"It will help you to appreciate the perils that we undergo for the honour of the Fatherland," he observed. "Perhaps, on your return, you might communicate your views on the subject to the Chief of Staff. Our task grows more difficult every day. The men, even, are showing signs of discontent, thereby magnifying our dangers. But, there—better come below and let von Loringhoven and me have a final kit inspection; and at the same time we may join in a bottle of Rhenish wine and drink to the success of our joint enterprise."
The kapitan having enjoined a petty Officer to maintain a vigilant watch, led the way, followed by von Preussen, the unter-leutnant bringing up the rear, and the three adjourned to a narrow, complicated compartment that served as a ward-room. In spite of scientific apparatus for purifying the air, that confined space reeked abominably. Everything of a textile nature was saturated with moisture, while the metal beams, although coated with cork composition, exuded drops of rust-tinged water.
In the glare of the electric lamps Karl von Preussen stood stiffly erect, clad in the uniform of a captain of the British Royal Air Force. In height he was about five feet eight, broad of build, and with decidedly Anglo-Saxon features. He could speak English fluently and colloquially, and thanks to a British Public School education, followed by a three years' appointment in a London shipping office, he was well acquainted with the peculiarities and customs of a country that was Germany's chief enemy.
Long before August 1914 von Preussen had been a spy. One might say that the seeds of the dishonourable profession were germinating during his school-days: they were certainly decidedly active when he was occupying an ill-paid post in Threadneedle Street, where his modest pound a week was augmented by sundry substantial sums paid in British gold but emanating from Berlin.
The outbreak of hostilities found von Preussen fully prepared. Posing as one of the principals of a steel factory, he practically had an entry to every British Government establishment. Armed with forged documents, he was not for one moment suspected. From Scapa Flow to the Scillies, and from Loch Swilly to Dover, his activities brought valuable information to the Imperial Government. Within a week of the mining of a British Dreadnought—a calamity that the Admiralty vainly attempted to conceal—von Preussen had conveyed details and photographs of the lost vessel to Berlin, and on the following morning the German Press published illustrated reports of a "secret" known throughout the world.
When occasion offered, von Preussen did not hesitate to commit acts of sabotage. More than once, disguised as a munition worker, he was instrumental in the destruction of a shell factory, while it was he who gave instructions and furnished material to the noted spy Otto Oberfurst in order that the latter could and did destroy the cruiser Pompey in Auldhaig Harbour.
The stringent passport restrictions placed upon all travellers to and from Great Britain considerably curtailed von Preussen's activities. The difficulty of making a sea passage to the Continent was almost insurmountable. Once, indeed, the spy essayed to fly, and was within an ace of success, when the stolen machine crashed. Fortunately for the spy, the accident happened in an unfrequented spot, and being but slightly injured he contrived to get away; but the mystery of the abandoned machine puzzled the brains of the Air Ministry for months. Von Preussen returned to the Fatherland via Bergen, disguised as a fireman on board a Norwegian tramp.
The spy had not long been in Berlin before he was peremptorily ordered off on another "tour." The Hun High Command knew how to get the best out of their secret service agents, and since Karl von Preussen had been a success his employers kept him running at high pressure. Accordingly, armed with instructions to report upon various British air stations, and to obtain accurate information respecting the bombing 'planes known to be building for the express purpose of blowing Berlin to bits, the spy was sent on board U 247, the commander of which was furnished with orders to land his passenger on the east coast of Scotland.
"Here's to your venture, von Preussen!" exclaimed Ober-leutnant von Preugfeld, as he raised his glass. "Your health."
With a profusion of "Hoch, hoch, hoch!" their glasses clicked and the toast was drunk. Then, tightening the belt of his trench-coat, the spy ascended the ladder and gained the deck.