THE RAID
OBER-LEUTNANT JULIUS VON LORINGHOVEN recoiled a couple of paces in
sheer amazement. The compartment in which he stood was strictly
limited in point of size, or he might have stepped back even more,
so great was his consternation. For some seconds he stood with his
shoulders against the aluminium bulkhead, his small eyes protruding
to their utmost capacity.
"Von Eitelwurmer!" he gurgled at last. "What does this mean?"
"It means," retorted Andrew Norton furiously, "that your men have
wrecked everything. It is their duty to wreck everything English, I
admit, but they have overreached themselves."
"I am sorry," said the ober-leutnant humbly, though the apology
needed an effort. "The culprits will be duly punished."
"And serve them right," interrupted the kidnapped man. "But that
will not mend matters. Our plans are completely upset; Barcroft will
take warning; there will be no plausible excuse for my sudden
departure--Ach, it is intolerable. Is it possible to set me down?"
Von Loringhoven shook his head.
"Impossible," he replied. "You must return with us to the
Fatherland. Meanwhile I must take steps to justify the presence of
this war-machine over the hated country."
Siegfried von Eitelwurmer was one of the German super-spies--a class
far and above the host of ordinary spies that, in spite of the
utmost vigilance on the part of the British government, still
continue their activities although in a restricted form. To all
outward appearance he was English born and bred. His mannerisms were
entirely so. Even in his most excitable moods, for Teutonic
stolidity was almost a stranger to him, he would never betray by
word or gesture the fact that he was of Hunnish birth and
sympathies. When he spoke in English his inflexion was as pure as a
typical Midlander; his knowledge of British habits and customs was
profound. In short, he was one of the most dangerous type of German
agents that ever set foot on British soil.
It will be unnecessary to detail his past activities, which almost
invariably he carried out successfully and without giving rise to
suspicion, even at times when the espionage mania was at its height,
and Britons were being arrested and detained on suspicion for
various slight acts of indiscretion that they had committed in pure
ignorance. A man might in all good faith take photographs of a place
of national interest; an artist might make a sketch in the grounds
of his own house--and be promptly haled before the magistrates and
fined. The "powers-that-be" seem to be blind to the fact that a
trained spy would not attempt to use a conspicuous camera. An
instrument of the vest-pocket type would serve his purpose equally
well and with little chance of detection.
It was the Kaiser's manifesto relating to the capture of the
"dangerous" Peter Barcroft that turned the course of von
Eitelwurmer's activities in the direction of Ladybird Fold--not
wholly for the sake of the pecuniary reward, but with the idea of
gaining additional kudos at the hands of his Imperial master.
The spy had little difficulty in tracing Barcroft's movements from
the time he vacated Riversdale House in the village of Alderdene.
The information that his quarry had removed to Tarleigh in
Lancashire he had communicated to Berlin, but owing to a delay the
news was not in time to prevent the Hun airman, von Buelow und
Helferich, making his ill-fated flight to the south-eastern part of
England.
Von Eitelwurmer's method of communicating with Berlin was simplicity
itself, and as such ran less chance of detection than if he had
resorted to elaborate and intricate means.
He would obtain catalogues from manufacturers living in the same
town in which he had taken up his temporary abode. On the pages he
would write with invisible ink--or even milk or lemon, both of which
when dried naturally show no trace of their presence--his reports,
taking the additional precaution of using a cipher which he could
retain mentally and thus do away with the risk of incriminating
documents.
The next step was to get possession of a printed wrapper bearing the
name and address of the firm in question. The catalogue, enclosed in
the wrapper, was then sent to a pseudo Englishman living in Holland,
who, almost needless to say, was a German agent.
These reports were then sent in duplicate, one preceding the other
in the space of three days. Fortunately or otherwise--according to
the standpoint taken by interested parties--the first secret
dispatch related to the movements of Peter Barcroft was lost in a
Dutch mail-boat that a German submarine had sent to the bottom. The
second resulted in Ober-leutnant von Loringhoven being dispatched on
a Zeppelin raid with the primary intention of kidnapping the
proscribed Englishman.
Julius von Loringhoven was an officer of the Imperial German Navy.
In his youth he had served before the mast on board several British
coasters with the idea of gaining intimate local knowledge of the
harbours of the land that in due course would be an integral part of
the vast and unassailable German Empire; for, like thousands of
Germans he held the firm belief that the Emperor Wilhelm II was the
rightful heir to the British throne by virtue of his descent through
the eldest child of the late Queen Victoria.
It was on one of these coasting trips that von Loringhoven then a
stripling of seventeen--was within an ace of losing his life.
Ordered aloft on a winter's night to furl the topsail of the
schooner "Pride o' Salcombe," he was benumbed with the piercing cold
as he lay along the lee yard-arm. A burly British seaman saved him
just as he was on the point of relaxing his hold. Gathering him in
his arms the man brought him down on deck, little knowing what
manner of young reptile he was nursing in his bosom. If von
Loringhoven had had any spark of gratitude it had been smothered by
the passion of "frightfulness" as expressed by dropping powerful
explosives upon the defenceless civil population of the country to
one of whose sons he owed his life.
A brief training at Friedrichshaven was followed by an exacting
period at Borkum which qualified von Loringhoven for a series of
flights across the North Sea to the East Coast of England. As yet he
was merely a tyro, gaining practical experience under a veteran
Zeppelin commander. But at last the day came when he was given sole
charge of one of the Kaiser's giant gas-bags.
"Go and raid the counties of Yorkshire and Lincolnshire," were his
superior officer's instructions. "That's a fairly safe game. You'll
find little more than dummy guns against you. Acquit yourself well
and you will be given an opportunity to take part in the forthcoming
gigantic raid upon London."
This was before the time when, as the Huns knew to their cost, the
"swarm of hornets" promised by a former First Lord of the Admiralty
proved their existence.
And now, after twelve months of active Zeppelin service von
Loringhoven was over Lancashire. One part of his mission foiled he
had yet to exhibit Teutonic frightfulness to the dwellers of the
large manufacturing town of Barborough.
The second in command of the Zeppelin was an unter-leutnant of the
name of Klick. It was one of his triumphs to announce that he had
been arrested in England as a spy. That was in those distant pre-war
times. He had been "spotted" by a sentry while in the act of
sketching a fortification in the neighbourhood of an important naval
station, arrested and charged at a police-court. Committed to the
County Assizes he was politely told by the judge that espionage was
dishonourable. Klick smiled inwardly. To him spying was part of an
important German military training--an organised procedure.
Nevertheless he was agreeably surprised when he was allowed to go
with the admonition, "Don't do it again."
Fortunately for Great Britain such misplaced leniency is a thing of
the past. On Unter-leutnant Klick it was entirely thrown away. His
typically German mind read the clemency as a sign of weakness. He
came from a country where the only strength is "force majeur."
"Well, Herr von Eitelwurmer," exclaimed the ober-leutnant after he
had recovered from his surprise. "If you wish to see how our in
comparable Zeppelins set to work you had better station yourself at
this observation scuttle. I will lend you a fur coat."
"Pity you hadn't lent me one long before," growled the spy, as one
of the crew helped him into the warm garment. "Yours is a cold
business, von Loringhoven."
"Not when we get to work," corrected the other with a grim laugh.
"Excitement stirs our blood to boiling point."
A telephone bell tinkled softly. The commander took up the receiver.
"Ach!" he replied. "That is good."
The message was from Unter-leutnant Klick, announcing that the
airship was immediately over the large town of Barborough. Von
Loringhoven glanced at the altitude indicator. It registered 2,000
metres--too great for practical purposes where no danger was to be
anticipated from anti-aircraft guns. The speed of the Zeppelin was
now less than ten miles an hour, just sufficient to keep her
stationary over her objective.
The commander gave an order. A man on duty in the gondola thrust
down a lever, Instantly the gas in several of the ballonets was
withdrawn and forced under great pressure into a strong metal tank.
This answered to the old-fashioned method of releasing gas from a
balloon by means of an escape valve, but with a vast difference. The
hydrogen was not wasted; it was merely stored for further service.
Down dropped the airship to less than a thousand feet. Von
Eitelwurmer, leaning over the sill of the large scuttle, peered
downwards. By means of a pair of powerful night-glasses he could
locate his position with great accuracy. He recognised most of the
conspicuous land marks of Barborough, in spite of their unfamiliar
appearance when viewed from a height. There was the town-hall--a
pile of smoke blackened stonework. The railway station with its web
of steel lines radiating in four different directions; the huge
factories, working day and night at high pressure; the main
thoroughfares, rendered even more pronounced by the blue flashes of
the electric tram-cars. The Zeppelin had the town at its mercy.
Ober-leutnant von Loringhoven was also examining the scene beneath
him. He had no occasion to consult the spy. He knew quite as much as
von Eitelwurmer of the topography of the district; thanks to the
accurate air-maps supplied by the German government.
"Now, watch!" he exclaimed, at the same time holding up four fingers
as a sign to the airman at the firing apparatus to release the
missiles of destruction.
Von Eitelwurmer held his breath. He clearly heard the four metallic
clicks as the man released the bombs at quick intervals. Seven
seconds after the first had left the dropping apparatus a lurid
flash threw the underside of the enormous envelope into an expanse
of reflected light. A roar like the concentration of half a dozen
thunder peals tore the air, followed by the rumbling of falling
masonry. The other explosions took place in rapid succession,
causing the Zeppelin to sway and rock in the violently disturbed
atmosphere.
The place where the bombs had burst was hidden in a thick pall of
smoke and dust. Tongues of red and yellow flames flickered through
the vapour.
"Two more," ordered von Loringhoven.
By this time the Zeppelin, forging ahead, was nearly a quarter of a
mile from the scene of her first attempt. The objective was a purely
conjectural one, for the missiles burst in a street in one of the
poorer quarters of the town.
"Two more!"
The two bombs were released, but only one exploded. The other failed
to detonate, but the raid was over. In a little over a minute and a
half death had been poured upon the unprepared town.
"I can claim the big munitions factory," remarked the ober-leutnant
as he telephoned to the navigating gondola for full speed. "Those
first four had it to a nicety. The others--well, they did some
damage."
The spy smiled.
"Yes; it all helps," he said. "Frightfulness always scores,"
"Realising, as we do, that every English baby is a potential enemy
to Germany," added von Loringhoven. "Not necessarily in a military
sense, but in the forthcoming commercial war."
Von Eitelwurmer glanced at his companion,
"The forthcoming commercial war," he repeated. "Our Emperor will see
to it that there will be no British Empire to threaten our
mercantile supremacy."
The commander of the Zeppelin shrugged his shoulders.
"I trust you are right," he rejoined, "but you do not realise the
big task in front of us. These Englishmen are only just beginning to
bestir themselves. We hoped to have beaten them long ago. Time is no
longer on our side, and----"
Then, realising that his digression was bordering upon dangerous
lines, he broke off.
"And now, von Eitelwurmer, we are homeward bound. In four hours I
hope to shake hands with you on German soil."
The spy merely grunted. He was thinking regretfully of his lost
chance in the share of the twenty thousand marks.