Twenty-four hours later Lewin Rodwell was standing upon the platform of
the big Music Hall, in George Street, Edinburgh, addressing a great
recruiting meeting.
The meeting, presided over by a well-known Scotch earl, had already been
addressed by a Cabinet Minister; but when Rodwell rose, a neat, spruce
figure in his well-fitting morning-coat, with well-brushed hair, and an
affable smile, the applause was tremendous--even greater than that which
had greeted the Minister.
Lewin Rodwell was a people's idol--one of those who, in these times, are
so suddenly placed high upon the pedestal of public opinion, and as
quickly cast down.
A man's reputation is made to-day and marred to-morrow. Rodwell's rapid
rise to fortune had certainly been phenomenal. Yet, as he had "made
money in the City"--like so many other people--nobody took the trouble
to inquire exactly how that money had been obtained. By beating the
patriotic drum so loudly he stifled down inquiry, and the public now
took him at his own valuation.
A glib and forceful orator, with a suave, persuasive manner, at times
declamatory, but usually slow and decisive, he thrust home his arguments
with unusual strength and power.
In repeating Lord Kitchener's call for recruits, he pointed to the
stricken fields of Belgium, recalling those harrowing scenes of rapine
and murder, in August, along the fair valley of the Meuse. He
described, in vivid language, the massacre in cold blood of seven
hundred peaceful men, women and young children in the little town of
Dinant-sur-Meuse, the town of gingerbread and beaten brass; the sack of
Louvain, and the appalling scenes in Liege and Malines, at the same time
loudly denouncing the Germans as "licentious liars" and the "spawn of
Satan." From his tongue fell the most violent denunciations of Germany
and all her ways, until his hearers were electrified by his whole-souled
patriotism.
"The Kaiser," he cried, "is the Great Assassin of civilisation. There
is now ample evidence, documentary and otherwise, to prove that he, the
Great War Lord, forced this great war upon the world at a moment which
he considered propitious to himself. We now, alas I know that as far
back as June 1908 the Kaiser assembled his Council and, in a secret
speech, declared war against England. You, ladies and gentlemen, have
been bamboozled and befooled all along by a Hush-a-bye Government who
told you that there never would be war:" emphatic words which were met
with loud yells of "Shame!" and execration.
"The Cabinet," he continued, "knew all along--they knew as far back as
1908--that this Mad Dog of Germany intended to strangle and crush us.
Yet, what did they do? They told you--and you believed them--that we
should never have war--not in our time, they said; while in the House of
Commons they, knowing what they did, actually suggested disarmament!
Think of it!"
Renewed cries of "Shame!" rose from all parts of the hall.
"Well," Lewin Rodwell went on, clenching his fist, "we are at war--a war
the result of which no man can, as yet, foresee. But win we must--yet,
if we are to win, we must still make the greatest sacrifices. We must
expend our last shilling and our last drop of blood if victory is at
last to be ours. Germany, the mighty country of the volte-face, with
her blood-stained Kaiser at her head, has willed that Teuton `kultur'
shall crush modern civilisation beneath the heel of its jack-boot. Are
you young men of Scotland to sit tight here and allow the Germans to
invade you, to ruin and burn your homes, and to put your women and
children to the sword? Will you actually allow this accursed race of
murderers, burglars and fire-bugs to swarm over this land which your
ancestors have won for you? No! Think of the past history of your
homes and your dear ones, and come forward now, to-night, all of you of
military age, and give in your names for enlistment! Come, I implore of
you!" he shouted, waving his arms. "Come forward, and do your duty as
men in the service of mankind--your duty to your King, your country, and
your God!"
His speech, of which this was only one very small extract, was certainly
a brilliant and telling one. When he sat down, not only was there a
great thunder of applause while the fine organ struck up "Rule
Britannia," but a number of strong young men, in their new-born
enthusiasm, rose from the audience and announced their intention of
enlisting.
"Excellent!" cried Rodwell, rising again from his chair. "Here are
brave fellows ready to do their duty! Come, let all you slackers follow
their example and act as real honest, patriotic men--the men of the
Scotland of history!"
This proved an incentive to several waverers. But what, indeed, would
that meeting have thought had they caught the words the speaker
whispered in German beneath his breath, as he reseated himself? "More
cannon-fodder," he had muttered, though his face was brightened by a
smile of supreme satisfaction of a true Briton, for he had realised by
his reception there in Edinburgh, where audiences were never
over-demonstrative, how exceedingly popular he was.
Afterwards he had supper at the Caledonian Hotel with the Cabinet
Minister whom he had supported; and later, when he retired to his room,
he at once locked the door, flung off his coat, and threw himself into
the armchair by the fire to smoke and think.
He was wondering what action his friends at Number 70 Berlin were taking
in consequence of the report he had made on the previous night. On
Wednesday the north-east coast of England would be left unguarded.
What, he wondered, would happen to startle with "frightfulness" the
stupid English, whom he at heart held in such utter contempt?
That same night Jack Sainsbury was on his way home in a taxi from the
theatre with Elise. They had spent a delightful evening together. Mrs
Shearman had arranged to accompany them, but at the last moment had been
prevented by a headache. The play they had seen was one of the
spy-plays at that moment so popular in London; and Elise, seated at his
side, was full of the impressions which the drama had left upon her.
"I wonder if there really are any spies still among us, Jack?" she
exclaimed, as, with her soft little hand in his, they were being whirled
along up darkened Regent Street in the direction of Hampstead.
"Alas! I fear there are many," was her lover's reply. "Poor Jerrold
told me many extraordinary things which showed how cleverly conceived is
this whole plot against England."
"But surely you don't think that there are really any spies still here.
There might have been some before the war, but there can't be any now."
"Why not, dearest?" he asked very seriously. He was as deeply in love
with her as she was with him. "The Germans, having prepared for war for
so many years, have, no doubt, taken good care to establish many
thoroughly trustworthy secret agents in our midst. Jerrold often used
to declare how certain men, who were regarded as the most honest, true
John Bull Englishmen, were actually in the service of the enemy. As an
instance, we have the case of Frederic Adolphus Gould, who was arrested
at Rochester last April. He was a perfect John Bull: he spoke English
without the slightest trace of accent; he hated Germany and all her
works, and he was most friendly with many naval officers at Chatham.
Yet he was discovered to be a spy, having for years sent reports of all
our naval movements to Germany, and in consequence he was sent to penal
servitude for six years. In the course of the inquiries it was found
that he was a German who had fought in the Franco-German war, and was
actually possessed of the inevitable iron cross!"
"Impossible!" cried the girl, in her sweet, musical voice.
"But it's all on record! The fellow was a dangerously clever spy; and
no doubt there are many others of his sort amongst us. Jerrold declared
so, and told me how the authorities, dazzled by the glamour of Teuton
finance, were, unfortunately, not yet fully awake to the craft and
cunning of the enemy and the dangers by which we are beset."
Then he lapsed into silence.
"Your friend Dr Jerrold took a very keen interest in the spy-peril,
didn't he?"
"Yes, dear. And I frequently helped him in watching and investigating,"
was his reply. "In the course of our inquiries we often met with some
very strange adventures."
"Did you ever catch a spy?" she asked, quickly interested, for the
subject was one upon which Jack usually avoided speaking.
"Yes, several," was his brief and rather vague reply. The dead man's
discretion was reflected upon him. He never spoke of his activity more
frequently than was necessary. In such inquiries silence was golden.
"And you really think there are many still at large?"
"I know there are, Elise," he declared quickly. "The authorities are,
alas! so supine that their lethargy is little short of criminal. Poor
Jerrold foresaw what was happening. He had no axe to grind, as they
have at the War Office. To-day the policy of the Government seems to be
to protect the aliens rather than interfere with them. Poor Jerrold's
exposure of the unsatisfactory methods of our bureau of contra-espionage
to a certain member of Parliament will, I happen to know, be placed
before the House ere long. Then matters may perhaps be remedied. If
they are not, I really believe that the long-suffering public will take
affairs into their own hands."
"But I don't understand what spies have done against us," queried Elise,
looking into her lover's face in the furtive light of the street-lamp
they were at that moment passing. Her question was quite natural to a
woman.
"Done!" echoed her fine manly lover. "Why, lots of our disasters have
been proved to be due to their machinations. The authorities well know
that all our disasters do not appear in the newspapers, for very obvious
reasons. Look what spies did in Belgium! Men who had lived in that
country all their lives, believed to be Belgians and occupying high and
responsible positions--men who were deeply respected, and whose loyalty
was unquestioned--openly revealed themselves as spies of the Kaiser, and
betrayed their friends the instant the Germans set foot on Belgian soil.
All has long ago been prepared for an invasion of Great Britain, and
when `the Day' comes we shall, depend upon it, receive a very rude
shock, for the same thing will certainly happen."
"How wicked it all is!" she remarked.
"All war is `wicked,' dearest," was the young man's slow reply. "Yet I
only wish I were fit enough to wear khaki."
"But you can surely do something at home," she suggested, pressing his
hand. "There are many things here to do, now that you've left the
City."
"Yes, I _will_ do something. I must, _and I will_!" he declared
earnestly.
A silence again fell between them.
"It is a great pity poor Dr Jerrold died as he did," the girl remarked
thoughtfully at last. "I met him twice with you, and I liked him
awfully. He struck me as so thoroughly earnest and so perfectly
genuine."
"He was, Elise. When he died--well--I--I lost my best friend," and he
sighed.
"Yes," she answered. "And he was doing such a good work, patiently
tracing out suspicious cases of espionage."
"He was. Yet by so doing he, like all true patriots, got himself
strangely disliked, first by the Germans themselves, who hated him, and
secondly by the Intelligence Department."
"The latter were jealous that he, a mere civilian doctor, should dare to
interfere, I suppose," remarked the girl thoughtfully.
"The khaki cult is full of silly jealousies and petty prejudices."
"Exactly. It was a very ridiculous situation. Surely the man in khaki
cannot pursue inquiries so secretly and delicately as the civilian. The
Scotland Yard detective does not go about dressed in the uniform of an
inspector. Therefore, why should an Intelligence officer put on
red-tabs in order to make himself conspicuous? No, dearest," he went
on; "I quite agree with the doctor that the officials whose duty it is
to look after spies have not taken sufficient advantage of patriotic
civilians who are ready to assist them."
"Why don't you help them, Jack?" suggested the girl. "You assisted Dr
Jerrold, and you know a great deal regarding spies and their methods.
Yet you are always so awfully mysterious about them."
"Am I, darling?" he laughed, carrying her hand tenderly to his lips and
kissing it fondly.
"Yes, you are," she protested quickly. "Do tell me one thing--answer me
one question, Jack. Have you any suspicion in one single case?--I mean
do you really know a spy?"
Jack hesitated. He drew a long breath, as again across his troubled
mind flashed that thought which had so constantly obsessed him ever
since that afternoon before Jerome Jerrold had died so mysteriously.
"Yes, Elise," he answered in a thick voice. "Yes, I do."