"THE PLOT REVEALED."
Within a week the man Tegelmund, accompanied by Engstrom, arrived in
Paris and took up his abode in an obscure hotel near the Gare du Nord.
But, though we kept a careful watch upon the pair, Engstrom, ever
elusive and resourceful, suddenly disappeared! For six days he was
absent. Then, as suddenly and mysteriously, he appeared again at the
hotel.
Aubert, who had been detailed to watch Tegelmund, now reported that the
latter had been across to the Orleans goods station, inquiring about
some heavy cases of goods which had arrived from Lisbon.
"I have contrived to open one of the cases," he said. "It contains some
complicated and apparently delicate machinery, with a small dynamo.
Apparently it is some sort of wireless plant, but, beyond that, I cannot
make head or tail of it."
At Aubert's suggestion I went late one night to the Orleans goods yard.
Aubert, by methods of persuasion not wholly original, had contrived to
make friends with one of the officials, and we had no difficulty in
securing access to the great goods shed, now silent and deserted, in
which the mysterious cases lay. Prising open one end of the topmost
case, I inspected the contents as closely as I could with the aid of my
pocket flash-lamp. Within was what certainly appeared to be a wireless
plant of some kind, but it was of a description entirely new to me, and
I could not see enough of it to gain any idea of its purpose. Of course
we dared not risk unpacking it. But we had made a great advance. The
big cases could not be secretly moved, and our friend, the goods
official, undertook to let us know promptly when he received orders to
release them.
We waited in patience for a week, but still the cases remained untouched
and uncalled for. Then came an incident which threw a flood of light on
the proceedings of our enemies, though it told us nothing of their real
motive; we were to learn that later.
One day I was strolling aimlessly along the Boulevard des Capucines,
when I heard my name pronounced in accents of delighted surprise.
Turning round, I instantly recognised an old friend in the person of
Captain A--, who was one of the experts attached to the submarine branch
of the British Admiralty.
"My dear Sant," he exclaimed joyfully. "Who would have thought of
meeting you here? I am alone in Paris. I know no one and am bored to
death. What have you got on hand now? I thought you were in New York."
"I certainly didn't expect to meet you here," I replied. "What has
brought you over?"
"Come and have some lunch, and I'll tell you all about it," he replied,
and we repaired to an adjoining cafe, where Captain A--promptly ordered
lunch in a private room.
"We've got a new thing on hand in the submarine line," he told me as
soon as the waiter had left the room. "You know we have been trying
some experiments in German waters lately, and the Hun destroyers have
been so confoundedly active that our fellows have had to pass a lot of
their time sitting on the bottom. As a consequence, some of the crew
have suffered terribly for want of fresh air. We have a very good
system of purifying the atmosphere, but it is not sufficient owing to
the long periods the boats have to stay under water, and a number of men
have collapsed and died from suffocation. Indeed, one boat only escaped
with more than half her crew totally incapacitated."
I was keenly on the alert. Was I, I wondered, coming to grips at last
with our problem?
"Well," Captain A--went on, "we have been offered a new apparatus,
which, if half of what the inventor tells us is true, will enable us to
give the Hun a very bad time. We are assured that by its help a boat
can stay under water for five days without the slightest risk."
"Five days!" I repeated incredulously. "Why, it's impossible!"
"So I thought," he rejoined, "but when Engstrom and Linner vouch for
anything, you've got to listen."
"Engstrom and Linner!" I gasped. Things were getting "warm" indeed.
"Yes," he replied. "Mr Engstrom is in Paris now with his invention,
and we are going to test it off Havre."
Then I sprang my mine. "Would you be surprised to learn," I asked, as
coolly as I could, "that your Mr Engstrom is not Mr Engstrom at all,
but a German agent passing under his name?"
I have seen a good many badly surprised men in my life, but I never
witnessed before or since such a spectacle of hopeless astonishment as
Captain A--presented when he grasped the full significance of this
announcement. He sat staring at me, his mouth wide open, and with
dismay written legibly on every line of his countenance.
"But, Sant," he gasped. "Are you sure? Mr Engstrom came to us in
London and told us all about it. He explained that the inventor was a
Spaniard who would not trust the `neutrality' of the Spanish Government
in the matter, and that he had brought his invention to Engstrom's with
the idea of getting the best terms from one of the Allies."
"I have no doubt that the man posing as Engstrom came to you," I
replied. "But, none the less, he is not Engstrom at all."
"Then what is his game?" countered A--. "He has offered us the fullest
test before we adopt his machine, and has not asked for a cent."
"That remains to be seen," I answered, "but it bodes no good to the
Allies. What does he propose?"
"He has offered to instal the apparatus on one of our newest types,"
replied A--, "and she is on her way to Havre for the purpose. We are to
make any test we like, and, in fact, I am here to see the test carried
out. The only condition he makes is that his machinery shall be sealed,
and not opened until after the test has proved it to be satisfactory."