Several quaint experiences following one another in rapid succession made me wish I could carry through the work I had in hand to a rapid conclusion in order that I could shift to a more congenial atmosphere. I had received warning before starting on this particular business that my lot was not likely to be enviable; and that I would probably have to put my head into the lion's mouth. I had also been warned that the place to which I had been sent to stay and to direct certain operations was known to be infested with German agents, whose jealousy and zeal in watching over certain vitally important secrets amounted to a mania. My visitation might find a good comparison in likening it to a police officer being sent to sit in the entrance hall of an illicit West End gambling hell. He knew every effort would be strained to tempt him away from the main issue or to shift him. My Commanding Officer had intimated that if I survived ten days he would consider I had done well. As a matter of fact, I stuck it six weeks. I had arranged what was wanted. I had fixed other matters towards a promising and satisfactory conclusion when I received a picture postcard. The illustration represented a motor-boat going at full speed. Underneath it was written: "Skip-per ahoy!"
In the ordinary way this would seem to convey nothing beyond a casual salutation. But the hyphen! It was evidently intentional. I read it as a hint to get quickly away—to skip, in fact—whilst the motor-boat suggested that a private rapid departure would probably not be to my disadvantage.
The weather was much too tempestuous to venture to sea in such small craft as might have been available. No other possible road of retreat, except by sea, was open, so I had to study ways and means. I informed those who waited on me that I should be leaving three days later for a well-known town lying fifty or sixty miles to the southward. Meanwhile the few remaining details necessary to complete the objective of my visit were arranged, and the local time-sheets of every known route touching at the island were studied. I noted with some satisfaction that early in the morning two boats crossed each other's passage at given hours, arriving at the same quay and departing at the same time.
The next day, before six in the morning, I appeared on the quay and booked a ticket for the southern journey. No one appeared to be watching, and when the boats arrived I made the mistake of boarding the boat which sailed north, although I hardly considered it necessary to inform the purser of the fact when he demanded the wherewithal to cover passage on his ship.
No one in the town knew I had left, but I had sent a secret message to headquarters advising of my intentions.
At the next port of call a letter came aboard addressed to Herr Schmidt, which I claimed. It was a transcribed telephone message. Reading between the lines the writing conveyed only one interpretation. Reduced to simple English, it meant: "Eruption—quit."
I promptly left the boat I was on and changed my route by going inland over a peninsula to a small fishing station, where a portion of luck added to a large portion of whiskey secured a berth on a small cargo-boat running direct to another country.
The false agent who had sold his benefactor but was unable to deliver the brand of goods he had promised, then finding that certain monetary demands were not provided for by telegram, although not in accordance with his agreed arrangements, fell a victim to his besetting sin. He indulged in a prolonged debauch during which he divulged the full depths of his iniquity. His confessions were in due course reported to me, and they brought him the order of the boot.
The deep-laid schemes of the perhaps too-muchly-lauded police, like those of mice and men, ganged agley; action on their warrant to arrest had perforce to be postponed sine die; whilst the elusive Herr Schmidt, the pivot round which this little teacup drama gyrated, vanished pro tem. from the affairs and haunts of the disciples of Kultur and goulashes.