TRESSIDAR SOLVES A MYSTERY
TRESSIDAR nudged his companion. German! Their interest was aroused.
Although it was no doubt quite a common occurrence for the guttural
language of the Hun to be spoken on the Danish frontier, the warning
given to the chauffeur of the car to avoid suspicion was in itself a
mystery.
The sub. had yet to learn the identity of Herr Oberfurst.
"Yes, I have had a fairly quick journey," said the spy. "Fortunately
we did not fall in with any of our incomparable unterseebooten."
"Donnerwetter! I wish I could say the same," retorted the second
German crossly. "The frontier is a bore. Why on earth you couldn't
arrange to meet me in Hamburg is beyond me."
"A thousand pardons, Count," declared Oberfurst volubly. "Everything
depends upon secrecy. It is easy enough to cross the frontier, I
admit, but it is returning to Danish soil that is the difficulty.
Here am I, an accredited American Red Cross agent, furnished with
passports by the owl-eyed British Government. So long as I remain in
Denmark there is no cause for suspicion, but should I set foot in the
Fatherland, unseen difficulties beset me. My plan is, therefore, I
think, an admirable one. Karl Hoeffer is the soul of integrity so far
as Germany is concerned. This house of his is well suited for our
purpose. Is that not so?"
"I suppose you have good reasons, friend Otto," replied the Count.
"But time presses. The 'Nordby' leaves Esbjerg at tide-time tomorrow
morning--a matter of seven hours from now. Well, what have you to
report? Is the damage done in the latest raid as extensive as the
commander of LZ142 states?"
Otto Oberfurst made a noise that indicated a negative reply.
"Then what?" demanded the count eagerly.
"The airship never got within twenty miles of Manchester, Count; and
as for the damage stated to have been done at Newcastle, I have
personally visited the town and can find nothing of the kind. Twenty
bombs were dropped, all around a small station on a branch line.
Doubtless our airmen were deceived by the presence of a mountain
lake. It may have looked like an arm of the sea. And how peculiar the
English people are! So long as they are not injured or their property
destroyed they laugh at our Zeppelins."
"The fools!" ejaculated the count impatiently. Then--
"Now tell us about your work, Herr Oberfurst. Have you a copy of the
British Admiralty chart of the shoals of Straits of Dover minefield?"
"It is here," was the reply. "One of von Schenck's men obtained it
for me from a compatriot who is actually employed in the British
Hydrographic office. Can you imagine an Englishman working in the
German Admiralty? Ach! It is playing into our hands."
Tressidar could hear the crackle of the linen-backed paper as the
count unrolled and examined the highly important chart.
"Yes," he said slowly. "This is quite genuine. It tallies with
reports through other sources. You mentioned Herr von Schenck: how is
he?"
The spy hesitated before replying.
"He is well," he replied simply.
"You speak strangely," said the count sharply "What is amiss?"
"A slightly personal matter," explained von Oberfurst. "In short, a
pecuniary affair."
"Explain."
"It is following the 'Pompey' business."
Tressidar gave an involuntary start. His hand went to the butt of the
revolver in his pocket. He felt sorely tempted to descend and
confront the two spies with the muzzle of the weapon until he
realised that in a neutral country it is well to be discreet.
"He agreed to pay me twenty thousand dollars," continued von
Oberfurst. "I did my work. The cruiser, as you know, was sunk. But
von Schenck declared that the destruction was not complete. The ship
is capable of being raised and repaired. I doubt it. All the same, he
would not give me more than ten thousand dollars, and what is worse
he made the draft out in marks, and unfortunately a mark is no longer
what it was."
"You have my sympathy; nevertheless I must upbraid you on your lack
of duty towards the Fatherland," said the count. "The fall of the
mark is but temporary. After the war, when the German arms are
victorious---- But let that remain. I will guarantee the difference
between the amount von Schenck originally promised and what you
actually received. More, I will instruct your New York bank to place
to your credit another ten thousand dollars provided you perform
another service."
"And what is it?" asked the spy eagerly.
"This torpedoing of neutral vessels is a praiseworthy affair,"
explained the count. "It will give our mercantile fleet an undoubted
advantage after the war, but unfortunately at the present juncture it
cuts both ways. Neutrals don't like it, which is natural. Not that we
care a pfennig for their likes and dislikes. At the same time they
are showing signs of reluctance to supply us with necessary
commodities. They plead the rigours of the English blockade, but that
is a mere excuse. Now, the Imperial Chancellor has asked me to
engineer a scheme to enlist the sympathy of neutrals to a
corresponding resentment towards England. Then the desired goods will
roll in fast enough."
"I follow you so far," observed von Oberfurst.
"As a man of supreme intelligence you would," rejoined the German
flatteringly. "Now, to the point. You are returning in the 'Nordby'
to-morrow. A British submarine has been reported off the Vyl
Lightship. It is reasonable to conclude that the 'Nordby' will be
subject to a scrutiny if not to actual examination. Now, what I want
is that you fire a charge of explosive on board the steamer at the
psychological moment when the submarine appears."
"I hardly see how," objected von Oberfurst. "There will be no
opportunity for me to get below. And the risk to myself----"
"Ach! You do not think enough," said the count deprecatingly, and
contradicting the words he had used a few moments previously. "You
are berthed aft? There is no danger to you from an explosion in the
hold. You may be certain that in the excitement that follows the
appearance of the submarine the attention of all on board except
yourself will be directed towards it. It will be an easy matter to
slip below. The after-store hatchway will most certainly be
uncovered. You will drop the bomb, with a short-time fuse lighted,
into the hold, return on deck and await events. All the damage done
will be below the water-line, and there are boats. It will not be a
long row to the Vyl Lightship. And, just think, ten thousand dollars
for a comparatively simple piece of work compared with which the
sinking of the 'Pompey' was a colossal task."
"I would prefer to use the clockwork detonating gear. It is
infinitely safer," objected Oberfurst.
"Impracticable," decided his companion. "It is no use setting the
thing hours ahead. It is a question of minutes. Say three: that will
give you ample time to light the fuse and return on deck."
Apparently the spy made a gesture that denoted unwillingness--for the
count continued:
"The Americans, as you know well, have a saying 'Money talks.' Here
is a sum on account," and the two British officers could distinctly
hear the crinkling of crisp paper.
"No gold," said the spy firmly. "The Fatherland has plenty in reserve
for use in circumstances such as the present."
"Himmel! You cannot carry ten thousand marks in gold to England."
"I do not intend to do so, Count. I will see that it is placed in the
Esbjerg branch of the Danish State Bank."
"Ach! You are perverse," almost shouted the Kaiser's emissary. "Do
you think that the car is laden with gold?"
A rupture seemed imminent, until Otto Oberfurst, overcome by his
innate greed, exclaimed:
"Well, Count, under protest I will take the notes; but they must be
at the local rates of exchange."
"And how is von Arve?" inquired the count.
"Himmel! I have neither seen nor heard of him for weeks," declared
the spy. "He was to have gone to Rosyth. I fear the worst,
especially as these English have shot three unnamed German agents in
the Tower of London. This secrecy is, believe me, very trying to
one's nerves. Imagine a man working hard and risking everything for
the love of the Fatherland, as many of us are now doing. Then without
warning, without even a chance of his name being announced so that
all good Germans could honour his heroic sacrifice, he vanishes--and
an unnamed corpse occupies an unmarked grave in an English fortress."
"You are getting quite melodramatic, my friend," remarked the count
suavely. "A draught of honest Bavarian beer will set you up. I, too,
am hungry and thirsty. Within another half-hour we must part
company."
The two conspirators rose. Tressidar could hear the shuffling of
their feet and the movement of the chair-legs on the oaken floor.
"Come and bear a hand like an old campaigner," said the count, and
the twain made their way to the larder.
"We'll have to be moving," whispered Tressidar. "Wait until those
fellows make a noise with the plates and bottles, then get to the
window."
Creeping with the utmost caution lest the creaking of the floor would
betray their presence, the two chums gained the window. The sub.,
knowing the "lay of the land," went first, dropping noiselessly upon
the tarred roof of the outhouse. Then, guiding the flight-sub.'s
feet, he waited until Fuller stood beside him.
Having reached terra-firma, the chums retrieved their wooden-soled
foot-gear. These they carried with them until they could find a
suitable hiding-place.
"We'll make for the high road now," decided Tressidar, when they were
at a safe distance from the spies' meeting-place. "We'll pass muster
in these togs, and I don't suppose we'll be questioned."
"By Jove! I would like to scrag that fellow," exclaimed Fuller. "The
bounder who kippered the 'Pompey,' I mean."
"So would I," agreed Tressidar. "It's a mystery to me how he was able
to place the explosives on board. Never mind; we'll lay him by the
heels."
Briefly he explained his plan of action.
"Capital, if it works," decided the flight-sub.
Dawn was breaking as the two chums trudged wearily into the little
Jutland town of Esbjerg. Guided by a seaman's unerring instinct, they
made straight for the harbour.
It was now a little more than half flood. Lying alongside the western
pier, that with the mole encloses the outer tidal harbour, were
several small tramps with steam raised. They were still aground, and
would be for another hour. Amongst them was a wall-sided, grey-hulled
steamer, with the Danish colours painted conspicuously on both sides
as well as the name "Nordby" in letters six feet in height.
The work of loading was not yet complete, for gangs of stevedores
were carrying sacks of smoked bacon and kegs of butter from the quay
to the hold. A sleepy young officer was directing operations. He was
the only member of the ship's complement visible. The rest of the
officers and ship's crew were below.
"Any use trailing in with the crowd?" asked Fuller, indicating the
men engaged in loading the vessel.
"I think not," replied Tressidar. "We'll mark time until the skipper
puts in an appearance, only I hope he'll come on deck before our man
arrives."
Presently a short, rotund man skipped agilely up the gangway. The
sub. rightly concluded that he was the pilot, for as he gained the
deck the mate sung out an order and the crew emerged from the fore
peak. A little later the skipper came on deck and made his way to the
bridge, where he remained for some time in animated conversation with
the pilot.
Meanwhile the hatches were secured and the last of the stevedores
returned to the shore. Half a dozen passengers boarded the ship, but
whether the spy was amongst them Tressidar was unable to determine.
He wished he had taken the risk of having a look at the fellow while
he was conversing with the count.
As each passenger gained the head of the gangway he was addressed by
a steward and told which was his cabin, but as every man had to show
his ticket it was pretty evident that the two Englishmen could not
smuggle themselves on board without an almost certain risk of being
challenged.
"The crew look to be pretty hefty chuckers-out," remarked Fuller
ruefully, as he looked at the stalwart Danes. "Pity we hadn't knocked
up the British vice-consul. I suppose the only thing to be done is to
go straight on board and make a clean breast of it to the skipper.
These Danes are awfully decent fellows, and their sympathies are
almost always pro-British. The trouble is, that neither of us can
speak Danish, although perhaps the skipper knows English."
Just then a cab drew up close to the pier and a tall, upright man
with a trim torpedo beard alighted. A porter hastened to convey his
somewhat scanty belongings. As he did so, a portmanteau slipped from
his grasp and, rebounding on the planking of the pier, struck the
owner a smart blow on the shin.
"Confound you, you idiot!" he exclaimed.
At the words, uttered in an unmistakably west-country accent,
Tressidar walked straight up to the stranger.
"Excuse me," he said. "We're in a regular hole. We are British
officers and have escaped from Germany. Can you help us to obtain a
passage in the 'Nordby'?"
"You have not broken your parole, I trust?"
"We were never asked to give our parole," replied the sub. "We
managed to get away from Sylt."
"Then you must be pretty smart," replied the stranger. "From all
accounts it is a pretty tight place to be cooped up in. By the bye,
what are your names?"
Tressidar gave the name and rank of his companion and himself
"And mine is Holloway, late navigating lieutenant of the
'Sunderbund.' I'm interned, but the Danish Government have given me
ten days' leave on parole. Suppose it won't be infringing any of the
conditions if I do give you a hand. Here's some of the necessary. The
shipping agent's office is just round the corner. You'll have to look
sharp."
With hurried thanks the two chums hastened to purchase their tickets.
Directly the lieutenant had mentioned his name they had both recalled
the loss of the "Sunderbund," a destroyer that had run aground in
Danish waters, and, while helpless, was subjected to the fire of four
German light cruisers in defiance of all international regulations.
But for the prompt intervention of a Danish torpedo-boat that,
regardless of risk, had interposed between the stranded British craft
and her unscrupulous assailants, the crew of the "Sunderbund" would
have been massacred--there is no other word for it. As it was, the
survivors--the officer and twenty-seven men--were rescued and
interned.
Without a hitch Tressidar and Fuller found themselves safely on board
the "Nordby."
The steward, although guessing from the absence of luggage that the
two passengers were British prisoners of war or else men who had been
interned and had not been on parole, received them with imperturbable
gravity.
"I am anxious to know how you did the trick," said Lieutenant
Holloway, as the three Britons paced the deck.
"If you don't mind we'll cut the first part of the yarn," replied
Tressidar, making sure that no stranger was within earshot. "We had
particular reasons for choosing the 'Nordby.'"
Briefly yet comprehensively he related the incident of the previous
night, and that the spy was expected to sail on the "Nordby" with the
intention of blowing her up.
"By Jove!" said Lieutenant Holloway fiercely. "Wish to goodness I
wasn't bound by my parole. I'd like to have a hand in the business.
Unfortunately I cannot. You say the spy isn't on board yet?"
"So far as we can surmise," rejoined Fuller. "You see, we heard him
but didn't have a chance of examining the cut of his jib. Hulloa,
here's a late bird. Wonder if 'tis he?"
An overcoated man was hurrying to the gangway. Disregarding the
solicitations of the porters, he carried his own baggage, which
consisted of two large, brass-bound attaché cases.
Nodding familiarly to the steward, the man descended the companion.
"Well?" asked Fuller, turning to his chum, but to his surprise he saw
that Tressidar was in the act of straightening himself out, having
just completed the task of refastening his boot-lace. "I say, you're
a pretty sort of fellow. How on earth could you scrutinise a man if
your face is looking at your boots?"
"I saw quite enough of him to satisfy me," replied Tressidar. "What I
was afraid of was that he might recognise me."
"Recognise you?" echoed Fuller in amazement and incredulity.
"I said 'recognise me,'" repeated the sub. firmly. "Now I can
understand the 'Pompey' affair. That fellow--I knew him in a minute
in spite of his beard and moustache--was stoker on board the
cruiser."
"Then you must have a wonderful memory," remarked Holloway,
"especially as this fellow is one of the engine-room ratings and you
are an executive officer."
"I had to speak pretty sharply to him once," said the sub. "He
boggled over the steam winch--there was an accident in consequence
and a man was killed. Now I come to think of it I don't believe it
was altogether an accident, though. At any rate, he's our man. We'll
find out which cabin he occupies and how far it is from the
after-store-room hatchway. Then we'll have to wait."
"And see?" added Fuller.
"No--act," corrected Tressidar grimly.