WITHIN THE ENEMY'S LINES
For many reasons Fred did not want to hold a long talk with the Suwalki
operator. German wireless stations were undoubtedly at work in the
surrounding country, and, though there was no great danger that his
messages might be intercepted and read, it was not advisable, of course,
to let the Germans, who were sure to be watchful, know that there was a
private Russian station somewhere within German limits. The instruments
here were tuned to a certain wave length, and he guessed that this was
standard for all Russian military stations, and different from that of
the Germans. But when he held his circuit to listen he got whisperings
that sounded almost like static electricity. It was evident that a good
many stations were sending, and that the air all about was full of the
waves.
So he contented himself with a brief and direct report of what had
happened, explaining why Boris was not himself present to make this
report. He asked for information as to the movements of the Russian
army, but got no satisfaction.
"We don't know ourselves," said the Suwalki operator. "Things are moving
very fast, but absolutely no news is being given out. I know that our
cavalry--Cossacks, chiefly--have crossed the border at half a dozen
different points. The Germans and the Austrians have invaded Poland, and
our troops have all been withdrawn from that region. The concentration
there is going on at Brest-Litovsky, and behind the line of Warsaw-Novo
Georgevsk. But here there are a good many troops. There may be Cossacks
within a few miles of you. They are raiding. Here it is said that our
first move will be to try to cut the German railways."
That was all he could find out. He arranged for word of Boris's seizure
to be sent to his father, and then closed his circuit and went below, in
search of old Vladimir.
By now it was afternoon, and Fred began to think that if Boris had been
coming back that day he would have arrived already. Plainly, it seemed
to him, Colonel Goldapp must have decided to retain him as a prisoner.
He wanted to get down near the parsonage again, but he was afraid to
venture out by the secret passage. He didn't know how thoroughly he had
frightened the soldier who had so nearly caught him. If the man had
recovered his wits and decided that it was no ghost, but a very
substantial and real person who had bowled him over, there would
doubtless be a guard in the hollow, by the outer entrance of the tunnel.
And, in any case, it was too risky to seek egress by that means again in
broad daylight.
"Vladimir," he said, when he found the old servant, "I want you to make
me look like a German, if you can. Disguise me, so that I may go down
toward the village safely. Is it possible?"
Vladimir studied him for a moment.
"I think so," he said. "There are plenty of clothes here, and there is
a man who has often helped when there were to be private theatricals."
The transformation was soon completed, and when he looked at himself in
a glass Fred had to laugh. His clothes were those of a Prussian peasant,
and a few very slight changes in his appearance had been made by the man
to whom Vladimir had spoken. They worked wonders, and Fred decided that
he could go anywhere in Prussia now with impunity.
"Is it safe for you to leave the house?" he asked Vladimir.
"Yes, for they think that I am harmless," said the old man.
"I wish to know how to open the door of the tunnel from the outside,"
said Fred. "But I think it would be unsafe to go there directly. It will
be better for you to start out and get there as if you had gone by
chance. It is near the parsonage where my cousin is, and if anyone
questions you, you could say, I should think, that you wanted to be near
your master."
"Yes," said Vladimir. "That would be safe."
"Then do you go there and stay, unless they drive you away. I will go
there, too, if I can, and if the coast is clear and no one is watching,
you can show me. Unless, indeed, you can tell me now?"
"It will be better for me to show you," said Vladimir. "The looks of the
outside change constantly. A storm will destroy a bush, or some other
landmark there, and, though I could touch the proper spot in the
darkness myself, I would find it hard to describe it to you. I will
start at once?"
"Yes. And I will come to you, if it is safe, as soon as I can. I should
not be more than ten minutes behind you in reaching the hollow."
Nothing about the whole adventure upon which he had embarked so
strangely, and with so little intention on his own part, impressed Fred
more than the unquestioning obedience old Vladimir yielded to him. More
than ever before, he realized that the Suvaroffs must indeed be as great
a family as his mother had declared. Though she had become a true
American, Mrs. Waring had never ceased to love the land of her birth,
and she had always tried to impress Fred with her own feeling for the
great house to which she had belonged.
"Such families as the Suvaroffs can do much harm to themselves and to
others," she had said. "But they can also be of great service to those
of their blood, to those who are dependent upon them, and to their
country."
The truth of this was constantly being impressed anew upon Fred at this
time. He was struck especially by the difference between the way that
the people of this house treated Boris and himself, and the attitude
that had been noticeable in those who had served his uncle, Mikail
Suvaroff. Mikail was decidedly a greater figure than Boris's father. Yet
it was not devotion that he seemed to inspire. He won obedience, not
because his people were devoted to him, but because he had filled them
with fear, and because they knew the consequences that would certainly
follow if he were displeased in any way.
It was still light when Fred left the house. He went out by a side
entrance, reaching the road from the garden. Vladimir had gone down the
hill before him. It was understood that he would manufacture some errand
as an excuse for his appearance in the village. A number of the people
of the village were in the road near the great house; they stared at it
curiously, and with hostile murmurs. They paid no attention to Fred,
however, and this convinced him that his disguise was good. He passed
near them, and he breathed more freely when he had gone by.
At the foot of the hill he turned away from the village. Here he
remembered something that both amused and annoyed him. He had not asked
just where the parsonage was. He knew its location with reference to the
outer portal of the tunnel, to be sure, but he had come to that
underground. However, he remembered where the sun had been when he had
emerged into the open air before, and, after some profitless scouting
about, a passing motorcycle set him on the right track. It set him
thinking, too.
"There are an awful lot of these fellows with dispatches running about,"
he said to himself. "It seems to me that this place is more than a
colonel's headquarters. A colonel has just one regiment under him, and
he certainly wouldn't need so many riders to carry his orders
about--unless he were in command of a detached fort or position, and
Colonel Goldapp isn't. I guess he's there, right enough, but I've an
idea there's someone more important, as well. It might be worth while to
find out just what is going on around here."
But that could wait. For the moment his task was to meet Vladimir and
then to spy out the parsonage. Meeting Vladimir proved easier than he
had hoped. He followed the trail of the man on the motorcycle until he
was within sight of the grey stone parsonage, and then had his bearings
exactly. He approached the hollow cautiously, but no one was around.
The ground was fairly soft; there had been rain within the last three or
four days. And so, as he approached the spot of his encounter with the
superstitious soldier, Fred was able to tell that no visitation had been
made to the hollow. He marked the footsteps of the soldier; the man had
evidently run from the place.
Looking around cautiously, he saw that everything was clear, and dropped
down on hands and knees as he reached the gully. Vladimir was waiting,
and in less than a minute explained the secret of the door.
"All right," said Fred. "Now you get back to the house, and either be
near the entrance to the passage yourself, or keep someone stationed
there. I don't know what's going to happen, so I can't tell you, but I
think that maybe I shall get Boris away from the parsonage."
Vladimir's eyes gleamed.
"I am an old man," he said, "and I fear that I am useless. But if I can
help to rescue him--"
"If you can help, I'll let you know," said Fred. "But I don't know yet
even how I shall set about it. And I think it's more important for
someone we can trust absolutely to be in the house. There may be nothing
for you to do there, and yet, if anything does come up, you will be
needed there very quickly. Shall you go back through the tunnel?"
"No. They may have watched me as I came out, and it will be better for
them to see me return. No one suspects the tunnel yet, but some of these
Germans are clever."
"Right! Well, I know how to get into it now from this end, and that may
help a lot. But I hope that when I use it again Boris will be with me."
He let old Vladimir go out first. Then, after waiting for several
minutes, he went up the gully in his turn, and set out boldly and with
no attempt to hide his movements, for the parsonage.
There was even more activity there now than there had been when he had
first set eyes upon it. There were more automobiles; four of them
altogether. At the wheel of each sat a soldier driver in grey uniform,
and with a cloth covered helmet. Each car was of the same type, a long
rakish grey body, low to the ground. As he neared the house an officer
wearing a long, grey coat came out, accompanied by two or three younger
men. He turned to speak to them, then got into one of the cars, which
immediately drove off. As it went a peculiar call was sounded, more like
a trumpet than an automobile horn. Fred guessed then what he afterward
learned to be a fact; that the automobiles used by the German staff
officers on active service had horns that indicated the rank of the
officer using them.
It seemed to Fred that there were more officers than soldiers about.
There seemed to be only enough soldiers to provide a guard. Sentries
were all about, but there were officers almost in swarms. He walked
along, indifferently rather than boldly, and he was sharply challenged
when he drew fairly near to the house.
"You can't go any further, youngster," said the soldier. "The staff has
taken this house."
Fred stared at him rather stupidly, but turned away. Then he was called
back suddenly, and for a moment his heart was in his mouth at the
thought that his disguise had been penetrated and that he was about to
be made a prisoner. Like Boris, he was concerned only with the effect of
this upon his plans. He did not think of his own safety, although, had
he been caught, he might have expected the fate of a spy, since he was
in disguise within the German lines. It proved, however, that he was not
to be arrested. A young captain was eyeing him sharply.
"Come with me, boy," he said. "We are short of servants in the house
here. You will do."
For a moment he was indignant, but then his heart leaped happily. If he
was taken into the house as a servant, he could find out all and more
than he had hoped, and that without risk.