Self-accused
"We've a few minutes to spare," observed Kenneth, "so I'll get those
cigars for Private Labori. There's a swagger shop just across the
road."
In spite of the threatened bombardment of Antwerp the population was
calm. It was a case of "business as usual". The cafes and shops were
doing a good trade; the price of provisions, notwithstanding the great
influx of refugees, was but a little above the normal. Were it not for
the military element in the street, and the occasional visit of a
Zeppelin or hostile aeroplane, it would have been difficult to realize
that the city was almost within range of the German siege guns, and
that day by day those guns were slowly yet steadily advancing.
Kenneth entered the tobacconist's first. As he did so he momentarily
forgot that he carried his rifle across his back. In passing through
the narrow doorway the muzzle of the weapon struck the plate-glass
window of the porch and cracked it.
Alarmed by the crash the shopkeeper rushed out, but before Kenneth
could offer any apologies the man gave a howl of terror.
"Mercy, monsieur Englishman!" he exclaimed. "Indeed I could not help
it. Von Koenik compelled me to disclose your name."
Kenneth, ever quick-witted, grasped the situation instantly. The
tobacconist was none other than the spy who, under the name of Jules de
la Paix, kept a similar establishment at Brussels. There his dirty
work had been completed; at Antwerp it was just beginning.
The fellow had also recognized Kenneth as the Englishman he had basely
denounced to his paymasters, the Germans. Seeing him in uniform and
armed, with a fully-accoutred companion, the spy jumped at the hasty
and erroneous conclusion that Kenneth had discovered his duplicity and
had come to arrest him.
His panic at seeing the man whom he supposed to be dead amounted to a
superstitious terror. Hardly knowing what he said, he let fall the
damning admission that he was at least partly responsible for Kenneth's
arrest at Brussels.
"You are my prisoner!" exclaimed Kenneth sternly.
Momentarily recovering his courage, the fellow drew back. His hand
flew to his pocket, but before he could produce a concealed weapon the
British lad grasped him by both arms.
Meanwhile Rollo, guessing by the crash of the broken glass that
something was amiss, had sauntered leisurely into the shop, fully
expecting to hear his chum apologizing profusely to the tobacconist for
his clumsiness. To his surprise, he found Kenneth and the shopkeeper
swaying to and fro in a desperate struggle. Chairs had been
overturned, cases of pipes and packets of tobacco were being thrown in
all directions.
In spite of being encumbered with his rifle and kit, Kenneth succeeded
in throwing the spy to the floor and kneeling on his chest.
[Illustration: KENNETH SUCCEEDED IN THROWING THE SPY TO THE FLOOR]
"Get a strap, a rope, or something, old man," he exclaimed
breathlessly. "We've collared a spy."
Rollo obeyed. It was one of those rare instances when he acted on the
spur of his chum's orders and argued the situation afterwards. He
could not understand how Kenneth had effected the capture without any
previous warning. To him, a lad brought up in a country where law and
order moves with slow and majestic deliberation, it looked like a case
of illegal arrest. Nevertheless he found a length of packing-cord, and
deftly secured the arms of the now exhausted spy, tying them at the
wrists behind his back.
The two female assistants--Belgian girls--had fled screaming at the
commencement of the struggle. Two or three customers at the other end
of the long shop had watched the scene without attempting to interfere;
but directly the shopkeeper was secured they rushed into the street,
yelling that a spy had been captured.
The utterance of the word "Espion" was sufficient instantly to attract
a huge crowd. Civil Guards and soldiers found their way through the
press, and kept the curious onlookers from the door.
"Who denounces the accused?" demanded a sergeant of the Civil Guard.
"I do," promptly responded Kenneth, at the same time producing his
identity papers.
The sergeant glanced at the documents, and entered Kenneth's name in a
book.
"You must come with me," he added; "you and your witnesses."
"Sorry I cannot," said Kenneth.
The sergeant pricked up his ears.
"I order you," he declared.
"Tell me where you are taking the prisoner, and we will be there as
soon as possible. At three o'clock I have an appointment with
Commandant Fleurus, and it is nearly that hour now."
The sergeant acquiesced, but took the precaution of discreetly sending
a couple of men to watch the movements of the two corporals in Belgian
uniform who were stated to be English. Experience had taught him that
there were such things as forged documents, and that Germans had
masqueraded as English officers and men.
"You are slightly after time," was Commandant Fleurus's remark as the
dispatch-riders presented themselves.
"We arrested a spy, sir," announced Kenneth. "He gave himself away."
"How was that?" asked the Commandant.
Kenneth reported the details, and how Jules de la Paix had rashly
declared that he was compelled to denounce the English lads to von
Koenik at Brussels.
"Good!" ejaculated Commandant Fleurus. "It is indeed a fine service to
trap such carrion. We have suffered greatly from these pests, but I
fear one the less will make but little difference. Antwerp shelters a
horde of them. But here is your dispatch. See, I have endorsed it:
'Bearers detained upon special service'."
By the time that Kenneth and Rollo arrived at the head-quarters of the
Civil Guard a court martial had already been constituted. The presence
of the principal witnesses made it possible for the trial to open.
The proceedings were brief, but with every semblance of fairness. The
accused, having had time to consider his position, tried to deny his
statements; but there were several witnesses who had overheard the
prisoner's terrified confession to Kenneth.
Members of the Civil Guard reported that they had searched the
accused's premises. In a garret with a well-concealed trap-door they
discovered a powerful wireless installation, the aerials being hidden
from outside view by being placed between two rows of chimney-pots. In
the garret were also found plans and documents of great official value,
besides a copy of a code, several flash-lights, and arms and
ammunition. On the face of this evidence the prisoner was doomed.
In addition the Civil Guards discovered that at the end of the garden
was a shed abutting on a canal that communicated with the Scheldt. In
this shed was a large sea-going motor-boat, painted a dark-grey, and
completely equipped for a voyage. It was presumed that, should the spy
find himself compelled to leave Antwerp hurriedly, this craft would
enable him to reach Dutch territory, whence he could easily regain the
ground held by the invaders.
Within an hour from the opening of the Court the spy was condemned to
be shot, and the sentence was put into execution forthwith.
"A rotten business," remarked Kenneth as the two lads rode towards
Wavre Ste Catherine. "I feel as if I have that fellow's blood on my
head."
"He jolly well deserved what he got," rejoined Rollo.
"Undoubtedly; but, all the same, I wish I hadn't a hand in it.
Trapping spies is hardly a soldier's game. What I should like to have
done would be to have given him a thundering good hiding."