STRONG SEEMS CHECKMATED
Ted was too excited to eat.
“Better eat, lad,” said Walker. “We do not know when we will get
another chance today.” If no one else seemed to be following his
advice, he himself considered it good enough to heed. He was eating
enough for two.
“I imagine it is going to be risky business tonight,” Bronson remarked.
“I wish I could be with you.”
“It’s either going to be that, or it is going to be very simple,”
Strong answered.
“That is the trouble with all adventure, these days,” Walker
complained. “It’s always so very simple.”
“I consider this extremely interesting and exciting,” replied Strong.
“It is like a tremendous game of chess with enough elements of danger
added to suit the most exacting. Don’t imagine that we shall not be
in danger every second tonight. These Germans are cold-blooded. If we
should happen to be in their way, should they find out how much we
actually know, we can say good-bye; the sun would rise tomorrow, but we
might not.”
He turned to Ted. “Well, lad, are you afraid?”
“I’m going to stick, of course,” was the reply.
“Well, comrades, here is the plan. The keys you see here, one for each
of us, are for Room 420. We shall separate. At six-thirty we must all
plan to be in that room. No noise must be made when you come; no sound
must be made while you are there.”
“We had better make sure we do all our sneezing outside, eh?” Every one
laughed with Walker.
“It will be your last sneeze, if it’s inside,” Strong laughingly warned
him. “The least sound, a scraping chair, would be heard. Stay in Room
420; the fire escape makes 418 dangerous, if anyone should be curious
and decide to come up and look into that room. Of course, there will be
no lights turned on.
“Should any of us fail to get there, he who does must make every effort
to get the import of the conversation.”
“Can I do anything, before I leave for New York tonight?” asked Bronson.
“No, I guess not. Get your room into shape for us. Put the chairs where
we cannot stumble over them. How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. These Germans certainly keep us busy. Some of our
optimists are turning pessimists, now that Austria is declaring war
against Servia. They are beginning to think that perhaps there is
something in this war-talk. I have to go to them and tell them just how
much there really is in it. I had much rather stay--wish I could.”
“I know that, Bronson, and there is no one I would rather have. But
perhaps you will be of better service there. I shall code Wright the
information we get tonight, if we get it. They will have it at the New
York office.”
Strong and Walker returned to the Adams street office; Ted went home.
He was glad of the chance to see more of his mother; Helen, he knew,
would not be home. Ted was very fond of his pretty, efficient sister,
and proud of her rapid rise at the store.
He found his mother there when he reached home. He explained the reason
for his wearing the newsboy’s clothes.
Ted spent a quiet, comfortable afternoon with her. Many things they
still had to talk about and the mother realized how much it was the
desire of Ted to have her and Helen come out to that great West, a land
where contentment and opportunity, at least, were more likely to be
found than in this place, in which she had lived so many years.
* * * * *
About three o’clock, only a half hour after he had been at Adams
street, Strong was called to the telephone. He had been busy at a
report, the call was unexpected and could only come from his secretary
or from Ted, the only two besides Walker who knew of this new location.
It proved to be his secretary.
“A messenger boy came here a little while ago with a message for you,”
she said.
“Read it.”
“‘A meeting is to be held at W.’s house. If you will come, can get you
in. 4:30!’ It is signed ‘J.’,” she added.
There was a pause. She continued: “It looks as if it comes from Jones.
It is his writing, beyond doubt, but he signed his initial instead of
his number.”
“I’ll come right over,” Strong answered, and his voice sounded
perplexed.
Charles Jones was an operative, employed as a butler by the Winckel
household. He had so often given proof of profound stupidity in
everything except his duties in the household that Herr Winckel would
have laughed at any suspicion of his being anything else but a butler.
Herr Winckel was so fond of saying and repeating that the man had a
butler mind it could never grasp anything outside of that.
In reality, Jones was shrewd, keen, able to obtain information without
creating suspicion. He had been one of Strong’s best men and the latter
felt he could count on him.
Could it be a trap, he wondered?
Strong was uncertain as to what he should do. To miss this meeting,
which perhaps was important; to go there, on the other hand, and
endanger the chances of his getting to that night meeting?
“I wish I knew what to do, Walker.” Together they went over the phases
of it as they walked down to the office.
“I’d go,” advised Walker. “You say that the boy could do his part. If
they do want you out of the way, should this be a trap, they will hold
us until morning; they would not dare hold us any longer. And, if they
do, they will not feel the need for carefulness and the boy will thus
have a better chance. It works well both ways.”
When they came to the office, Strong read the message again.
“We’ll go, Walker,” he decided. “Dress up. Be sure not to carry any
papers.”
Two men came out of one of the inner offices a few minutes later. They
would have been taken anywhere for two English servants; they might
have been valets, footmen, even butlers. Each one looked the other over
critically, but the disguise was thorough.
At fifteen minutes past the hour they reached the Winckel house,
knocked at the servants’ entrance. The maid answered and they asked
for Mr. Jones. They appeared to be very superior, upper-class servants.
Very English, too. She escorted them in and then opened a door for
them to enter. They passed through. As they did, each one of them
was pounced upon. They struggled against the sickening smell of the
chloroform held tightly against their noses. Then they knew nothing
more for a while.
An hour later they awoke with a feeling of nausea and the smell of
chloroform all about them. They found themselves tied hand and foot and
unable to move. From all appearances they seemed to be in the cellar of
the house.
“Are you there, chief?” asked Walker, in a sick and very low voice.
“Yes, I’m here; going to stay awhile, I guess.”
“I wonder what happened? Suppose they got on to--?”
“They are probably gloating somewhere within earshot,” Strong warned
him in a whisper. “They certainly have us out of the way for the time
being,” he added, ruefully.
“Well, there’s nothing to do; we’re caught,” Walker said, in his
ordinary voice. Then, in a voice so low Strong could barely hear him,
he inquired, “Are you pretty well tied? Can you do anything?”
“Can’t even move,” was the answer.
“Same here,” Walker said dejectedly. “They made a good job.”
At five o’clock Ted left home for downtown. He stopped off to buy
some of the late editions of the newspapers and proceeded to the
meeting-place. He made his rounds through several buildings and at last
reached that particular one.
There was no one watching, however. With Strong out of the way the
Germans felt quite secure.
At five-thirty he had already let himself into Room 420 and was
preparing to make himself comfortable. He picked up the dictaphone
every few minutes, but for a long time heard nothing. Things seemed
quiet and he began to wonder where Strong and Walker were, what was
delaying them. His heart was going at a great rate because of the
forced quiet and the excited state of his mind.
Things would depend on him if the two men did not come. Would he be
able to carry out the plans?
“I can only do my best,” the boy said to himself. And there was a
strong determination to make that best count.
It was now half past seven. He lifted the dictaphone oftener. Very
soon he heard voices, very indistinct, but as he listened they became
clearer and clearer. Then he began making out the words and the sense
of the conversation.
“Yes,” said one voice. “We found out that this man Jones, who was
Winckel’s butler, was one of their men. He dropped a card which young
Winckel found. That was enough to warrant his being watched, although
we did nothing for several days except to see that he got no further
information.
“Today, at the point of a gun, we forced him to write a note to
Strong telling him that there was to be a meeting at Winckel’s house
at four-thirty and that he could get him in. Strong with another man
came. We trapped them, bound them and they are now in the cellar out of
harm’s way.”
Ted welcomed the information. At least he knew just what to expect.
“It’s almost time for our friends to be here, isn’t it? What time is
Captain Knabe coming?” said a voice.
“At about fifteen minutes after eight. He is coming with Winckel.”
“Say, Schmidt, it was a good piece of business to get Strong out of
the way. He is too dangerous and resourceful to suit us.” This from
O’Reilly.
“He has been a nuisance, hasn’t he?” answered Schmidt. “Hello,
friends,” he said to some newcomers. “I have just been telling O’Reilly
about our little affair this afternoon.”
There was the sound of a number of voices and of some laughing. Then
more men came into the room, there was the scraping of chairs as men
seated themselves.
Then there was quiet as two men entered. Greetings were exchanged and
Ted realized that the two were Winckel and Captain Knabe.
As Captain Knabe was introduced to some of the men, Ted wrote the names
down.
“Let us get down to business, friends,” said one, who seemed to be the
chairman. “Captain Knabe has come here from Washington, his time just
now is important. Even more important is the need for immediate action.
Captain Knabe, gentlemen.”