The Opening of the Struggle
The manager was in his room, and stared in some alarm at Max and his friend as they strode unceremoniously in. Then he touched a bell and his secretary entered.
"Remain at the door, Erbo. I shall want you in a moment," he said coolly.
It was a declaration of distrust, if not war, and both sides knew it. It robbed Max's words of any circumlocution he might otherwise have used, and he went straight to the point.
"You have not sent my mother the money that she instructed you to send, Monsieur Schenk. Why is that?"
The manager cleared his throat. "The German commander has forbidden any moneys to be sent out of the country, Monsieur Max, and it is unfortunately now impossible for me to do so."
"I have not heard of any such order. But why did you not do it before the Germans entered? You had ample time."
"I gave instructions, but the tremendous pressure a day or two before the Germans entered—you know how I worked to cast shells for our armies and the garrisons of the forts—caused it to be overlooked. I regret this very much, but it is now too late to do anything."
The manager looked squarely and unblushingly at Max as he boasted of the way in which he had aided the Belgian troops, and the latter was hard put to it to keep back the torrent of wrathful words that rose to his lips. But other and more pressing matters claimed attention just now, and, choking down his indignation, he replied temperately:
"It is not too late, Monsieur Schenk. Hand me the necessary moneys or securities and I will convey them to Maastricht. My mother must not be left destitute."
The manager shook his head decidedly. "No, Monsieur Max, I cannot do that. You would be certain to be taken, and I should have to pay the greater share of the penalty. No, I cannot think of it; but there is a way out of the difficulty which would indeed simplify matters in another direction. You are in great danger here and are doing no good. Go to Maastricht and support your good mother. I will obtain for you a passport through the Germans and a letter to a friend of mine who will see that you secure well-paid work. Yes, that is the best way out of the difficulty, Monsieur Max, and you and your mother will live to rejoice at having taken it."
"If your friend can get me well-paid work, can he not advance money to my mother, Monsieur Schenk?"
"No, he is in a position to get you a berth, but he has no great means. Come now, Monsieur Max, be guided by me and leave Liége without delay. The works are running splendidly, and I shall have a good account to give of my stewardship after the war."
The man's cool effrontery and the tone of lofty regard for the interests of the owners of the Durend works almost stunned Max, and for a moment he could but stare at him in dumb astonishment. That his faithful stewardship of the Durend works now ran counter to the vital interests of the country seemed not to matter to him one straw. Ceasing to plead his mother's cause, Max asked with sudden directness:
"How is it, Monsieur Schenk, that the shells we are casting for the Belgian guns will not fit them, but yet do fit the German guns?"
It was a shot at a venture, but it went home. The manager was obviously taken aback, although he recovered himself almost instantly as he replied:
"You have noticed that then? Yes, there was a misunderstanding about the size with the commandant. Apparently he was speaking about the calibre of the shells thrown against the forts, when I was under the impression he was discussing the calibre of the shells most urgently required for use. It was a ridiculous mistake, but not so strange when one considers the turmoil and confusion of those early days."
At this Max could contain himself no longer. "Monsieur Schenk—Herr Schenk, I should say—you are a traitor to Belgium, and I denounce you here and now. You are a base schemer, and the biggest scoundrel in Liége, if not in Belgium. You have the upper hand at present, but I declare to you that I shall spare no pains in the distant future to bring you to justice and to see that you get your deserts. I know your plans—or some of them. The concrete tennis-court—the filling of the shops with German workmen, the plot against General Leman, and, greatest of all, the fearful shell treachery. Oh, the shame of it should tell, even upon a German!"
It certainly seemed to tell a little upon M. Schenk. He gasped, flushed up, and opened his mouth, apparently to deny the accusations. Then he apparently thought better of it, for he controlled himself by an effort and replied coldly:
"Very well, Monsieur Max; it is war between us, I see. And it will soon end—in your discomfiture!"
"We shall see. Good day, Herr Schenk!"
This mode of addressing him seemed to sting the manager more than anything else, for he burst out angrily:
"Fool of a boy! Do you think to measure your puny strength with mine? Bah! I shall crush you before ever you can raise your hand against me. As for my name, Herr Schenk suits me well enough. I am a German, and I hate these decadent peoples we call Belgians. Let Germany rule—she is strong and virile, and before her the world must—and shall—bow down. You, whether you call yourself English or Belgian, shall know what it is to have your country crushed and beaten, and to have brains—German brains—to direct and rule you. Go—and see if I'm not right."
"I am going—and going to do my best to prove you wrong," replied Max proudly as he strode quickly from the room. Dale followed him, venting his own indignation, as he turned away, by shaking his fist full in the manager's face.
"We must not dally here," cried Max as they left the building. "We had better make ourselves scarce at once. We have burnt our boats, and both Schenk and the Germans will be after us from now onwards."
"And a good job too," replied Dale, who did not appear at all alarmed at the prospect. "The fight now begins."
"Quick—round here," cried Max, turning a corner sharply. "Let us lose ourselves in these narrow streets for a while. We will then go to Madame Dubec's."
"Madame Dubec's?"
"Yes, we must not go home. Madame Dubec—the wife of the man whose life I saved, you remember—she will shelter us for a day or two while we look about us. We will get her or her husband to buy us rough clothes, so that we can pass as workmen. We must not go about like this any longer."
"Aye, we must act the part of honest sons of toil. Always have a spanner sticking out of a pocket, and a hunk of bread and cheese tied up in a coloured handkerchief in our hands. Hurrah!"
Madame Dubec gave them a quiet but sincere welcome, and for the remainder of the day and the following night they sheltered beneath her roof. She was anxious that they should stay permanently with her, when she learned that they were in danger, but neither Max nor Dale would hear of it. Should Schenk or the Germans learn that she had sheltered them it might go hard with her, and neither cared to contemplate such a thing. As soon, therefore, as they had been provided with workmen's clothes, they took a room in a poor quarter of the town well away from the Durend works and made active preparations for their campaign. Although Max had not dared to go to his home to fetch any of his belongings, he had managed to get a few of the more necessary things by sending one of Madame Dubec's daughters with a note to one of the domestics whom he knew he could trust.
To Max, the great campaign he had in mind against Schenk and the Germans was momentarily eclipsed by the urgent need for doing something to relieve the distress of his mother and sister. He tried at first to think of friends, who, knowing the value of their property, might be disposed to advance a sufficient sum of money upon its security. It was in the midst of these reflections, and the angry thoughts of Schenk that naturally coloured them, that a wild and desperate idea occurred to him. He dismissed it at first as an absurdity, but the thought kept coming back again, until, weary of resisting it, he allowed his mind to dwell upon it at will. It was while heedlessly immersed in these rambling thoughts that a sudden recollection came which considerably altered the aspect of affairs. From a wild and desperate dream it changed into a project, difficult and perilous indeed, but one by no means hopeless of achievement. In the end it took such firm hold upon him that he thought it out seriously and at last unfolded it to Dale.
That worthy welcomed it with such unbounded admiration and delight that the question as to whether it should or should not be attempted was settled out of hand, and the preparations for carrying it into effect promptly begun.
The project was, briefly, to go and take by a coup de main the moneys belonging to his mother that Schenk had wrongfully and treacherously refused to hand over. It seemed a most risky venture, but Max had a recollection that his father long ago had entrusted to his mother the duplicate key of his safe in case anything should at any time happen to him. It had never been used, and his mother, likely enough, had almost forgotten she possessed it. Nevertheless, Max believed it was still in her possession, and he resolved to settle the point by sending a messenger to fetch it. More important still, he believed that Schenk was quite unaware of its existence. If the key could be secured it would simplify matters immensely, and, as Max was naturally familiar with the building in which the manager's office was situated, the enterprise was one which seemed likely to succeed if resolutely attempted. The safe, he knew, ought to contain all the money and securities of the firm, unless, indeed, Schenk had already handed them over to the Germans. This did not seem likely, however, and Max would not allow so disappointing a thought to interfere with his calculations.
Monsieur Dubec's eldest daughter was promptly dispatched to Madame Durend with a letter asking for the key. Max entered into no details, and his mother may possibly have supposed that M. Schenk's failure to send her the money he had promised was due to the loss of the original key. At any rate, to the delight both of Max and Dale, the key duly arrived the following day.
Tools were needed, and these were of course easily obtained. Max, as we have seen, had been through most of the shops in the Durend concern, and knew how to use almost any tool as well as the best of the firm's mechanics. No difficulties, therefore, were to be anticipated on that score. In fact, the more the details of the scheme were discussed the more feasible it seemed and the more the spirits of the two plotters rose.
The third night after the break with Schenk, Max and Dale set out from their lodging at midnight and made their way to the Durend workshops. Dale was carrying a good-sized bag, in which was a lantern and an assortment of tools and other articles, one or two of them of such a nature that to be stopped and the bag examined would have been fatal to their liberty of movement for many a long day. It was, therefore, necessary for them to move with caution, and Max accordingly went on a hundred yards ahead, ready to give the agreed signal—a stumble forward on the pavement—whenever it was advisable for Dale to disappear.
The offices of the Durend Company were situated in a separate building just inside the main entrance gates. The latter were ordinarily guarded by a watchman, but since the Germans had entered Liége a guard of German soldiers had been established there, and the sentinel on his beat passed within view of the front and two sides of the offices. It was pretty obvious, therefore, that the rear of the building would have to be the part attacked.
It was close on one o'clock when Max and Dale scaled the outer wall well away from the entrance, and moved cautiously up to the rear of the building which was their objective. They had had only one alarm so far, and this had been so easily disposed of that they had begun to feel quite elated.
"This window gives access to the drawing-office, Dale, and ought to suit us well. Give me a lift on to the sill, and hand up the tools."
In a surprisingly short space of time the window was forced open, and Max clambered into the room. A whispered word, and Dale handed up the bag and sprang quietly up after it.
"Heat No. 1 pulled off at a paddle," commented Dale exultingly.
"The door is open, as I expected," whispered Max, who was too intent upon the work in hand to heed his friend's playfulness. "Now I will light the lantern and we will go upstairs. The door of the manager's room is sure to be locked, but we shall make short work of that."
As Max expected, the door was locked, but they had come provided with tools for all eventualities, and in ten minutes the whole of the bottom panels right up to the framework had been neatly sawn out in one piece. Through the aperture the two lads crept, drawing the bag through after them.
"Heat No. 2 won by a dozen lengths," cried Dale joyously.
The room was a fairly large one, and contained the manager's desk, a really handsome piece of furniture which had been Max's father's, two or three tables, bookcases, a screen, and a large and massive safe.
Max lost no time. Setting Dale to keep watch and ward at the window which commanded a view of the entrance-gates, he placed the lantern on the desk, so that its light fell upon the safe, and then advanced upon it, key in hand. This was the crucial moment. Had Schenk appropriated the money and securities committed to his charge, or were they still there, awaiting the strange midnight visit from their rightful owner? It was, indeed, a strong indictment of the methods of the invaders that the legitimate owner should have to come by stealth at dead of night, while the unfaithful steward could do as he listed in the broad glare of day.
Max's hand trembled, and the lock seemed to stick. Then the lever seemed to jamb, until he feared that, after all, something had happened that would balk him at the last moment. But it was only his momentary nervousness, and the door swung ponderously open at last.
"Well, Max, how goes it?" enquired Dale excitedly, turning to watch his friend as he explored the open safe.
"All's well, I think. It seems full enough."
"Semi-final won by a clear length—eh?" cried Dale in great glee. "Seems a regular walk-over. If we want any real excitement we shall have to go and throw stones at the German guard."
"We haven't done yet," replied Max more soberly, though his voice was confident enough. "Here, I'm not going to examine all these papers and documents now. I'm going to cram the whole lot into the bag and be off. We can see what our capture is when we get back to our room."
"Right you are. By George, though, what's that?"
Both stood stock-still and listened. The sound of voices and the tramp of feet upon the stairs was plainly audible.
Max darted an angry look at Dale. In the excitement of the opening of the safe the latter had forgotten that he was on guard at the window, and no doubt this was the result. "You see, Dale?" he cried sharply.
"I'm sorry, old man," replied Dale miserably.
"No matter. Cram these things into the bag while I lock the safe. Mind, not a sound!"
The safe locked, Max sprang noiselessly to the door, replaced the cut-out panels and secured them in position, against anything but a blow or strong pressure, by two or three sharp nails pressed in with his fingers. Flight was out of the question, but it might be possible to make good their escape later on if they could only hide themselves successfully for a little while. For a hiding-place Max had no need to look. He had played at hide-and-seek in that very room with his sister years ago, too often to forget that the best shelter was inside the well of his father's—now the manager's—desk.
The panels replaced, Max knelt down and gently blew away the tell-tale sawdust. Then he turned and eagerly scanned the room. Dale had already packed the bag, and was looking vainly round for a hiding-place.
"Under here—quick!" cried Max, indicating the desk, and in Dale scrambled, dragging the precious bag after him. There was only one thing left which needed to be disposed of, and that was the lantern. Max knew that if he blew it out and hid it under the desk the smell would inevitably betray them. Therefore he took it to the fire-place, blew it out close under the chimney, and instantly thrust it as far up as his arm would reach and lodged it there.
The noise of voices and the tramp of feet had, during the few moments that these preparations had taken, been growing stronger, and the lantern had scarcely been disposed of before the approaching persons halted at the door. The rattle of keys, as someone—no doubt the manager—drew a bunch from his pocket, could now be distinguished, and as Max crawled in under the desk, and packed himself in on top of Dale, the key turned in the lock.
Several men entered, talking together in the German tongue. One voice only Max and Dale recognized, and that, as they expected, belonged to the manager, Otto Schenk.
"... take severe measures against any workman adopting a hostile attitude. Would this meet with approval in Highest quarters?"
"Certainly. You may rest assured, Herr von Schenkendorf, that the Government of His Imperial Majesty has no intention of showing aught but the utmost sternness and rigour towards the whole Belgian population, whether workmen, property owners, or their families."
"Thank you, General."
"Serious consequences have ensued from the unexpected delay caused to our armies by the resistance of the Belgian army, and it is the Belgians who shall be made to pay for it. And to make them pay for it in a literal sense is, as you know, the reason of my presence here now."
"True, General," replied the manager as he switched on the light; "but if I am to develop these works to the utmost, and to support our armies with ample supplies of guns and shells, I must be able to pay my workmen."
"The gold and securities handed over will be replaced by notes of our Imperial Reichsbank or by Belgian paper money, which I have good reason to believe we shall shortly commence to manufacture. You will thus be as well off as before, and the Government will have securities which it can sell in neutral countries."
"Oh, I am not objecting, General! The plan is excellent, and should yield much profit to our country. As for these Belgians, they have brought it on themselves by their foolish obstinacy. Ha, ha! A large part of the securities I am about to hand to you, General, were, by the explicit instructions of the widow of Monsieur Durend, to have been sent into Holland for her use. I thought I could find a better use for them than that, however, and they will doubtless be made to render important service to the Imperial Government. Only two days ago, too, that young English cub, Monsieur Durend's son, attacked me in this room and demanded money for his mother's use. I told him to go and work for her, and sent him about his business."
There was a rumble of laughter, and the desk creaked as one of the officers—there seemed two men beside M. Schenk—sat down on the side of it.
"And what sum will it be, Herr von Schenkendorf? It must be a large one. My Government will expect much from so large and prosperous a business."
"I can give you 1,500,000 marks in money and securities," replied the manager as he drew his keys from his pocket and approached the safe. "If you wish I will hand the sum to your aide-de-camp now."
"I do wish it, Herr von Schenkendorf," replied the officer decisively.
Max and Dale held their breaths in suspense as they heard the key turn in the lock and the door of the safe swing heavily open. There was a sharp exclamation, followed by a dull sound as though the manager had flung himself down on his hands and knees, the better to peer into the inside.
"Mein Gott!" he cried in a strangled voice. "Gone—all gone!"
"No tricks, sir!" cried the general in a rasping voice, getting up suddenly from the desk on which he had been sitting. "I will not be trifled with."
The manager made no reply, but Max could hear him breathing heavily and fancied he caught a groan.
"What is the matter, von Schenkendorf? Have you been robbed?" demanded the officer.
"Yes, General," replied the manager after a pause in which he vainly endeavoured to find his voice. "Mein Gott—yes—robbed! How—I know not. Last evening I left all——"
"Bah! You are trifling with me!" cried the officer in a stern voice. "This is altogether too opportune to be the result of accident. I come to you demanding a contribution to His Imperial Majesty's exchequer and you tell me you have just been robbed. I begin to have grave doubts of your faithfulness to our cause."
"General," cried Schenk in a voice which positively trembled with vexation, "General, I assure you that it is a pure coincidence. Never before has the firm been robbed, and how or why it should happen now I do not know. But it shall be fully investigated and I will leave no stone unturned to recover possession of the valuables—be assured of that."
"So! Well, well, you have had a good reputation with our Government in the past and I will let matters rest for the moment," replied the officer in a voice which contained more than a suspicion of a threat. "By the way," he went on suddenly, his voice again taking on a rasping tone, "I am no doubt right in assuming that those siege-gun plans which I handed to you yesterday are in safe custody?"
"I will look after them, General, have no fear," responded Schenk in a voice which made Max, who knew its usually firm tones so well, grasp the bag on which he leaned with a sudden new affection. "I fully realize their vast importance to our common cause."
Apparently the officer also noticed something amiss. "Show me the plans," he replied curtly.
There was a few moments' suspense. Max could hardly suppress his impulse to laugh aloud, for, although he could not see, he could picture without the least difficulty the manager's utter misery and discomfiture.
"I have them not. They were with the valuables locked in the safe," replied Schenk in a stammering voice. "But, General, they shall be recovered. I have agents everywhere, and no efforts shall be spared to recover them."
The officer strode the length of the room and back. Then he sat heavily down again on the side of the manager's desk, cleared his throat, and responded slowly and impressively:
"This matter, Von Schenkendorf, is now beyond my powers. I must report the matter to my Government. Till then you must not move from Liége without my permission."
The manager made no reply.
"This room," the officer went on, "must be kept locked until it has been thoroughly investigated by officers whom I shall send. But you may make such enquiries through your own agents as you think fit. If you succeed, it will, of course, influence matters considerably to your advantage."
"General," replied the manager humbly, "General, I will do so. But let me beg you not to let this one mischance, which might have happened to anyone, wipe out the recollection of my many great services to the State."
"All shall be considered," replied the officer coldly as he strode towards the door. It was obsequiously opened for him, and the three men passed out, the manager locking the door behind them.
"Give me the key," demanded the officer. It was handed over, and the party moved with heavy tread along the passage and down the stairs.