A SPY IN THE SIGNAL TOWER
Government House, one of the Baedeker points of Gibraltar, stands amid
its gardens on a shelf of the Rock about mid-way between the Alameda
and the signal tower, perched on the very spine of the lion's back
above it. Its windows look out on the blue bay and over to the red
roofs of Algeciras across the water on Spanish territory. Tourists
gather to peek from a respectful distance at the mossy front and quaint
ecclesiastic gables of Government House, which has a distinction quite
apart from its use as the home of the governor-general. Once, back in
the dim ages of Spain's glory, it was a monastery, one of the oldest in
the southern tip of the peninsula. When the English came their
practical sense took no heed of the protesting ghosts of the monks, but
converted the monastery into a home for the military head of the
fortress--a little dreary, a shade more melancholy than the accustomed
manor hall at home, but adequate and livable.
Thither, on the morning after his arrival, Captain Woodhouse went to
report for duty to Major-general Sir George Crandall, Governor of the
Rock. Captain Woodhouse was in uniform--neat service khaki and pith
helmet, which became him mightily. He appeared to have been molded
into the short-skirted, olive-gray jacket; it set on his shoulders with
snug ease. Perhaps, if anything, the uniform gave to his features a
shade more than their wonted sternness, to his body just the least
addition of an indefinable alertness, of nervous acuteness. It was
nine o'clock, and Captain Woodhouse knew it was necessary for him to
pay his duty call on Sir George before the eleven o'clock assembly.
As the captain emerged from the straggling end of Waterport Street, and
strode through the flowered paths of the Alameda, he did not happen to
see a figure that dodged behind a chevaux-de-frise of Spanish bayonet
on his approach. Billy Capper, who had been pacing the gardens for
more than an hour, fear battling with the predatory impulse that urged
him to Government House, watched Captain Woodhouse pass, and his eyes
narrowed into a queer twinkle of oblique humor. So Captain Woodhouse
had begun to play the game--going to report to the governor, eh? The
pale soul of Mr. Capper glowed with a faint flicker of admiration for
this cool bravery far beyond its own capacity to practise. Capper
waited a safe time, then followed, chose a position outside Government
House from which he could see the main entrance, and waited.
A tall thin East Indian with a narrow ascetic face under his closely
wound white turban, and wearing a native livery of the same spotless
white, answered the captain's summons on the heavy knocker. He
accepted the visitor's card, showed him into a dim hallway hung with
faded arras and coats of chain mail. The Indian, Jaimihr Khan, gave
Captain Woodhouse a start when he returned to say the governor would
receive him in his office. The man had a tread like a cat's,
absolutely noiseless; he moved through the half light of the hall like
a white wraith. His English was spoken precisely and with a curious
mechanical intonation.
Jaimihr Khan threw back heavy double doors and announced, "Cap-tain
Wood-house." He had the doors shut noiselessly almost before the
visitor was through them.
A tall heavy-set man with graying hair and mustache rose from a broad
desk at the right of a large room and advanced with hand outstretched
in cordial welcome.
"Captain Woodhouse, of the signal service. Welcome to the Rock,
Captain. Need you here. Glad you've come."
Woodhouse studied the face of his superior in a swift glance as he
shook hands. A broad full face it was, kindly, intelligent, perhaps
not so alert as to the set of eyes and mouth as it had been in younger
days when the stripes of service were still to be won. General Sir
George Crandall gave the impression of a man content to rest on his
honors, though scrupulously attentive to the routine of his position.
He motioned the younger man to draw a chair up to the desk.
"In yesterday on the _Princess Mary_, I presume, Captain?"
"Yes, General. Didn't report to you on arrival because I thought it
would be quite tea time and I didn't want to disturb----"
"Right!" General Crandall tipped back in his swivel chair and
appraised his new officer with satisfaction. "Everything quiet on the
upper Nile? Germans not tinkering with the Mullah yet to start
insurrection or anything like that?"
"Right as a trivet, sir," Woodhouse answered promptly. "Of course
we're anticipating some such move by the enemy--agents working in from
Erythrea--holy war of a sort, perhaps, but I think our people have
things well in hand."
"And at Wady Halfa, your former commander----" The general hesitated.
"Major Bronson-Webb, sir," Woodhouse was quick to supply, but not
without a sharp glance at the older man.
"Yes--yes; Bronson-Webb--knew him in Rangoon in the late
nineties--mighty decent chap and a good executive. He's standing the
sun, I warrant."
Captain Woodhouse accepted the cigarette from the general's extended
case.
"No complaint from him at least, General Crandall. We all get pretty
well baked at Wady, I take it."
The governor laughed, and tapped a bell on his desk. Jaimihr Khan was
instantly materialized between the double doors.
"My orderly, Jaimihr," General Crandall ordered, and the doors were
shut once more. The general stretched a hand across the desk.
"Your papers, please, Captain. I'll receipt your order of transfer and
you'll be a member of our garrison forthwith."
Captain Woodhouse brought a thin sheaf of folded papers from his breast
pocket and passed it to his superior. He kept his eyes steadily on the
general's face as he scanned them.
"C. G. Woodhouse--Chief Signal Officer--Ninth Grenadiers--Wady
Halfa----" General Crandall conned the transfer aloud, running his
eyes rapidly down the lines of the form. "Right. Now, Captain, when
my orderly comes----"
A subaltern entered and saluted.
"This is Captain Woodhouse." General Crandall indicated Woodhouse, who
had risen. "Kindly conduct him to Major Bishop, who will assign him to
quarters. Captain Woodhouse, we--Lady Crandall and I--will expect you
at Government House soon to make your bow over the teacup. One of Lady
Crandall's inflexible rules for new recruits, you know. Good day, sir."
Woodhouse, out in the free air again, drew in a long breath and braced
back his shoulders. He accompanied the subaltern over the trails on
the Rock to the quarters of Major Bishop, chief signal officer, under
whom he was to be junior in command. But one regret marked his first
visit to Government House--he had not caught even a glimpse of the
little person calling herself Jane Gerson, buyer.
But he had missed by a narrow margin. Piloted by Lady Crandall, Jane
had left the vaulted breakfast room for the larger and lighter library,
which Sir George had converted to the purpose of an office. This room
was a sort of holy of holies with Lady Crandall, to be invaded if the
presiding genius could be caught napping or lulled to complaisance.
This morning she had the important necessity of unobstructed light--not
a general commodity about Government House--to urge in defense of
profanation. For her guest carried under her arm a sheaf of plans--by
such sterling architects of women's fancies as Worth and Doeuillet, and
the imp of envy would not allow the governor's wife to have peace until
she had devoured every pattern. She paused in mock horror at the
threshold of her husband's sanctum.
"But, George, dear, you should be out by this time, you know," Lady
Crandall expostulated. "Miss Gerson and I have something--oh,
tremendously important to do here." She made a sly gesture of
concealing the bundle of stiff drawing paper she carried. General
Crandall, who had risen at the arrival of the two invaders, made a show
at capturing the plans his wife held behind her back. Jane bubbled
laughter at the spectacle of so exalted a military lion at play. The
general possessed himself of the roll, drew a curled scroll from it,
and gravely studied it.
"Miss Gerson," he said with deliberation, "this looks to me like a plan
of Battery B. I am surprised that you should violate the hospitality
of Government House by doing spy work from its bedroom windows."
"Foolish! You've got that upside down for one thing," Lady Crandall
chided. "And besides it's only a chart of what the lady of Government
House hopes soon to wear if she can get the goods from Holbein's, on
Regent Street."
"You see, General Crandall, I'm attacking Government House at its
weakest point," Jane laughed. "Been here less than twelve hours, and
already the most important member of the garrison has surrendered."
"The American sahib, Reynolds," chanted Jaimihr Khan from the double
doors, and almost at once the breezy consul burst into the room. He
saluted all three with an expansive gesture of the hands.
"Morning, Governor--morning, Lady Crandall, and same to you, Miss
Gerson. Dear, dear; this is going to be a bad day for me, and it's
just started." The little man was wound up like a sidewalk top, and he
ran on without stopping:
"General Sherman might have got some real force into his remarks about
war if he'd had a job like mine. Miss Gerson--news! Heard from the
_Saxonia_. Be in harbor some time to-morrow and leave at six sharp
following morning." Jane clapped her hands. "I've wired for
accommodations for all of you--just got the answer. Rotten
accommodations, but--thank Heaven--I won't be able to hear what you say
about me when you're at sea."
"Anything will do," Jane broke in. "I'm not particular. I want to
sail--that's all."
The consul looked flustered.
"Um--that's what I came to see you about, General Crandall." He jerked
his head around toward the governor with a birdlike pertness. "What
are you going to do with this young lady, sir?" Jane waited the answer
breathlessly.
"Why--um--really, as far as we're concerned," Sir George answered
slowly, "we'd be glad to have her stop here indefinitely. Don't you
agree, Helen?"
"Of course; but----"
"It's this way," the consul interrupted Lady Crandall. "I've arranged
to get Miss Gerson aboard, provided, of course, you approve."
"You haven't got a cable through regarding her?" the general asked.
"Her passports--lost--lot of red tape, of course."
"Not a line from Paris even," Reynolds answered. "Miss Gerson says the
ambassador could vouch for her, and----"
"Indeed he could!" Jane started impulsively toward the general. "It
was his wife arranged my motor for me and advanced me money."
General Crandall looked down into her eager face indulgently.
"You really are very anxious to sail, Miss Gerson?"
"General Crandall, I'm not very good at these please-spare-my-lover
speeches," the girl began, her lips tremulous. "But it means a lot to
me--to go; my job, my career. I've fought my way this far, and here I
am--and there's the sea out there. If I can't step aboard the
_Saxonia_ Friday morning it--it will break my heart."
Gibraltar's master honed his chin thoughtfully for a minute.
"Um--I'm sure I don't want to break anybody's heart--not at my age,
miss. I see no good reason why I should not let you go if nothing
happens meanwhile to make me change my mind." He beamed good humor on
her.
"Bless you, General," she cried. "Hildebrand's will mention you in its
advertisements."
"Heaven forbid!" General Crandall cried in real perturbation.
Jane turned to Lady Crandall and took both her hands.
"Come to my room," she urged, with an air of mystery. "You know that
Doeuillet evening gown--the one in blue? It's yours, Lady Crandall.
I'd give another to the general if he'd wear it. Now one fitting
and----"
Her voice was drowned by Lady Crandall's: "You dear!"
"Be at the dock at five A.M. Friday to see you and the others off, Miss
Gerson," Reynolds called after her. "Must go now--morning crowd of
busted citizens waiting at the consulate to be fed. Ta-ta!" Reynolds
collided with Jaimihr Khan at the double doors.
"A young man who wishes to see you, General Sahib. He will give no
name, but he says a promise you made to see him--by telephone an hour
ago."
"Show Mr. Reynolds out, Jaimihr!" the general ordered. "Then you may
bring the young man in."
Mr. Billy Capper, who had, in truth, telephoned to Government House and
secured the privilege of an interview even before the arrival of
Woodhouse to report, and had paced the paths of the Alameda since,
blowing hot and cold on his resolutions, followed the soft-footed
Indian into the presence of General Crandall. The little spy was near
a state of nervous breakdown. Following the surprising and unexpected
collapse of his plan to do a murder, he had spent a wakeful and
brandy-punctuated night, his brain on the rack. His desire to play
informer, heightened now a hundred-fold by the flaying tongue of
Louisa, was almost balanced by his fears of resultant consequences.
Cupidity, the old instinct for preying, drove him to impart to the
governor-general of Gibraltar information which, he hoped, would be
worth its weight in gold; Louisa's promise of a party _à deux_ before a
firing squad, which he knew in his heart she would be capable of
arranging in a desperate moment, halted him. After screwing up his
courage to the point of telephoning for an appointment, Capper had
wallowed in fear. He dared not stay away from Government House then
for fear of arousing suspicion; equally he dared not involve the girl
from the Wilhelmstrasse lest he find himself tangled in his own mesh.
At the desperate moment of his introduction to General Crandall, Capper
determined to play it safe and see how the chips fell. His heart
quailed as he heard the doors shut behind him.
"Awfully good of you to see me," he babbled as he stood before the
desk, turning his hat brim through his fingers like a prayer wheel.
General Crandall bade him be seated. "I haven't forgotten you did me a
service in Burma," he added.
"Oh, yes--of course," Capper managed to answer. "But that was my job.
I got paid for that."
"You're not with the Brussels secret-service people any longer, then?"
The question hit Capper hard. His fingers fluttered to his lips.
"No, General. They--er--let me go. Suppose you heard that--and a lot
of other things about me. That I was a rotter--that I drank----"
"What I heard was not altogether complimentary," the other answered
judiciously. "I trust it was untrue."
Capper's embarrassment increased.
"Well, to tell the truth, General Crandall--ah--I did go to pieces for
a time. I've been playing a pretty short string for the last two
years. But"--he broke off his whine in a sudden accession of
passion--"they can't keep me down much longer. I'm going to show 'em!"
General Crandall looked his surprise.
"General, I'm an Englishman. You know that. I may be down and out,
and my old friends may not know me when we meet--but I'm English. And
I'm loyal!" Capper was getting a grip on himself; he thought the
patriotic line a safe one to play with the commander of a fortress.
"Yes--yes. I don't question that, I'm sure," the general grunted, and
he began to riffle some papers on his desk petulantly.
Capper pressed home his point. "I just want you to keep that in mind,
General, while I talk. Just remember I'm English--and loyal."
The governor nodded impatiently.
Capper leaned far over the desk, and began in an eager whisper:
"General, remember Cook--that chap in Rangoon--the polo player?" The
other looked blank. "Haven't forgotten him, General? How he lived in
Burma two years, mingling with the English, until one day somebody
discovered his name was Koch and that he was a mighty unhealthy chap to
have about the fortifications. Surely----"
"Yes, I remember him now. But what----"
"There was Hollister, too. You played billiards in your club with
Hollister, I fancy. Thought him all right, too--until a couple of
secret-service men walked into the club one day and clapped handcuffs
on him. Remember that, General?"
The commander exclaimed snappishly that he could not see his visitor's
drift.
"I'm just refreshing your memory, General," Capper hastened to
reassure. "Just reminding you that there isn't much difference between
a German and an Englishman, after all--if the German wants to play the
Englishman and knows his book. He can fool a lot of us."
"Granted. But I don't see what all this has to do with----"
"Listen, General!" Capper was trembling in his eagerness. "I'm just
in from Alexandria--came on the _Princess Mary_. There was an
Englishman aboard, bound for Gib. Name was Captain Woodhouse, of the
signal service."
"Quite right. What of that?" General Crandall looked up suspiciously.
"Have you seen Captain Woodhouse, General?"
"Not a half hour ago. He called to report."
"Seemed all right to you--this Woodhouse?" Capper eyed the other's
face narrowly.
"Of course. Why not?"
"Remember Cook, General! Remember Hollister!" Capper warned.
General Crandall exploded irritably: "What the devil do you mean? What
are you driving at, man?"
The little spy leaped to his feet in his excitement and thrust his
weasel face far across the desk.
"What do I mean? I mean this chap who calls himself Woodhouse isn't
Woodhouse at all. He's a German spy--from the Wilhelmstrasse--with a
number from the Wilhelmstrasse! He's on the Rock to do a spy's work!"
[Illustration: "He's a German spy."]
"Pshaw! Why did Brussels let you go?" General Crandall tipped back in
his seat and cast an amused glance at the flushed face before him.
Capper shook his head doggedly. "I'm not drunk, General Crandall. I'm
so broke I couldn't get drunk if I would. So help me, I'm telling
God's truth. I got it straight----"
Capper checked his tumult of words, and did some rapid thinking. How
much did he dare reveal! "In Alexandria, General--got it there--from
the inside, sir. Koch is the head of the Wilhelmstrasse crowd
there--the same Cook you knew in Rangoon; he engineered the trick. The
wildest dreams of the Wilhelmstrasse have come true. They've got a man
in your signal tower, General--in your signal tower!"
General Crandall, in whom incredulity was beginning to give way to the
first faint glimmerings of conviction as to the possibility of truth in
the informer's tale, rallied himself nevertheless to combat an
aspersion cast on a British officer.
"Suppose the Germans have a spy in my signal tower or anywhere here,"
he began argumentatively. "Suppose they learn every nook and corner of
the Rock--have the caliber and range of every gun in our defense; they
couldn't capture Gibraltar in a thousand years."
"I don't know what they want," Capper returned, with the injured air of
a man whose worth fails of recognition. "I only came here to warn you
that your Captain Woodhouse is taking orders from Berlin."
"Come--come, man! Give me some proof to back up this cock-and-bull
story," General Crandall snapped. He had risen, and was pacing
nervously back and forth.
Capper was secretly elated at this sign that his story had struck home.
He stilled the fluttering of his hands by an effort, and tried to bring
his voice to the normal.
"Here it is, General--all I've got of the story. The real Woodhouse
comes down from somewhere up in the Nile--I don't know where--and puts
up for the night in Alexandria to wait for the _Princess Mary_. No
friends in the town, you know; nowhere to visit. Three Wilhelmstrasse
men in Alexandria, headed by that clever devil Cook, or Koch, who calls
himself a doctor now. Somehow they get hold of the real Woodhouse and
do for him--what I don't know--probably kill the poor devil.
"General, I saw with my own eyes an unconscious British officer being
carried away from Koch's house in Ramleh in an automobile--two men with
him." Capper fixed the governor with a lean index finger dramatically.
"And I saw the man you just this morning received as Captain Woodhouse
leave Doctor Koch's house five minutes after that poor devil--the real
Woodhouse--had been carried off. That's the reason I took the same
boat with him to Gibraltar, General Crandall--because I'm loyal and it
was my duty to warn you."
"Incredible!"
"One thing more, General." Capper was sorely tempted, but for the
minute his wholesome fear of consequences curbed his tongue.
"Woodhouse isn't working alone on the Rock; you can be sure of that.
He's got friends to help him turn whatever trick he's after--maybe in
this very house. They're clever people, you can mark that down on your
slate!"
"Ridiculous!" The keeper of the Rock was fighting not to believe now.
"Why, I tell you if they had a hundred of their spies inside the
lines--if they knew the Rock as well as I do they could never take it."
Capper rose wearily, the air of a misunderstood man on him.
"Perhaps they aren't trying to capture it. I know nothing about that.
Well--I've done my duty--as one Englishman to another. I hope I've
told you in time. I'll be going now."
General Crandall swung on him sharply. "Where are you going?" he
demanded.
Capper shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. Now was the minute he'd been
counting on--the peeling of crackling notes from a fat bundle, the
handsome words of appreciation. Surely General Crandall was ripe.
"Well, General, frankly--I'm broke. Haven't a shilling to bless myself
with. I thought perhaps----" Capper shot a keen glance at the older
man's face, which was partly turned from him. The general appeared to
be pondering. He turned abruptly on the spy.
"A few drinks and you might talk," he challenged.
Capper grinned deprecatively. "I don't know, General--I might," he
murmured. "I've been away from the drink so long that----"
"Where do you want to go?" General Crandall cut him off. "Of course,
you don't want to stay here indefinitely."
"Well--if I had a bit of money--they tell me everybody's broke in
Paris. Millionaires--and everybody, you know. You can get a room at
the Ritz for the asking. That would be heaven for me--if I had
something in my pocket."
"You want to go to Paris, eh?" General Crandall stepped closer to
Capper, and his eyes narrowed in scorn.
"If it could be arranged, yes, General." Capper was spinning the brim
of his bowler between nervous fingers. He did not dare meet the
other's glance.
"Demmit, Capper! You come here to blackmail me! I've met your kind
before. I know how to deal with your ilk."
"So help me, General, I came here to tell you the truth. I want to go
to Paris--or anywhere away from here; I'll admit that. But that had
nothing to do with my coming all the way here from Alexandria--spending
my last guinea on a steamer ticket--to warn you of your danger. I'm an
Englishman and--loyal!" Capper was pleading now. All hope of reward
had sped and the vision of a cell with subsequent investigations into
his own record appalled him. General Crandall sat down at his desk and
began to write.
"I don't know--at any rate, I can't have you talking around here.
You're going to Paris."
Capper dropped his hat. At a tap of the bell, Jaimihr Khan appeared at
the doors, so suddenly that one might have said he was right behind
them all the time. General Crandall directed that his orderly be
summoned. When the subaltern appeared, the general handed him a sealed
note.
"Orderly, turn this gentleman over to Sergeant Crosby at once," he
commanded, "and give the sergeant this note." Then to Capper: "You
will cross to Algeciras, where you will be put on a train for Madrid.
You will have a ticket for Paris and twenty shillings for expense en
route. You will be allowed to talk to no one alone before you leave
Gibraltar, and under no circumstances will you be allowed to
return--not while I am governor-general, at least."
Capper, his face alight with new-found joy, turned to pass out with the
orderly. He paused at the doorway to frame a speech of thanks, but
General Crandall's back was toward him. "Paris!" he sighed in rapture,
and the doors closed behind him.