THE BACK-DOOR OF ENGLAND
"Well, that's rather curious," I remarked, closing the door of the old
oak-panelled smoking-room at Metfield Park, and returning to where my
friend Ray Raymond was seated.
"Was anyone outside the door?" he asked, quickly on the alert.
"Mrs. Hill-Mason's German maid. You remember, Vera pointed her out
yesterday."
"H'm! and she was listening--after every one else has gone to bed!" he
remarked. "Yes, Jack, it's curious."
It was past one o'clock in the morning. Two months had passed since the
affair down at Portsmouth, but we had not been inactive. We were sitting
before the great open fireplace where the logs were blazing, after the
rest of the men had taken their candles and retired, and had been
exchanging confidences in ignorance of the fact that the door remained
ajar. I had, however, detected the _frou-frou_ of a woman's skirt, and
creeping across to the door had seen the maid of one of the guests
disappearing down the stone passage which led to the great hall now in
darkness.
Metfield Park, three miles from Melton Constable, in Norfolk, the seat
of the Jocelyns, was a fine old Tudor place in the centre of a splendid
park, where the pheasant shooting was always excellent. Harry Jocelyn,
the heir, had been with us at Balliol, hence Ray and I usually received
invitations to the shooting parties. On this occasion, however, Vera
Vallance with her aunt, Mrs. Mortimer, had been invited, much to Ray's
satisfaction.
Among the party was a well-known naval officer, captain of a first-class
cruiser, two military officers, and several smart women, for both Sir
Herbert and Lady Jocelyn moved in a very smart set. Several of the
ladies had joined us in the smoking-room for cigarettes, and the
conversation around the fire had been mainly the usual society chatter,
until at one o'clock every one had left for bed except our two selves.
Over the great fireplace were the arms of the Jocelyns carved in stone,
with the date 1573, and in the corner near the window was a stand of
armour upon which the dancing flames glinted ever and anon. Through the
long uncurtained window shone the bright moon from over the park, and
just as I reseated myself the stable clock chimed the half-hour.
We had been there four days, and the sport had been excellent. On the
previous day Ray had excused himself on account of the bad weather, and
had spent the hours mostly with Vera.
It was of how he had employed his time that he had been telling me when
I had discovered the eavesdropper.
"I wonder why our conversation should prove so interesting to that
maid?" he remarked thoughtfully, gazing into the fire. "She's rather
good-looking for a German, isn't she?"
"Yes," I said. "But who is this Mrs. Hill-Mason? She seems a rather loud
and buxom person, fond of the display of jewellery, dark, somewhat
oleaginous, and devoted to bridge."
"Harry says his mother met her in Cairo last winter. She's one of the
Somerset Masons--half-sister to the Countess of Thanet."
"Oh, she is known, then?"
"Of course. But we must get Vera to make some inquiry to-morrow as to
where she obtained her maid," declared Ray. "The woman is interested in
us, and we must discover the cause."
"Yes, I somehow mistrust her," I said. "I met her crossing the hall just
before dinner, and I detected a curious look in her eyes as she glanced
at me."
"Merely your fancy, Jack, old chap--because she's German," he laughed,
stretching his long legs.
"Well, what you were telling me about Vera and her discovery has alarmed
me," I said, tossing away the end of my cigar.
"Yes, she only returned last week from Emden, where she's been visiting
her old German governess, who, it seems, is now married to an official
in the construction department of the German Admiralty. From her friend
she was able to learn a lot, which will, no doubt, cause our Lords of
the Admiralty a bad quarter of an hour."
"What would the British public think if they were told the truth--that
Germany is rapidly building a secret fleet?" I said.
"Why, my dear fellow, the public would simply say you were a liar," he
laughed. "Every Englishman fancies himself top-dog, even though British
diplomacy--apart from that of our excellent King--is the laughing-stock
of the Powers. No," he added, "the truth is out. All yesterday I spent
with Vera, preparing the information which she forwarded to the
Admiralty to-night. I registered the letter for her at the village post
office. The authorities owe her a very deep debt for succeeding in
obtaining the information which our secret service has always failed to
get. She, an admiral's daughter, is now able to furnish actual details
of the ships now building in secret and where they are being
constructed."
"A matter which will, no doubt, be considered very seriously by the
Government," I said.
"Oh, I suppose they treat the whole thing lightly, as they always do. We
invite invasion," he sighed as he rose, adding: "Let's turn in now.
To-morrow we'll keep an eye upon that unusually inquisitive maid."
That night the eyes of the German maid haunted me. I could not rid
myself of their recollection. Was it that this hunting down of German
spies was getting on my nerves?
Next day we were shooting Starlings Wood, about five miles distant, but
Ray having "cried off" one day, could not do so again. Therefore, at his
suggestion, I made an excuse and remained at home with the ladies. The
morning I spent walking through the park with Vera, a smart, sweet-faced
little figure in her short tweed skirt and furs, with her bright and
vivacious chatter. From her I learnt some further details concerning her
visit to Emden.
"Ray is most excited about it, Mr. Jacox," she was saying. "Of course, I
had to make my inquiries with great caution and discretion, but I
managed to find out what I wanted, and I sent all the details to the
Admiralty yesterday."
Then as we went along the wide beech avenue I told her of the curious
incident in the smoking-room on the previous evening.
"Ray was telling me about it just before breakfast," she said, turning
her splendid eyes to mine. "I have already made some inquiries of Mrs.
Hill-Mason, and it appears that the maid Erna Stolberg was recommended
to her by a friend when she was in Dresden last year. She's a most
exemplary person, and has a number of friends in England. She was
previously with a French _baronne_."
"Mrs. Hill-Mason often moves in a military set, doesn't she?" I
remarked. "Somebody last night stated that she's the widow of a general,
and is well known down at Aldershot."
"I believe so."
"If Mrs. Hill-Mason visits at the houses of military officers, as it
seems she does, then this inquisitive maid would be afforded many
opportunities for gathering information. I intend to watch her," I said.
"And so will I, Mr. Jacox," replied the admiral's daughter, drawing her
astrachan collar tighter about her throat.
Half an hour later we drove in the wagonette out to the shooting-party
in the woods, where a merry luncheon was served in a marquee. I,
however, returned to the house before the rest of the party and haunted
the servants' hall. With Williams the butler I was on friendly terms,
and finding him in the great hall, began to make inquiries regarding the
guests' servants.
"You've got a German woman among them, haven't you?" I remarked.
"Yes, sir," was his reply. "A rather funny one she is, I fancy. She goes
out alone for walks after she's dressed her mistress for dinner, and is
out sometimes till quite late. What she does wandering about in the dark
nobody knows. But it ain't for me to say a word, sir; she's a visitor's
maid."
I held my own counsel, but resolved to watch.
Tea in the great hall, over which Lady Jocelyn presided, proved the
usual irresponsible function, but when I went to my room to dress for
dinner I became convinced that certain papers in my suit-case had been
turned over and investigated.
That night I did not go in to dinner. I heard the gong sound, and when
the company had gone in, I put on thick boots, overcoat, and cap, and
passed through the back way along the old wing of the house, through the
smoking-room, and out upon the drive.
Behind some holly bushes where I could see any one leave by the great
paved courtyard where the servants' entrance was situated, I concealed
myself and waited in patience. The night was dark and overcast. The
stable chimes had rung out half-past eight, but I still remained until,
about twenty minutes later, footfalls sounded, and from out the arched
entrance to the courtyard came a female figure in a close-fitting hat
and long dark ulster.
She passed close by me, under the light of the lamp, and I saw it was
the fair-haired woman for whom I was waiting.
Instead of walking straight down the avenue to the lodge-gates, she
struck along a footpath which led for a mile across the park, first
skirting the lake--the fishpond of the monks who lived there before the
Dissolution; then, passing under the dark shadow of a spinney, led to a
stile by which the high park wall could be negotiated and the main road
to East Dereham reached.
As she went forward so I followed. I knew the path well. I watched her
ascend the stile and cross the wall into the road. Then I crept up and
peered over into the darkness. She had turned to the right, and I could
discern her waiting at the roadside about thirty yards away.
From my place of concealment I could hear her slow footsteps as she
idled up and down in the darkness, evidently waiting for some one.
I think about ten minutes passed when I heard the whir of a motor-car
approaching, its big glaring headlamps shedding a stream of white
brilliance over the muddy road. As it approached her it slowed down and
stopped. Then I distinguished it to be a big Limousine, the occupant of
which opened the door, and she entered with a word of greeting.
I stood peering into the darkness, in surprise and disappointment at not
catching sight of the person with whom she was keeping these nightly
appointments. As soon as the door had banged the driver drove across the
road, backed, and turning, sped away in the direction he had come.
But while he was turning I had gained the road, advancing beneath the
hedgerow in an endeavour to see the number of the car. But I was
baffled. It was covered with mud.
Afterwards, much disappointed, and certainly hungry, I made my way back
across the park to the Hall, where, after managing to get a snack from
Williams, I joined the party at bridge.
That night the woman Stolberg returned at five minutes to eleven, and
later, when Ray went upstairs with me, I described what I had seen.
Next night, instead of following her out, I waited at the spot at
half-past ten, when, sure enough, the car returned ten minutes later and
deposited her. The number plates, however, were obliterated by the mud
both front and back--purposely it seemed to me. The man within shook her
hand as she alighted, but I could not see his face. Was he some secret
lover? Apparently she went no great distance each evening, going and
coming from the direction of Holt.
On the following day I took several opportunities of watching the woman
at close quarters. Her eyes were peculiarly set, very close together,
her lips were thin, and her cheek-bones rather high. Otherwise she was
not bad-looking. Mrs. Hill-Mason had, of course, no idea of her maid's
nocturnal motor-rides.
Whether the woman had any suspicion that she was being watched I know
not; but on the next night when Ray took a turn at keeping an eye upon
her, she did not go out, but on the next she went, and Ray followed her
to the park wall, but saw nothing more than I had done.
All this time, of course, Vera was greatly interested in the result of
our observations. Through her own maid, Batson, she discovered the room
occupied by the German, and to this I made my way, at considerable risk,
one morning while the maid was busy attending upon her mistress. I had a
good look through her belongings, finding in her trunk a small, flat
tin box, japanned dark green, strong, and secured by a lock of
well-known make. What, I wondered, did it contain?
Could I have but seen the number of the mysterious car I could have
discovered the identity of her nocturnal visitor.
The same day that I discovered the tin box in her trunk, Mrs.
Hill-Mason, however, returned to London, taking with her the mysterious
Fraeulein.
Three days more went by, and I was about to dismiss the affair as a
combination of curious circumstances. Vera and her aunt had left to pay
a visit in Worcestershire, and Ray I were due to go up to town that
morning, when he entered my room, saying abruptly:
"I'm not going to London yet, Jack. I shall go over to Cromer instead."
"Cromer!" I echoed. "Hardly the time of year for the seaside."
That same grey chilly afternoon, in the grey falling light, we sat upon
one of the seats of the pier at Cromer gazing seaward, towards where the
German coast lay beyond the indistinct horizon. The place was deserted
save for ourselves. On the cliff behind us stood the long red facade and
many gables of the Hotel de Paris, where we had put up, while in the
background rose the square old church tower, the landmark of mariners
from Haisborough Gat to the Dowsing.
"There's just a chance of us falling upon something interesting about
here," Ray was saying, as he pressed the tobacco into his pipe, and by
the expression upon his keen clean-shaven face I saw that he had scented
the presence of spies. "Has it never struck you," he went on, "that the
east coast, where we now are is the most vulnerable spot in England, and
the first objective of the Kaiser's army? Every soldier and sailor in
Germany dreams of 'the Day'--the day when he will set foot upon this
shore. For some years past our Intelligence Department has known of the
German plans for our invasion. There are several, but in each one a
dash, and a surprise landing along this coast of Norfolk and of Suffolk
and Essex is the first step. Knowledge of this prompted Lord Roberts to
resign his seat on the National Defence Committee and make those
stirring speeches pointing out our country's peril."
"And what thanks did the country give him?" I interrupted. "People only
laugh at him for his trouble!"
"Yes," said my friend bitterly, "the public are ignorant, therefore they
do not heed. They talk glibly about the strength of our navy, forgetful
that the German diplomacy is the cleverest and most cunning in the
world. When 'the Day' dawns there will be no suspicion of war, and
certainly no declaration of hostilities. Before we have realised that
war is in the air, the enemy will have their feet firmly planted upon
British soil."
"And if the enemy intend landing along this shore, it is certain that
spies are active here, gathering all information likely to be of service
to the invader."
"That's exactly why I've come here, my dear Jack," my friend said. "We
know that our eastern counties have been divided into districts by the
Germans, and in each one or more secret agents are busily at work taking
notes of food supplies, forage, blacksmiths' shops, motor-cars for
transport, the destruction of telegraphs and telephones, positions for
artillery, and the best mode of advance south to London. One may rest
assured that the ordnance map is being very much amplified just now."
That evening we spent idly in the hotel, and next day, hiring a
motor-car, we drove through Runton to Sheringham and over the hills
three miles further towards the back-door of England--the place
neglected by those responsible for our defences, and by the public
alike--Weybourne.
The road from Sheringham ran down a steep hill, called the Fox Hill, to
the little village that lay cosily at some distance from the sea.
Passing the church we turned sharply to the right, and in a few minutes
found ourselves against a large front with a wide open beach beyond.
Having alighted, we walked along beside the surf for some distance, out
of hearing of our chauffeur, when my friend exclaimed:
"Here is one of the spots which the Germans have chosen for landing.
Look at it! Everything is in favour of a hostile force. That range of
hills we've just come over at the back would be occupied by the landing
force at once, and thus they would command the whole country from
Kelling, which you see to the right, away south beyond Cromer, down to
Baxton beyond Mundesley."
With my back to the long rolling breakers I gazed away landward at the
long line of hills stretching in each direction. It was, indeed, an
ideal spot for an enemy to effect a landing, with deep water right up to
the land.
"Because of the confidence we have in our fleet and our wonderful
diplomacy this place is no longer watched," Raymond remarked, standing
beside me muffled in his motor-coat, for the wind was intensely cold.
"Yet in days gone by, by reason of the facilities which nature has
provided for the landing of hostile forces, it was carefully guarded
whenever the invasion of England was believed to be imminent."
After we had strolled some distance along the beach, where the
grey-green waters were breaking into foam, my friend suddenly halted
and, taking a piece of paper from his pocket, stood with his back to the
sea and made a sketch of the irregular contour of the blue hills facing
him from the coastguard at Salthouse on the right to the rising ground
behind Upper Sheringham on the left--the positions which are to be first
occupied by the enemy in their attack upon us.
He made no explanation of the reason of his action, therefore I stood by
watching in silence.
At last we returned to the car and drove inland to Weybourne village, a
sleepy old-world little place from which the sea has receded. As we
turned into the main road he ordered the man to pull up, and,
descending, looked about him, first at the lines of telegraph-wire
running beside the road, and then we both strolled through the village.
My companion's eyes were everywhere. He appeared to be making mental
notes of every feature of the obscure little place.
Just as we were returning to the car he suddenly halted, saying:
"You go on. A thought has just occurred to me." And, turning, he walked
back to the small village post office situated next door to an inn, and
was absent for nearly a quarter of an hour.
"As I suspected!" he remarked beneath his breath as he rejoined me.
"That inn is kept by a German!"
Then we travelled along to Cley-next-the-Sea, and thence by way of
Candlestick Hill and through the wooded country around Holt, back to
Sheringham, where we lunched at the "Burlington."
His manner had changed. He had again become serious and thoughtful. A
cycling map of the district which he had bought in Cromer that morning
he brought out, and as we sat together in the smoking-room he spread it
upon the table and began measuring distances with a slip of folded
paper.
The car was at the door at four o'clock, and we were in the act of
moving off, when by mere chance I looked up at the second floor of the
hotel. What I saw caused me to hold my breath.
A face was at one of the windows watching us.
I nudged my friend, and cried, "Look!"
But when he raised his head it had gone. Indeed, the white face had only
showed there for a single instant, yet it was a countenance that I too
well remembered, it was unmistakable--that of Fraeulein Stolberg!
I told Ray as we whirled along into the town. But he only grunted in
surprise, and remarked that we were going to Beccles.
Why was that woman there instead of being with her mistress, who, we had
ascertained, was now visiting at Cheltenham?
Our way lay first back to Cromer, where we joined the direct Norwich
road by way of Aylsham, but about four miles after passing Cromer the
road divided. The left-hand one ran to our destination, but at Ray's
orders we took the right-hand one, and in the darkening twilight struck
across a wide heath, which I afterwards learnt was called Roughton
Heath, until we passed an old windmill, and entered the small crooked
village of Roughton. We passed beyond the place for a quarter of a mile,
and then descending, walked forward until we came to a good-sized,
comfortable, old-fashioned house, probably of the days of Queen Anne,
that lay behind a high red-brick wall.
Through the iron gates I noticed, as we paused, a wide lawn in front,
with steps leading up to a portico, and behind a large orchard and
meadow. The blinds were already down, but in several of the windows
lights showed, and the place looked well kept up.
It differed but little from hundreds of other old-fashioned houses in
the country, but it evidently held considerable attraction for Ray,
because as we passed beyond the gates, and out of sight of any one in
the house, he took out his electric torch and carefully examined the
muddy roadway.
"See!" he exclaimed, pointing to tracks that ran in and out of the
gateway. "The car's home is here!"
"What car?"
"The car which used to meet the German maid at Metfield," was his
matter-of-fact reply. "For the present we know sufficient. We must look
sharp if we are to be in Beccles before eight. If we're not there
before, it will be of no use."
So we hurried back to our own car, and our driver, by taking a by-path,
brought us out upon the main road again at Thorpe Market, and just after
half-past seven we pulled up before the hotel in the old Suffolk market
town of Beccles, under the shadow of the stumpy square old church tower.
The car was garaged, and after a drink we went forth for a walk along
the quiet old-world streets, until suddenly upon a corner we came to the
post office, a large old-fashioned two-storied house with steep tiled
roof.
"Wait about here," my companion said; "a dark-haired man in a light grey
overcoat and golf-cap will probably come to post a letter just before
eight. He has a dark brown beard, and usually wears a white muffler.
When he comes follow him, and see where he goes. He may know me, so I
must keep out of sight."
Therefore I lit my pipe, and idled up and down, keeping the letter-box
in view. In the window, directly above it, was a clock which showed it
then to be a quarter to eight. I took a pretended interest in the small
shops near, until about four minutes to the hour a closed motor-car
swung round from the direction of the Public Hail, and pulled up before
the post office.
From it two men alighted--one a youngish fair-haired man, and the other,
dark-bearded and much older, wore a thick grey overcoat and a white
muffler. He was the man of whom I was in search.
I entered the office directly after the pair, on pretence of buying
stamps, but already the elder of the two had handed in a letter to be
registered, the address of which I failed to discern.
Both seemed to be in a great hurry, for as soon as the receipt was
written out they re-entered the car and drove back in the direction they
had come, leaving me standing helpless on the opposite side of the road.
Immediately I returned to the hotel where Ray was waiting, and reported
to him, whereupon he seized his hat, and walking with me back to the
post office halted in the centre of the road examining the wheel-tracks,
which were still quite plain upon the damp roadway.
Then, as he walked back, he said:
"Do you know, Jack, that this town Beccles has been decided upon by the
Germans as the head-quarters of the Army Corps which lands at Weybourne?
It's a natural position, standing upon high ground and commanding the
whole of the surrounding country. Signals made from that church tower
yonder could be seen very far afield."
Then, as we sat together in the coffee-room of the hotel, eating a hasty
meal, he remarked:
"We'll go back to Cromer to-night, but I shall go to town to-morrow.
You'll wait till my return, won't you?"
So I was left alone for nearly a week; and on his return he announced
that we must at once shift our quarters to Lowestoft. So south we went
that same night, arriving at midnight, and putting up at the
many-balconied Empire Hotel.
The town interested my companion not at all, but from there we went
forth each day on long motor excursions, scouring the whole country as
far south as Aldborough and as far west as Bury St. Edmunds. All the
roads round Southwold, Bungay, Saxmundham, Stow Market, and many other
towns we reconnoitred, apparently always with the same object--to
discover wheel-tracks of a mysterious car.
The garages of every town Ray visited alone, but his inquiries always
met with the same negative result.
Late one afternoon, however, when on the road between Wymondham and
Diss, he suddenly shouted to the driver to stop, and jumping out,
examined the track of wheels. The road, however, was hard at that spot,
and it was some time before he could decide whether the car had
travelled north or south.
"They've gone north!" he declared with satisfaction; therefore we
continued to follow them towards Wymondham, where they had drawn up at
the "Old Green Dragon," and gone forth again, striking into a by-road
which led to Bracon Ash.
"Ha!" he cried, when he saw this, "so they're busy at work--that's
plain!"
But by this time the light had faded, and much to our chagrin we were
again compelled to give up the hunt, and find our way over by Hempnall,
and so through Bungay back to Lowestoft.
Next day we were early back again at the spot, but heavy rain had
unfortunately fallen all night, so the tracks had been obliterated.
After another week of unsuccessful journeying we were, one day, about
half-way between Norwich going towards Aylsham, when my friend's keen
eyes caught sight of a wheel-track coming out of a narrow by-road.
We halted, and descending he examined them minutely, declaring that they
were what we were in search of, and quite fresh.
Therefore, considerably excited, we were soon upon the trail, following
the car through Aylsham and North Walsham until, on the road that led
towards the sea at Happisburgh, it suddenly turned into another byway.
Here Ray decided to pull up and follow on foot, which we did for nearly
two miles, until we saw before us the railway line which runs between
North Walsham and Yarmouth. We had left the road, for there, pulled up
before us, was the car I had seen at Beccles, and on ahead were the two
men, one of whom I recognised by his grey coat and white muffler.
They were beneath the railway bridge, carefully examining it.
"They're marking that down on their plan for destruction," remarked Ray
between his teeth. "All these connections will be destroyed when they
land. But, by heaven! we'll be even with them yet!"
We watched them in secret for a full half-hour, as they examined the
railroad at several points, and when they had driven off we followed
them along a road where ran six lines of telegraph into Happisburgh.
"Those wires," remarked Ray, "form one of the direct cables to Germany.
They pass through Beccles, so you may rest assured that they've surveyed
it well!"
At Happisburgh the tracks turned to the left, and thence again to the
right to Walcot, but just as we were passing over a low hill we saw that
the car on before us had stopped. The two men were photographing the
country from Paston, inland towards Witton.
We drew up and watched their movements.
Then they went on, and we followed, parting company with their tracks at
the cross-roads, they going westward, while we struck north, until we
found ourselves once again in Cromer for the night.
That evening we made an amazing discovery at the hotel. Erna Stolberg
was staying there alone under the name of Madame Hirsch! Ray first saw
her seated in the reading-room, and called me. I peered in at the door
and recognised her in a pale blue silk blouse and black net skirt, lying
back in a chair reading an illustrated paper. She was evidently quite
unsuspicious of our presence.
Ray was sorely puzzled. Next morning he sent a wire to Mrs. Hill-Mason's
house in Charles Street, and before noon had received a reply from her
at Bournemouth saying that Fraeulein Stolberg had left her service a
fortnight before.
"German spies are pretty active in East Anglia, old chap, as you've seen
with your own eyes," he remarked to me.
In order that the woman should not notice us, we told the chauffeur to
meet us out on the Norwich road, after which we travelled to quaint old
Aylsham, where we idled away the day, spending the afternoon playing
billiards at the "White Horse."
More than once during the day my companion examined the road outside for
traces of wheel-tracks, but there were none like those of the car of
those secret agents of Hermann Hartmann.
I noticed that Ray had brought with him a small brown brief-bag, an
unusual thing for him to carry. But that morning he had placed it in the
car with instructions to the chauffeur to move it on no account.
At four o'clock that afternoon he received a telegram, which he read
through twice, and placed on the fire, remarking:
"From Vera. She's received the thanks of the Admiralty for her report.
They promise to make inquiry. Probably they'll send somebody over who
can't speak a word of German!"
We dined at half-past six off cold meat and pickles, but not until
midnight did we set out upon the road, travelling north in the direction
of Cromer, until we came to the cross roads at Hanworth, where we halted
and Ray got down to examine the road. Wheel-tracks were there leading
back to Roughton, and these we followed until, near the entrance to the
village, now in complete darkness, we descended, Ray lifting out his
precious bag.
"You've got your revolver?" he asked, when we had gone a hundred yards
or so.
I replied in the affirmative, for nowadays I always carried it.
"Well, we are going to get into that house at Roughton I pointed out to
you," he said. "I intend to have a look round."
"You mean to break in? Suppose we're caught!" I exclaimed.
"Bah! Spies are always cowards. Leave that to me."
So we went on until, having passed through the silent village, we
entered a road where the bare trees met overhead, rendering it almost
pitch-dark, and presently approached the house.
Not a light showed anywhere. Whoever were its occupants, they had
retired.
For nearly half an hour we concealed ourselves in the bushes opposite,
watching in patience, for the night was as yet young. In the distance we
fancied we heard the sound of wheels, but they did not advance;
therefore we agreed that it was only fancy.
After waiting what seemed to me hours, Ray switched on his electric lamp
to see the time. It was then nearly two o'clock, so we decided to take
another step forward.
We crossed the road and tried the iron gate. It was locked.
There was nothing for it but to scale it, and as I was in the act of
clambering up I was startled by a strange voice behind me--a woman's
voice raising an alarm!
Ray, who was standing behind me, closed with the unwelcome stranger in
an instant, and placed his hand forcibly over her mouth while I sprang
back to assist him. That moment was an exciting one.
"Put your handkerchief in her mouth, man!" he cried. "Don't you see who
it is--the woman Stolberg!"
Quick as thought I took out my handkerchief and stuffed it into her
mouth while he held her. Then I gripped her arms, while Ray produced the
thin silk rope which he usually carried on such expeditions and with it
bound her tightly hand and foot.
She struggled violently, cursing us in German the while, but all in
vain. So at length we disposed of her comfortably against a tree-trunk
in a field opposite, to which Ray very deftly secured her. She had
evidently driven over from Cromer on some important errand to her
friends and had stopped the cart some distance away from the house.
Cautiously we negotiated the high iron gate, and creeping noiselessly
across the lawn, gained the window on the left of the entrance. Ray
flashed his light upon it, and noting that the fastening was only an
ordinary one, promptly commenced work upon it by inserting one of his
burglarious tools between the sashes. In a few moments it sprang back
with a click, and lifting the sash slowly and pushing aside the holland
blind, he swung himself into a comfortably furnished sitting-room, I
following quickly at his heels.
In that dead silence I could hear my heart throbbing.
We were actually in the house of the spies!
The room, which contained nothing of interest to us, smelt strongly of
tobacco, while upon the table lay a big German pipe. Still gripping his
leather bag Ray carefully opened the door, and crossing the wide
old-fashioned hall, opened another door, when we found ourselves in an
old-fashioned dining-room, the sideboard of which was decorated with
some very nice antique blue china. From this apartment we visited the
drawing-room and another smaller reception-room, and then, creeping on
tiptoe, we ascended the old well staircase which once creaked horribly
beneath me.
Here we were confronted with a serious problem. We knew not in which
room the spies were sleeping.
Ray halted at the top of the stairs to take his bearings, and after some
hesitation resolved to first investigate the room over the one by which
we had entered. He tried the door. It was locked on the inside. Somebody
was within.
So we crept across to the opposite side. Here the door was also locked,
but a flash from the torch revealed that there was no key inside. It was
a locked room, and Ray determined to see what lay beyond.
Therefore, with infinite care not to make a sound, he drew from his
pocket some skeleton keys, one of which slid back the bolt, and in a
moment we were within.
The torch, an instant later, revealed an amazing state of things. Pinned
down to the large deal table before the window was a huge map of the
district from Weybourne towards Yarmouth, about five feet square, made
up of various sections of the six-inch ordnance map, and literally
covered with annotations and amplifications in German, written in red
ink. Upon strings stretched across one end of the room were a number of
photographic films and prints in process of drying, while strewn about
the place were rough military sketches--the result of the labours of
many months--a couple of cameras, measuring tapes, a heliograph
apparatus, a portfolio full of carefully drawn plans with German
explanations beneath, and a tin box, which, when opened, we found to
contain a number of neatly written reports and memoranda in German, all
ready for transmission to Berlin!
Ray seized a whole handful of these papers--a translation of one of
which is here reproduced--and stuffed them into his pocket, saying:
"These will prove interesting reading for us later on, no doubt."
EAST COAST OF ENGLAND--DISTRICT VI.
Memoranda by Captain Wilhelm Stolberg, 114th Regiment
Westphalian Cuirassiers, on special duty February,
1906--December, 1908.
WEYBOURNE--Norfolk--England. (Section coloured red upon large
scale map. Photographs Series B, 221 to 386.)
In Sheringham and Cromer comprised in this District are
resident forty-six German subjects, mostly hotel servants,
waiters, and tradesmen, who have each been allotted their task
on "the Day."
ARMS:--a store of arms is in a house at Kelling Heath, where on
receipt of the signal all will secretly assemble, and at a
given hour surprise and hold up the coastguard at all stations
in their district, cut all telegraph and telephones shown upon
the large map to be destroyed, wire in pre-arranged cipher to
their comrades at Happisburgh to seize the German cable there,
and take every precaution to prevent any fact whatsoever
leaking out concerning the presence of our ships.
MEN:--Every man is a trained soldier, and has taken the oath of
loyalty to your Imperial Majesty. Their leader is Lieutenant
Bischoffsheim, living in Tucker Street, Cromer, in the guise of
a baker.
EXPLOSIVES FOR BRIDGES:--These have been stored at Sandy Hill,
close to Weybourne Station, marked on map.
LANDING PLACE:--Weybourne is the easiest and safest along the
whole coast. The coast-guard station, on the east, has a wire
to Harwich, which will be cut before our ships are in sight. In
Weybourne village there is a small telegraph office, but this
will at the same time be seized by our people occupying an inn
in the vicinity, a place which will be recognised by the
display of a Union Jack.
WIRES:--Eight important wires run through here, five of which
must be cut, as well as the trunk telephone. Direct
communication with Beccles is obtained.
BEACH:--Hard, and an excellent road runs from the sea to the
highway south. For soundings, see notes upon British soundings.
Admiralty Chart No. 1630 accompanying.
FORGE:--There is one at the end of the village.
PROVISIONS:--Grocers' shops in village are small, therefore do
not contain much stock. There are plenty of sheep and oxen in
the district towards Gunton. (See accompanying lists of amount
of live stock upon each farm.)
MOTOR-CARS:--(List of owners and addresses attached)...
A specimen of the notes of German spies.
But just at that moment in stepping back I unfortunately knocked over a
frame containing some glass negatives, which fell from a shelf with a
loud crash.
We both stood breathless. There was a quick movement in the room
adjoining, and we heard men's voices shouting to each other in German.
"Stay here," Ray said firmly. "We must not show the white feather now."
Almost as the words left his mouth we were confronted by the two men
whom we had seen surveying the railway line.
"Well!" cried Ray, gripping his precious bag and facing them boldly,
"you see we've discovered your little game, gentlemen! Those notes on
the map are particularly interesting."
"By what right, pray, do you enter here?" asked the bearded man,
speaking in fairly good English.
"By the right of an Englishman, Herr Stolberg," was Ray's bold reply.
"You'll find your clever wife tied up to a tree in the field opposite."
The younger man held a revolver, but from his face I saw that he was a
coward.
"What do you mean?" demanded the other.
"I mean that I intend destroying all this excellent espionage work of
yours. You've lived here for two years, and have been very busy
travelling in your car and gathering information. But," he said, "you
were a little unwise in putting upon your car the new Feldmarck
non-skids, the only set, I believe, yet in England. They may be very
good tyres, but scarcely adapted for spying purposes. I, for instance,
noticed the difference in the tracks the wheels made one evening when
you met your wife outside Metfield Park, and that is what led me to
you."
"You'd destroy all my notes and plans!" he gasped, with a fierce oath in
German. "You shall never do that--you English cur!"
"Then stand aside and watch!" he cried, withdrawing from the room on to
the landing. "See, look here!" and he opened his bag. This caused both
men to withdraw from the room to peer inside his bag.
With a quiet movement, however, Ray flung a small dark object into the
centre of the room, and in an instant there was a bright blood-red
flash, and the whole place was one mass of roaring flames, which,
belching from the door, caused us all to beat a hasty retreat. In a
moment the place was a furnace.
The spies shouted, cursed, and fired their revolvers at us through the
thick smoke, but we were quickly downstairs and out in the road.
"That will soon drive out the rats," laughed Ray, as we watched the
flames burst through the roof and saw the two men escape half dressed
through the window we had opened.
And as, with the red glare behind us, we hurried back to the spot where
we had left our car, Ray remarked, with a laugh of triumph:
"Stolberg bought that place two years ago with money, no doubt, supplied
from Berlin, so he's scarcely likely to come upon us for incendiarism, I
think. It was the only way--to make one big bonfire of the whole thing!"