For the next ten days nothing occurred beyond the ordinary routine. Even Ross and Vernon, to whom everything was at first a novelty, began to feel the irksomeness of the constant and vigilant patrol. No hostile submarines made their appearance; there were not even any reports, true or otherwise, that they had been sighted. It was the same all along the English Channel—"nothin' doing". It seemed as if the unterseebooten had finally given up these waters as a "bad egg".
Yet it would be most injudicious for the naval authorities to relax their watchfulness. Areas of strategic importance must still be closely guarded, since it was just possible that the wily Teuton would refrain from submarine warfare in the Channel until the patrol-boats' crews were lulled into a sense of false optimism.
The only break in the monotony was the occasional and welcome appearance of a motor-boat from Shoreham, bringing off fresh supplies, newspapers and letters for the patrol vessels.
Amongst Ross's correspondence was a letter from his father. Admiral Trefusis gave no indication of what he was doing, merely a brief statement that he was still "somewhere in the North Sea". He congratulated his son upon his escape, and mentioned that he had heard from the captain of H.M.S. Tremendous with reference to his son's action in warning the battleship. But although the Admiral did not express himself very enthusiastically on paper, he was as pleased as only a proud father can be at his boy's display of gallantry and resource. "Under the circumstances," he wrote, "I think you did right in temporarily abandoning your preparation for Sandhurst. No doubt you will acquit yourself in your present position as a Trefusis should do. I was certainly surprised to hear about that fellow Ramblethorne. He always appeared to be a really decent man. It only shows how careful one has to be when dealing with a highly organized enemy."
Amongst Vernon's batch of correspondence was a letter from Detective-inspector Hawke. It was couched in semi-official language, a survival of days long ago when the Inspector was a budding constable and had to submit countless written reports to his superiors.
There was, he wrote, no definite news concerning Ramblethorne, otherwise von Hauptwald. The local police had taken up the case, and, assisted by the military, were still scouring the country. As usual, there were inaccurate and misleading reports from various parts of the country. It was generally accepted that the spy was being hidden by some of his compatriots who, by indulgence of the British Government, were still at large in the country, or else that he had succeeded in getting away on board a neutral ship.
The inquest on von Ruhle had taken place, with the anticipated result, a verdict of felo de se being returned by the jury. No evidence had been submitted as to the dead man's real occupation. Under the name of Cornelius Vanderhuit his body was handed over to the authorities for interment.
But the case did not end there. It remained for the competent Authorities to decide the steps to be taken with reference to the papers that had been found in von Ruhle's possession.
"I am keeping von Ruhle's 'malacca' as a memento," concluded Hawke. "It may help me to discriminate between it and a portable metal tripod, and save me from being placed under arrest by the military. Fortunately, upon the last occasion, I did not meet with my Waterloo."
"The old chap feels a bit sore about it, I can see," remarked Ross. "He's written a good deal more than he evidently intended. However, he looks like 'making good' this time."