It was a large dock. And moored at each of its three sides was a submarine dreadnought of even greater dimensions than the one he had seen mounting 12-inch guns.
The Prince turned to him.
"This, my Leder, is the place where we deal with the things, the secret of which the world will never know, but the effects of which one day our enemies will learn to dread."
He laughed with the satisfaction of anticipated triumph. Then, as Leder von Bersac grunted out some unintelligible acquiescence, he turned to the military governor with a shrug.
"Ach, what will you?" he cried, in apparent disgust. "He has no delight, no appreciation for these things. He will think all day. He will work in his light-rooms till he is nearly blind. All for the destruction of our enemies. But joy? He does not know it. If you tell him his work has slain a million of the enemy he will say he can make it kill more. Himmel! Such joy!"
Ludwig von Salzinger surveyed this enthusiastic product with curious eyes. But he offered no comment, and the Prince hurried towards the gangway, and led the way aboard the nearest vessel.
At the steel doorway of the armored conning-tower he paused. His whole manner abruptly changed to one of definite command.
"If there should be a defect we will have the light unshipped, and take it back with us, Leder," he said decidedly. "You cannot work in the pandemonium of Borga. It is only fit for the Captain-General's artillerymen, who have ears of leather and brains of mud." Then he turned upon Von Salzinger in a manner that permitted no doubt of his purpose. "You doubtless have more pressing duties, Herr Captain-General. Please do not consider us. Our work is technical, and will have but little interest for you. Besides, my dear Leder may have to examine those secrets of the U-rays which even your chief engineer is not admitted to. I thank you for conducting us hither. You will leave word for our safe departure at the gates."
His dismissal came as a shock to Von Salzinger. But more than anything his vanity was shocked. To feel that this man had the power to dismiss him, here in Borga, as he, Von Salzinger, might dismiss one of his junior officers, was infinitely galling. But even more intensely galling was the thought that this boor of a nephew could calmly move about in Borga, penetrate its most secret workshops, and probe the secrets which lay therein, while he—he, the military governor—was ordered about his business.
There was no help for it. Prince von Hertzwohl had given the order, and he must obey as though the order had issued from the lips of the All High War Lord. He bowed a short, square, resentful bow and stood aside to allow Von Bersac to enter the conning-tower. But the glance which followed the tall athletic form of the engineer was no friendly one.