Next morning, at twelve o'clock, Doctor Voules sat at the big oak table
in his dining-room at Brooke. He had arrived from London in the
morning, and was busy consuming a heavy lunch.
The brightness of the day before had vanished; a heavy driving rain was
falling. From the single window of the apartment the doctor could
obtain a view of drenched foliage in his garden. And, sharp to the
left, as one stood at the window, a view of the sea, grey and restless
beneath a leaden sky, was visible.
The doctor ate stolidly, grinding his food in heavy, powerful jaws. The
only other occupant of the room was Captain Cherriton, who lounged in a
chair at the hearth and read a morning newspaper assiduously. Beside
him, on the floor, lay four or five other morning news-sheets.
For many minutes, save the drive of the rain and the chink of Voules's
knife and fork, no sound broke the stillness of the room. Then Voules
turned his chair, took out a cigar and lit it.
"The barometer is falling, Rathenau," he said in his grating, imperious
voice--quite another voice from that which he assumed as the bland
Doctor Voules.
"It is going down steadily, Excellenz," answered Cherriton.
"Good," returned the elder man. "We must have unsettled weather for the
twenty-eighth--eh, Rathenau?"
"It is much to be desired, Excellenz."
The twenty-eighth--it was always the twenty-eighth with General von
Kuhne. With machine-like precision his forceful mind returned again and
again to that date--the date which was to mark the consummation of his
work. The blow, the subtle, heavy blow at England's heart--the blow
planned, schemed for, and ordered; the great destruction that had
originated in his martial and ruthless mind.
"Things go well, eh?"
"Quite well, Excellenz," Cherriton answered promptly, for as yet he had
not found courage to mention to the general his suspicion of Treves. He
was not yet positive that Treves had betrayed them, and, in the
meantime, he had resolved to say nothing. Rather would he wait and
watch, seeking for tangible proof of duplicity on Treves's part.
These thoughts were passing through his mind when a knock came at the
door, and Conrad entered to clear away the luncheon things. In his hand
he carried a salver upon which lay a single letter, addressed to Doctor
Voules, and without a stamp.
The doctor took up the letter.
"Herr Manwitz brought it from Newport, Excellenz," said the servant in
German.
"Tell Herr Manwitz I will see him presently, and remain out of the room
until I ring for you."
General von Kuhne had recognised Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's handwriting.
He began to read almost casually; then, suddenly, his interest
intensified, and as he read the lines of his heavy face grew hard, firm
and implacable. His colour rose; he eased his collar about his throat
and bit heavily upon his long cigar.
Cherriton, noticing his agitation, noticing the blazing wrath that
illuminated his face, watched him with anxious eyes.
Suddenly von Kuhne sprang to his feet.
"Stand up!" he bellowed, looking at the younger man with an expression
of utter ferocity. "You blind, thick-witted fool!"
Captain Cherriton's pallid features were flushed, an angry light lit in
his eye. He opened his mouth and was about to speak, but von Kuhne
swept the words out of his mouth with a savage gesture.
"Speak no words to me, you ---- but read that letter!"
He thrust Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's closely-written sheets into the
younger man's hands.
"Read that!" he roared, "and see to what pass you have brought us!"
Cherriton began to read, and as he read the colour left his face. Von
Kuhne hurried to the bell and jangled it savagely. Conrad precipitated
himself into the room in a state of nervous agitation. He was used to
authority, but he had never yet known a bell to ring with such violence.
Doctor Voules's face turned towards him did nothing to dissipate his
alarm.
"Tell Herr Manwitz to come here this instant," roared Voules.
"Very good, Excellenz." He paused a moment, then added: "Mr. Bernard
Treves is here, Excellenz. Shall I also tell him to enter?"
Doctor Voules drew in a deep breath. He turned slowly and looked into
Cherriton's eyes.
The stillness that ensued was intense and portentous. The glance that
passed between Voules and Cherriton was one of infinite meaning.
Voules's expression of ferocity moderated; he turned his eyes again to
the intimidated Conrad standing in the doorway.
"How long has Mr. Treves been here?"
"A few minutes only, Herr Excellenz. He came in after Herr Manwitz."
"Very good, Conrad! You will take particular care Mr. Treves does not
leave the house, and you will in the meantime send Herr Manwitz to me."
"Very good, Excellenz."
"You understand my order in regard to Herr Treves?"
"Yes, Excellenz. He is not to leave the house."
General von Kuhne nodded and turned on his heel. As the door closed upon
Conrad, his implacable eyes once more sought Cherriton.
"The letter you hold," he began, making a stiff gesture towards Mrs.
Beecher Monmouth's missive, which Cherriton was still studying--"the
letter you hold in your hand convicts this man completely. His
treachery to us, his espionage"--he paused a moment--"may bring upon us
the utmost disaster. In failing to discover his duplicity you have
shown yourself no less than a sheep-headed fool!"
"Herr Excellenz!" protested Baron von Rathenau, drawing himself up, a
flush of colour animating his dull pallor.
"I am your superior officer!" countered von Kuhne. "It is, fortunately,
my privilege to speak plain words to you; it is equally my privilege to
command your obedience. You have failed in regard to this young man,
Bernard Treves. From the first hour of his contact with Manwitz he has
clearly tricked you both!"
"May I venture to remind you, Excellenz, that he tricked you also?"
Von Kuhne lifted his fierce and truculent gaze.
Cherriton was neither intimidated nor silenced.
"He tricked you, Herr Excellenz, the day of his first visit here. You
announced to me then that you were satisfied. You observed upon his
wrists the punctured marks which proved him, as you said, Excellenz, to
be addicted to the injection of drugs."
Von Kuhne waved these objections aside.
"I based my opinion upon his dossier provided for me by you and
Manwitz." He began to pace the floor, with his hands behind his back,
his head thrust forward in deep thought. "This affair, Rathenau," he
said at length, "this discovery grows more and more sinister. It is
clear to anyone not utterly a fool that every step of yours and Manwitz
has been dogged for many weeks past. What this young man knows of our
plans we shall never learn; what he has confided to his authorities we
can only guess. One thing, however, is certain: whether he knows much
or little, his activities must cease." He paused and looked full into
the younger man's face. "Do you gather my meaning?"
Cherriton bowed.
"I understand, Excellenz."
Von Kuhne continued to pace the carpet.
"I shall rely upon you for effective measures."
At that moment a knock fell upon the door, and Conrad ushered Herr
Manwitz into the room, and closed the door upon him. The big, fat man,
with his swarthy, pouched cheeks, his bristling black moustache and
iron-grey hair, bowed deferentially to von Kuhne.
"You desired to see me, Excellenz?"
Von Kuhne walked to the table, took up Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's letter,
and handed it to him.
"Read that!" he said curtly. He spoke in German, and used the
commanding tone of an exalted German officer speaking to a subordinate.
Manwitz read the letter from end to end, and as he read the colour
receded from his cheeks, his heart-beat quickened in growing
apprehension. As the import of the letter grew plain to him, his
apprehension amounted almost to terror. The thought that Treves was a
member of the English secret service filled him with infinite dread. He
had never in his most suspicious moments conceived such a thing as
possible. Treves, the neurotic, the weak-minded drug-taker! The man
who had shown cowardice in the face of the enemy, and had narrowly
escaped court-martial! Was it possible that this good-looking, feeble
fool had been at one and the same time a steady-nerved, watchful member
of the English Intelligence Department? Even now, as he read Mrs.
Beecher Monmouth's plain words, he could not credit them. Nevertheless
he was afraid--mortally afraid--for his own skin. The Tower of London
and a firing squad had always loomed at the back of Manwitz' mind as a
thing of infinite menace. The English were so peremptory in these
matters--no talk, no fuss; merely a firing squad and oblivion! He
possessed none of Cherriton's cold and brutal courage. And the thought
that his own name was written in the tablets of the English secret
service, the knowledge that his every movement may have been watched by
a skilful English spy, sent a tremor through him that was visible both
to von Kuhne and Cherriton.
"You discovered this man!" said von Kuhne, thrusting out his chin and
fixing his cold gaze upon Manwitz.
"That I admit," answered Manwitz; "but I am prepared to swear that he
was indeed what I thought him to be. I took the utmost care, Excellenz,
and it was long before I trusted him. His information, Excellenz,
enabled us to sink the _Polidor_."
"That is quite true, Excellenz," Cherriton said, suddenly puzzled.
"And in regard to his habits," went on Manwitz, "I have seen him many
times under the influence of drugs, with all the symptoms, Excellenz,
which I was careful to study--dilation of the pupils, irritability, fear
of imaginary enemies----"
Von Kuhne waved his hand, but Manwitz persisted.
"Excellenz, he must have changed greatly, if he is, indeed, the man
mentioned here!"
"You fool!" von Kuhne thrust at him; "of course he is the same man! We
are speaking of Treves, and no other!"
"He must have changed, Excellenz!" protested Manwitz. "Treves, as I
knew him, would never have had the nerve to act against us. I impressed
upon him, Excellenz, what the punishment for treachery would be, and he
values his own skin above all things in the world."
"Perhaps almost as much as you value yours!" added von Kuhne, with a
sneer of contempt. "I have to warn you, Manwitz, I shall expect you to
act decisively and without reservation! The Fatherland requires that
this man who has betrayed us shall expiate his treachery! Do you get my
meaning?"
"Yes, Excellenz."
"You will understand," he said, looking from one to the other, "that I
am speaking officially and in my capacity as director of intelligence.
You will obey me"--his eyes turned towards Cherriton--"as though we were
upon the sacred soil of the Fatherland!"
He was standing at the table, resting one hand on the cloth. He spoke
as a judge pronouncing a sentence, and in the eyes of von Rathenau and
Manwitz he was, indeed, this. They took orders from him as inferior
officers receiving orders from a general of division. "The removal of
this man is an act of mere military justice. My orders are that you,
Manwitz, and you, Baron von Rathenau, administer this just sentence!"
He was passing what amounted to sentence of death on Bernard Treves. In
doing this he felt no qualm, no sensitive doubt whatever. If he had
occupied an English town in his true character as a German general in
command, he would have put to death a hundred persons for not a tithe of
the crime that John had committed against him. In sentencing John to
death, in appointing Cherriton and Manwitz his executioners, he was
carrying out what to him was a just, even a moderate law. He had been
brought up to slaughter; he had been taught from boyhood to crush the
Fatherland's enemies. To intimidate by frightfulness was the highest
German ideal. He was a typical military German--that is, a typical
cold-blooded murderer. He crossed to the bell now and jangled it
again--this time not quite so sharply.
"My orders," he said to Cherriton, over his shoulder, "are to be carried
out as expeditiously as possible. I leave the method in your hands."
He turned his eyes upon Manwitz. "I shall expect you to co-operate in
the work, Manwitz!"
At that moment Conrad presented himself in the door-way.
"Tell Mr. Treves to come in," said von Kuhne.
Two minutes later John entered the room. His erect figure, his clear
eye, instantly caught von Kuhne's attention; every one of the German's
suspicions was in that moment doubly confirmed. For a moment von Kuhne
felt inclined to draw his pistol and shoot Manton down where he stood,
but by a powerful effort he assumed his suave "Doctor Voules" manner.
"Come in, Mr. Treves," he said. "We have seen very little of you of
late."
John came into the room and shook hands with Manwitz. He had not seen
him for some time. Manwitz's hand was cold and flabby to the touch.
John felt the atmosphere tense and electrical; he knew in some subtle
way that Voules' smoothness of tone was a veneer to hide other and
deeper feelings. The eyes of the three Germans seemed to watch him with
unusual closeness. He instantly jumped to the conclusion that Cherriton
had been conveying his suspicions to von Kuhne. The thought that Mrs.
Beecher Monmouth's suspicions had been aroused was the last thing that
would have entered his head.
He stayed for some minutes talking upon general topics. He had come in
answer to a summons from von Kuhne, and was surprised that the German
had given him no definite instructions. On behalf of Dacent Smith, John
had already gathered a good deal of data about the approaching
operations. He knew more than a little of the great blow Germany was
preparing, and he felt a little puzzled that von Kuhne appeared to have
upon this occasion nothing for him to do.
"You must come again," said the German; "we will have a further talk."
He glanced at Cherriton. Cherriton understood the meaning of the look.
"Which way are you going, Treves?"
"Oh! I shall cycle back to Freshwater," John answered. "I promised my
father I'd stay a night with him."
"That's exactly my way back," answered Cherriton.
"It is my way also," added Manwitz, "but I'm afraid you'll have to leave
me behind, as I have no cycle."
The upshot was that a few minutes later, in a pause between two heavy
downfalls of rain, John and Cherriton set out and cycled away together
from Voules's residence.
John and Cherriton cycled side by side. It was John's plan to spend the
night with Treves's father. He was fond of the old soldier, and in
deceiving him was merely carrying out his chosen part. He was playing a
dangerous game in his country's interests. And the first man to applaud
his actions would have been the fine old soldier, whose own son had
proved so utter a disappointment. Therefore John felt no compunction in
the deception.
He knew that infinite caution was required of him, and that the shrewd
eyes of Captain Cherriton were always upon him. He knew that at any
moment "Voules," or Cherriton or Mrs. Beecher Monmouth might stumble
upon the knowledge of his true identity. In that case not only would
his utility to Dacent Smith come to an abrupt end, but his own chances
of escape from his enemies' ruthlessness would be hardly worth
contemplating. He was surprised to find that, as he and Cherriton rode
side by side, the tall German talked more volubly and affably than
usual. He seemed to have forgotten his suspicions of John, his peculiar
attitude in Doctor Voules's room had vanished. He questioned John
cheerfully as to his recent movements, and, when John evaded his
questions a little too obviously, he rallied his companion, suggesting
that he was a gay dog, that he was neglecting his wife and bestowing his
attentions elsewhere.
John looked at him keenly upon the mention of Elaine's name, but he
could read nothing on the German's pallid, heavy-boned face.
Nevertheless, as he rode, and as they drew near to Freshwater, John
became aware that his companion had been pumping him with a good deal of
subtlety. He was trying to find out something--what that something was
John could not guess.
They rode up a long hill together and came in sight of the sea. The
view was magnificent, despite the lowering clouds and the rain, which
had begun to fall again. Upon their right hand, sloping towards the sea
and the white cliffs, lay a wide expanse of down, broken by small
coppices and clumps of gorse. There was an old grey stone farm-house,
with farm buildings, in the distance and in the middle of the down, near
a clump of trees, were two single-storied labourers' cottages.
Cherriton drew John's attention to these buildings.
"I want you to come and have a look at that little place, Treves," he
said, in a casual tone.
"What is its particular interest?" asked John.
"It has a particular interest for me," Cherriton answered, "because I
have rented it furnished for six months. It is a delightful little
place, and just the sort of bachelor abode to suit me." He turned his
light blue eyes and looked with what might have been called frankness
into John's face. "I hope you'll give me the pleasure of being my guest
there one of these days soon. Doctor Voules is lending me Conrad for
servant, and I shall be able to make you fairly comfortable."
"Thanks," said John; "I shall be pleased to come."
"Why not come and have a look at it now?" continued Cherriton. "We
can't ride across the heather, but there is a path, and we can push our
bicycles."
"Thanks all the same," said John, "but I am afraid I cannot spare the
time."
"I can give you a very decent peg of whisky," said Cherriton, quietly.
John, playing the part of Bernard Treves, smiled.
"I am afraid I must keep off the whisky, as I am going to see my
father," he answered adroitly.
After that Cherriton pressed him no more. Presently, however, he
slackened his pace.
"This is where I get off," he said. He dismounted, and John also
alighted. "Why not come in until the rain is over?"
"I don't mind the rain," said John.
Cherriton turned and pushed his bicycle through the gap in the stone
wall. He was still scheming with all his thoughts to get John into the
secluded cottage. A new thought came to him.
"By the way," he said, "has your friend Manwitz been able to give you
any of the tablets you used to be so anxious about?" He paused a
moment, looking John steadily in the eyes, "or have you managed to break
the habit?"
John detected something in his tone which caused him to move warily.
"I have had nothing from him for some time; and, as for breaking that
sort of habit, it isn't so easy. What made you ask that?"
"Merely the fact," answered Cherriton, cunningly, "that I think I can
give you what you want."
John had already detected that the other had a strong reason for getting
him into the cottage, and, though at first he had made up his mind to
accept no invitation, he now saw that he was liable to fall into a trap.
For if he declined to come to the cottage for the tablets, which were a
mania with Treves, he would without doubt deepen Cherriton's suspicions.
Therefore, acting the part of Treves, he broke into a laugh.
"Well, if you put it like that," he said, "I suppose I must come."
Five minutes later he followed Cherriton through a gate in a low stone
wall, crossed the patch of ground before the cottage, and entered the
single-storied building. The house was silent and deserted. John
discovered that the place, formerly two workmen's cottages, had been
knocked into one, and furnished for the purpose of letting.
The room in which John stood was low, and a gate-legged table occupied
the middle of the apartment. There was an old-fashioned fireplace,
three or four chintz-covered chairs, and chintz curtains. From the
window John could obtain a distant view of a grey sea and a leaden sky.
"It's not over cheerful in here, is it?" said Cherriton. "I think we had
better have a fire." He put a match to the fire, then took whisky and
glasses from the cupboard. "One peg won't hurt you," he remarked,
pouring out a drink for John. "While you are drinking, I'll look for
the tablets."
He stayed in the room for some minutes after that. John noticed that he
poured himself a stiff dose of whisky, and drank it down with only a
moderate addition of water. He gave John the impression of a man who is
strung up to a high pitch of tension. He was restless and walked the
floor, explaining to John that he intended to spend the rest of the
summer and the autumn there.
"I have a good deal of writing to do," he said, "and Dr. Voules wants me
to be near him. It's not a bad little place this, is it?"
"Not at all," said John.
Cherriton went out of the room into a bedroom with two windows, one of
which looked over a deserted-looking yard, with a covered well at the
further end. He stood at the window, gazing out into this yard, with
puckered brows, for several minutes. Then he began to open and shut
drawers in the dressing-table, making a considerable noise.
He came into the sitting-room a few minutes later and apologised to
John, saying that he must have made a mistake about the tablets.
"I can find no sign of them," he said, "but you must come again, and I
promise to have some for you."
John, who had been watching him closely, suddenly rose from his chair
and confronted him.
"Look here, Cherriton," he demanded, "what's your game?"
Cherriton's face took on a stony expression
"What game?" he demanded.
"Why are you so deucedly restless?"
Cherriton broke into a laugh.
"It's your imagination. I am not in the least restless; I am only
worried that I have dragged you here for nothing. Have another whisky?"
"No, thanks," said John, this time firmly. "I must be pushing along."
He happened to be looking into Cherriton's face as he said this, and
something took place on the other's face that startled him--a flame of
something like ferocity lit up in the German's eyes, then instantly
vanished. After that, however, he made no further attempt to detain
John. He came to the end of the little cottage garden as John went
away, and watched him as he mounted his bicycle and rode away towards
Freshwater. Then he returned to the cottage, closed the door behind
him, and, dropping into a chair, took out Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's letter
and read it carefully from end to end.
He was still in his chair at the hearth half an hour later when Manwitz
knocked at the door, and came in.
"Come in, Manwitz, come in!" said Cherriton, rising. Manwitz had halted
in the doorway, and was slowly drawing off his mackintosh. There was a
mute expression in his eyes. Cherriton, reading his expression, pointed
to a chair at the opposite side of the hearth.
"Sit down, Manwitz; nothing has happened yet; our friend is spending the
night with his father, but he has arranged to come over here to see me
to-morrow."
Manwitz took a handkerchief from his inner pocket, and mopped his brow.
"It is terrible, Herr Baron! His Excellenz affirms that he has been
watching us from the beginning, but in that case how can he explain the
sinking of the _Polidor_?"
"The time for explanations has gone, Manwitz. Treves's discoveries,
whatever they are, must not be permitted to check the great work his
Excellenz has put his hand to."
For some minutes after that there was silence between the two men; then
Manwitz spoke, easing his collar about his fat throat:
"His Excellenz impressed upon me, Herr Baron, the business of Mr. Treves
is of the utmost urgency."
"That is understood," Cherriton answered grimly. "But His Excellenz has
no wish that I should play the fool and expose myself to unnecessary
danger. His Excellenz can rely entirely upon my discretion--and our
united capacity to carry out his command, eh, Manwitz?"
Manwitz smiled and nodded, but entirely without enjoyment. Cherriton's
coolness in face of the terrible duty that lay before them filled him
with both terror and envy.