“There,� he said in heavy English. “There, in ten minutes, sir. We put in at Swartzburg for any cargo that may be on the quay.�
CHAPTER IX
ROBBERY UNDER ARMS
The ship had no sooner touched the dock than Fay leaped ashore and hurried toward a yellow light which marked a half-hotel, half-tippling place of doubtful aspect.
He pressed the door open and glided inside the single ground-floor room. A group of burgers and broad-hipped Dutch girls were sitting at the tables. A Holland maid was bending over the tap to a huge cask of beer.
She straightened, pressed back her hair and stared at Fay as if he were a ghost. Her eyes dropped under his level scrutiny. He turned toward the drinkers.
“Is there a motor car anywhere about this town?� he asked. “I must have one!� His voice was keen and demanding.
A German deserter from Hindenburg’s shattered armies rose, set down a stein, and threw back his head.
“Engländer?� he asked drunkenly. “Du bist ein Engländer?�
“Worse than that!� declared Fay. “I’m American! I want a motor car or a fast wagon. I must go back!� Fay pointed toward the east. He dipped his hand into his right-hand trousers pocket and brought forth a palm-full of English shillings and sovereigns.
“Here, Fräulein,� he said to the girl at the beer-cask. “Drinks all around. You join me, bitte?�