Schenk at Work Again
Max did not long allow himself to give way to weak and bitter
reflections. As soon as he properly realized how much he had fallen
below himself, he exerted himself to throw off all weakening thoughts
and to take a better and higher view of his unfortunate position. He was
about to die for his friends and for his country. Well, had he not
oftentimes thought that it would be a grand and good thing so to do? Was
he now going to go back on those cherished ideals, and regret the heavy
blows he had inflicted upon a brutal enemy and the succour he had given
to his friends?
Indignant with himself, Max braced himself to a more wholesome frame of
mind, and tried to prepare himself for the last scene of the drama of
the Durend workshops--a drama in which he had been one of the principal
actors since the war began. He would, he told himself, do his best to
finish worthily the last and greatest task destiny had set him.
His self-uplifting efforts had met with a considerable measure of
success, and he had almost completely regained his usual quiet, steady
frame of mind, when his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden
challenge of the sentry outside. The challenge was apparently answered
satisfactorily, for the door was almost immediately unbolted, and a man
entered. It was with very mixed feelings that Max recognized the
manager, M. Schenk.
"You do not seem pleased to see me, Monsieur Max," observed the manager,
smiling in an ingratiating manner that to Max was more objectionable at
that moment than open triumph.
"Have I reason to?" queried Max shortly.
"I think so. But that depends as much upon you as upon me. You are aware
that you die to-morrow?"
The almost casual manner in which the manager spoke struck Max as being
doubly horrible. He seemed to think nothing at all of the execution of a
fellow-creature, and one who had been closely associated with him for a
good many years.
"I am aware of it," replied Max as quietly as he could.
"Well, it seems a pity. Such a young fellow, and one so energetic and
keen in his business, and with a brilliant future before him," said the
manager in a smooth, velvety voice that Max had known him use to
influential business men when he was specially anxious to gain his
point. "I have, in fact, Monsieur Max, been talking your unfortunate
case over with the governor. I have told him that, serious as this
offence of yours undoubtedly is, you are really the tool of others. He
is, of course, much incensed against you for the destruction of so
important a workshop, but is ready to be merciful--upon conditions."
"Ah! and what conditions?"
"Not hard ones," replied M. Schenk, obviously pleased by the eagerness
with which Max spoke. "You stole some plans of mine a month or so
ago----? Yes? I thought it must be you, and I am ready to go to some
lengths to get them back."
"They have left my hands, Monsieur Schenk."
"Where are they?"
"In the hands of the English Government."
"You rascal!" shouted M. Schenk furiously, his smooth, easy manner
utterly giving way. "You--you--but, after all, I thought as much; and
they were really of no great value," he ended lamely, recovering himself
with an obvious effort.
"I thought they were," replied Max coldly.
"No; but what I want to know is about the other papers. Did you hand
over _all_ you took to the English Government?"
Max thought a moment. Should he give Schenk the information he so
evidently desired? So far as he knew, the papers had no particular
value, though he had not really examined them with any care; but they
might have. Still, they were safe enough, he thought, for he had seen
them handed over into the possession of the bank.
"No--only the plans. The others seemed only business papers, and I had
them put away in safety against the time when the Durend works should
again be mine."
"It hardly looks as though they ever will be, does it, Monsieur Max? But
I am going to make you an offer. Among those papers are letters that
passed between the Imperial Government and myself in the days before the
war. They are valueless, really, but I do not wish them to get into
enemy hands, as they will damage me in the eyes of my Imperial master.
You see, I am frank with you. Get me, then, all those papers and you
shall go free--free, that is, on condition you join with me in running
the Durend works to its fullest capacity during the war. I will not ask
you to work on war material--you shall manage the shops manufacturing
railway material and farming machinery. I need you and your influence
with these obstinate Belgian workmen, and am ready to pay a heavy price
to get you."
"A heavy price?" muttered Max. His head was beginning to whirl, and he
caught confusedly at the last words.
"Ja. Think you it has cost me nothing to beg your life from the
governor? He is madly enraged with you, I can tell you. These, then, are
the terms: those papers and your active assistance, or your life."
Max sat slowly down in the chair and put his face between his hands.
Life was sweet, and he could not disguise from himself that he was ready
to do the utmost he honourably could to save his life. But here, it
seemed clear, dishonour was too surely involved. To give up the papers,
if they were really private, might not be so hard, but to join Schenk in
running the works, even on non-war material, was a thing he shrank from
instinctively. Would the workmen understand the distinction? Would they
not conclude he had turned traitor, and some revile him, and
others--worse still--follow his dubious example?
Max was not very long in doubt. After all, he reasoned finally, anything
proposed by Schenk must needs be bad, however plausible his tale. The
only really safe line to take with a man of that kind was to have naught
to do with him in anything.
"No, Monsieur Schenk, I cannot accept your offer," said Max in a steady
voice, getting up rather suddenly from his chair and facing the manager
resolutely.
"What? You----But why not, Monsieur Max?" he cried eagerly. "It is all
nothing. But there, if you do not like to join with me in running the
works I will not press that point. Get me the papers. Write for them to
your mother, and as soon as they come you are free."
"No," replied Max at once. "No, Monsieur Schenk, I am going to have
nothing to do with all this. I have fought and worked hard for Belgium
since the outbreak of war, and I am not going to do aught to betray her
now."
"Then die to-morrow--I shall at least have done with you!" cried M.
Schenk, with a bitter hate that told Max how much his blows had shaken
him. "Your temerity in stealing my papers and in burning the machine-gun
shop will be amply avenged."
"Have you then forgotten the power-house and the coal-yard?" asked Max
with a secret satisfaction that made him forget, for the moment, even
his approaching fate.
"Those too--were those your handiwork?" gasped the manager. "You
villain--you nearly destroyed my power and reputation with them. 'Tis
well you die. My only risk of further disaster will perish with you."
"Maybe. But I have the consolation of knowing that your treachery is
known to many, and that when the war is over, and the Germans are driven
out of Belgium, you will go with them."
"Bah! Belgium is German territory for all time. I tell you, Max Durend,
that, were it not so, I would see to it that before our armies left not
one stone of the Durend factories remained upon another. Take this with
you to the grave: in memory of what you have done, the trouble and worry
you have caused me, these works shall never more pass to your family. If
Germany win, they will remain mine. If the impossible happen, and we
lose, then I will blow the whole up to the sky and leave to your family
naught but the smoking ruins."
The vindictive earnestness with which the manager spoke left no doubt
upon Max's mind that he meant every word he said. The Durend works,
then, were as good as lost to his mother and sister, and it was with
additional thankfulness that he recollected that the large sum of money
and valuables he had managed to rescue from Schenk's clutches would be
ample, and more than ample, for their needs.
"You will not be able to remove the memory of duty done for our
country," replied Max quietly. "And it may be that if Germany lose--as
all in Belgium believe she will do--she may have to build up all that
she has destroyed. It may be that there are great factories across the
border in which _you_ have an interest, and it may chance that they will
be called upon to replace the machines and buildings you destroy here."
Too enraged to speak, the manager made a gesture expressive of his
complete rejection of such an idea, and turned abruptly away. Max also
turned his back, and, in a silence expressive of bitter hate on the one
hand and chilling contempt on the other, the two parted.
* * * * *
The discussion of the possibilities of rescuing Max by Dale, Dubec, and
the latter's wife, soon took a certain shape. There was no chance of
rescuing him while imprisoned in the governor's palace; that was clear
at once, as they knew nothing of the whereabouts of his cell, and there
was too little time to find out. There remained the opportunities
presented while he was being conveyed from the palace to the gates of
the Durend works, and during the execution within the yard. The latter
seemed hopeless. The yards were bounded by high walls, or by the river,
which was by this time well guarded, and the whole place was full of
workmen, the majority of whom were well disposed towards German rule.
It was during the march from the governor's palace to the gates that the
only hope seemed to offer, and upon this they concentrated their
attention. The whole thing looked desperate in the extreme, but Dale was
in such a state that either he must do something desperate or recklessly
place himself by his friend's side. Eventually, mainly through the
quick-wittedness of Madame Dubec, a plan that seemed to offer a chance
presently began to take shape. This plan was to create so strong a
diversion at some point of the route that Max might be enabled to make a
dart away to safety, and to aid his further progress once the first part
of the plan had been achieved. A diversion--strong, sudden, and
terrifying--was what was needed, and to furnish this their united brains
planned and planned until there emerged an idea that satisfied them all.