Otto Oberfurst's method of getting into touch with the three Huns was simplicity itself. He would buy a daily paper and make a pinprick through those letters required to make up a word or sentence. Only by holding the paper up to the light could the minute holes be detected. Nor was it a difficult matter for the prisoners to obtain maps, pocket compasses, and small but powerful wire-cutters.
The next business was to arrange for the German officers to be taken across to Ireland. In view of the strict regulations governing the departure of British subjects from British ports, it was obviously a matter of almost impossibility to smuggle three young Teutons on board a ship lying in port. Oberfurst had thought of stealing a yacht from some unfrequented harbour, until he realised the risk of being caught by the vigilant patrols in the Bristol Channel and especially in the Irish Sea.
Eventually through an intermediary—he was too wily to negotiate direct—he arranged with the hyphenated American skipper of a Yankee tramp, that was shortly to leave Bristol for New York, to close with the North Devon coast in the vicinity of the unfrequented Hartland Point. The skipper was to heave-to and send a boat ashore at 3 a.m., and pick up the three fugitives.
Oberfurst left little to chance. A powerful motor-car took him from Exeter to a point four miles from the camp. He intended to proceed on foot to a prearranged rendezvous, await the German officers and walk with them for another four miles across the moors, and to pick up another car which was to convey the fugitives to within a short distance of the coast.
Unfortunately for him, on leaving the first car he had followed the road by which Tressidar and his companions were keeping their weary vigil, and now he was a prisoner.
In the event of his plans going awry, he had firmly decided not to be taken alive. At the same time he would make a desperate bid for freedom before proceeding to the last extremity. In this resolve he was thwarted. The intense pain of the laceration of his hand by the fish-hooks, quickly followed by Mr. Greenwood's drastic and effectual action, had completed his discomfiture before he realised that the game was up.
"Now, my fine bird," thought Tressidar as he surveyed his captive, "I'll take good care you don't slip through our fingers this time."
The spy made no movement, nor did he speak a word. Lying on the ground with his legs and arms tied and Mr. Greenwood proudly mounting guard over him, he looked helpless enough; but the sub. knew his man and took no risks. He stood by, ready at the first suspicious movement to act promptly and effectually.
At length the expected motor-car arrived. At the very most it could accommodate five, not including the chauffeur. Here, indeed, was a puzzle. Someone had to be left behind. Mr. Greenwood was on his honour to turn up at the reservoir for guard duties. Tressidar and the A.P. were necessary, being the only active male members of the party, to guard the spy, who could not very well be placed in the seat alongside the chauffeur. Doris and Norah could not be left behind, nor was it desirable for them to be in close proximity to the Hun. Dr. Cardyke was beginning to feel the effects of his tumble, and, taking in consideration his age, it was unwise to leave him exposed to the cold night air longer than could be avoided.
"Then Eric and I will remain with our old pal Oberfurst," said Tressidar. "The rest of you carry on. Don't wait if you find a train at the station. The car can come back for us. How about the wreckage, doctor?"