THE SPY
CONTRARY to Setley's surmise the following day passed quietly--if the
term can be applied to operations on the Western Front.
"Nothing of consequence to report," was the official _communiqué_,
but throughout the day the British guns thundered upon the Hun
defences. The Germans, expecting a renewed assault, were on thorns;
they were so badly hustled that they could not be urged to make a
counter-attack. Their reserves were not forthcoming owing to the
efficient barrage behind the lines.
Meanwhile the British infantry rested, consolidating their ground and
relying upon the artillery to pave the way for the assault when the
latter did take place. There are limits even to the endurance of a
Tommy, and although the men had the spirit to advance their leaders
realized that to attain the best results the operations must be the
_festina lente_ order.
So with the infantry inactive the Tanks likewise had to "stand off,"
and Ralph was fortunate in making up arrears of sleep. At three in
the afternoon Second-Lieutenant Setley was summoned to the presence
of his commanding officer.
"We're having a shuffle round," began the latter without needless
preamble. "Six additional Tanks are being sent up from the Base, and
some of the men who have had practical experience in action are to be
distributed amongst the crews of the new arrivals. That, naturally,
causes vacancies in the complements of the Tanks here already. You
sent in an application, I see, for two N.C.O.'s of the Wheatshires.
The C.O. of the Wheatshires raises no objections, Headquarters
approves, and the men are warned to join as soon as possible. I
presume you would like to have them with you?"
"Yes, sir," replied Ralph. "At the same time I should be sorry to
lose Sergeant Archer. He's a smart, hard-working, conscientious
N.C.O.----"
"I know," interrupted the C.O. "You need not have any qualms
concerning Sergeant Archer. He is to be sent on promotion to the
Ancre. Very well, then; that's settled. Good afternoon."
Ralph saluted, and withdrew, mentally declaring that the brusque C.O.
was a thorough sport. Before he had gone a hundred yards he
encountered Sergeant Alderhame and Corporal Anderson, who had just
reported themselves at Divisional Headquarters.
"You haven't lost much time," was Setley's greeting.
"Rather not," replied Alderhame.
"He was off like greased lightning, sir," added Ginger, "in case they
changed their blessed minds. I'm fair bustin' for a joy-ride in one
of them Tanks."
"You'll have your wish, then," said Ralph. "We are shifting to-night.
That airman you shot, Alderhame, tried to bomb us last night, and the
inference is that the Huns had been told of the locality of the Tanks
by a spy. So to avoid further risks we were going some four miles
away--somewhere between Givenchy and Souchez."
"That means business," said Alderhame. "We heard that our next thrust
is to be directed against Lens. My word! I can see us climbing Hill
70 in a Tank."
"Let's 'ope we don't drop down a bloomin' coal-pit," said Ginger.
"I've 'eard as 'ow some of 'em are 'arf a mile deep."
As soon as darkness set in the Tank Division, comprising twelve
landships and the travelling workshops and store lorries, proceeded
to its new destination, making a wide detour well behind the lines.
The new site had been carefully selected; piquets were posted to
prevent unauthorized persons approaching within four hundred yards
and every possible precaution taken to safeguard the mobile
fortresses.
"Quite a fine evening for a stroll," remarked Danvers, just as the
hour of midnight was approaching.
"Eh? What's the game?" enquired Ralph curiously.
His chum had recently returned from visiting the outlying posts. In
ordinary circumstances Danvers would be able to "stand off" until
five.
"Merely a whim of mine, I suppose," he replied. "At any rate, I'm
going, but, of course, if you----"
"I'm on," agreed Setley, buckling on his belt, to which was attached
his revolver-holster. "Where do you propose making for?"
"Along the Givenchy road," announced Danvers. "It's quite quiet. I've
a wish to explore a certain spot a little way off the high road.
Ready?"
The way was rough in spite of the urgent and ceaseless attentions of
the pioneers. Constant motor traffic had cut deep ruts into the soft
ground bordering the strip of _pavé_. Of the avenue that formerly
fringed the road only a few trees were standing. Of the others
isolated shell-scarred stumps remained, but for the most part the
trees had been bodily uprooted by the titanic blows of bursting
explosives. Here and there a dead horse, its stiffened legs sticking
up in the air at various angles, showed up in the pale starlight. The
Huns had been shelling the wood during the day, and the transport had
paid toll. Shattered waggons and limbers, dragged to one side, also
bore silent testimony to the work of carnage.
"'Alt!" hissed a voice, and from the shadow of a tottering wall a
khaki-clad sentry appeared. The dully glinting tip of his bayonet
hovering within an inch or so of Setley's chest brought both officers
up with the utmost alacrity. They realized that it was unhealthy to
ignore a peremptory order of that description when on active service.
Danvers gave the countersign. The sentry, who belonged to the Tank
Section, recovered his rifle.
"All right, sir," he said. "You may pass."
"Everything correct?" enquired Danvers.
"Quite, sir," replied the man.
A quarter of a mile further on the two subalterns struck the main
road, along which a constant stream of troops and vehicles were
passing.
"Only a few yards of this," remarked Danvers. "We turn off to the
left again. See that building--or the remains of one?"
He indicated the gaunt gables of a farmhouse. The roof had entirely
disappeared. Not even a rafter remained. The front wall had been
blown out, leaving a far-flung mass of debris; the back wall was
still standing, although pierced through and through in a dozen
places.
"Carefully, now," whispered Danvers. "While I was visiting rounds I
spotted someone making for this house. Kept him under observation
with my night-glasses. I waited nearly twenty minutes and he didn't
show up again. That is in itself suspicious. I would have sent out a
piquet, only there was too much risk of the men giving themselves
away. It's a task best tackled by us, I imagine. You work round by
the right; I'll go to the left. If the fellow is still there, well
and good. We'll soon find out his business. If he isn't, we'll wait
and see if he returns."
The two officers separated. Keeping close to the ground and taking
advantage of a slight natural dip in the untilled field, Ralph
approached his objective. Presently he stopped and listened. He could
hear a voice either muttering or else expostulating in a sort of
jibberish unintelligible jumble.
"Not English, nor French--nor German," declared Setley. "Flemish
perhaps, but hardly likely. There's only one man, I should imagine;
but why does he carry on in this excited fashion?"
Drawing his revolver, Ralph continued his approach. Cover there was
now none. He had to cross twenty yards of open ground before he
gained the shadow of one of the gabled walls. In spite of his
caution, his boots squelched loudly in the tenacious mud. It seemed
impossible that anyone on the alert could help hearing him.
The muttering ceased. Ralph stopped dead. Had the mysterious
individual an inkling of danger? For a long-drawn half-minute Setley
waited, his feet sinking slowly and surely into the slime. Then the
flow of incoherent words was resumed.
Gaining the shelter of a wall, Setley paused. There were no signs of
Danvers. He decided to wait until his companion put in an appearance;
not that he was unable to tackle the suspect single-handed--there was
that predominating factor, his revolver. But, since he wished to take
the man alive, he resolved to leave nothing to chance and await
assistance.
Peering over the jagged edge of a hole in the brickwork Ralph saw the
object of his quest. On the mound of stones that at one time
comprised the farmhouse floor lay two scorched beams. On these a door
had been placed so as to form a rough table, and spread out upon this
was a coloured plan, illuminated by the shaded gleam of a military
map-reading lamp.
Bending over the plan was a tall, burly man, dressed in the uniform
of a British infantry officer. His face was in darkness, and whether
young or middle-aged Ralph was unable to determine.
On the floor by the side of the suspect lay a folded garment--a cloak
apparently--and a German army revolver; while to keep the edges of
the plan from being disturbed by the wind the man had made use of
four clips of cartridges as weights. By the brass material of the
clips Ralph knew that they were not British but German.
"Cool cheek," thought Setley. "Quite enough evidence to place him in
front of a firing party. He looks a tough customer, too." Presently
Danvers crawled up and also took stock of the suspect. The two
subalterns glanced at each other meaningly and nodded. Then, bounding
swiftly and agilely through the gap in the wall, they threw
themselves upon their quarry.
The improvised table flew one way; the spy, in the grip of his
assailants, the other. The plan coiled up and rolled across the rough
floor until it quivered against a projecting slab of stone. The lamp,
still alight, slipped to the ground, its rays directed skywards like
a miniature searchlight.
The fellow put up a tough fight. More than once he shook off his
attackers, but was unable to regain his feet and follow up the
advantage. He fought cleanly. He did not bite or kick--which was
remarkable for a Hun--but used his fists with good effect, as Danvers
had cause to know.
At length the two chums gained the mastery, although at the end of
the struggle they were almost played out.
"Now what's to be done?" gasped Ralph, when the suspect was securely
bound--wrists and ankles--by means of handkerchiefs and the man's own
revolver lanyard. "If we've got to bring him out of this we'll have
trouble. He's a lump of a chap."
"Get a man to mount guard over him until we can fetch the piquet,"
decided Danvers, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. "By Jove!
My nose feels as big as a turnip."
"It's certainly swelling some," remarked Setley, surveying his chum's
features by the aid of the captured electric lamp. "All right; you
stand by and I'll bring a Tommy back to look after the blighter."
In less than twenty minutes Ralph returned, accompanied by a corporal
of the Tank section whom he had met on the road.
"I've been trying to question the chap," reported Danvers. "Tried him
in German. Perhaps my rendering was so atrocious that he couldn't
understand, or else he's sullen. He tried to wriggle while you were
away, but he seems to be lashed up tight enough."
"Mount guard over him, corporal," ordered Ralph. "If he tries any of
his capers prod him in the stomach with your bayonet. I don't think
that would be bringing His Majesty's uniform into contempt. We'll
take that revolver and the map with us as evidence."
Leaving the corporal furtively eyeing his charge, like a terrier
watching a rat, the two subalterns hurried back to the camp.
Having made their report an armed piquet was sent out, together with
a couple of stretcher-bearers, in case the prisoner refused to walk.
"I feel rather 'bucked' over this business," remarked Danvers.
"Despite a bang on the proboscis, I am inclined to assert that this
night's work hasn't been thrown away. I was----"
A rifle-shot rang out, clearly audible above the rumble of distant
guns.
"By Jove!" ejaculated Ralph. "Corporal Rogers has plugged the chap."
"Rather a wide interpretation of your orders, old boy," replied
Danvers. "Why didn't he use cold steel?"
With the piquet hurrying at their heels the two officers ran across
the intervening stretch of mud and reached the ruins. The spy was
still there, very much alive. Over him stood the corporal. An empty
cartridge case on the floor and the reek of cordite fumes were silent
evidence to the identity of the man who fired the shot.
"All correct here, sir," reported Corporal Rogers. "I heard
footsteps, went to the broken window, and saw a bloke sneaking up
towards the building. I challenged, and he turned tail. Then I let
rip, and he dropped. I'll swear I plugged him, but he made no noise
when he fell."
Proceeding in the direction indicated by the corporal, Setley and
Danvers found the lifeless body of a man dressed as a French peasant.
There was nothing on him to prove his identity. Close by, and
evidently dropped as he fell, was a small bag of corn. A couple of
yards further away was found a little bottle containing water.
"Jolly fishy," declared Danvers. "Corn and water--too small to be of
much use for human consumption. What does it mean?"
Nothing more could be done as far as the slain peasant was concerned.
The officers returned to the ruins while the captive was being
strapped to the stretcher--a task that took the united efforts of
four of the piquet.
"This chap's a spy, that's a dead cert.," continued Danvers. "The
other fellow is an accomplice and brings him grub."
"But you said that the quantity was insufficient," protested Ralph.
"Your theory doesn't hold good."
"Hanged if it does," admitted Danvers, "It's a regular mystery. No
doubt----"
A gentle cooing above their heads caused the men to look up. Flashing
the light they discovered that nesting in a niche in the end wall was
a birdcage. It must have been placed there since the building was
partly demolished by shell-fire.
Standing on another man's shoulder one of the piquet handed down the
cage. Within were four carrier pigeons.
"The chain of evidence is complete," declared Danvers. "Bring those
birds along--and this one, too," he added, indicating the still
struggling prisoner.
"A very good night's work," commented the C.O., when the two
subalterns had made their report. "Two birds with one stone, by Jove!
All right, carry on; we'll have this gentleman tried by court-martial
in the morning."