Fordyce's Two Visitors
A seemingly very slight incident will freqently alter the course of a
man's career, and throw his time-table completely out of gear.
It was thus in the case of Ernz von Verbrennungsraum, otherwise the
trusted and respected Town Councillor Mindiggle of Otherport.
When he vainly attempted to trade upon Noel Fordyce's affection for
his dog, Mindiggle had no intention of proceeding to Russia. It was
only after his conversation with his fellow-conspirator, Boris
Platoff, that he decided to go to Petrograd and hand over in person a
small but immensely-powerful stock of nitro-talcite to the Extremist
leader, Vladimir Klostivitch.
The haunting fear that perhaps he had made a grievous error in his
dealings with Sub-lieutenant Fordyce, whose resolution and
intelligence he had completely underrated, prompted him to make the
journey without undue delay.
It was in his case an easy matter to leave the country. Through
influence he was made a member of the Red Cross organization for the
relief of wounded Russians, and, armed with credentials, he departed
via the North Sea and Scandinavian railways to the Finnish town of
Tornea, whence, by devious and uncertain travelling, he had made his
way to Petrograd, arriving just twelve hours before Fordyce made his
audacious yet ill-advised call at the house in the Bobbinsky
Prospekt.
Mindiggle's suspicions were well founded, and, before the Sub had
paid his visit, Vladimir Klostivitch had been warned of the
possibility of being questioned by British naval officers.
Klostivitch immediately began to make enquiries. He soon learned that
two Englishmen from a submarine lying at Cronstadt had recently
landed from a Government steamer; that they had proceeded to the
British Embassy, and thence to a house in which lived a compatriot.
The German agent wanted to be present at the anticipated interview,
but this Klostivitch would not permit, avowing that he was quite
capable of trapping the interfering Englishmen without assistance,
and when this was done Mindiggle would be at liberty to converse with
the captives.
"Hallo, Fordyce!" exclaimed the Hun from his place of safety. "I
suppose you did not expect to find me here? How's that ferocious dog
of yours? 'Costs against the plaintiff,' eh? Well, it will be a jolly
dear bite for you before I've done with you."
"You think so?" enquired Fordyce coolly.
"I don't think--I know it!" replied Mindiggle. "Might I enquire why
you've come here and tried to foist a spurious packet of diamonds
upon my friend Klostivitch?"
"For motives best known to myself--and others," said the Sub stiffly.
"What motives?" enquired the spy, unable to restrain his curiosity.
"I decline to tell you; nor do I wish to hold further conversation
with you," said Fordyce with asperity.
Mindiggle laughed loudly.
"You'll change your tune, my boy," he exclaimed. "Long before I'm
done with you you'll be ready to answer my questions. You are a
prisoner--a state prisoner--on a charge of conspiracy against the
Russian Government. There is no prospect of rescue. With other
pressure heavy upon them the Russian officials dare not listen to the
protests of the British Embassy, even if it were known to your
friends that you are here. Let me tell you that German rule will be
all-powerful here. The followers of Kerensky, of Lenin, of Trotsky,
of Korniloff--all will be completely subordinated to their rightful
masters--the military force of the German Empire. Already
negotiations are in progress for peace between Germany and Russia
--and the terms will be those of a victorious Germany, let me tell
you. What do you think of that?"
Fordyce made no reply. He knew that his tormentor told hard facts,
but he saw no reason why he should agree with him. He was on the
point of returning to the cellar when Mindiggle continued.
"You may just as well know what is in store for you," resumed the
spy. "You and your companion will be kept here until such time as is
convenient for you to be taken into German territory. Really, I don't
know why I shouldn't give orders for you to be executed, unless I
consider that alive you will be more useful to the German Government.
You will be fed during your imprisonment here, so you need have no
fears of death by starvation; but, remember, any attempt at escape on
your part will be visited by the severest punishment."
Unostentatiously the Sub measured the distance between the floor of
the passage and the opening through which the spy was speaking. There
were six iron rungs, by which Klostivitch had climbed when he tricked
the two men into their prison--and Mindiggle's leering face was
tantalizingly close.
With a sudden bound Fordyce scrambled agilely and rapidly up the
rough-and-ready ladder. So astonished was the spy at the sudden
onslaught, and taken at a disadvantage by the fact that he was lying
at full length on the floor, that the Sub's attempt was within an ace
of success.
But the ironwork that had supported Klostivitch's spare frame was
unequal to the task of bearing Fordyce's weight. One of the bars was
wrenched bodily from its setting, throwing the Sub to the ground, at
the same time capsizing the lamp.
When he recovered his feet the young officer found that Mindiggle had
gone and that the stone slab had been replaced over the aperture.
Fordyce returned to the cellar to resume his interrupted watch and to
ponder over the recent conversation. It was beginning to dawn upon
him that he was "up against a big thing". The affair was not merely
an internal plot on the part of one of the many sections of Russian
revolutionists, but an international intrigue that, if successful,
might seriously jeopardize the Allies' triumph.
Presently Chalmers stirred in his sleep, pulling an imaginary blanket
over his head after the manner of seamen accustomed to sleeping in
hammocks on a draughty main-deck. Then he sat up and gazed at the
ruddy glow of the burning wood.
"It's my trick, sir, isn't it?" he asked.
Fordyce glanced at his watch.
"Yes," he replied, not deeming it necessary to inform the petty
officer that twenty minutes had elapsed beyond the specified time.
"I've had a most interesting conversation, Chalmers."
"It strikes me, sir," remarked the petty officer, when Fordyce had
related the details of his talk with Mindiggle, "that we are properly
in the soup. Talking of soup, sir, I could just do with a plateful of
'bubbly'. Wonder if they'll grub us on rat soup, sir? I think I hear
rats about, and they say food's scarce in these parts."
A distinct, rasping sound came through the barred window. Both men
listened intently. The noise could be likened to that of a rodent's
teeth tackling a hard substance. Then came the pitter-patter of claws
upon the smooth surface of the ice.
"A whacking great rat," remarked Fordyce incredulously, as he threw
fresh fuel upon the fire and stirred the embers into a blaze. Then he
turned towards the window.
An animate object was frantically pawing the iron bars, and a
succession of short, shrill yaps of delight pierced the air.
With a bound Fordyce gained the window.
"Good old Flirt!" he exclaimed. "How on earth did you find us out?"
The faithful terrier was almost mad with delight as she licked the
Sub's hands and strove to force her way through the bars. Evidently
she had been having a scrap with one of the canine residents of
Petrograd, for there was a raw wound on one of her haunches.
For full five minutes Fordyce fondled the still-excited terrier.
Although overjoyed at seeing his pet, and at the sagacity of the
animal, he was ill at ease. Flirt could not get into the cellar, and
it was quite certain that if Mindiggle found that she was outside he
would not allow her to rejoin her master except upon utterly
unacceptable terms. He might, most likely, order the dog to be
destroyed.
"She must have smuggled herself upon the steamboat, same as 'ow she
did when she first came off, sir," suggested Chalmers.
"Yes, and now's the trouble to send her back," said the Sub. "I can't
keep her here, and, goodness only knows, I wouldn't like to know that
she was adrift in Petrograd."
"Think she'll find her way back, sir?" asked the petty officer
eagerly.
"There's a chance," replied Fordyce dubiously. "The first boat leaves
for Cronstadt at eight in the morning."
"Then, sir," exclaimed Chalmers, excitedly, "that's the bloomin'
ticket! Lash a note to her collar and let the skipper know where we
are."