CHAPTER XVII
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."