Treachery!
"What is to be our next move, Max?" enquired Dale presently, after they
had walked almost mechanically nearly a mile from the Durend works
upwards towards the hills on the western side of the town. Twice he had
to repeat his question, for Max was too immersed in thoughts bitter and
rebellious to pay much heed.
"I care not where we go, Jack. For me everything seems to have come to
an end."
"I know, I know, Max, just how you feel; but do not give way to it.
There is Belgium to live for; and you have what I have not--a mother.
Let us go home and think things out."
"I cannot rest at home, Dale--yet. Let us walk on for a while. We shall
feel free on this side of the town. Thank God, the forts here are still
holding out, and the Germans have not yet over-run the countryside.
Presently we shall reach the Crofts, and we will sit in the cottage or
the old summer-house while we talk it all over."
On the western side of the town, at a distance of some six miles or so,
Madame Durend owned a little old-fashioned cottage, picturesquely
planted in a large garden and wood. It was a favourite resort of the
family in summer-time, and Max and Dale had had their full share of its
pleasures. For one thing, there was an asphalt tennis-court there which
had claimed a large part of their spare time, not to mention that of
Max's sister and her friends.
Avoiding the road, in order to lessen their chance of encountering enemy
patrols, Max and his friend travelled across fields and along bypaths
towards the cottage. They had come to within half a mile or so of the
place when they were startled beyond measure, and almost stunned, by a
tremendous report like the explosion of an enormous gun. It was close at
hand, too, and seemed to come from the general direction of the cottage.
Almost immediately there was another similar report, followed by others
at a greater distance. Max and Dale looked at one another significantly.
"Attacking either Fort Loncin or Fort Hollogne," said Max resignedly. "I
wonder we have got so far unnoticed."
"Yes; but now we are here we may as well see the fun. Let us go to the
Crofts, and climb the big oak as of yore. We shall see everything from
there."
"And be seen too, I'm thinking. Never mind; I feel reckless enough for
anything this afternoon."
"Well, reckless or no, we may as well move cautiously. Let us keep well
under cover of this hedge. Whew! What a row there is!"
As the two friends drew nearer to the cottage they became convinced that
not only was the firing taking place quite near the Crofts, but that it
was going on in the very garden itself. Closer and closer they crept,
their curiosity keenly whetted by this unexpected discovery, until they
reached a little clump of thick undergrowth which overlooked the garden.
Here the greatest discovery of all awaited them.
Two big 28-cm. guns were in position in the centre of the garden, and
being loaded and fired without a moment's respite. The sight was
fascinating--nay, awe-inspiring--enough, but to the two lads the thing
that most caught and fixed their attention was the fact that both guns
were planted full on their asphalted tennis-court. To Dale this was
merely curious, but to Max it had a significance so terrible and
nerve-shaking that it was all he could do to prevent himself crying out.
"What's the matter, Max?" cried Dale in alarm, as he caught a glimpse of
his friend's pale, drawn face and staring eyes.
"Come away--quick! Let us get away and I will tell you," cried Max in a
hoarse voice, and, followed by his friend, he sped swiftly from the
scene towards a thick wood a short distance away. Once well within the
shelter of its leafy screen, he stopped and faced Dale excitedly, his
face aflame.
"That scoundrel Schenk! He is at the bottom of it all. He is a paid
traitor and spy of the German Government, and, fool that I was, I never
saw it before!"
"Why, what has happened to tell you this? A traitor I dare say he is,
but why so suddenly sure?"
"That tennis-court. Do you know that Schenk, when he heard we were
thinking of one, pressed us to have an asphalt one for use in all
weathers. He saw to it himself, and dug down six feet for the
foundations. I asked him why he was doing that, and he said he had a lot
of material, concrete or something, over from something else--I didn't
take much notice what it was--and that it would make it all the better.
It was all a ruse to lay down solid concrete gun-platforms ready to blow
our forts to pieces. The utter scoundrel!"
"Ah! And that was why he replaced the Walloon and Flemish workmen by
naturalized Germans! I see. He wanted to have men he could be sure of
and to have the works ready for running without a hitch directly the
Germans entered. And the shells----"
"Yes," almost shouted Max, grasping his friend roughly by the arm, "yes,
their calibre will be that of German, not Belgian, guns! They never were
for Belgian guns! That was why they were kept covered up so closely in
the yard."
"Phew! It was a risky game to play; but no doubt he expected the town to
fall quickly--perhaps even more quickly than it did."
"And there are other things," Max went on in a quieter tone. "Why was it
Schenk persuaded us to go to Germany instead of to Holland for our
holiday? Why--why? Simply because he wanted to get us out of the way.
Then do you remember those men who were captured after trying to
assassinate General Leman in the town? I thought I had seen two or three
of them somewhere before. I remember now. They were some of the workmen
of the shell-shops, and one was a foreman. The plot was hatched by
Schenk, not a doubt of it."
"Not a shadow of a doubt. The whole business is as plain as a pikestaff.
But who would have dreamed of such devilish forethought? He must have
been planning it for years!"
"Yes, he has been my father's right-hand man for nine or ten years at
least. He must have come for no other purpose--and my father never knew
it! How glad I am my mother is out of it all, safe and sound."
For some time the two friends discussed the great discovery in all its
bearings. Matters stood out in a fresh perspective, and one of the first
things to appear prominently was the peril in which both of them now
stood. In peril from the Germans they had known they stood, but the
peril from Schenk was new and far greater. At any moment he might come
to the conclusion that their continued presence about the works or in
the town was inconvenient, and denounce them as hostile to the
occupation. In fact--and a bitter realization it was--they were only
saved from this by the manager's contempt of them as adversaries and his
calm assurance that they were really not worth considering one way or
the other.
"Well, Max," said Dale at last, "what line are we now going to take? It
is time we made up our minds once and for all. We are clearly outclassed
by this Schenk--he holds all the cards--and the best thing we can do is
to make tracks to join the Belgian army before it is too late to get
away."
"Yes, Dale, that is the best thing--for you. Only _I_ cannot come with
you. You go and join the British army. My place is here more than ever,
and leave it I will not."
"Come now, Max, don't be obstinate! There is nothing to be done here.
You are absolutely helpless pitted against Schenk and his friends the
Germans. You must recognize it. Come with me and we will see what we can
do for the good cause elsewhere."
Max shook his head decidedly. His face was very downcast, and it was
clear to his friend that he felt most keenly the way in which his
father's name and resources had been exploited by the enemies of their
country; but his lips were firmly set, and in his eyes was the steady
look Dale remembered so well during the dark days of the struggle for
Benson's. Benson's! The recollection brought back again to Dale the
words spoken by the master at the close of the races: "Fixity of
purpose ... there is almost nothing that fixity of purpose will not
accomplish."
"No," Max said simply, after a moment's pause, "I am going to keep watch
and ward over the Durend workshops. Cost what it may I am going, by all
means in my power, to hinder the use of them for the enemy's purposes.
What influence I have--little enough I fear--with the real Belgian
workmen, I will exert to keep them from aiding Schenk. The works are
mine--I speak for my mother--and I will not hesitate to destroy them if
I find opportunity. There must be many ways in which I can make trouble,
and I am going to strain every nerve to do so. Let Schenk look out; it
is war to the knife!"
"Hurrah!" cried Dale excitedly. Then he went on in a sober tone: "But it
is risky work, Max. Schenk will very soon suspect us--he has agents and
spies everywhere, you may be sure."
"We must be as cunning as he is--more so. We must outdo him at his own
game. We--I, I should say, for you must go back to England--I am going
to disappear and emerge as a simple workman, with German sympathies of
course. Then the fight will begin."
"Yes, and I'm in it, Max," cried Dale joyously. "I wouldn't miss it for
worlds. It sounds good enough for anything. To outwit the Germans is
great, but to outwit Schenk is ten times better. Come along, let's get
to work."
"All right!" cried Max, smiling at his friend's enthusiasm. "We'll get
back at once, and, as a start, go home and fetch away some of our
things. It will have to be the last time we go there."
Quickly, and yet with caution, the two lads retraced their steps to the
town. They knew every foot of the country, and, though there were
numerous patrolling parties of Germans between them and the town, they
were able to pass them without difficulty. At the door of his house one
of the servants met Max and handed him a note.
"A young man brought it, Monsieur, an hour ago. He has come all the way
from Maastricht with it. It is from Madame, your mother, and he said it
was very important."
Rapidly Max tore away the cover and opened the missive. His senses were
perhaps preternaturally sharpened, for he felt a sense of foreboding.
After many fond messages, and repeated injunctions that he would take
care of himself and not offend the Germans, the note went on:
"And now, Max, I want to tell you something that distresses me
extremely, though I have hopes that it may be all a mistake. When I
left, bringing only a few things and a purse with such money as I had by
me at the moment, M. Schenk, on my explicit instructions, assured me
that he would arrange at once for a large sum of money to be transferred
to my account at the Maastricht Bank. I have been there repeatedly,
asking about it, but none of the officials know anything of the matter.
They say they have not been approached, and though they have enquired of
other banks in the place they can learn no tidings. They have been very
good to me, for, hearing who I was, they advanced me a small sum for my
immediate use. Will you now please see M. Schenk and have this
matter--which is so distressing--put right?"
Max clenched the paper in his hand. The blood flooded up into his head
with such force that he had to put his hand against the doorpost to
steady himself.
"What's the matter?" cried Dale, again in alarm at the look on his face.
"Is it bad news?"
"Aye--the worst--the blackest treachery," cried Max in a voice which
trembled with the intensity of his emotion. "I must see Schenk--and
wring from him the money he has stolen," and, turning impetuously on his
heel, Max strode rapidly away from the house in the direction of the
works.
Dale darted after him and caught him up. "You must do nothing rash,
Max," he cried earnestly. "Wait a while until you are calm; you are no
match for Schenk like that. Let us walk slowly along while you tell me
what has happened."
Max thrust at him the crumpled letter. Then in a few broken words he
told him, what was scarcely needed, that the manager had tricked his
mother into leaving the country, and had then left her stranded without
a penny to live upon. The baseness of it all came as a shock, even on
the top of their knowledge of the man's deep treachery.
"There's more behind it, I believe," said Dale, after a few minutes'
cogitation in silence. "I think this may be a lever to get _you_ out of
the country. He will think you will be compelled to go to your mother
and work for her support."
"He knows he can get me out of the way at any time by denouncing me to
the Germans," replied Max in dissent. "No--that will not explain it. But
as sure as I live I will wring the truth from him before another hour is
gone."
Dale gazed in some apprehension at his friend as he strode feverishly
along towards the Durend works. He feared that he might, in his anger,
do some rash act that would destroy all. But presently, to his relief,
he saw that he was regaining control over his feelings, and, by the time
they reached the works, he seemed his usual self again. The only
evidence of his past emotion was to be found in his somewhat gloomy
looks and in lips tightly compressed as though to hold in check feelings
that struggled for an outlet.