CHAPTER III
THE BACK-DOOR OF ENGLAND
"Well, that's rather curious," I remarked, closing the door of the oldoak-panelled smoking-room at Metfield Park, and returning to where myfriend Ray Raymond was seated.
"Was anyone outside the door?" he asked, quickly on the alert.
"Mrs. Hill-Mason's German maid. You remember, Vera pointed her outyesterday."
"H'm! and she was listening--after every one else has gone to bed!" heremarked. "Yes, Jack, it's curious."
It was past one o'clock in the morning. Two months had passed since theaffair down at Portsmouth, but we had not been inactive. We were sittingbefore the great open fireplace where the logs were blazing, after therest of the men had taken their candles and retired, and had beenexchanging confidences in ignorance of the fact that the door remainedajar. I had, however, detected the _frou-frou_ of a woman's skirt, andcreeping across to the door had seen the maid of one of the guestsdisappearing down the stone passage which led to the great hall now indarkness.
Metfield Park, three miles from Melton Constable, in Norfolk, the seatof the Jocelyns, was a fine old Tudor place in the centre of a splendidpark, where the pheasant shooting was always excellent. Harry Jocelyn,the heir, had been with us at Balliol, hence Ray and I usually receivedinvitations to the shooting parties. On this occasion, however, VeraVallance with her aunt, Mrs. Mortimer, had been invited, much to Ray'ssatisfaction.
Among the party was a well-known naval officer, captain of a first-classcruiser, two military officers, and several smart women, for both SirHerbert and Lady Jocelyn moved in a very smart set. Several of theladies had joined us in the smoking-room for cigarettes, and theconversation around the fire had been mainly the usual society chatter,until at one o'clock every one had left for bed except our two selves.
Over the great fireplace were the arms of the Jocelyns carved in stone,with the date 1573, and in the corner near the window was a stand ofarmour upon which the dancing flames glinted ever and anon. Through thelong uncurtained window shone the bright moon from over the park, andjust as I reseated myself the stable clock chimed the half-hour.
We had been there four days, and the sport had been excellent. On theprevious day Ray had excused himself on account of the bad weather, andhad spent the hours mostly with Vera.
It was of how he had employed his time that he had been telling me whenI had discovered the eavesdropper.
"I wonder why our conversation should prove so interesting to thatmaid?" he remarked thoughtfully, gazing into the fire. "She's rathergood-looking for a German, isn't she?"
"Yes," I said. "But who is this Mrs. Hill-Mason? She seems a rather loudand buxom person, fond of the display of jewellery, dark, somewhatoleaginous, and devoted to bridge."
"Harry says his mother met her in Cairo last winter. She's one of theSomerset Masons--half-sister to the Countess of Thanet."
"Oh, she is known, then?"
"Of course. But we must get Vera to make some inquiry to-morrow as towhere she obtained her maid," declared Ray. "The woman is interested inus, and we must discover the cause."
"Yes, I somehow mistrust her," I said. "I met her crossing the hall justbefore dinner, and I detected a curious look in her eyes as she glancedat me."
"Merely your fancy, Jack, old chap--because she's German," he laughed,stretching his long legs.
"Well, what you were telling me about Vera and her discovery has alarmedme," I said, tossing away the end of my cigar.
"Yes, she only returned last week from Emden, where she's been visitingher old German governess, who, it seems, is now married to an officialin the construction department of the German Admiralty. From her friendshe was able to learn a lot, which will, no doubt, cause our Lords ofthe Admiralty a bad quarter of an hour."
"What would the British public think if they were told the truth--thatGermany is rapidly building a secret fleet?" I said.
"Why, my dear fellow, the public would simply say you were a liar," helaughed. "Every Englishman fancies himself top-dog, even though Britishdiplomacy--apart from that of our excellent King--is the laughing-stockof the Powers. No," he added, "the truth is out. All yesterday I spentwith Vera, preparing the information which she forwarded to theAdmiralty to-night. I registered the letter for her at the village postoffice. The authorities owe her a very deep debt for succeeding inobtaining the information which our secret service has always failed toget. She, an admiral's daughter, is now able to furnish actual detailsof the ships now building in secret and where they are beingconstructed."
"A matter which will, no doubt, be considered very seriously by theGovernment," I said.
"Oh, I suppose they treat the whole thing lightly, as they always do. Weinvite invasion," he sighed as he rose, adding: "Let's turn in now.To-morrow we'll keep an eye upon that unusually inquisitive maid."
That night the eyes of the German maid haunted me. I could not ridmyself of their recollection. Was it that this hunting down of Germanspies was getting on my nerves?
Next day we were shooting Starlings Wood, about five miles distant, butRay having "cried off" one day, could not do so again. Therefore, at hissuggestion, I made an excuse and remained at home with the ladies. Themorning I spent walking through the park with Vera, a smart, sweet-facedlittle figure in her short tweed skirt and furs, with her bright andvivacious chatter. From her I learnt some further details concerning hervisit to Emden.
"Ray is most excited about it, Mr. Jacox," she was saying. "Of course, Ihad to make my inquiries with great caution and discretion, but Imanaged to find out what I wanted, and I sent all the details to theAdmiralty yesterday."
Then as we went along the wide beech avenue I told her of the curiousincident in the smoking-room on the previous evening.
"Ray was telling me about it just before breakfast," she said, turningher splendid eyes to mine. "I have already made some inquiries of Mrs.Hill-Mason, and it appears that the maid Erna Stolberg was recommendedto her by a friend when she was in Dresden last year. She's a mostexemplary person, and has a number of friends in England. She waspreviously with a French _baronne_."
"Mrs. Hill-Mason often moves in a military set, doesn't she?" Iremarked. "Somebody last night stated that she's the widow of a general,and is well known down at Aldershot."
"I believe so."
"If Mrs. Hill-Mason visits at the houses of military officers, as itseems she does, then this inquisitive maid would be afforded manyopportunities for gathering information. I intend to watch her," I said.
"And so will I, Mr. Jacox," replied the admiral's daughter, drawing herastrachan collar tighter about her throat.
Half an hour later we drove in the wagonette out to the shooting-partyin the woods, where a merry luncheon was served in a marquee. I,however, returned to the house before the rest of the party and hauntedthe servants' hall. With Williams the butler I was on friendly terms,and finding him in the great hall, began to make inquiries regarding theguests' servants.
"You've got a German woman among them, haven't you?" I remarked.
"Yes, sir," was his reply. "A rather funny one she is, I fancy. She goesout alone for walks after she's dressed her mistress for dinner, and isout sometimes till quite late. What she does wandering about in the darknobody knows. But it ain't for me to say a word, sir; she's a visitor'smaid."
I held my own counsel, but resolved to watch.
Tea in the great hall, over which Lady Jocelyn presided, proved theusual irresponsible function, but when I went to my room to dress fordinner I became convinced that certain papers in my suit-case had beenturned over and investigated.
That night I did not go in to dinner. I heard the gong sound, and whenthe company had gone in, I put on thick boots, overcoat, and cap, andpassed through the back way along the old wing of the house, through thesmoking-room, and out upon the drive.
Behind some holly bushes where I could see any one leave by the greatpaved courtyard where the servants' entrance was situated, I concealedmyself and
waited in patience. The night was dark and overcast. Thestable chimes had rung out half-past eight, but I still remained until,about twenty minutes later, footfalls sounded, and from out the archedentrance to the courtyard came a female figure in a close-fitting hatand long dark ulster.
She passed close by me, under the light of the lamp, and I saw it wasthe fair-haired woman for whom I was waiting.
Instead of walking straight down the avenue to the lodge-gates, shestruck along a footpath which led for a mile across the park, firstskirting the lake--the fishpond of the monks who lived there before theDissolution; then, passing under the dark shadow of a spinney, led to astile by which the high park wall could be negotiated and the main roadto East Dereham reached.
As she went forward so I followed. I knew the path well. I watched herascend the stile and cross the wall into the road. Then I crept up andpeered over into the darkness. She had turned to the right, and I coulddiscern her waiting at the roadside about thirty yards away.
From my place of concealment I could hear her slow footsteps as sheidled up and down in the darkness, evidently waiting for some one.
I think about ten minutes passed when I heard the whir of a motor-carapproaching, its big glaring headlamps shedding a stream of whitebrilliance over the muddy road. As it approached her it slowed down andstopped. Then I distinguished it to be a big Limousine, the occupant ofwhich opened the door, and she entered with a word of greeting.
I stood peering into the darkness, in surprise and disappointment at notcatching sight of the person with whom she was keeping these nightlyappointments. As soon as the door had banged the driver drove across theroad, backed, and turning, sped away in the direction he had come.
But while he was turning I had gained the road, advancing beneath thehedgerow in an endeavour to see the number of the car. But I wasbaffled. It was covered with mud.
Afterwards, much disappointed, and certainly hungry, I made my way backacross the park to the Hall, where, after managing to get a snack fromWilliams, I joined the party at bridge.
That night the woman Stolberg returned at five minutes to eleven, andlater, when Ray went upstairs with me, I described what I had seen.
Next night, instead of following her out, I waited at the spot athalf-past ten, when, sure enough, the car returned ten minutes later anddeposited her. The number plates, however, were obliterated by the mudboth front and back--purposely it seemed to me. The man within shook herhand as she alighted, but I could not see his face. Was he some secretlover? Apparently she went no great distance each evening, going andcoming from the direction of Holt.
On the following day I took several opportunities of watching the womanat close quarters. Her eyes were peculiarly set, very close together,her lips were thin, and her cheek-bones rather high. Otherwise she wasnot bad-looking. Mrs. Hill-Mason had, of course, no idea of her maid'snocturnal motor-rides.
Whether the woman had any suspicion that she was being watched I knownot; but on the next night when Ray took a turn at keeping an eye uponher, she did not go out, but on the next she went, and Ray followed herto the park wall, but saw nothing more than I had done.
All this time, of course, Vera was greatly interested in the result ofour observations. Through her own maid, Batson, she discovered the roomoccupied by the German, and to this I made my way, at considerable risk,one morning while the maid was busy attending upon her mistress. I had agood look through her belongings, finding in her trunk a small, flattin box, japanned dark green, strong, and secured by a lock ofwell-known make. What, I wondered, did it contain?
Could I have but seen the number of the mysterious car I could havediscovered the identity of her nocturnal visitor.
The same day that I discovered the tin box in her trunk, Mrs.Hill-Mason, however, returned to London, taking with her the mysteriousFraeulein.
Three days more went by, and I was about to dismiss the affair as acombination of curious circumstances. Vera and her aunt had left to paya visit in Worcestershire, and Ray I were due to go up to town thatmorning, when he entered my room, saying abruptly:
"I'm not going to London yet, Jack. I shall go over to Cromer instead."
"Cromer!" I echoed. "Hardly the time of year for the seaside."
That same grey chilly afternoon, in the grey falling light, we sat uponone of the seats of the pier at Cromer gazing seaward, towards where theGerman coast lay beyond the indistinct horizon. The place was desertedsave for ourselves. On the cliff behind us stood the long red facade andmany gables of the Hotel de Paris, where we had put up, while in thebackground rose the square old church tower, the landmark of marinersfrom Haisborough Gat to the Dowsing.
"There's just a chance of us falling upon something interesting abouthere," Ray was saying, as he pressed the tobacco into his pipe, and bythe expression upon his keen clean-shaven face I saw that he had scentedthe presence of spies. "Has it never struck you," he went on, "that theeast coast, where we now are is the most vulnerable spot in England, andthe first objective of the Kaiser's army? Every soldier and sailor inGermany dreams of 'the Day'--the day when he will set foot upon thisshore. For some years past our Intelligence Department has known of theGerman plans for our invasion. There are several, but in each one adash, and a surprise landing along this coast of Norfolk and of Suffolkand Essex is the first step. Knowledge of this prompted Lord Roberts toresign his seat on the National Defence Committee and make thosestirring speeches pointing out our country's peril."
"And what thanks did the country give him?" I interrupted. "People onlylaugh at him for his trouble!"
"Yes," said my friend bitterly, "the public are ignorant, therefore theydo not heed. They talk glibly about the strength of our navy, forgetfulthat the German diplomacy is the cleverest and most cunning in theworld. When 'the Day' dawns there will be no suspicion of war, andcertainly no declaration of hostilities. Before we have realised thatwar is in the air, the enemy will have their feet firmly planted uponBritish soil."
"And if the enemy intend landing along this shore, it is certain thatspies are active here, gathering all information likely to be of serviceto the invader."
"That's exactly why I've come here, my dear Jack," my friend said. "Weknow that our eastern counties have been divided into districts by theGermans, and in each one or more secret agents are busily at work takingnotes of food supplies, forage, blacksmiths' shops, motor-cars fortransport, the destruction of telegraphs and telephones, positions forartillery, and the best mode of advance south to London. One may restassured that the ordnance map is being very much amplified just now."
That evening we spent idly in the hotel, and next day, hiring amotor-car, we drove through Runton to Sheringham and over the hillsthree miles further towards the back-door of England--the placeneglected by those responsible for our defences, and by the publicalike--Weybourne.
The road from Sheringham ran down a steep hill, called the Fox Hill, tothe little village that lay cosily at some distance from the sea.Passing the church we turned sharply to the right, and in a few minutesfound ourselves against a large front with a wide open beach beyond.
Having alighted, we walked along beside the surf for some distance, outof hearing of our chauffeur, when my friend exclaimed:
"Here is one of the spots which the Germans have chosen for landing.Look at it! Everything is in favour of a hostile force. That range ofhills we've just come over at the back would be occupied by the landingforce at once, and thus they would command the whole country fromKelling, which you see to the right, away south beyond Cromer, down toBaxton beyond Mundesley."
With my back to the long rolling breakers I gazed away landward at thelong line of hills stretching in each direction. It was, indeed, anideal spot for an enemy to effect a landing, with deep water right up tothe land.
"Because of the confidence we have in our fleet and our wonderfuldiplomacy this place is no longer watched," Raymond remarked, standingbeside me muffled in his motor-coat, for the wind was intensely cold."Yet in days g
one by, by reason of the facilities which nature hasprovided for the landing of hostile forces, it was carefully guardedwhenever the invasion of England was believed to be imminent."
After we had strolled some distance along the beach, where thegrey-green waters were breaking into foam, my friend suddenly haltedand, taking a piece of paper from his pocket, stood with his back to thesea and made a sketch of the irregular contour of the blue hills facinghim from the coastguard at Salthouse on the right to the rising groundbehind Upper Sheringham on the left--the positions which are to be firstoccupied by the enemy in their attack upon us.
He made no explanation of the reason of his action, therefore I stood bywatching in silence.
At last we returned to the car and drove inland to Weybourne village, asleepy old-world little place from which the sea has receded. As weturned into the main road he ordered the man to pull up, and,descending, looked about him, first at the lines of telegraph-wirerunning beside the road, and then we both strolled through the village.My companion's eyes were everywhere. He appeared to be making mentalnotes of every feature of the obscure little place.
Just as we were returning to the car he suddenly halted, saying:
"You go on. A thought has just occurred to me." And, turning, he walkedback to the small village post office situated next door to an inn, andwas absent for nearly a quarter of an hour.
"As I suspected!" he remarked beneath his breath as he rejoined me."That inn is kept by a German!"
Then we travelled along to Cley-next-the-Sea, and thence by way ofCandlestick Hill and through the wooded country around Holt, back toSheringham, where we lunched at the "Burlington."
His manner had changed. He had again become serious and thoughtful. Acycling map of the district which he had bought in Cromer that morninghe brought out, and as we sat together in the smoking-room he spread itupon the table and began measuring distances with a slip of foldedpaper.
The car was at the door at four o'clock, and we were in the act ofmoving off, when by mere chance I looked up at the second floor of thehotel. What I saw caused me to hold my breath.
A face was at one of the windows watching us.
I nudged my friend, and cried, "Look!"
But when he raised his head it had gone. Indeed, the white face had onlyshowed there for a single instant, yet it was a countenance that I toowell remembered, it was unmistakable--that of Fraeulein Stolberg!
I told Ray as we whirled along into the town. But he only grunted insurprise, and remarked that we were going to Beccles.
Why was that woman there instead of being with her mistress, who, we hadascertained, was now visiting at Cheltenham?
Our way lay first back to Cromer, where we joined the direct Norwichroad by way of Aylsham, but about four miles after passing Cromer theroad divided. The left-hand one ran to our destination, but at Ray'sorders we took the right-hand one, and in the darkening twilight struckacross a wide heath, which I afterwards learnt was called RoughtonHeath, until we passed an old windmill, and entered the small crookedvillage of Roughton. We passed beyond the place for a quarter of a mile,and then descending, walked forward until we came to a good-sized,comfortable, old-fashioned house, probably of the days of Queen Anne,that lay behind a high red-brick wall.
Through the iron gates I noticed, as we paused, a wide lawn in front,with steps leading up to a portico, and behind a large orchard andmeadow. The blinds were already down, but in several of the windowslights showed, and the place looked well kept up.
It differed but little from hundreds of other old-fashioned houses inthe country, but it evidently held considerable attraction for Ray,because as we passed beyond the gates, and out of sight of any one inthe house, he took out his electric torch and carefully examined themuddy roadway.
"See!" he exclaimed, pointing to tracks that ran in and out of thegateway. "The car's home is here!"
"What car?"
"The car which used to meet the German maid at Metfield," was hismatter-of-fact reply. "For the present we know sufficient. We must looksharp if we are to be in Beccles before eight. If we're not therebefore, it will be of no use."
So we hurried back to our own car, and our driver, by taking a by-path,brought us out upon the main road again at Thorpe Market, and just afterhalf-past seven we pulled up before the hotel in the old Suffolk markettown of Beccles, under the shadow of the stumpy square old church tower.
The car was garaged, and after a drink we went forth for a walk alongthe quiet old-world streets, until suddenly upon a corner we came to thepost office, a large old-fashioned two-storied house with steep tiledroof.
"Wait about here," my companion said; "a dark-haired man in a light greyovercoat and golf-cap will probably come to post a letter just beforeeight. He has a dark brown beard, and usually wears a white muffler.When he comes follow him, and see where he goes. He may know me, so Imust keep out of sight."
Therefore I lit my pipe, and idled up and down, keeping the letter-boxin view. In the window, directly above it, was a clock which showed itthen to be a quarter to eight. I took a pretended interest in the smallshops near, until about four minutes to the hour a closed motor-carswung round from the direction of the Public Hail, and pulled up beforethe post office.
From it two men alighted--one a youngish fair-haired man, and the other,dark-bearded and much older, wore a thick grey overcoat and a whitemuffler. He was the man of whom I was in search.
I entered the office directly after the pair, on pretence of buyingstamps, but already the elder of the two had handed in a letter to beregistered, the address of which I failed to discern.
Both seemed to be in a great hurry, for as soon as the receipt waswritten out they re-entered the car and drove back in the direction theyhad come, leaving me standing helpless on the opposite side of the road.
Immediately I returned to the hotel where Ray was waiting, and reportedto him, whereupon he seized his hat, and walking with me back to thepost office halted in the centre of the road examining the wheel-tracks,which were still quite plain upon the damp roadway.
Then, as he walked back, he said:
"Do you know, Jack, that this town Beccles has been decided upon by theGermans as the head-quarters of the Army Corps which lands at Weybourne?It's a natural position, standing upon high ground and commanding thewhole of the surrounding country. Signals made from that church toweryonder could be seen very far afield."
Then, as we sat together in the coffee-room of the hotel, eating a hastymeal, he remarked:
"We'll go back to Cromer to-night, but I shall go to town to-morrow.You'll wait till my return, won't you?"
So I was left alone for nearly a week; and on his return he announcedthat we must at once shift our quarters to Lowestoft. So south we wentthat same night, arriving at midnight, and putting up at themany-balconied Empire Hotel.
The town interested my companion not at all, but from there we wentforth each day on long motor excursions, scouring the whole country asfar south as Aldborough and as far west as Bury St. Edmunds. All theroads round Southwold, Bungay, Saxmundham, Stow Market, and many othertowns we reconnoitred, apparently always with the same object--todiscover wheel-tracks of a mysterious car.
The garages of every town Ray visited alone, but his inquiries alwaysmet with the same negative result.
Late one afternoon, however, when on the road between Wymondham andDiss, he suddenly shouted to the driver to stop, and jumping out,examined the track of wheels. The road, however, was hard at that spot,and it was some time before he could decide whether the car hadtravelled north or south.
"They've gone north!" he declared with satisfaction; therefore wecontinued to follow them towards Wymondham, where they had drawn up atthe "Old Green Dragon," and gone forth again, striking into a by-roadwhich led to Bracon Ash.
"Ha!" he cried, when he saw this, "so they're busy at work--that'splain!"
But by this time the light had faded, and much to our chagrin we wereagain compelled to give up the hunt
, and find our way over by Hempnall,and so through Bungay back to Lowestoft.
Next day we were early back again at the spot, but heavy rain hadunfortunately fallen all night, so the tracks had been obliterated.
After another week of unsuccessful journeying we were, one day, abouthalf-way between Norwich going towards Aylsham, when my friend's keeneyes caught sight of a wheel-track coming out of a narrow by-road.
We halted, and descending he examined them minutely, declaring that theywere what we were in search of, and quite fresh.
Therefore, considerably excited, we were soon upon the trail, followingthe car through Aylsham and North Walsham until, on the road that ledtowards the sea at Happisburgh, it suddenly turned into another byway.
Here Ray decided to pull up and follow on foot, which we did for nearlytwo miles, until we saw before us the railway line which runs betweenNorth Walsham and Yarmouth. We had left the road, for there, pulled upbefore us, was the car I had seen at Beccles, and on ahead were the twomen, one of whom I recognised by his grey coat and white muffler.
They were beneath the railway bridge, carefully examining it.
"They're marking that down on their plan for destruction," remarked Raybetween his teeth. "All these connections will be destroyed when theyland. But, by heaven! we'll be even with them yet!"
We watched them in secret for a full half-hour, as they examined therailroad at several points, and when they had driven off we followedthem along a road where ran six lines of telegraph into Happisburgh.
"Those wires," remarked Ray, "form one of the direct cables to Germany.They pass through Beccles, so you may rest assured that they've surveyedit well!"
At Happisburgh the tracks turned to the left, and thence again to theright to Walcot, but just as we were passing over a low hill we saw thatthe car on before us had stopped. The two men were photographing thecountry from Paston, inland towards Witton.
We drew up and watched their movements.
Then they went on, and we followed, parting company with their tracks atthe cross-roads, they going westward, while we struck north, until wefound ourselves once again in Cromer for the night.
That evening we made an amazing discovery at the hotel. Erna Stolbergwas staying there alone under the name of Madame Hirsch! Ray first sawher seated in the reading-room, and called me. I peered in at the doorand recognised her in a pale blue silk blouse and black net skirt, lyingback in a chair reading an illustrated paper. She was evidently quiteunsuspicious of our presence.
Ray was sorely puzzled. Next morning he sent a wire to Mrs. Hill-Mason'shouse in Charles Street, and before noon had received a reply from herat Bournemouth saying that Fraeulein Stolberg had left her service afortnight before.
"German spies are pretty active in East Anglia, old chap, as you've seenwith your own eyes," he remarked to me.
In order that the woman should not notice us, we told the chauffeur tomeet us out on the Norwich road, after which we travelled to quaint oldAylsham, where we idled away the day, spending the afternoon playingbilliards at the "White Horse."
More than once during the day my companion examined the road outside fortraces of wheel-tracks, but there were none like those of the car ofthose secret agents of Hermann Hartmann.
I noticed that Ray had brought with him a small brown brief-bag, anunusual thing for him to carry. But that morning he had placed it in thecar with instructions to the chauffeur to move it on no account.
At four o'clock that afternoon he received a telegram, which he readthrough twice, and placed on the fire, remarking:
"From Vera. She's received the thanks of the Admiralty for her report.They promise to make inquiry. Probably they'll send somebody over whocan't speak a word of German!"
We dined at half-past six off cold meat and pickles, but not untilmidnight did we set out upon the road, travelling north in the directionof Cromer, until we came to the cross roads at Hanworth, where we haltedand Ray got down to examine the road. Wheel-tracks were there leadingback to Roughton, and these we followed until, near the entrance to thevillage, now in complete darkness, we descended, Ray lifting out hisprecious bag.
"You've got your revolver?" he asked, when we had gone a hundred yardsor so.
I replied in the affirmative, for nowadays I always carried it.
"Well, we are going to get into that house at Roughton I pointed out toyou," he said. "I intend to have a look round."
"You mean to break in? Suppose we're caught!" I exclaimed.
"Bah! Spies are always cowards. Leave that to me."
So we went on until, having passed through the silent village, weentered a road where the bare trees met overhead, rendering it almostpitch-dark, and presently approached the house.
Not a light showed anywhere. Whoever were its occupants, they hadretired.
For nearly half an hour we concealed ourselves in the bushes opposite,watching in patience, for the night was as yet young. In the distance wefancied we heard the sound of wheels, but they did not advance;therefore we agreed that it was only fancy.
After waiting what seemed to me hours, Ray switched on his electric lampto see the time. It was then nearly two o'clock, so we decided to takeanother step forward.
We crossed the road and tried the iron gate. It was locked.
There was nothing for it but to scale it, and as I was in the act ofclambering up I was startled by a strange voice behind me--a woman'svoice raising an alarm!
Ray, who was standing behind me, closed with the unwelcome stranger inan instant, and placed his hand forcibly over her mouth while I sprangback to assist him. That moment was an exciting one.
"Put your handkerchief in her mouth, man!" he cried. "Don't you see whoit is--the woman Stolberg!"
Quick as thought I took out my handkerchief and stuffed it into hermouth while he held her. Then I gripped her arms, while Ray produced thethin silk rope which he usually carried on such expeditions and with itbound her tightly hand and foot.
She struggled violently, cursing us in German the while, but all invain. So at length we disposed of her comfortably against a tree-trunkin a field opposite, to which Ray very deftly secured her. She hadevidently driven over from Cromer on some important errand to herfriends and had stopped the cart some distance away from the house.
Cautiously we negotiated the high iron gate, and creeping noiselesslyacross the lawn, gained the window on the left of the entrance. Rayflashed his light upon it, and noting that the fastening was only anordinary one, promptly commenced work upon it by inserting one of hisburglarious tools between the sashes. In a few moments it sprang backwith a click, and lifting the sash slowly and pushing aside the hollandblind, he swung himself into a comfortably furnished sitting-room, Ifollowing quickly at his heels.
In that dead silence I could hear my heart throbbing.
We were actually in the house of the spies!
The room, which contained nothing of interest to us, smelt strongly oftobacco, while upon the table lay a big German pipe. Still gripping hisleather bag Ray carefully opened the door, and crossing the wideold-fashioned hall, opened another door, when we found ourselves in anold-fashioned dining-room, the sideboard of which was decorated withsome very nice antique blue china. From this apartment we visited thedrawing-room and another smaller reception-room, and then, creeping ontiptoe, we ascended the old well staircase which once creaked horriblybeneath me.
Here we were confronted with a serious problem. We knew not in whichroom the spies were sleeping.
Ray halted at the top of the stairs to take his bearings, and after somehesitation resolved to first investigate the room over the one by whichwe had entered. He tried the door. It was locked on the inside. Somebodywas within.
So we crept across to the opposite side. Here the door was also locked,but a flash from the torch revealed that there was no key inside. It wasa locked room, and Ray determined to see what lay beyond.
Therefore, with infinite care not to make a sound, he drew from hispocket s
ome skeleton keys, one of which slid back the bolt, and in amoment we were within.
The torch, an instant later, revealed an amazing state of things. Pinneddown to the large deal table before the window was a huge map of thedistrict from Weybourne towards Yarmouth, about five feet square, madeup of various sections of the six-inch ordnance map, and literallycovered with annotations and amplifications in German, written in redink. Upon strings stretched across one end of the room were a number ofphotographic films and prints in process of drying, while strewn aboutthe place were rough military sketches--the result of the labours ofmany months--a couple of cameras, measuring tapes, a heliographapparatus, a portfolio full of carefully drawn plans with Germanexplanations beneath, and a tin box, which, when opened, we found tocontain a number of neatly written reports and memoranda in German, allready for transmission to Berlin!
Ray seized a whole handful of these papers--a translation of one ofwhich is here reproduced--and stuffed them into his pocket, saying:
"These will prove interesting reading for us later on, no doubt."
EAST COAST OF ENGLAND--DISTRICT VI.
Memoranda by Captain Wilhelm Stolberg, 114th Regiment Westphalian Cuirassiers, on special duty February, 1906--December, 1908.
WEYBOURNE--Norfolk--England. (Section coloured red upon large scale map. Photographs Series B, 221 to 386.)
In Sheringham and Cromer comprised in this District are resident forty-six German subjects, mostly hotel servants, waiters, and tradesmen, who have each been allotted their task on "the Day."
ARMS:--a store of arms is in a house at Kelling Heath, where on receipt of the signal all will secretly assemble, and at a given hour surprise and hold up the coastguard at all stations in their district, cut all telegraph and telephones shown upon the large map to be destroyed, wire in pre-arranged cipher to their comrades at Happisburgh to seize the German cable there, and take every precaution to prevent any fact whatsoever leaking out concerning the presence of our ships.
MEN:--Every man is a trained soldier, and has taken the oath of loyalty to your Imperial Majesty. Their leader is Lieutenant Bischoffsheim, living in Tucker Street, Cromer, in the guise of a baker.
EXPLOSIVES FOR BRIDGES:--These have been stored at Sandy Hill, close to Weybourne Station, marked on map.
LANDING PLACE:--Weybourne is the easiest and safest along the whole coast. The coast-guard station, on the east, has a wire to Harwich, which will be cut before our ships are in sight. In Weybourne village there is a small telegraph office, but this will at the same time be seized by our people occupying an inn in the vicinity, a place which will be recognised by the display of a Union Jack.
WIRES:--Eight important wires run through here, five of which must be cut, as well as the trunk telephone. Direct communication with Beccles is obtained.
BEACH:--Hard, and an excellent road runs from the sea to the highway south. For soundings, see notes upon British soundings. Admiralty Chart No. 1630 accompanying.
FORGE:--There is one at the end of the village.
PROVISIONS:--Grocers' shops in village are small, therefore do not contain much stock. There are plenty of sheep and oxen in the district towards Gunton. (See accompanying lists of amount of live stock upon each farm.)
MOTOR-CARS:--(List of owners and addresses attached)...
A specimen of the notes of German spies.
But just at that moment in stepping back I unfortunately knocked over aframe containing some glass negatives, which fell from a shelf with aloud crash.
We both stood breathless. There was a quick movement in the roomadjoining, and we heard men's voices shouting to each other in German.
"Stay here," Ray said firmly. "We must not show the white feather now."
Almost as the words left his mouth we were confronted by the two menwhom we had seen surveying the railway line.
"Well!" cried Ray, gripping his precious bag and facing them boldly,"you see we've discovered your little game, gentlemen! Those notes onthe map are particularly interesting."
"By what right, pray, do you enter here?" asked the bearded man,speaking in fairly good English.
"By the right of an Englishman, Herr Stolberg," was Ray's bold reply."You'll find your clever wife tied up to a tree in the field opposite."
The younger man held a revolver, but from his face I saw that he was acoward.
"What do you mean?" demanded the other.
"I mean that I intend destroying all this excellent espionage work ofyours. You've lived here for two years, and have been very busytravelling in your car and gathering information. But," he said, "youwere a little unwise in putting upon your car the new Feldmarcknon-skids, the only set, I believe, yet in England. They may be verygood tyres, but scarcely adapted for spying purposes. I, for instance,noticed the difference in the tracks the wheels made one evening whenyou met your wife outside Metfield Park, and that is what led me toyou."
"You'd destroy all my notes and plans!" he gasped, with a fierce oath inGerman. "You shall never do that--you English cur!"
"Then stand aside and watch!" he cried, withdrawing from the room on tothe landing. "See, look here!" and he opened his bag. This caused bothmen to withdraw from the room to peer inside his bag.
With a quiet movement, however, Ray flung a small dark object into thecentre of the room, and in an instant there was a bright blood-redflash, and the whole place was one mass of roaring flames, which,belching from the door, caused us all to beat a hasty retreat. In amoment the place was a furnace.
The spies shouted, cursed, and fired their revolvers at us through thethick smoke, but we were quickly downstairs and out in the road.
"That will soon drive out the rats," laughed Ray, as we watched theflames burst through the roof and saw the two men escape half dressedthrough the window we had opened.
And as, with the red glare behind us, we hurried back to the spot wherewe had left our car, Ray remarked, with a laugh of triumph:
"Stolberg bought that place two years ago with money, no doubt, suppliedfrom Berlin, so he's scarcely likely to come upon us for incendiarism, Ithink. It was the only way--to make one big bonfire of the whole thing!"