Book: Facing the German Foe

C >> Colonel James Fiske >> Facing the German Foe




Harry laughed. So blind to the real side of war were men who, at any
moment, might find themselves face to face with the enemy!




CHAPTER XII

THE SILENT WIRE


Probably Jack Young and Dick reached the vicarage just about the time that
saw Harry getting into trouble with the police for speeding. The vicar was
still up; he had a great habit of reading late. And he seemed considerably
surprised to find that Jack was not upstairs in bed. At first he was
inclined even to be angry, but he changed his mind when he saw Dick, and
heard something of what had happened.

"Get your friend something to eat and I'll have them make a hot bath
ready," said the vicar. "He looks as if he needed both!"

This was strictly true. Dick was as hungry and as grimy as Harry himself.
If anything, he was in even worse shape, for his flight through the fields
and the brook had enabled him to attach a good deal of the soil of England
to himself. So the thick sandwiches and the bowl of milk that were
speedily set before him were severely punished. And while he ate both he
and Jack poured out their story. Mr. Young frowned as he listened. Although
he was a clergyman and a lover of peace, he was none the less a patriot.

"Upon my word!" he said. "Wireless, you think, my boy?"

"I'm sure of it, sir," said Dick.

"And so'm I," chimed in Jack. "You know, sir, I've thought ever since war
seemed certain that Bray Park would bear a lot of watching and that
something ought to be done. Just because this is a little bit of a village,
without even a railroad station, people think nothing could happen here.
But if German spies wanted a headquarters, it's just the sort of place they
would pick out."

"There's something in that," agreed the vicar, thoughtfully. But in his own
mind he was still very doubtful. The whole thing seemed incredible to him.
Yet, as a matter of fact, it was no more incredible than the war itself.
What inclined him to be dubious, as much as anything else, was the fact
that it was mere boys who had made the discovery. He had read of outbreaks
of spy fever in various parts of England, in which the most harmless and
inoffensive people were arrested and held until they could give some good
account of themselves. This made him hesitate, while precious time was
being wasted.

"I hardly know what to do--what to suggest," he went on, musingly. "The
situation is complicated, really. Supposing you are right, and that German
spies really own Bray Park, and are using it as a central station for
sending news that they glean out of England, what could be done about it?"

"The place ought to be searched at once--everyone there ought to be
arrested!" declared Jack, impulsively. His father smiled.

"Yes, but who's going to do it?" he said. "We've just one constable here in
Bray. And if there are Germans there in any number, what could he do? I
suppose we might send word to Hambridge and get some police or some
territorials over. Yes, that's the best thing to do."

But now Dick spoke up in great eagerness.

"I don't know, sir," he suggested. "If the soldiers came, the men in the
house there would find out they were coming, I'm afraid. Perhaps they'd get
away, or else manage to hide everything that would prove the truth about
them. I think it would be better to report direct to Colonel Throckmorton.
He knows what we found out near London, sir, you see, and he'd be more
ready to believe us."

"Yes, probably you're right. Ring him up, then. It's late, but he won't
mind."

What a different story there would have been to tell had someone had that
thought only half an hour earlier! But it is often so. The most trivial
miscalculation, the most insignificant mistake, seemingly, may prove to be
of the most vital importance. Dick went to the telephone. It was one of the
old-fashioned sort, still in almost universal use in the rural parts of
England, that require the use of a bell to call the central office. Dick
turned the crank, then took down the receiver. At once he heard a confused
buzzing sound that alarmed him.

"I'm afraid the line is out of order, sir," he said.

And after fifteen minutes it was plain that he was right. The wire had
either been cut or it had fallen or been short circuited in some other way.
Dick and Jack looked at one another blankly. The same thought had come to
each of them, and at the same moment.

"They've cut the wires!" said Dick. "Now what shall we do? We can't hear
from Harry, either!"

"We might have guessed they'd do that!" said Jack. "They must have had some
one out to watch us, Dick--perhaps they thought they'd have a chance to
catch us. They know that we've found out something, you see! It's a good
thing we stayed where we could make people hear us if we got into any
trouble."

"Oh, nonsense!" said the vicar, suddenly. "You boys are letting your
imaginations run away with you! Things like that don't happen in England.
The wire is just out of order. It happens often enough, Jack, as you know
very well!"

"Yes, sir," said Jack, doggedly. "But that's in winter, or after a heavy
storm--not in fine weather like this. I never knew the wire to be out of
order before when it was the way it is now."

"Well, there's nothing to be done, in any case," said the vicar. "Be off to
bed, and wait until morning. There's nothing you can do now."

Dick looked as if he were about to make some protest, but a glance at Jack
restrained him. Instead he got up, said good-night and followed Jack
upstairs. There he took his bath, except that he substituted cold water for
the hot, for he could guess what Jack meant to do. They were going out
again, that was certain. And, while it is easy to take cold, especially
when one is tired, after a hot bath, there is no such danger if the water
is cold.

"Do you know where the telephone wire runs?" he asked Jack.

"Yes, I do," said Jack. "I watched the men when they ran the wire in. There
are only three telephones in the village, except for the one at Bray Park,
and that's a special, private wire. We have one here, Doctor Brunt has one,
and there's another in the garage. They're all on one party line, too. We
won't have any trouble in finding out if the wire was cut, I fancy."

Their chief difficulty lay in getting out of the house. True, Jack had not
been positively ordered not to go out again, but he knew that if his father
saw him, he would be ordered to stay in. And he had not the slightest
intention of missing any part of the finest adventure he had ever had a
chance to enjoy--not he! He was a typical English boy, full of the love of
adventure and excitement for their own sake, even if he was the son of a
clergyman. And now he showed Dick what they would have to do.

"I used to slip out this way, sometimes," he said. "That was before I was a
scout. I--well, since I joined, I haven't done it. It didn't seem right.
But this is different. Don't you think so, Dick?"

"I certainly do," said Dick. "Your pater doesn't understand, Jack. He
thinks we've just found a mare's nest, I fancy."

Jack's route of escape was not a difficult one. It led to the roof of the
scullery, at the back of the house, and then, by a short and easy drop of a
few feet, to the back garden. Once they were in that, they had no trouble.
They could not be heard or seen from the front of the house, and it was a
simple matter of climbing fences until it was safe to circle back and
strike the road in front again. Jack led the way until they came to the
garage, which was at the end of the village, in the direction of London.
Their course also took them nearer to Bray Park, but at the time they did
not think of this.

"There's where the wire starts from the garage, d'ye see?" said Jack,
pointing. "You see how easily we can follow it--it runs along those poles,
right beside the road."

"It seems to be all right here," said Dick.

"Oh, yes. They wouldn't have cut it so near the village," said Jack. "We'll
have to follow it along for a bit, I fancy--a mile or so, perhaps. Better
not talk much, either. And, I say, hadn't we better stay in the shadow?
They must have been watching us before--better not give them another
chance, if we can help it," was Jack's very wise suggestion.

They had traveled nearly a mile when Dick suddenly noticed that the
telephone wire sagged between two posts.

"I think it has been cut--and that we're near the place, too," he said
then. "Look, Jack! There's probably a break not far from here."

"Right, oh!" said Jack. "Now we must be careful. I've just thought, Dick,
that they might have left someone to watch at the place where they cut the
wire."

"Why, Jack?"

"Well, they might have thought we, or someone else, might come along to
find out about it, just as we're doing. I'm beginning to think those
beggars are mighty clever, and that if we think of doing anything, they're
likely to think that we'll think of it. They've outwitted us at every point
so far."

So now, instead of staying under the hedge, but still in the road, they
crept through a gap in the hedge, tearing their clothes as they did so,
since it was a blackberry row, and went along still in sight of the poles
and the wire, but protected by the hedge so that no one in the road could
see them.

"There!" said Jack, at last. "See? You were right, Dick. There's the
place--and the wire was cut, too! It wasn't an accident. But I was sure of
that as soon as I found the line wasn't working."

Sure enough, the wires were dangling. And there was something else. Just as
they stopped they heard the voices of two men.

"There's the break, Bill," said the first voice. "Bli'me, if she ain't cut,
too! Now who did that? Bringing us out of our beds at this hour to look for
trouble!"

"I'd like to lay my hands on them, that's all!" said the second voice. "A
good job they didn't carry the wire away--'twon't take us long to repair,
and that's one precious good thing!"

"Linemen," said Jack. "But I wonder why they're here? They must have come a
long way. I shouldn't be surprised if they'd ridden on bicycles. And I
never heard of their sending to repair a wire at night before."

"Listen," said Dick. "Perhaps we will find out."

"Well, now that we've found it, we might as well repair it," said the first
lineman, grumblingly. "All comes of someone trying to get a message through
to Bray and making the manager believe it was a life and death matter!"

"Harry must have tried to telephone--that's why they've come," said Jack.
"I was wondering how they found out about the break. You see, as a rule, no
one would try to ring up anyone in Bray after seven o'clock or so. And of
course, they couldn't tell we were trying to ring, with the wire cut like
that."

"Oh, Jack!" said Dick, suddenly. "If they're linemen, I believe they have
an instrument with them. Probably we could call to London from here. Do you
think they will let us do that?"

"That's a good idea. We'll try it, anyway," said Jack. "Come on--it must be
safe enough now. These chaps won't hurt us."

But Jack was premature in thinking that. For no sooner did the two linemen
see them than they rushed for them, much to both lads' surprise.

"You're the ones that cut that wire," said the first, a dark, young fellow.
"I've a mind to give you a good hiding!"

But they both rushed into explanations, and, luckily, the other lineman
recognized Jack.

"It's the vicar's son from Bray, Tom," he said. "Let him alone."

And then, while their attention was distracted, a bullet sang over their
heads. And "Hands oop!" said a guttural voice.




CHAPTER XIII

A TREACHEROUS DEED


Harry Fleming had, of course, given up all hope of catching Graves by a
direct pursuit by the time he accepted the offer of a ride in the motor
truck that was carrying vegetables for the troops in quarters in London.
His only hope now was to get his information to Colonel Throckmorton as
soon as possible. At the first considerable town they reached, where he
found a telegraph office open, he wired to the colonel, using the code
which he had memorized. The price of a couple of glasses of beer had
induced the driver and the soldier to consent to a slight delay of the
truck, and he tried also to ring up Jack Young's house and find out what
had happened to Dick.

When he found that the line was out of order he leaped at once to the same
conclusion that Jack and Dick had reached--that it had been cut on purpose.
He could not stay to see if it would be reopened soon. A stroke of luck
came his way, however. In this place Boy Scouts were guarding the gas works
and an electric light and power plant, and he found one squad just coming
off duty. He explained something of his errand to the patrol leader, and
got the assurance that the telephone people should be made to repair the
break in the wire.

"We'll see to it that they find out what is the trouble, Fleming," said the
patrol leader, whose name was Burridge. "By the way, I know a scout in your
troop--Graves. He was on a scout with us a few weeks ago, when he was
visiting down here. Seemed to be no end of a good fellow."

Harry was surprised for he had heard nothing of this before. But then that
was not strange. He and Graves were not on terms of intimacy, by any means.
He decided quickly not to say anything against Graves. It could do no good
and it might do harm.

"Right," he said. "I know him--yes. I'll be going, then. You'll give my
message to Mercer or Young if there's any way of getting the line clear?"

"Yes, if I sit up until my next turn of duty," said Burridge, with a smile.
"Good luck, Fleming."

Then Harry was off again. Dawn was very near now. The east, behind him, was
already lighted up with streaks of glowing crimson. Dark clouds were massed
there, and there was a feeling in the air that carried a foreboding of
rain, strengthening the threat of the red sky. Harry was not sorry for
that. There would be work at Bray Park that might well fare better were it
done under leaden skies.

As he rode he puzzled long and hard over what he had learned. It seemed to
him that these German spies were taking desperate chances for what promised
to be, at best, a small reward. What information concerning the British
plans could they get that would be worth all they were risking? The
wireless at Bray Park; the central station near Willesden, whence the
reports were heliographed--it was an amazingly complete chain. And Harry
knew enough of modern warfare to feel that the information could be
important only to an enemy within striking distance.

That was the point. It might be interesting to the German staff to know the
locations of British troops in England, and, more especially, their
destinations if they were going abroad as part of an expeditionary force to
France or Belgium. But the information would not be vital; it didn't seem
to Harry that it was worth all the risk implied. But if, on the other hand,
there was some plan for a German invasion of England, then he would have no
difficulty in understanding it. Then knowledge of where to strike, of what
points were guarded and what were not, would be invaluable.

"But what a juggins I am!" he said. "They can't invade England, even if
they could spare the troops. Not while the British fleet controls the sea.
They'd have to fly over."

And in that half laughing expression he got the clue he was looking for.
Fly over! Why not? Flight was no longer a theory, a possibility of the
future. It was something definite, that had arrived. Even as he thought of
the possibility he looked up and saw, not more than a mile away, two
monoplanes of a well-known English army type flying low.

"I never thought of that!" he said to himself.

And now that the idea had come to him, he began to work out all sorts of
possibilities. He thought of a hundred different things that might happen.
He could see, all at once, the usefulness Bray Park might have. Why, the
place was like a volcano! It might erupt at any minute, spreading ruin and
destruction in all directions. It was a hostile fortress, set down in the
midst of a country that, even though it was at war, could not believe that
war might come home to it.

He visualized, as the truck kept on its plodding way, the manner in which
warfare might be directed from a center like Bray Park. Thence aeroplanes,
skillfully fashioned to represent the British 'planes, and so escape quick
detection, might set forth. They could carry a man or two, elude guards who
thought the air lanes safe, and drop bombs here, there--everywhere and
anywhere. Perhaps some such aerial raid was responsible for the explosion
that had freed him only a very few hours before.

Warfare in England, carried on thus by a few men, would be none the less
deadly because it would not involve fighting. There would be no pitched
battles, that much he knew. Instead, there would be swift, stabbing raids.
Water works, gas works, would be blown up. Attempts would be made to drop
bombs in barracks, perhaps. Certainly every effort would be made to destroy
the great warehouses in which food was stored. It was new, this sort of
warfare; it defied the imagination. And yet it was the warfare that, once
he thought of it, it seemed certain that the Germans would wage.

He gritted his teeth at the thought of it. Perhaps all was fair in love and
war, as the old proverb said. But this seemed like sneaky, unfair fighting
to him. There was nothing about it of the glory of warfare. He was learning
for himself that modern warfare is an ugly thing. He was to learn, later,
that it still held its possibilities of glory, and of heroism. Indeed, for
that matter, he was willing to grant the heroism of the men who dared
these things that seemed to him so horrible. They took their lives in
their hands, knowing that if they were caught they would be hung as spies.

The truck was well into London now, and the dawn was full. A faint drizzle
was beginning to fall and the streets were covered with a fine film of mud.
People were about, and London was arousing itself to meet the new day.
Harry knew that he was near his journey's end. Tired as he was, he was
determined to make his report before he thought of sleep. And then,
suddenly, around a bend, came a sight that brought Harry to his feet,
scarcely able to believe his eyes. It was Graves, on a bicycle. At the
sight of Harry on the truck he stopped. Then he turned.

"Here he is!" he cried. "That's the one!"

A squad of men on cycles, headed by a young officer, came after Graves.

"Stop!" called the officer to the driver.

Harry stared down, wondering.

"You there--you Boy Scout--come down!" said the officer.

Harry obeyed, wondering still more. He saw the gleam of malignant triumph
on the face of Graves. But not even the presence of the officer restrained
him.

"Where are those papers you stole from me, you sneak?" he cried.

"You keep away from me!" said Graves. "You--Yankee!"

"Here, no quarreling!" said the officer. "Take him, men!"

Two of the soldiers closed in on Harry. He stared at them and then at the
officer, stupefied.

"What--what's this?" he stammered.

"You're under arrest, my lad, on a charge of espionage!" said the officer.
"Espionage, and conspiracy to give aid and comfort to the public enemy.
Anything you say may be used against you."

For a moment such a rush of words came to Harry that he was silent by the
sheer inability to decide which to utter first. But then he got control of
himself.

"Who makes this charge against me!" he asked, thickly, his face flushing
scarlet in anger.

"You will find that out in due time, my lad. Forward--march!"

"But I've got important information! I must be allowed to see Colonel
Throckmorton at once! Oh, you've no idea of how important it may be!"

"My orders are to place you under arrest. You can make application to see
anyone later. But now I have no discretion. Come! If you really want to see
Colonel Throckmorton, you had better move on."

Harry knew as well as anyone the uselessness of appealing from such an
order, but he was frantic. Realizing the importance of the news he carried,
and beginning to glimpse vaguely the meaning of Graves and his activity, he
was almost beside himself.

"Make Graves there give back the papers he took from me!" he cried.

"I did take some papers, lieutenant," said Graves, with engaging frankness.
"But they were required to prove what I had suspected almost from the
first--that he was a spy. He was leading an English scout from his own
patrol into trouble, too. I suppose he thought he was more likely to escape
suspicion if he was with an Englishman."

"It's not my affair," said the lieutenant, shrugging his shoulders. He
turned to Harry. "Come, my lad. I hope you can clear yourself. But I've
only one thing to do--and that is to obey my orders."

Harry gave up, then, for the moment. He turned and began walking along, a
soldier on each side. But as he did so Graves turned to the lieutenant.

"I'll go and get my breakfast, then, sir," he said. "I'll come on to Ealing
later. Though, of course, they know all I can tell them already."

"All right," said the officer, indifferently.

"You're never going to let him go!" exclaimed Harry, aghast. "Don't you
know he'll never come back?"

"All the better for you, if he doesn't," said the officer. "That's enough
of your lip, my lad. Keep a quiet tongue in your head. Remember you're a
prisoner, and don't try giving orders to me."




CHAPTER XIV

THE TRAP


The bullet that sang over their heads effectually broke up the threatened
trouble between Dick Mercer and Jack Young on one side, and the telephone
linemen on the other. With one accord they obeyed that guttural order,
"Hands oop!"

They had been so interested in one another and in the cut wire that none of
them had noticed the practically noiseless approach of a great grey motor
car, with all lights out, that had stolen up on them. But now, with a
groan, Dick and Jack both knew it for one of the Bray Park cars. So, after
all, Dick's flight had been in vain. He had escaped the guards of Bray Park
once, only to walk straight into this new trap. And, worst of all, there
would be no Jack Young outside to help this time, for Jack was a captive,
too. Only--he was not!

At the thought Dick had turned, to discover that Jack was not beside him.
It was very dark, but in a moment he caught the tiniest movement over by
the hedge, and saw a spot a little darker than the rest of the ground about
it. Jack, he saw at once, had taken the one faint chance there was, dropped
down, and crawled away, trusting that their captors had not counted their
party, and might not miss one boy.

Just in time he slipped through a hole in the hedge. The next moment one of
the headlights of the grey motor flashed out, almost blinding the three of
them, as they held up their hands. In its light four men, well armed with
revolvers, were revealed.

"Donnerwetter!" said one. "I made sure there were four of them! So! Vell,
it is enough. Into the car with them!"

No pretence about this chap! He was German, and didn't care who knew it. He
was unlike the man who had disguised himself as an English officer, at the
house of the heliograph, but had betrayed himself and set this whole train
of adventure going by his single slip and fall from idiomatic English that
Harry Fleming's sharp ears had caught.

Dick was thrilled, somehow, even while he was being roughly bundled toward
the motor. If these fellows were as bold as this, cutting telephone wires,
running about without lights, giving up all secrecy and pretence, it must
mean that the occasion for which they had come was nearly over. It must
mean that their task, whatever it might be, was nearly accomplished--the
blow they had come to strike was about ready to be driven home.

"'Ere, who are you a shovin' off?" complained one of the linemen, as he was
pushed toward the motor. He made some effort to resist but the next moment
he pitched forward. One of the Germans had struck him on the head with the
butt of his revolver. It was a stunning blow, and the man was certainly
silenced. Dick recoiled angrily from the sight, but he kept quiet. He knew
he could do no good by interfering. But the sheer, unnecessary brutality of
it shocked and angered him. He felt that Englishmen, or Americans, would
not treat a prisoner so--especially one who had not been fighting. These
men were not even soldiers; they were spies, which made the act the more
outrageous.

They were serving their country, however, for all that, and that softened
Dick's feeling toward them a little. True, they were performing their
service in a sneaky, underhanded way that went against his grain. But it
was service, and he knew that England, too, probably used spies, forced to
do so for self-defence. He realized the value of the spy's work, and the
courage that work required. If these men were captured they would not share
the fate of those surrendering in battle but would be shot, or hung,
without ceremony.

A minute later he was forced into the tonneau of the car, where he lay
curled up on the floor. Two of the Germans sat in the cushioned seat while
the two linemen, the one who had been hit still unconscious, were pitched
in beside him. The other two Germans were in front, and the car began to
move at a snail's pace. The man beside the driver began speaking in German;
his companion replied. But one of the two behind interrupted, sharply.

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