THE DICTAPHONE AT WORK
“I understand,” said Captain Knabe, “that some of the Irish gentlemen
present do not understand German, and so, while I can do so much better
in my native tongue, I shall talk in English.”
“How lucky,” thought Ted.
“Well, gentlemen, I have good news for you--war is to be declared the
day after tomorrow.”
There was the sound of moving, falling chairs, of men getting to their
feet. Then a whispered toast--a whisper that was almost loud because of
the number of voices--“Der Tag.”
“You, in America, who have never given up your allegiance to the
supreme nation, nor to the emperor, must do your share. Although war is
to be declared the day after tomorrow, it will be a matter of a few
more days before we are at war with England; possibly it will be more
than a week. I understand you are ready.”
Another voice spoke. “We are prepared. We will announce picnics at
certain places; it is for you to tell us the locations.”
“I am ready to tell you that now,” replied the captain. “Concentrate
on your picnic grounds near Detroit for the taking of Windsor. Herr
Winckel has the plans. I have given him three sets--Windsor, Toronto,
Winnipeg. He also has the charts which show how to move and what
railroads to occupy. Our friends in Canada are to see that there are
available cars, engines and even motors. Of course, all of you will
know just what picnic grounds are to be selected, so we need waste no
time on that.”
“How many men have you, Herr Winckel?” Captain Knabe wanted to know.
“Will you tell us, Schoen?” Herr Winckel asked.
“Approximately, armed and ready for the call, one hundred and
twenty-five thousand men. There are also forty thousand Irishmen.
O’Reilly has them equally prepared and ready. Pfeffer reports thirty
thousand men in Canada, eager for the call. They are so stationed that
we can throw one hundred and fifty thousand men on Windsor and Toronto
or such other points as are within one half day’s ordinary travel. For
Montreal we would need eighteen hours’ additional notice. For Quebec we
would need thirty. We figure that thirty thousand men will be enough
for Winnipeg, although we shall have more.”
“The fool Englishmen,” sneered a voice.
“Not such fools, Schmidt. Do not underestimate them.” The voice was
Winckel’s.
“Everything looks so easy,” said another voice.
“Aye,” said Captain Knabe, “we cannot help but win. But the Englishman
fights best with his back to the wall.”
“You have your commands assigned, have you not?” the captain inquired.
“We have,” replied Schoen.
“Now, gentlemen, here is the thing of the utmost importance,” Herr
Winckel spoke warningly. “The facts must not leak; they must not get to
the United States officials. That is so important that the whole plan
will have to be dropped if there is any suspicion as to a leak.”
“I think a number of us will bear out what Winckel says,” O’Reilly
spoke up. “For myself, and I think I speak for the other Irishmen here
present and also for the forty thousand against England, but against
the United States--never. Not one Irishman can be counted on if it
comes to a showdown against the U. S. A.”
“Nor very many Germans,” added Winckel.
“So be it,” said Captain Knabe. “Shall we go over the ammunition
storehouses, those that are in Canada and those that are in this
country?”
Many of the places Ted could not make out, others he did. He realized
that this was valuable information. Names though they were, they were
clues and so might be important.
Much more was said by the many men and Ted stored up in his mind such
information as he thought would be useful. At half past ten all the men
had left and from what Ted heard he understood that Knabe, Winckel,
O’Reilly and Schoen were adjourning to some other place to perfect
plans.
Ted cautiously stretched himself. He was wary and still watchful.
Although his muscles were stiff and his bones ached, he had not dared
to move. When he was fairly certain that he could move, he indulged in
that luxury for at least five minutes. He had no trouble in leaving the
building. Once outside, he hastened to a telephone booth. He had no
intention of telephoning, but he did want to find out the address of
Winckel. A plan was in his mind.
He found two Winckels in the telephone. He decided that in all
likelihood it was the one on Michigan avenue, the other was somewhere
on the North Side.
When he came to the first cross street he saw a passing taxi and hailed
it. The driver had some suspicion as to the ability of his customer to
pay, for Ted was still in his newsboy’s clothes. However, Ted proved he
had the necessary funds and satisfied the chauffeur.
Ted left the taxi two blocks before he reached the Winckel residence.
The inside of the house was almost, not quite dark. Stealthily the boy
investigated. He decided that any entrance would have to be made from
the rear or the side of the building. The rear windows to the basement
and the door he found were locked.
The boy studied the situation. He saw where he could enter through one
place, but it would mean that he would have to remove a window glass.
He decided against that. There was danger of being heard.
Though Ted was seeking an entrance he had not as yet made up his mind
to try to go to the rescue of his friends. To go into the building and
take chances? But then, after all, his information could be of use to
Strong only, for he held the many threads.
It would be folly to call the police, Strong would not care to have the
publicity, and then, too, the two men might not be there after all.
He decided, come what may, he would go in. He felt fairly certain that
Winckel would not be in the house nor would he return for an hour or
more. Before making any further attempt to get inside, Ted went to a
nearby drug store. He obtained paper and stamped envelope and wrote
the following message to Strong’s office, addressing it to Strong’s
secretary, Miss Ford.
“Unless you hear from us in the early morning, you will find us
imprisoned in the cellar of Mr. Winckel’s house. I am now trying to
get Mr. Strong and Mr. Walker out, but may not succeed.
“11:15 p. m. Ted.”
Having mailed the letter he hurried back to the house. Cautiously he
prowled about, trying to find a way into the basement. There was no way.
At any ordinary time Ted would have said it was impossible to get up
on that ledge, but he managed it now. The house entrance was through
a wide door, but one had to go down three steps and it made the floor
an English basement. The floor above that was much higher than most
ground floors and yet lower than most second floors. Ted crept along
the narrow ledge holding on to such supports as were there. He reached
a big window and by careful manipulation and urging the boy managed to
force it open.
He crawled in. Spot’s suit was very useful now, for it held matches.
Ted did not intend to use any unless he had to, but the building was
strange to him and the occasion for the use of them might arise. He
knew that he would have two floors to travel, the one to the basement
and the one to the cellar. He got down the one floor without mishap. He
was about to begin the exploration of that floor for the entrance to
the cellar, when he heard the key being inserted into the street door.
His heart leaped within him. Two people entered, a man and woman. They
switched on a light. If these people had come thirty seconds earlier
he would have been caught coming down the stairs, Ted thought, as he
crouched behind the turn of the staircase.
“It was nice of you to see me home, Mr. Erkin,” said the young lady.
“Will you be good enough to let the light burn, as some of the folks
are not in yet? Come and see me sometime.”
“Good-night, thank you, I will,” the man answered and left.
The boy thought, “Well, I certainly should be called Lucky. Here I
wonder how to find an entrance to the cellar and they are kind enough
to turn on a light for me.”
It was fairly easy for Ted to find his way now, but because of the
light he had to use even greater care.
The cellar seemed deserted, when he got there. It was pitch dark and
it took several minutes for him to grow accustomed to the extreme
darkness. Then he heard the faint murmur of voices.
Strong and Walker had slept fitfully and had been wide awake at various
times. Strong had again been awakened and was insisting that Walker
listen to him.
As Ted drew nearer, he heard Strong say, “I don’t think, the way I
feel, I shall ever be able to move again. But if I knew that Ted was
just the least bit successful I could be forever content.”
“The poor child--if he did anything at all,” Walker answered, “it would
be wonderful. It’s a man’s job, what, then, could a boy do?”
As if in answer to the question, they heard a low voice call, “Mr.
Strong, Mr. Strong!”
“Who is that?” the startled voice of Strong demanded.
“It’s me, Ted!” said that ungrammatical young man, a bit excitedly.
[Illustration: TED FREES THE PRISONERS]
“God bless you, boy. Is it really you? Have you a match?”
Ted struck one. Hurriedly he untied the two men, who were already
questioning him excitedly and to whom he whispered assurances.
As they turned the corner (having left the building without trouble)
Strong looked back. An auto passed north on Michigan avenue.
“That’s Winckel’s car,” he said. “We weren’t any too soon.”
Ted told the two men of the night’s adventures and they both listened
eagerly. Strong was laboring under great excitement as the boy went
on with his story. When Ted was through he placed his hand on Ted’s
shoulder and said, quietly and very impressively, to him:
“I simply can’t tell you the things I long to say. You’re going to be a
man, my boy! This is a day’s work of which you will always be proud.
“Knowing what we know, we can go to sleep tonight, awake in the
morning with a plan as to just what we will do. I could almost cry
with contentment. This news you bring is what we have long striven
to learn, and along comes Ted Marsh--Lucky, the Boy Scout--and makes
Canada and England his very grateful and humble servants.
“There are several things we know we can do now,” he added. “We had
best take a night to sleep it over.”
“You are a wonder, Ted, my friend,” added Walker.
“Come, let us go,” said Strong.
“We are all weary. I hate to leave you. I’d like to celebrate, but I
guess we had better postpone it until tomorrow. See you at eight.”