KUHLHAFEN
The old fortress of Kuhlhafen stands a milestone on the path of Time.
Its vast walls have endured and survived the ravages of a thousand
storms driving in off the sea. Its gloomy might still rears itself
silhouetted against the grey skies of the Baltic upon its lofty setting
of wood-clad hills. Its dull, unlit eyes still gaze down upon the broad
waters of the shallow, silted harbor from which it takes its name. And
with it all it haunts the primitive mind of the simple fisher folk
beneath its shadows with the grim romance of the days of martial
barbarity which have endured within its walls.
No one would have associated modern significance with this survival of
the ages. Yet it was sedulously kept in repair. It still retained its
splendid furnishings, and all the relics of its antiquity. Furthermore,
all the invention of modern days had been applied to add to its
convenience. And it was solicitously cared for by the retainers of the
princely house to which it belonged.
The peasants of Kuhlhafen knew every detail of its history. Its martial
story was part of their lives. Oh, yes. The information was handed down
from father to son, and was told with all that care for fantastic
detail in which the primitive mind never fails to indulge itself.
The owner? Of course. It was Prince Frederick von Berger. Did they not
have to pay for the tenancy of their miserable hovels to his steward,
who lived in the castle itself? Oh, yes. He was a great man--a very
great man. This was only one of his estates, and one which he never
visited. One could not blame him. It was scarcely attractive to a man
who owned a palace in Berlin. Then the storming of the cruel Baltic,
which robbed them of comrades every year. Who would live on its bitter,
desolate shores unless tied there by the stress of existence? No, he
never came, they would tell the enquirer with a shrug. A man who
enjoyed the friendly patronage of the supreme War Lord had no call to
visit Kuhlhafen, even though the whole of the countryside belonged to
him.
This was the spoken attitude of the people towards their over-lord.
Maybe, deep in their hearts, other feelings prevailed. But these poor
folks had been bred to the discipline of an iron Prussian rule, and it
is just possible that they had no power to think or feel otherwise than
authority taught them.
But had these simple fisher-folk been less absorbed in the struggle for
their frugal existence; had they sufficient initiative to go seek out
information for themselves; had they, in fact, been human rather than
Prussian peasantry, they might have discovered that their over-lord was
a different person from the ease-loving creature of wealth they so
fondly supposed.
They would indeed have found that it was by no means his habit to spend
idle days in the gilded courts of Berlin. On the contrary, it seemed
suspiciously as if it were his lot to have to work very hard indeed.
Work which even the cleverest amongst the fishers could never have
hoped to achieve.
Frederick von Berger was by no means an ordinary man. Amongst even his
intimates he was something of an enigma. These knew that he occupied an
exalted position in official life. They knew he was on the best of
terms with the Supreme War Lord. This was all patent enough. But the
nature of his work was doubtful. His name never appeared in the
official lists, although it was understood that he was entitled to the
rank of "General" placed before his name. Nor did he attempt to offer
the least enlightenment on the subject.
But then he was a silent, even morose, man. He was harsh; a man devoid
of any lighter side to his nature. There were even some who looked upon
him as a sort of restless evil spirit whom it was very much best to
avoid. But, like most men of genuinely strong purpose, public opinion
left Frederick von Berger cold. He came and went as it suited him quite
regardless of anything but his own objects, and he never failed to
avail himself of every ounce of the power which the favor of the German
monarch endowed him with.
Kuhlhafen, however, was not kept up in its present condition without
having uses in its princely owner's scheme of things. Although the
humble fisher-folk remained in ignorance of anything that went on
within its austere precincts, it was not so much abandoned by their
over-lord as they believed.
Thus it was that, one night, long after the village had been wrapped in
slumber, a powerful automobile, with blazing head-lights, flashed
through its single main street, and passed on up the heights towards
the dour silhouette above. Later, a second automobile passed over the
same route. And, with the coming of the second car, there was a tumult
of bustle raised amongst the resident staff at the castle.
Later on still, there was even a stranger happening. A single white eye
flashed out its searching rays from the sea and settled its focus upon
the castle. Then, as though satisfied with its inspection, it turned
its gaze upon the surface of the restless waters, and discovered a
small motor-driven boat heading towards the fishing-quay of the
village. Then, as though in answer to a signal, the blackness of the
castle hill was lit by a pair of eyes less dazzling than the eye from
the sea, and an automobile made its way towards the quay for which the
little sea-boat was heading.
The great secret council-chamber of Kuhlhafen possessed all the air of
a dungeon or crypt. It suggested no other for its original purpose. But
as long as the present house had ruled within its walls this great
underground apartment had been known as the secret council-chamber. It
was probably the oldest portion of the whole castle, for it certainly
dated back to the days somewhere before the earliest occupation of the
territory by the Romans.
One or two significant additions had been made since the great dungeon
had been converted to the dignity of a council-chamber. Down the length
of the low-roofed hall, between the central aisle of piers supporting
it, a long iron-bound oaken table filled up the major space. This was
flanked by a number of leather-seated chairs belonging to a similar
period, and of equal crudeness of manufacture.
Table and chairs formed the complete furnishing of this dreary
apartment, whose only beauty lay in the simple antiquity of its
architecture and the characteristic chiselling of the grey piers which
supported its quartered roof. For the rest, in the dim recesses beyond
the rays of the lamplight on the table, there were to be found the
wrought-iron sconces upon the walls, which had once doubtless served to
support the light of blazing torches. And further, still more remote
from the light, lost in the dusky corners, were an array of instruments
which had survived the years, and whose evil purpose there could be no
mistaking.
At the head of this long table sat a man with almost snow-white hair
and a moustache of similar color, carefully trained with a sharp,
upward turning of the pointed ends. His was a handsome face of
considerable refinement. But it was deeply lined, even beyond his
years, and the thin lips, drooping markedly downwards at the corners of
his mouth, gave his whole expression something of tragedy.
On his right, at the side of the table, the single lamp-light shining
full upon his harsh features, sat Frederick von Berger, the absolute
antithesis of the man at the head of the table. Here was cold strength
and even ruthlessness, not one whit less than the harsh surroundings of
the council-chamber in which he sat. The cold eyes of the man possessed
not one single lurking shadow of warmth. He was perhaps forty-five, and
the iron mould of his plain features, and the tremendous air of
physical strength about his body, all added to the impression that here
was the direct descendant, untempered with the blood of gentler races,
of those savage forbears who had wrested place and power for themselves
from amongst their people by the sheer weight of the sword.
These two men had remained seated in conference for some time. The
manner of the man at the head of the table was silent, even morose.
Frederick von Berger did most of the talking, and this fact, combined
with his marked air of deference, gave some indication that his guest
was some one of extremely unusual importance.
After a while Von Berger rose from his seat and was swallowed up in the
shadowy remoteness of the room. His companion remained seated, leaning
back in his chair, gazing after him with deep, cold, introspective
eyes. His preoccupation was marked, and the drawn lines of his handsome
face gave some clue to the importance, and even urgency, of his visit
to these outlands of northern Prussia.
When Von Berger returned he was accompanied by another, who, as he came
within the radiance of the lamp, revealed the angular, erect figure of
the Captain-General of the great arsenal of Borga. The moment he came
within view of the solitary figure at the head of the table he halted
abruptly in perfect military salutation. His whole attitude underwent a
marked and deferential change. His usual air of arrogant authority
seemed to have dropped from him like a cloak. It was a perfect example
of the effect of the Prussian system.
The man at the table nodded faintly. It was the signal Von Berger and
his companion awaited. They approached. Von Berger took his original
seat, but Von Salzinger remained standing.
Von Berger waited. Then the man at the head of the table bestirred
himself.
"Go on," he said sharply. And at once the Prince turned upon the
Captain-General.
"The complaint is a serious one, Herr Captain-General. It is so
serious, and affects such deep interests, that, as you see, it is
deemed inadvisable to place it before a military tribunal. But it is
also felt that the complaint in itself is not all; that there is other
matter of even greater importance lying behind it. Thus you have been
summoned to make your explanations--here."
The cold eyes of the man were turned from Von Salzinger upon a document
lying on the table. Just for a moment his hard voice ceased from
stirring the echoes of the vaulted chamber. But it was only for a
moment. The next he was reading from the paper before him.
"It appears that on Prince von Hertzwohl's last visit to Borga, when he
was conveying thither his relative, his most important engineer, for
the rectification of certain defects in his new light, you displayed
towards him the gratuitous discourtesy of refusing the Prince's
guarantee of his relative, and sought to submit the man to the
interrogatory customary where there is some doubt of a visitor's
credentials. The Prince, somewhat naturally, refused to submit to such
an indignity, and left the arsenal. Whereupon you persisted in your
attitude, and even went so far as to endanger the Prince's valuable
life by opening the secret batteries upon his vessel--a course which
was utterly unwarranted in view of the Prince's identity and position.
It is necessary that you should now state your story of this affair
without any reservations."
[Illustration: "The Complaint is a Serious One."]
Von Berger's charge was coldly formal. It was also distinctly
threatening in its final pronouncement. The arrogant Von Salzinger was
bitterly forced to the reflection that he might expect small enough
mercy if he failed to convince with his explanation. That which
disturbed him more, however, was the identity of at least one of the
men to whom he must explain. He had counted on a military tribunal,
where his rank and the nature of his office would count. He felt that
these things would by no means count here.
But he dared not display any misgiving. He knew the value of promptness
and brevity, with, at least, one of his audience. So he replied--
"In every detail the complaint is accurately outlined. But it avoids
entirely Prince von Hertzwohl's offence."
"Offence?"
The interrogation came sharply from the man at the head of the table,
who was almost lost to Von Salzinger's view behind the bulk of the
oil-lamp which lit the scene.
"It was his right, just as it would have been your right, sir," Von
Salzinger replied daringly, "to submit to the discipline of the place,
a discipline which has been ordered by those who have a right to order
such things. The complaint must come after obedience, not after open
defiance of Berlin's most imperative orders. That is the case of Prince
von Hertzwohl. I could not have acted otherwise than I did in the
interests of our greatest of all State secrets."
The man at the head of the table nodded in seeming approval at the
robust vindication. Von Berger gave no sign. His eyes never left the
angular figure of the Captain-General.
"But you threatened his life--by your action in the matter." Von
Berger's words came without emotion. The hard eyes were unchanging.
"I submit that it had been better for the State had I more than
threatened it."
"How do you mean, sir?"
The man at the head of the table was sitting up. His eyes were angrily
alight.
For a second Von Salzinger flinched before this display. He recovered
himself swiftly, however. He knew he dared not lose a second in such a
crisis.
"Your pardon, sir, if my manner should seem rough. I feel strongly. If
a man in Von Hertzwohl's position refuses to obey the laws he is fully
cognizant of, then, I say, he has reason--grave reason for so doing."
"You imply?"
Again it was the question of the man at the head of the table.
"He dared not have his--nephew interrogated, sir."
"And if he dared not?" It was still the same speaker.
Von Salzinger shrugged.
"There can only be one interpretation, sir."
"You mean--betrayal of Borga's secrets."
"Yes, sir."
The man at the head of the table turned to Von Berger with a smile that
never reached his eyes.
"Tell him," he said imperiously.
"Your contention loses all its apparent force in the light of--facts,"
said Von Berger coldly. "Agents have been set to work upon the matter.
From the moment of Von Hertzwohl's complaint, in justice to you as
Borga's commandant, the closest secret enquiries have been made. On the
occasion of Hertzwohl's visit to your command his nephew did accompany
him. This nephew is certainly his most trusted engineer, and is the
actual inventor of the U-light. There is no shadow of doubt about these
matters. Your suspicions are groundless and cannot be accepted in your
defence."
Von Salzinger was taken aback at the concise refutation of his
carefully elaborated suspicions. He began to see the fabric he had
constructed tumbling about his ears. He had been the victim of his own
spleen, he knew, and his suspicions had had no sound foundation.
He stood flushed and silent. Then the man at the head of the table
unconsciously came to his rescue.
"Show him," he briefly ordered Von Berger.
The latter picked up a photograph--a mere rough print--and handed it to
the troubled Von Salzinger.
"That is Herr von Bersac, the Prince's nephew. It was taken three days
ago, without the man being aware of it. That is the man who visited
Borga with his uncle."
Von Salzinger had taken the picture in his hands, and his eager eyes
scrutinized it carefully. A moment later he handed it back, and an
intense look of triumph had replaced the embarrassment of a moment
before.
"That is not the man to whom Von Hertzwohl displayed the secrets of
Borga. It is not the man I sought to have interrogated. The man who
posed as Hertzwohl's nephew was a tall man of magnificent physique. Not
slim like that youth. He was a man of nearly forty, with fair, curling
hair and dark eyes, and the face and general figure of an--Englishman."
"Englishman?"
The man at the head of the table started up. The passionate hatred
flung into his echo of the other's word sent a wave of rejoicing
through Von Salzinger's heart.
"I am morally certain, sir," he added.
Quite abruptly Von Berger had become completely thrust into the
background. The other had taken entire possession of the scene. He
began to pace the stone-flagged hall with hasty, uneven steps.
"If I thought it could be so," he cried, with a sudden wave of
intemperate heat. "Oh, if I believed it were!" He raised one clenched
fist above his head and shook it in dire threat. The other arm remained
unmoved at his side. The passionate eyes were flashing a cruel, almost
insane fire as he strode the echoing stones. The others were held in
appalled silence in face of his paroxysm.
In a moment he turned fiercely upon the Captain-General, standing
beyond the table. There was no longer any dignity or restraint in him.
The hectoring nature of the man was caught in the passion of the
moment, and his innate brutality must find an object upon which to vent
itself.
"I tell you, if the secrets of Borga have been betrayed there shall be
such a reckoning as shall stagger our country from end to end. From the
highest to the lowest those responsible shall pay to the uttermost. Of
all the world--an Englishman! Gott in Himmel, it is unthinkable!"
He glared for a silent moment into the abashed face of Von Salzinger.
Then he went on more calmly--
"I tell you you are wrong. Damnably wrong--somehow. Hertzwohl dare not
betray us. No money in the world would buy him. We have proved him a
hundred times. English gold to buy Hertzwohl?" He laughed derisively,
but there was no conviction in his manner. "You understand, sir, you
are wrong--utterly wrong. The matter shall be cleared up. You shall
confront Von Hertzwohl. And if lies have been told, God help the liars."
The two men stood eye to eye across the table. Von Salzinger had
recovered under stress of emergency.
"I could ask no better, sir--if it were in the best interests of the
secrets of Borga. But is it? I could give you the names of a number of
my junior officers in Borga, all of whom encountered this--nephew of
Hertzwohl. And without reference to me, there is not one of them but
would deny the identity of that nephew they saw in Borga with the
identity of the original of that picture. If the liar is to be punished
I have no fear, sir. But would it be in the best interests of Borga to
deal hastily with the matter?"
"Explain!" The man went back to his seat at the head of the table. His
harsh demand warned his hearers of the storm still raging within him.
But Von Berger took up the reply.
"I see the Captain-General's point, sir," he said. "If Hertzwohl is
confronted it means his vindication or immediate punishment. If secrets
have been betrayed such a course will not serve us. This Englishman Von
Salzinger speaks of will still possess them, and--be _free to act upon
them_. We must recover those secrets, or _make them useless to their
possessors_. Then we can deal with those responsible for Borga."
Von Salzinger listened to the cold words and eagerly awaited the reply
of the man at the head of the table. But none was forthcoming, for he
seemed to be lost in moody contemplation of the whole affair. Therefore
the Captain-General seized his opportunity.
"That is how I see it, sir," he said eagerly. "I submit, with all
deference, that I be nominally punished as though I had seriously
offended. What is that punishment? Degradation? Degradation and
retirement from the service of the Fatherland. It will satisfy
Hertzwohl, and put him off his guard. He will have no suspicion, and I
shall be free to work. If I am placed on the Secret Service and sent
to--England, it should not be impossible to discover all we want to
know and nullify the effects of the treachery. Those concerned can be
silenced. We can be guided by developments. And----"
"The harm is done, man! You talk of nullifying. You talk like a fool.
There can be no undoing the harm done."
The hoarse passion of the man at the table was in every word he spoke.
The gleaming eyes were full of the burning fire of unrestrained
ferocity.
But the cold tones of Von Berger once more dropped like ice upon a
kindling fire.
"It will be the better course, sir," he said. "We do not yet know the
full position. That must be perfectly established before we can
estimate the damage."
But the other seemed absorbed in his own imagery of the matter.
"An Englishman! Gott!"
Von Berger turned abruptly to Von Salzinger.
"Leave us. I will call you when ready. Remain within call."
The authority was unmistakable. The Captain-General might have been the
veriest conscript for the courtesy displayed. He left the great chamber
with no outward sign, but with storm sweeping through his heart.
Beyond the door he reviewed the situation. His position was by no means
enviable, but it was not without possibilities. He realized now that
the hand of Fate had pointed through the whole affair. He knew that he
had had no suspicion of Hertzwohl in Borga. A thought of treachery had
never entered his head. Hertzwohl had piqued him. He had seriously
offended him, as, long ago, this same man's daughter had offended his
pride. He had intended merely to retaliate through his official
capacity, and now through these trivial pettinesses a deadly plot had
been revealed. He had answered the summons to Kuhlhafen intending to
defend himself by casting suspicion upon Hertzwohl, and his defence had
turned out to be the true estimate of the matter. Well----
But his reflections were cut short by the summons to return to the
council-chamber. Von Berger held the iron-studded door for him to
enter, and, as he passed within, he closed and carefully secured it.
Then he came back to his place at the table, and his companion signed
for him to proceed.
He faced the waiting officer.
"Captain-General von Salzinger, you are to be degraded from your rank
and office. You will be relieved of command at Borga at once. You will
then report to the Foreign Office, where you will receive sealed
instructions. On receipt of these instructions you will proceed to
London without delay. When you have completed the work allotted to you
in England--satisfactorily--you will receive your reinstatement. That
is all."