CHAPTER XX
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.