"Not that I see," retorted Max. "The commander of that submarine was once my friend. He has dined at your own table. And from what I understand, the English mine-sweepers exploded all the mines before the day was out. I don't agree with sowing explosive mines on the high seas. It's not playing the game."
"Bah! Don't talk to me about playing the game, my dear Max. It is not a game; it is war. If we mean to beat the English we must not be hampered by any childish ideas of fair play. As for the killing of Fritz, it is of course unfortunate; but it could not have been foreseen. We must get some one to take his place, yourself, perhaps."
"No." Max shook his head resolutely. "I am not a spy. I shall do nothing underhand. Let us fight fairly and openly, not hit below the belt. I have my duties on the submarine, and I don't want to set foot in England until the war is over. I should not be here now, but that I have come to take you away—to give you a passage back to Wilhelmshaven. Are you ready? The submarine is lying submerged in the next bay, waiting for my signal."
"My dear Max," returned Hilliger, "I cannot go back with you. My place is here, in England, where I have been stationed. Since Fritz is dead, it is all the more important that I remain on this side. Our Zeppelins are preparing to come over, only waiting until I shall send a message to say that the wind and weather are suitable. When the time is favourable I must be on the spot with a car to guide them by its light to the places where they shall drop their bombs."
Max curled his lip contemptuously.
"And you call that war, I suppose," he sneered—"dropping fire-bombs on farmhouses and in kitchen-gardens! I could see some sense in it if we aimed at their aeroplane sheds, their dockyards, or their ammunition factories, or if we sank some of their Dreadnoughts and troopships. Why, if every house and inhabitant of Haddisport were destroyed, it wouldn't make a pin's difference in the progress of the war."
Herr Hilliger shrugged his shoulders and turned the subject by saying:
"I see, my dear Max, that you are wearing the Iron Cross. I congratulate you. I am proud. No doubt it is a reward for sinking those three British cruisers?"
Max nodded. "We shall sink others, too," he averred. "I shall not be satisfied until we have put a torpedo into one of their great battleships—one of their boasted Dreadnoughts."
He strode to the edge of the cliff and looked down into the water. The submarine was emptying her ballast tanks and was already in the awash condition. He moved his arms, signalling by semaphore to Lieutenant Körner standing on the conning-tower platform. Then, again embracing his father, he climbed down the difficult slope of the cliff to the collapsible boat, stepped into it, and pulled out to the submarine.