CHAPTER XVI
COVERING HIS TRACKS
For the second time within forty-eight hours Karl von Preussen tramped the deserted road leading to Nedderburn Junction railway station. On the previous occasion he called himself Captain George Fennelburt; on the second he had assumed the name of Ronald Broadstone.
He travelled light, but in place of his khaki, leather-reinforced haversack he carried a small portmanteau, which, owing to unforeseen circumstances, was practically empty. He decided that at the first favourable opportunity he would replenish a portion of his kit and replace that lying at the Auldhaig Hotel. But in the portmanteau was an automatic pistol of British manufacture. Its possession showed economy and discrimination in small details. Since it had been acquired from a battlefield, it had cost von Preussen nothing; and being of British make it was in keeping with the spy's rôle as an officer of the Royal Air Force.
He walked quickly and unhesitatingly along the bleak, unfrequented road. Delay meant the great possibility of missing the night train and a consequent detention at Nedderburn, which was too close to Auldhaig to be pleasant. He had good reasons for steering clear of Auldhaig "for the rest of the duration." The place had been a "wash-out," and since von Preussen was of a superstitious nature he always avoided scenes of previous failures.
Beyond meeting a belated shepherd, who greeted the spy in an unknown Highland dialect, von Preussen arrived at Nedderburn without encountering anyone. The station had just been lit up, two feeble paraffin lamps providing the necessary illumination for the safety of passengers. Peeping through the high wooden palisade, von Preussen took stock of the people on the up-platform.
There were half a dozen "Jocks" with full equipment, including "tin hats" and rifles with the breech-mechanism bound in strips of oiled cloth.
"Highlanders returning from leave to the Front, curse them!" muttered von Preussen.
He had reason for his maledictory utterance. In the earlier days of the war, when he was a lieutenant of Uhlans, he soon learnt to have a wholesome respect for the stalwart, bare-kneed, kilted men from "Caledonia stern and wild." He recalled an incident at a certain village about twenty kilometres from Mons. His squadron had overtaken twenty tired Highlanders tramping along the pavé. Observation by means of binoculars showed that they were bordering on utter fatigue. Most of them wore blood-stained bandages. They had no officer with them. They looked to be an easy prey to the lances of his Uhlans. Von Preussen never had a worse shock. Instead of the kilted men taking to their heels at the sight of the charging cavalry and thus falling easy victims to the steel-tipped lances, they coolly threw themselves into a circle fringed by a ring of glittering bayonets. Three volleys in quick succession were too much for the Uhlans to stomach. They galloped off, amongst them von Preussen groaning and cursing with a bullet wound through his left shoulder.
In the present instance he decided that he had nothing to fear from these men. A little further on were three greatcoated officers. With a grunt of satisfaction von Preussen noted that their cap-bands were not black with the badge of the crown, eagle and wings. He had good cause to avoid Air Force officers and men just at present.