WHEN THE LIGHTS WENT OUT.
THE vocal efforts of this new favorite had called forth round after
round of applause, for good music never went amiss in Teuton territory.
Among the vigorous hand-clappers the boys noted a well-groomed man,
apparently about forty, wearing an affable manner and the best clothes
that the continent can produce.
Henri nudged Billy. "Size up Roque, won't you, please, and isn't he a
dandy?"
Billy was first inclined to doubt the identity of their taskmaster, who
a couple of hours ago was a far cry from being in the glass of fashion.
Never before had the boys seen him in that sort of rig.
"You're dead right, Henri, it is the old scout. He's a corker, sure!"
This note of admiration had scarcely sounded when Roque was joined by a
slender, wiry individual, also set up as a swell, with a shock of sandy
hair, and sporting a monocle.
The fellow with the quizzing glass had apparently moved to get a better
view of the singer, as well as to get in touch with the secret agent.
"Wonder if that's the man who spotted Anglin on the parade ground at
Hamburg?"
"Don't let your imagination run away with you, Henri," advised Billy,
who in speaking was careful not to indicate that his attitude was
anything but careless.
The sandy-haired man was taking the same precaution, but Henri, nursing
the idea that would not down, was more and more impressed with the
belief that the elegant figure was seeking the measure and not the
music of the warbler at the other end of the room.
If the singer had sized up the situation, it had not affected his
rendering a bit of light opera that was just then exciting an encore.
There was nothing at all the matter with his German or with his voice.
Nobody apparently was more delighted than Roque, and he appeared to be
expressing his opinion to the wiry listener beside him.
The latter bowed politely and then sauntered toward the revolving door
leading into the lounging section of the hotel, fingering a cigar as he
proceeded.
Henri edged around nearer to the piano, the player of which was
completing the program with a national air, the melody of many voices
aiding the performance.
Billy had hardly realized the desertion of his chum when he saw that
Roque had changed his position, and was standing nearest the door
leading to the street. The secret agent shifted something from his hip
to the sidepocket of his coat, and Billy caught the glitter of that
something in the swift movement. The boy guessed then that there was
trouble brewing.
In the meantime, Henri, in an innocent sort of way, pushed still closer
to the pianist, who was hitting the high notes in fine style.
As he passed within a foot of the singer, now idly posing, with an
elbow on the piano top, he, without turning his head, joined in the
triumphant chorus, but changed two words at the climax, and "beat it"
reached Anglin's ear.
The French sleuth never moved a muscle, and it was as if the warning
had been passed to a man stone deaf.
Anyone posted, however, would have known that within an arm's length of
Anglin was a wall switch which controlled the electric lights by which
the room was so brilliantly illuminated.
Billy had just had the experience of being rather rudely thrust aside
by a couple of burly troopers, who seemed inspired to get as quickly as
possible into the very center of the select circle.
"Get him!"
As this command rang out the astonished pleasure seekers started a
panic, as if an alarm of fire had sounded. There was a rush for every
doorway, but every way of departure was blocked by stalwart guardsmen.
Billy was not among those who tried to break through the doors--he was
dodging among the charging force sent in by the loud orders to "get
him."
Click! The room was suddenly shrouded in darkness, penetrated a little
distance only by the lights beyond the entrance of the lounging room
section.
The pursuing force, working from several directions, ran into one
another's arms. The pianist, familiar with the place, leaped for the
electric switch, and turned on the flood of light.
Everybody was present but the singer!
Henri had a perch on the keyboard of the piano, which he had sought to
save a mad tramping on his feet.
"Set you to catch a weasel," sneered Roque, as the sandy-haired man
stood staring at the shattered casement of the tall window overlooking
an inner court of the hotel.
"He can't get clear away," retorted the sandy one.
"Stop him then," challenged Roque. "Don't stand there like a stoughton
bottle."
The pursuers scoured the building from bottom to top, and every street
and alley roundabout, but it was a case of looking for a needle in a
haystack.
Roque was in a black mood. Once more baffled by his cunning chief
adversary, the only one he acknowledged in his own class, and on his
own stamping ground--it was a bitter dose for the master craftsman.
Did he remember how he himself had spread a web over Britain, woven so
finely that even Scotland Yard could not see it? Yet he rebelled at the
like cut of a diamond.
"Stir your stumps," was his peremptory address to the boys, and they
trotted to catch his long stride out of the hotel.
The sidewalks on both sides of the street were crowded with curious
onlookers, attracted by the reported doings inside.
Roque bucked the line like a football star, and Billy and Henri
followed in the cleared space without special exertion.
"He doesn't care whom he pushes," observed Billy, as he listened to
angry protests along the line of travel.
Both of the boys were eager to talk over the latest disappearing act of
that wonderful Anglin, but not so anxious as to take chances with Roque
in earshot.
The secret agent turned into a silent side street, and stopped before a
heavily grated door in the gloomy front of a solid stone building that
was a skyscraper in height. Reaching through the grating, he evidently
opened way of communication with the interior, for in a moment or two a
glimmer of light splintered through the barred entrance, the ponderous
lock creaked, and the door swung back on its massive hinges. A skull
cap and a gray beard showed behind the lamp shining in the doorway.
Roque pushed the boys ahead of him, and their closing in was marked by
a clang behind them.
They followed their guide through a long corridor and into a modern
high-power elevator, that shot noiselessly upwards. It was a circular
room into which they stepped, the very tip of a tower, and a wireless
telegraph apparatus was there in operation.
"How is it working?" promptly questioned Roque of an operator who was
off his turn, and relieved of his headgear.
The man jumped to his feet, all attention, and replied: "There's been
hardly a break for an hour, sir."
Here was one of the hidden intelligence stations that accounted in
part for Roque's ability to get searching and quick information. That
he should initiate the boys into his particular secret service methods
indicated a determination that they should never get away from him.
As Billy said to Henri at a chance moment, "He thinks we are booked
for a life job as his air chauffeurs."
They were not aware as yet that in the extensive grounds, housed at the
water's edge, was the seaplane in which they had recently traveled so
far, and in addition a big biplane and two monoplanes were in hangars
ready for service. Also the most speedy of steam launches rested at the
private wharf.
Roque was a recognized genius, like every cog in the German wheel,
absolutely thorough in his methods, and the means placed at his
disposal were practically limitless.
Billy and Henri had climbed into the steep embrasure of a tower window
and were enjoying the magnificent view spread out before them.
"How about my imagination now?" Henri was recalling exciting incidents
in the hotel. "Didn't I get the figure of the sandy man as a spotter?"
"I think you did," admitted Billy. "But," he continued, "I didn't take
much stock in the idea until I saw the revolver in Roque's hand. Then I
knew that the fat was in the fire."
"I gave Anglin the cue to beat it, and I did the trick by breaking into
that Rhine song," exclaimed Henri. "Yet he never made a move until the
yell of 'get him,' and I thought the jig was up, sure. He's the coolest
hand in the business, that fellow."
"Some of these days, maybe, he'll fall a little short in one of those
getaways, and that will mean a tumble into six feet of earth."
"Not he," stoutly maintained Henri, "he's the regular man with a
charmed life. Say, I can't help laughing even now when I think of
Spitznagle calling 'Conrad,' and the expression on Roque's face."
Billy gave Henri a kick on the foot. Roque was approaching with a sheaf
of telegraph messages in his hand.
"What are you boys jabbering about? I want you to go down to the wharf
with Albert and get the seaplane in trim. I'll join you in half an
hour."
Albert, a strapping youth, with the breezy way of a sailor, guided the
boys across the grounds to the hangar, and watched with interest the
making ready of the airship.
"That's not my kind of a boat," he briskly stated, "but I'll be bound
if this kind of craft didn't give us submarine workers a Christmas
surprise. Ever travel in a submarine?"
"We had a ride in one that we will never forget," replied Henri, as he
applied the oil can to the big motors.
Billy, busy with the steering gear, was not expected to answer, as he
did not understand the question.
"It is all a question of ups and downs, anyhow," went on Albert, "bombs
from above and torpedoes from below."
This trade discussion ended with the arrival of Roque, who had severed
himself from style and was again in aviation attire.
"Now, my carrier pigeons, you are in for a homing flight, that is,
Hamburg; and it may be some time before you again get a breath of this
port."
With this assurance the seaplane was launched and took the airline for
Hamburg, leaving Albert to his own devices.
The travelers soon had sight of Zorn's ever-ready grin at the home of
"the well-known tradesman."
"We've been through a lot since we were last hauled out of these
feathers," remarked Billy, as he bounced into the bed pillows that
night.
Happily, "coming events do not cast shadows" for sound sleepers.
Roque had departed for the city before the boys charged into the
breakfast room.
"He has gone to the store," announced Zorn, who uncovered his teeth an
extra inch, in compliment to his own humor.
"Let's go over to see Lieutenant Hume," proposed Billy, after breakfast.
"Just the ticket," agreed Henri, "I'm crazy to get a peep at the old
flying quarters again."
But Zorn objected to any move that Roque had not ordered.
The boys had to be satisfied with the prospect, for to run against
Zorn would be akin to tackling a mountain.
When Roque returned, sure enough, he was again playing the
merchant--horn, spectacles, and all.
"Ah, young sirs, kindly waiting for the weary worker?"
"Same old blarney," muttered Billy.
Zorn chuckled as he relieved the "merchant" of his hat and overcoat.
"Some time ago I believe I told you that here you were only balancing
on the edge of the great empire, and there might be an opportunity for
you to see much more of the country. The opportunity is at hand. I have
been called by trade interests further afield, and as I cannot consent
to a separation, you will continue as my companions."
In his hour of relaxation, Roque really enjoyed this sort of word play,
and he eyed the boys to see if they appreciated the fact that all of
the best actors were not on the stage.
He was sure of Zorn's sincere appreciation. This man had seen the chief
in many parts.
Henri accepted the cue, and, with a profound bow, and a hand on his
heart, replied in kind:
"My dear Herr Roque, we would grieve if you left us behind."
"What of you?" Roque turned to Billy.
"Oh, anything goes with me." The boy from Bangor always hit straight
from the bat.
The last evening of many in Hamburg was a very pleasant one to the
boys. Roque's intimate knowledge of London and Paris was displayed
in entertaining way, with no reference to his own exploits as the
cleverest conspirator that ever invaded court and palace. He expressed
regret that he had never seen America, and induced Billy to tell about
Boston and Bangor.
It may also be recorded that with this evening the boys unconsciously
said good-by to the character of the Hamburg merchant. They went far
with the many-sided man, but never again saw him in the rôle imposed by
this big city on the Elbe.
When the boys retired they left master and man--Roque and
Zorn--conversing before the fire. With the coming of the morning, the
journey to the unknown began, and the Aëroplane Scouts had no idea of
its purpose or their assignment in the new sphere of action.
That it would, however, include further conquest of the air they might
have guessed.