the country, once and for all, with peremptory orders
never to set foot in it again. Probably he is wondering to this day what
earthly reason could have instigated such a decisive and unmistakably
severe command.
The inhabitants on the island cannot yet understand why no live fish of
any description, nor dead fish which had not been split open from head
to tail, were permitted to be imported or exported, whether destined for
private consumption or for other uses.
Many miles away from the island in question a telegraph official a few
days later in a small town carefully scrutinised an innocently worded
message which was handed in at his office shortly after these stirring
events had occurred. It was, however, permitted to pass and in due
course its recipient, my headquarters department, interpreted its hidden
meaning. It ran:
"The shoddy article submitted and marked K. V. S. has been returned
as not up to sample and unworthy of retention. Next please!--JIM."