"No, Excellenz, I remember it perfectly."
His superior was silent for a moment, then said, quietly, "I have decided that Cherriton shall do this work; he has greater experience. This time our movements must be all perfect. Our staff work here, Baumer, must be even superior to the staff work in France. We must in no degree underrate our enemies." He was silent a moment, pondering the great scheme that had grown in his brain months earlier—the scheme that was to strike a blow at the very heart of England. His orders were to restore new confidence throughout Germany in the failing U-boat campaign. Minutely, piece by piece, he had worked out his daring and masterful plan. The success of his country in discovering the sailing of British ships; the strength and equipment of our distant expeditions; the amount of munitions and arms being manufactured—these things were in the daily routine of espionage. But General von Kuhne was no believer in defensive operations. He, like his friend Bernhardi, was a disciple of Clausewitz—a believer in offensive warfare. To strike, to strike hard and unerringly, after minute preparation, was his ideal of strategy. Already, for many weeks, he had been placing his pawns ready for the great coup. Cunningly and with infinite patience he had prepared for the great blow that was intended to send a shudder through the British Isles.
CHAPTER XI
The little clock on Dacent Smith's mantelshelf chimed the hour of seven.
"I am as empty as a drum," exclaimed Captain X. His slender figure occupied one of the Chief's deep armchairs. He was smoking one of Smith's cigarettes, and his handsome face and audacious-looking eyes were upturned as he watched the smoke ascend. "How long have we been here, Treves?" he inquired.
"Three hours," answered John. He too occupied one of Dacent Smith's deep chairs and smoked his Chief's cigarettes.
"What about asking old Grew if he knows anything," continued Captain X——. He leaned over and pressed his thumb upon the electric bell push. Almost immediately, and quite noiselessly, the door opened and Dacent Smith's big-boned manservant came into the room.
"Look here, Grew," said the Captain, twisting his head to get a view of the tall servant. "When do you think the War Council will break up?"
"I couldn't say, sir," answered Grew, looking at him with a wooden expression.
"You mean if you could, you wouldn't," returned the Captain. "But I would like to tell you, Grew, that both of us are most devilish hungry. Can you tell us anything about food?"