"Sorry I'm so infernally late, Smith," he exclaimed. "Must blame the trains. Missed my connection at Okehampton, don't you know."
The two Germans sat down to their belated meal, talking the while on commonplace topics.
They certainly made a faux pas in the way they gulped down their soup, but the rest of the diners, although they exchanged sympathetic glances, had never had the misfortune to visit German "bads" in pre-war days; otherwise they might have "smelt a rat."
Von Loringhoven paid the bill and carefully placed the receipt in his pocket-book. "It will be a souvenir of a pleasant evening," he remarked to his companion. "A certificate to the effect that I have invaded England, hein?"
It was close on nine o'clock when von Loringhoven accompanied the spy to his home. Once in von Gobendorff's study, with a thick curtain drawn over the door, the latter unburdened himself.
"Ach!" he exclaimed, stretching his limbs and yawning prodigiously; "I have had a nasty time, Otto. Often I thought I would have to forego this pleasurable evening in exchange for a prison cell."
"You bungled, then?"
"Perhaps. It was hardly my fault. I am inclined to blame Schranz. I deposited the explosive all right, but the signal did not fall within the prearranged limit. Consequently I had either to make a bolt for safety or stay where I was and get blown up. I chose the first alternative."
"And the explosion?"
"It came off," replied the spy. "Somehow the bridge was not destroyed. Why I know not. Then I was hotly pursued. That fool of a dog—I had taken the precaution of having one sent from London—nearly put me away, but just as I had given myself up as lost the men in pursuit were recalled. Then at the first opportunity I discarded my disguise—I was wearing two suits of clothes: a good tip, Otto, unless you happen to be wearing a military or naval uniform under your civilian's dress. Himmel! it was decidedly unpleasant in those saturated clothes, for I had been standing up to my neck in water for nearly twenty minutes."