"And how is von Arve?" inquired the count.
"Himmel! I have neither seen nor heard of him for weeks," declared the spy. "He was to have gone to Rosyth. I fear the worst, especially as these English have shot three unnamed German agents in the Tower of London. This secrecy is, believe me, very trying to one's nerves. Imagine a man working hard and risking everything for the love of the Fatherland, as many of us are now doing. Then without warning, without even a chance of his name being announced so that all good Germans could honour his heroic sacrifice, he vanishes—and an unnamed corpse occupies an unmarked grave in an English fortress."
"You are getting quite melodramatic, my friend," remarked the count suavely. "A draught of honest Bavarian beer will set you up. I, too, am hungry and thirsty. Within another half-hour we must part company."
The two conspirators rose. Tressidar could hear the shuffling of their feet and the movement of the chair-legs on the oaken floor.
"Come and bear a hand like an old campaigner," said the count, and the twain made their way to the larder.
"We'll have to be moving," whispered Tressidar. "Wait until those fellows make a noise with the plates and bottles, then get to the window."
Creeping with the utmost caution lest the creaking of the floor would betray their presence, the two chums gained the window. The sub., knowing the "lay of the land," went first, dropping noiselessly upon the tarred roof of the outhouse. Then, guiding the flight-sub.'s feet, he waited until Fuller stood beside him.
Having reached terra-firma, the chums retrieved their wooden-soled foot-gear. These they carried with them until they could find a suitable hiding-place.
"We'll make for the high road now," decided Tressidar, when they were at a safe distance from the spies' meeting-place. "We'll pass muster in these togs, and I don't suppose we'll be questioned."
"By Jove! I would like to scrag that fellow," exclaimed Fuller. "The bounder who kippered the 'Pompey,' I mean."