“Now, don’t alarm yourself unduly,” was his parting injunction. “Just remain quite calm and patient, for I assure you that all that can be done will be done, and is, indeed, being done.”
And then, when the door had closed, the great pathologist drew his hand wearily across his white brow, sighed, buttoned his perfectly-fitting morning-coat, glanced at himself in the glass to see that his hair was unruffled—for he was a bit of a dandy—and then pressed the bell for his next patient.
Meanwhile, Charles Trustram was working in his big airy private room at the Admiralty. Many men in naval uniform were ever coming and going, for his room was always the scene of great, but quiet, orderly activity.
At his big table he was examining documents, signing some, dictating letters to his secretary, and discussing matters put forward by the officials who brought him papers to read and initial.
Presently there entered a lieutenant with a pale yellow naval signal-form, upon which was written a long message from the wireless department.
Those long, spidery aerial wires suspended between the domes at the Admiralty, had caught and intercepted a German message sent out from Norddeich, the big German station at the mouth of the Elbe, to Pola, on the Adriatic. It had been in code, of course, but in the department it had been de-coded; and the enemy’s message, as the officer placed it before him, was a truly illuminating one.
“I think this is what you wanted,” said the lieutenant, as he placed the paper before him. “It came in an hour ago, but they’ve found great difficulty in decoding it. That is what you meant—is it not?”
“Good Heavens! Yes!” cried Trustram, starting to his feet. “Why, here the information has been sent to Austria for re-transmission to the German submarines—the exact information I gave of transports leaving for the Dardanelles! The Ellenborough and Desborough are not mentioned. That shows the extent of their intimate knowledge of the movements of our ships. But you see,” he went on, pointing to the message, “the Cardigan, Leatherhead and Turleigh are all mentioned as having left Southampton escorted to Gibraltar, and not beyond, and further, that in future all drafts will embark at Plymouth—just the very information that I gave!”
“Yes; I quite see. There must be somewhere a very rapid and secret channel for the transit of information to Germany.”
“Yes, and we have to find that out, without further delay,” Trustram replied. “But,” he added, “this has fixed the responsibility undoubtedly. Is Captain Weardale in his room?”