The Great Coup
At the commencement of their work in the Secret Service, Max and Dale
visited Liege, and, while collecting information there, thought out and
put into operation a far-reaching plan that they hoped might checkmate
Schenk's schemes for the destruction of the Durend works when the
Germans should be forced to evacuate the city. It was a plan formulated
after they had again got into touch with M. Dubec and the small band of
men who still loyally refused to work in the interests of the invaders.
M. Dubec had imparted to them the information--not unexpected--that
Schenk had placed mines under all the workshops, and put everything in
readiness for blowing them into the air whenever he should wish to do
so.
"I have it from one of the men who actually helped to dig and fill them,
Monsieur. He was not allowed to help in the wiring, and he believes this
was done secretly at night, by Germans whom Schenk knew he could trust."
"So you know that the shops are mined, but do not know where the wires
run?"
"That is true, Monsieur."
"Could you not find out?"
"I do not think so, Monsieur. Since that last affair of ours there have
been too many sentries in the yards, especially at night. It would be
impossible to dig anywhere."
"We ought to do something, Dubec."
"Yes, Monsieur?"
"But the job is to know what," Dale struck in. "We can't tunnel
underground, I suppose, and get at them that way, so we must find out by
spying where the wires are run to--eh, Max?"
"Tunnel?" ejaculated Max. "That's an idea, Dale. Those old mines we were
tracing in the plans the other day! Why not?"
"Why not what?" asked Dale a little testily.
"Why, you know we noticed that one of them ran right up to the outskirts
of the city? Well, why shouldn't we continue it secretly, until we get
beneath the yards, and then burrow upwards to the workshops? Then we can
remove the mine-charges from below, and sit still and hold tight until
the great day arrives."
"Hurrah!" cried Dale enthusiastically. "The very thing. Phew! what a
coup it will be!"
"We shall, of course, have to get Dubec here and one or two others to
arrange it for us. They must go to work in the Durend mines, and take it
in turns to spend a night down there. Each man, as his turn comes, must
go into the old workings, and continue the gallery fixed upon in the
direction of the Durend works. Narrow seams of coal, not worth working,
did run in that direction according to the plans, and they will have no
difficulty in getting rid of the coal of course. The rock they hew out
must be taken away and dumped in remote, abandoned workings, where it is
not likely to be found or understood."
"'Pon my word, it sounds like the real thing," cried Dale with fresh
enthusiasm. "But it'll take a long time I should think, so we must make
a start at once. What do you think, Dubec?"
"Yes, Monsieur, it will take much time. But we will work hard, knowing
that we are working for our country. It will make our hearts light again
to feel that we are once more of use, and some who might give way will
keep on and on, refusing to bend the knee to the German tyrants and to
work their will."
"Yes, it may well do that," said Max thoughtfully. "And if any object
that they will be helping the Germans by sending coal up to the surface,
tell them that I say that the other work they are doing far outweighs
that. If we can secure the Durend works intact, ready to make shells and
guns for the Allies when the Germans are driven out, we shall have
struck a strong blow--aye, one of the strongest--for our side."
"I will tell them, Monsieur, though I do not think it will be
necessary."
"Any money and tools that will be required I will supply. And I will
occasionally come down into the mine and correct the direction in which
you are driving the gallery. We must be exact, or all our work will be
wasted."
After a few days' more planning, and another consultation with Dubec,
the details of the scheme were settled to everyone's satisfaction, and
the work commenced. The direction of affairs on the spot was left to
Dubec, and to him was also left the responsibility of deciding to what
men the secret should be imparted. Then Max and Dale left the district
and went on with their own special work, satisfied that the last and
final stratagem for defeating Schenk was in good hands, and likely, in
the course of time, to be brought to a successful issue.
It is not here that we can describe the many adventures that befell Max
and Dale while in the British Secret Service. They were numerous and
exciting enough, but this tale deals primarily with the fortunes of the
great Durend workshops and their influence in the war. A long, tedious
period of trench fighting now began on the Western Front. There were no
big territorial changes, although there were many attacks on a grand
scale at Ypres, at Verdun, on the Somme, and in the plain of Flanders.
But this period, tedious though it was, came to an end at last in the
great German retreat. Then came for Max and Dale the crucial period of
all their long and patient scheming to outwit their own special enemy,
Otto von Schenkendorf, the manager of the Durend works.
When the great retreat began, Max and Dale were at Liege, on the spot.
At the gates of the works they watched the serried ranks of workmen and
workwomen as they trudged out in response to the manager's orders that
the works must be closed and that all workers of German nationality or
sympathies must retire across the frontier. The anger and consternation
in their faces were a treat to see, after the long years of their
arrogance towards men and women of Belgian nationality. The war was
virtually over--so said their faces--and many of them were doubtless
dreading lest infamies, similar to those wreaked on the helpless
Belgians, might be perpetrated in _their_ towns and villages.
As the crowd thinned, Max and Dale caught sight of the manager,
accompanied by a German officer, seated in a great grey motor just
inside the gates, apparently waiting for the last workman to file out
and away. The guard of soldiers was still there, standing stiffly to
attention, and it seemed to Max that there was an air of tension about
them all, as though something was about to happen. He could well guess
what. Suddenly, in the distance, there came the sound of dropping
rifle-shots.
"They've cut it pretty fine, if those shots mean the advance guard of
the Allies," remarked Max in a voice tense with excitement. "The works
are clear of the workmen; now for the last great act. Then the curtain!"
Herr Schenk--as we shall continue to call him--stood up in his car and
shouted to the officer of the guard:
"You have your instructions, Lieutenant. Act upon them now without
delay."
The officer saluted, turned about with military precision, and strode
into the guard-room.
Herr Schenk resumed his seat, nodded to the chauffeur, and the car moved
slowly through the gates into the road. Max thought he was about to
leave the works for good and all, but the car stopped at the side of the
road a hundred yards or so from the gates, and all in her stood up and
gazed back in the direction of the works. In the distance, but nearer
now, could be heard a brisk fusillade of rifle-shots, with now and again
the brief chatter of a machine-gun.
"Strong cavalry patrols approaching," commented Max. "They are driving
in scattered bodies of stragglers or outposts, I should say. Look now at
Schenk! He is waiting for the works to go up sky-high."
The moments passed, and nothing happened. A minute, two minutes, three
minutes. Still there was no change, and the tense attitude of the men
waiting in the car relaxed, and they began talking together in low
tones. Suddenly the figure of the officer of the guard appeared at the
gates, gesticulating excitedly.
Schenk gave a quick order to the chauffeur. The car was turned and moved
quickly back to the gates, and there stopped. The officer of the guard
ran to it, leaned over the side, and explained volubly. Max and Dale,
from where they stood, could hear nothing of what was said, but they
knew, almost as well as if they had heard, that the officer was
explaining that he had tried to fire the mines, but somehow without
success.
With a gesture of rage or impatience Schenk sprang out of the car, and,
followed by both officers, ran quickly to the guard-room and disappeared
from view.
The dropping shots had approached quite near, and Max believed that the
skirmishers could not be more than half a mile away, and were advancing
with a speed that indicated that they consisted either of cavalry or
armed motors.
"I'd give something to see their faces now--wouldn't you, Max?" queried
Dale, who could hardly contain himself in his delight.
Max was busy scribbling on a sheet of paper torn from his notebook, and
did not for a moment reply. When he had finished, he folded it up
carefully and addressed it on the outside. "Let us walk past the gates,
Dale, as though just passing. I am going to administer the _coup de
grace_ to our friend Schenk."
They crossed the road and slouched along past the gates. As they passed
the great grey motorcar, Max lightly dropped the note he was carrying on
to the seat which Schenk had just been occupying. The chauffeur was
looking eagerly in the direction of the guard-room, and did not observe
the act or the missive. They slouched on until they turned a corner, and
then Max cried eagerly:
"Now back again and in that garden among the bushes. We shall see it
all, and see Schenk's face when he reads my note."
"What did you say, old man?"
"Let us get out of sight there, and I will tell you."
In a few moments the two friends were snugly ensconced in a clump of
bushes in a garden very near the entrance to the works. The grey car was
still occupied only by the chauffeur, but they could tell, by his
listening attitude and the expectant looks of the guards, that an
altercation of some sort was going on inside the guard-room.
"This is what I said, old man," Max went on in a voice which betrayed
his excitement:--
"TO HERR VON SCHENKENDORF, _alias_ OTTO SCHENK,
"I observe that you have at last accepted your dismissal from your
post as manager of the Durend works. You are going--hated and
despised--back to the land which gave you birth. And at last, in
this moment, you must know yourself defeated by those at whom you
scoffed as boys. The works you swore to destroy still stand intact,
and will, in a short time, be throwing all their weight and power
into the cause of the Allies. Adieu.
"MAX DUREND,
"JACK DALE."
"Good, old man! That'll make the beggar sit up if anything will. Hark!
cavalry. Ours or theirs, I wonder?"
In a measure they were answered by a sudden move of the soldiers
guarding the gates. The lieutenant had shouted an order, and they fell
into marching order and strode swiftly away in the direction of the
frontier. The officer remained where he was, and was almost immediately
joined by Herr Schenk and the other officer. All three walked quickly to
the motor and got in.
The manager, as he did so, picked up a letter lying on his seat and
glanced at the writing. He gave a start that was visible even to the
watchers at the other side of the road, then plucked it open with
nervous, jerky movements. He glanced quickly through it and sprang
uncontrollably to his feet, his face aflame with passion.
The officer at his side shouted to him in alarm and endeavoured to pull
him back into his seat.
Suddenly there was a loud clatter of horses' hoofs at the end of the
street, and a body of Belgian cavalry debouched into view. The chauffeur
of the grey car instantly started and turned his machine, and it moved
away with ever-increasing speed, Schenk still standing and gesticulating
wildly, with Max's letter clenched in his right hand, and the officer
endeavouring ineffectually to drag him back into his seat. As the car
passed the two watchers, they could not repress their exultation, but
jumped to their feet and gave a loud, full-throated British cheer.
[Illustration: THE TWO WATCHERS GAVE A LOUD, FULL-THROATED BRITISH
CHEER]
The officer whose hands were free drew his revolver and fired viciously
at them. The shots went wide, and in a moment or two the car had turned
a corner and vanished out of sight.
A squadron of Belgian cavalry clattered by, and Max shouted to the
officer in command that a car containing German officers had just driven
off and that a detachment of infantry was only a matter of a few minutes
ahead. The officer nodded and pressed on, while Max and Dale cheered the
men as they rode eagerly by.
"I think we have seen the last we shall see of Schenk, Dale," Max
remarked as they crossed the road and entered the Durend yards.
"Yes, and I don't suppose you, or anyone else in Belgium, will be
sorry."
"No; least of all our Walloon workmen. They hated him to a man for his
overbearing, tyrannical ways. We are all well rid of him."
The works seemed strangely deserted. The doors of the workshops stood
wide open, but inside all was still. The great lathes were just as they
had been left, some with shells half turned, indicating the haste with
which the attendants had obeyed the call to go. Other hands would
doubtless finish the turning, and the shells would be fired at the
Germans and not against the armies of the Allies.
"I suppose Schenk will have taken all the firm's cash?" suggested Dale
presently.
"Yes, of course. But that will be more than covered by the additions he
has made to the buildings and plant since the Germans came. I should
think the concern is worth twice as much as when he took it in hand for
the Fatherland."
"That's great! No wonder he nearly went out of his mind when he found he
must leave it all intact and in first-rate working order for you to
enter into. If he lives until he is as old as Methuselah he will never
forget it."
"I don't think his German friends will let him forget it. They will find
it hard to forgive a bungle that leaves a first-class munition factory
absolutely undamaged in the hands of their enemies. I don't envy Schenk
his job of persuading them that he couldn't help it."
"Not after the other explanations he has had to make on our
account--those siege-gun drawings, the wrecking of the power-house,
workshops, etcetera."
"No, he is a back number now, and he will be lucky if it is no worse."
(Long afterwards they learned that the exasperation of the Germans at
Herr Schenk's failure to destroy his workshops before the evacuation,
was so great that he was tried by court-martial, and, notwithstanding
his considerable influence, promptly shot.)
A burst of cheering from the town in the direction of the market-place
drew the attention of the two young fellows away from the works to the
events that were taking place in the town. They left the works, closing
the great gates after them, and joined the townspeople in their great
welcome to the soldiers of Belgium and the Allies as they passed through
in triumph in pursuit of their enemies. It was all very exhilarating,
and even the discovery that Max's house had been burned to the ground
was insufficient to damp their patriotic ardour, for they had expected
no less. It had not been possible to arrange to save this, and, as Max
said, so long as the works were saved it mattered little about the
house. Another could soon be found, or built for that matter. But the
works--to get those into full swing in quick time was the equivalent of
a victory for the Allies.
And in almost full swing they were in a couple of days. All that day and
the next the loyal workmen dribbled back--some from the town, some from
remote villages, and many from across the Dutch border. With hearty
goodwill they threw themselves into their work, and soon the roar of the
lathes and engines announced that the Durend works were themselves once
more.
The tale of how Max Durend had fought the long battle of the works, of
how vigilantly he had watched over them, and of how, at last, he had won
the greatest fight of all in saving them from destruction, passed from
mouth to mouth among the workmen. If anything had been needed to cement
the strong bond between them and their employer, this would have
supplied it. But their relations were already of the best, and this
great story served but to set a seal upon it and to render the link
between the two unbreakable.
And from strength to strength the great workshops went on. Ever in the
van of progress--for Max had learned his work from the bottom upwards
and was ever ready to learn more--secure in the possession of skilled
workmen filled with zeal and goodwill, well-directed, and trusted far
and wide, the Durend works expanded until they were twice the size of
any similar concern in Belgium.
Jack Dale stuck to Max to the end. He followed his friend's example and
went through all the shops, learning the work thoroughly, and later on
became the manager of an important branch of the firm. Eventually he
married Max's sister, and drew closer yet the ties which held him to his
friend.
Max became, in the fulness of time, something of a figure in Belgium,
and did much to aid its recovery from the ravages of the enemy. He never
forgot his English blood, and was a foremost supporter of all movements
which might draw the two countries closer to one another in friendship
and esteem.
End of Project Gutenberg's Two Daring Young Patriots, by W. P. Shervill