CHAPTER IV
HOW THE GERMANS ARE PREPARING FOR INVASION
"We're going down to Maldon, in Essex," Ray Raymond explained as wedrove along in a taxi-cab to Liverpool Street Station late one greysnowy afternoon soon after our return from Norfolk.
He had been away from London for three weeks, and I had no idea of hiswhereabouts, except that one night he rang me up on the telephone fromthe Cups Hotel, at Colchester.
An hour ago he had returned to New Stone Buildings in the guise of arespectable mechanic in his Sunday clothes, and, full of bustle andexcitement, urged me to run across to Guilford Street and assume asimilar disguise. Then, each with his modest bag, we had hailed amotor-cab and given the man instructions to drive to the Great Easternterminus.
"You've read the affair in this evening's paper, I suppose?" mycompanion asked; "the mystery at Button's Hill?"
"Yes," I replied. "Are we about to investigate it?"
"That's my intention, my dear Jacox," was his quick reply, as he handedme his cigarette-case. Then, ten minutes later, when we were seatedtogether alone in a third-class carriage slowly leaving London, heturned to me, and with a deep earnest look upon his face, said:
"There's much more behind what appears in the papers regarding thiscurious affair--depend upon it, old chap. I've wired to Vera to beprepared to come to Maldon on receipt of a telegram. The facts, as faras are at present known, are these," he went on as he slowly lit anothercigarette: "At an early hour this morning a farm labourer, on his way towork between Latchingdon and Southminster, discovered, lying in a ditch,the body of James Pavely, aged forty-three, a well-known fisherman andpilot. His head had been crushed by savage blows, his clothes weresoaked with blood, and he was nearly buried beneath the snow. Thelabourer alarmed the police, and the body was conveyed to Southminster.Pavely, who was very popular at the waterside at Maldon, was unmarried,and until recently had been rather well-to-do, but for the past fewmonths bad luck is said to have persistently pursued him, and he hadbeen left without a boat, even without a share in a boat, and morerecently he had been out of a job altogether. Now," he added, with akeen look, "I want to fix that point in your mind. For months, eversince the summer, he has been known to be on the verge of starvation,yet the police have found in his trousers' pocket a handkerchief inwhich, carefully tied up, were forty-nine sovereigns!"
"His savings?" I suggested.
"No," declared my companion conclusively.
"But if he was murdered, why wasn't the money taken?" I queried.
Ray smiled, his face assuming that sphinx-like expression by which Iknew that he had formed some theory--a theory he was about to put to thetest.
"The reason we have to discover, Jacox," he said vaguely. "The dead manis a pilot," he added; "and in Maldon are many German spies."
"But I don't see that the fact of Pavely pursuing the honourable callingof pilot would arouse the enmity of any secret agent," I remarked.
"We shall see," was my friend's response; and he became immersed in hispaper.
On reaching the prosperous little town of Maldon we left our bags in thecloak-room. The snow was lying thickly, but it was no longer falling. Asharp frost had set in, rendering the roads very slippery. In thedarkness infrequent lights glimmered here and there in the quaint oldstreets and among the barges and coasting vessels which lay along theHithe. The tide was nearly full, and the river covered withhalf-congealed snow and ice. Few passengers were abroad that wintryevening, but as we passed a small low-built public-house called the"Goat and Binnacle," at the waterside, we could hear that there weremany customers within, all of whom seemed to be talking at once.
The red-curtained windows reflected a ruddy chequer upon the trampledsnow, and men were coming up by twos and threes from the river craft,one and all wending their way to that low-browed house which seemed tobe doing such a roaring trade.
"Let's take a look inside," Ray suggested in a whisper. "We might hearsomething."
So together we turned back, and entered the low-built, old-fashionedplace.
Within, we found them all discussing the mysterious death of Jim Pavely.
Mostly English were the bronzed, weather-beaten men of the sea and thelongshoremen who were smoking and drinking, and talking so earnestly,but a few foreigners were among them. There were two or three Frenchmen,dapper fellows in well-made pea-jackets and berets, who had rowed ashorefrom the big white yawl flying the tricolour, which had been lying offHeybridge waiting, so we heard, for a change from the present icyweather before going to sea again; and there were also a fair number ofSwedes and Norwegians from the two timber-ships whose spars, we hadnoticed, towered above the rows of smaller and stumpier masts belongingto the local and coasting craft which lay alongside the Hithe. Thenthere was the first mate of one of the timber-ships, supposed by most ofthose present to be a German. At any rate, he seemed to be trying hardto carry on a conversation with the fair-haired landlord, an undoubtedimmigrant from the Fatherland.
From one of the seafaring customers with whom I began to chat, I learnedthat the keeper of the place was named Leopold Bramberger, and that hehad been established in that little river-side hostelry rather more thana year, and was now a well-known and more or less respected inhabitantof the borough of Maldon. He had made a little money--so it wasgenerally understood--in the course of some years' service at theCarlton Hotel in London as waiter. And a good waiter he certainly was,as many people living in that part of the country could testify; sincehe found time to go out as "an extra hand" to many a dinner-party; hisservices being much appreciated and bringing him in quite a comfortablelittle addition to what he made by the sale of drink down by theBlackwater. But he did not seem very anxious to talk with hiscompatriot; indeed, so frequent were the demands made for "another potof four 'arf," "two of gin 'ot," "another glass of Scotch," and otherdelectable beverages, that he and his better half had all they could doto grapple with the wants of their customers.
From the conversation about us we gathered that the dead man, thoughpreviously somewhat abstemious, had lately become rather a constantfrequenter of the "Goat and Binnacle," and though no one had seen himactually drunk, there were not a few who could testify to having seenhim in a state very nearly approaching, in their opinion, to"half-seas-over."
"Well, I' give suthing to lay my 'ands on the blackguard as 'as done forpore Jim," remarked a burly longshoreman to his neighbour. "'E'd neverdone no one a bad turn, as I knows on, and a better feller there wasn'tbetween 'ere an' 'Arwich."
"No there wasn't," came quite a chorus. Jim Pavely, whatever hismisfortunes, was evidently a favourite.
"And no one wouldn't have any idea of robbin' pore Jim," interposedanother customer; "every one knows that there's bin nothin' on 'im wuthstealin' this many a day--pore chap."
"Except that forty-nine pound," remarked the German landlord, in verygood English.
"As for that," exclaimed a little man sitting in the chimney-corner, "Isee Belton, the constable, as I were a-coming down here a quarter of anhour ago, an' he says as how there wasn't no signs of any attempt atrobbery. Jim had his old five-bob watch in 'is pocket, not worthpawnin'; the sovereigns and some silver were in his trousers."
"Ah! That's the mystery!" exclaimed more than one in surprise. "Why noone wouldn't have thought as Jim 'ad seen the colour o' gold this threemonths past."
"Come on in and shut the door," cried some one, as a new-comer enteredthe tap-room, followed by an icy blast and a shower of snow, which wasagain falling.
"Why, it's Sergeant Newte!" exclaimed the publican, as a burly man in adark overcoat entered, carefully closed the door, and moved ponderouslytowards the bar. A sudden hush fell upon the assembly, all eyes and earsbeing turned towards the representative of the law. All felt that theplain-clothes man bore news of the tragedy, and waited anxiously forthe oracle to speak.
"Well, sir," asked Bramberger, "and what can I have the pleasure ofserving you with? It isn't often we have the honour of your company dow
nhere."
"I won't have anything to-night, thanks," answered the man. "It isn't adrink I'm after, but just a little information that I fancy you, or someof these gentlemen here, may be able to give me. Every one knows thatJames Pavely was a pretty frequent customer of yours, and what I want tofind out is, when he was last in here?"
"Let me see. Last night about seven, wasn't it, Molly?" returned thelandlord, turning to his wife. "No, by the by, he came in and hadsomething about a quarter to nine. That's the last we saw of him, poorfellow."
The sergeant in plain clothes produced his notebook. "Who else was inthe bar with him?"
"Nobody in particular. Some of the hands from the barges, I fancy. Hejust had his drink and passed the time of day, as you may say, and wasoff in five or ten minutes."
"Eh, but you're making a mistake there, Mr. Bramberger," spoke up avoice near by; and the officer turned sharply in the direction of thespeaker.
Urged on by those standing round him, Robert Rait, a big longshoreman,came slowly to the front. All eyes were upon him, which caused him toassume a somewhat sheepish aspect.
"Well, Sergeant, true as I'm standing 'ere, I see pore Jim come out ofthis 'ere bar just after twelve last night along with that young gent asis learnin' farming over Latchingdon way."
At this every one grew interested.
"Are you sure of what you say?" asked the officer sharply.
"Sartin sure. I were sittin' on my barge a-smokin' my pipe, an' I 'eardthe clock over at the church, behind 'ere, strike twelve. I don't knowwhy, but I remember I counted the strokes. Five minutes later out comePavely with the young gent, who I've often seen in this bar afore, an'they walked off round by the Marine Lake. They never took no notice o'me. They was too busy a' talkin'."
As the policeman slowly rendered this into writing, most eyes soughtBramberger, who, feeling that he was the object of an attention perhapsnot too favourable, remarked:
"Ah, yes. I believe I'm wrong, after all. It was twelve o'clock Imeant--not nine."
"And what about this young gent?" queried the constable quickly. "Who ishe, anyway? Was he here with Pavely?"
"He might have gone out with him, I didn't take particular notice ofhim," the German replied.
"But who is he?"
"Oh, you know him well enough. He's often in Maldon. It's young Mr.Freeman, who's learning estate work with Mr. Harris, near Southminster.He does drop in here now and again."
"Yes, I know him. A fellow-countryman of yours, ain't he?"
"No; he's English. I'd know a German well enough."
"Well, I've heard him speak. Mr. Jones, the schoolmaster, told me oncehe thought he spoke with a German accent," replied the officer.
"So he do, Sergeant," spoke up a sailorman, "now you mention it. I'moften in Hamburg, an' I know the German accent."
"You don't know anything about that forty-nine pounds, I suppose?" askedthe blundering local sergeant of police, for, as is usually the case,the aid of New Scotland Yard had not been invoked. The police in oursmall country towns are always very loath to request assistance fromLondon, as such action is admission of their own incompetence. Many amurder mystery could be solved and the criminal brought to justice byprompt investigation by competent detectives. But after blunt inquiriessuch as those now in progress, success is usually rendered impossible.
Raymond exchanged glances with me and smiled. How different, Ireflected, were his careful, painstaking, and often mysterious methodsof investigation.
"Those sovereigns in 'is 'andkerchief are a puzzle," declared the manRait, "but somehow I fancy there's been a bit o' mystery about pore Jimof late. Teddy Owen told me a week ago 'e see 'im up in London,a-talkin' with a foreigner on the platform at Liverpool Street."
"Where is Owen?" asked the sergeant eagerly.
"Gone over to Malmoe on a Swedish timber-ship," was Robert Rait's reply."'E won't be back for a couple of months, I dare say."
This statement of the man Owen was to Raymond and myself verysignificant and suspicious. Could it be that the pilot Pavely had soldsome secret to a foreign agent, and that the money he carried with himon the previous night was the price of his treason? It was distinctlycurious that the assassin had not possessed himself of that handkerchieffull of sovereigns.
We lingered in the low-pitched inn for yet another half-hour, mycompanion accounting for our visit by telling one of the men afictitious story that we had been sent to install the electric light insome new premises at the back of the old church. We heard several moreinquiries made by the sergeant, and many were the wild theories advancedby those seafaring loungers. Then, having listened attentively to allthat passed, we retraced our steps to the station, obtained our bags,and drove to the King's Head Hotel, where we duly installed ourselves.
"There's something very big behind the cruel murder of the pilot--that'smy belief!" declared Raymond before we parted for the night. "Nobodyhere dreams the truth--a truth that will be found as startling as it isstrange."
I told him of my suspicions that the publican Bramberger was a spy. Buthe shook his head, saying:
"Don't form any immature conclusions, my dear Jacox. At present thetruth is very cunningly concealed. It remains for us to lift the veiland expose the truth to the police and the public. Good-night."
Three days passed. Ray Raymond remained practically inactive, save thatwe both attended the inquest at Southminster as members of the publicand listened to the evidence. The revelation that a man apparently in astate of great destitution carried forty-nine sovereigns upon him struckthe coroner as unusual, and at his direction the jury adjourned theinquiry for a week, to allow the police to make further investigation.
As soon as this was decided my companion at once became all activity. Hefound the man Rait, a big, clumsy seafarer, and questioned him. But fromhim he obtained nothing further. With the publican Bramberger hecontrived to strike up a friendship, loudly declaring his theory thatthe motive of the murder of poor Pavely was jealousy, it being now knownthat he had been courting the pretty daughter of an old boatman over atBurnham.
My position was, as usual, one of silent obedience. Hither and thither Iwent at his bidding, leaving to his, the master mind, the gradualsolution of the mystery. He was one of those secretive men whodelighted in retaining something up his sleeve. The expression upon hisface was never indicative of what was passing within his mind.
The adjourned inquest was held at last, and again we were both presentat the back of the room. The police practically admitted their inabilityto solve the mystery, and after a long deliberation the twelve tradesmenreturned a verdict of "wilful murder," leaving the constabulary tofurther prosecute their inquiries.
Nearly a fortnight had passed since the sturdy North Sea pilot had beenso cruelly done to death, and many were the new theories advancednightly in the smoke-room of the "Goat and Binnacle."
I still remained at the "King's Head," but Raymond was often absent forwhole days, and by his manner I knew the spy-seeker to be busyinvestigating some theory he had formed.
He had been absent a couple of days, staying over at the "White Hart" atBurnham-on-Crouch, that place so frequented by boating men in summer,when one afternoon I ran over to Chelmsford to call upon a man I knew.It was about ten o'clock at night when I left his house to walk to thestation to catch the last train, when, to my surprise, I saw close tothe Town Hall a smart female figure in a black tailor-made gown and bigblack hat, walking before me, accompanied by a tall, thin, ratherwell-dressed young man in breeches and gaiters, who seemed to besomething of a dandy.
The girl's back struck me as familiar, and I crossed the road and wentforward so as to get a glance at her face beneath the street-lamp.
Yes, I was not mistaken. It was Vera Vallance! Her companion, however,was a complete stranger to me--a well-set-up, rather good-looking youngfellow, with a small black moustache, whose age I guessed to be abouttwenty-eight or so, and whose dark eyes were peculiarly bright andvivacious. He walked with swaggering gait,
and seemed to be of adecidedly horsey type.
From their attitude it appeared that they were intimate friends, and asthey walked towards the station, I watched his hand steal into herastrachan muff.
The incident was certainly puzzling. Was this man Vera's secret lover?It certainly seemed so.
Therefore, unseen by her, I kept close vigilance upon the pair, watchingthem gain the platform where stood the train by which I was to travelback to Maldon. He entered a first-class carriage, while she remainedupon the platform. Therefore it was evident that she was notaccompanying him.
The train moved off, and, with a laugh, she actually kissed her hand tothe stranger. Then I sat back in my corner greatly puzzled anddisturbed. Surely Ray Raymond could not know of these clandestinemeetings?
I was well aware how devoted my friend was to her. Surely she was notnow faithless to her vow!
It was not my place to speak, so I could only patiently watch theprogress of events.
The dark-eyed man alighted with me at Witham, but did not enter theMaldon train. Therefore I lost sight of him.
Three days later I caught sight of him in the main street at Maldon,still in gaiters and riding-breeches, and wearing a black and whitecheck coat and crimson knitted vest. Unnoticed, I watched him come forthfrom a saddler's shop, and after making several purchases, he strolledto my hotel, the "King's Head," where he was met by an elderlyclean-shaven man of agricultural type, with whom he had luncheon in acorner of the coffee-room.
Ray was still absent. Would that he had been present, and that I daredto point out to him the man who had apparently usurped his place inVera's heart!
At three o'clock, after his friend had left, the young man sat for sometime writing a letter in the smoking-room, and afterwards called theboots and gave it to him, with orders to deliver it personally.
Then he left for the station apparently on his return to Witham.
After I got back to the "King's Head" I sought James, the boots, andinquired the addressee of the letter.
"I took it round to Mr. Bramberger at the 'Goat and Binnacle,' sir," wasthe servant's reply.
"You know the young gentleman--eh?"
"Oh yes, sir. He's Mr. Freeman, from Woodham Ferris. He's what they calla 'mud-pupil' of Mr. Harris, Lord Croyland's agent. He's learningestate-work."
"And he knows Mr. Bramberger?"
"I suppose so. I've often taken notes for him to the 'Goat andBinnacle.'"
I was silent, recollecting the curious allegation made by the man Rait,that he had seen the dead man in Freeman's company.
Some other questions I put to the boots, but he could tell me but littleelse, only that young Freeman was undoubtedly a gentleman, that he spenthis money freely, and possessed a large circle of friends in thedistrict.
I learned that he lived in a small furnished cottage outside the dulllittle town of Woodham Ferris, and that he had an elderly man-servantwho generally "did" for him.
Had I been mistaken in Vera's motive? Had she become acquainted with himas part of a preconceived plan, some ingenious plan formed by thatfearless hunter of the Kaiser's spies, who was my most intimate friend?
Yes, I could only think that I had sorely misjudged her.
Hearing nothing from Raymond on the following day, and noticing that thesensation caused by the death of the pilot had, by this time, quitesubsided, I went again over to Chelmsford and lunched at theold-fashioned "Saracen's Head."
To my satisfaction, I learned that Vera had been staying there for thepast ten days, and was still there. Whereupon I left the hotel andwatched it during the remainder of that afternoon.
At dusk she came forth neat and pretty as usual, her face with its softfair hair half concealed by her flimsy veil. At the door of the hotelshe hesitated for a second, then she strolled to the other side of thetown, where, at an unfrequented corner, she was joined by the dark-eyedman Freeman.
From the warm manner of his greeting it was apparent that he was charmedby her, and together they strolled along the quiet byways, she allowinghim to link his arm in hers.
Knowing her ready self-sacrifice wherever the interests of her loverwere concerned, I could only surmise that her present object was towatch this man, or to learn from him some important facts concerning themystery which Ray was so silently investigating. Therefore, fearing tobe observed if I followed the pair along those quiet thoroughfares, Iturned on my heel, and half an hour later left Chelmsford for Maldon.
That same night, soon after eleven, Ray Raymond returned to the "King'sHead," arriving by the last train from London.
"We must keep a wary eye upon that publican Bramberger, Jacox," hewhispered when we were alone together in my bedroom. "You must deal withhim. Frequent the 'Goat and Binnacle,' and see what's in progressthere."
"Vera is at Chelmsford, I see," I remarked casually.
"Yes," he said, "she's already on friendly terms with Freeman. You'veseen her, I suppose?"
I responded in the affirmative.
"Well, to-morrow I shall leave here again, to reappear in Maldon as ariver-side labourer," he said. "You will retain your role ofelectrician, and patronise the homely comforts of our friendBramberger's house."
He spoke with that clear decision which characterised all his actions,for in the investigation of any suspicion of the presence of spies, hefirst formed his theory, and then started straight away to prove it tohis own satisfaction.
Next day soon after one o'clock I re-entered the low-built littleriver-side inn and found within a few bargemen and labourers gossiping,as such men will gossip. The landlord who served me eyed me up and downas though half inclined to recognise me, so I recalled the fact that Ihad been in his house a week or so ago.
Whereupon he immediately became communicative, and we had a friendlyglass together. I told him that I had concluded my job--in order toaccount for my hours of idleness in the days that were to follow--and Ithen became a regular customer, seldom leaving before the house closed.
Bramberger was one day visited by the German mate of the timber-shipwhich had just come in, the man of his own nationality who had been inthe bar on the night of our arrival at Maldon, and who seemed to be wellknown to his usual customers, for apparently he made regular visits fromacross the North Sea.
I noticed that during the afternoon they were closeted together in thelandlord's private room, and during the evening they drank in company.
The return of this German at once aroused my suspicions, therefore atten o'clock, instead of returning to the "King's Head," I concealedmyself at the waterside and there waited. It was an intensely coldvigil, and as the time crept by, and the church clock struck hour afterhour, I began to fear that my suspicions were unfounded.
At last, however, from the timber-craft lying in the Blackwater came aboat noiselessly into the deep shadow, and from it landed two men, eachcarrying a heavy box upon his shoulder. They walked straight over to the"Goat and Binnacle," the side door of which opened noiselessly, andhaving deposited their loads, they returned to the boat. This journey toand fro they repeated four times. Then they rowed away, and though Iwaited the greater part of the night, they did not return.
I reported this in a note I sent round to Ray at his lodging in thepoorer quarter of the town, and in reply I received a message that hewould meet me at the river-side at eleven that night.
Part of that evening I spent smoking in the inn, and an hour afterclosing-time I came upon my friend with whispered greeting at theappointed spot.
"Have you seen Freeman?" was his first question, and when I replied inthe negative, he told me that he had just been admitted by Bramberger.
"You've got your revolver, I suppose?" he asked.
"I always carry it nowadays," was my reply.
"Well, old chap, to-night promises to be exciting."
"Why!" I exclaimed. "Look! There are three men lurking under that wallover yonder!"
"I know," he laughed. "They're our friends. To-night we shall avenge thedeath of the p
oor pilot Pavely. But remain silent, and you'll see!"
I noted that the three dark figures concealed near us were water-sidelabourers, fellows whose rough-looking exteriors were the reverse ofreassuring. Yet I recollected that every man who worked on theBlackwater or the Crouch was a patriot, ready to tear the mask from thespies of England's enemies.
We must have waited in patience fully three hours, when again from thetimber-ship lying in the Blackwater came the laden boat, and again weresimilar boxes landed and carried in the shadow up to the inn, the doorof which opened silently to receive them. Wherever the Customs officersor police were, they noticed nothing amiss.
The two men had made their second journey to the "Goat and Binnacle,"when Ray Raymond suddenly exclaimed:
"We're going to rush the place, Jacox. Have your gun ready"; and then hegave a low whistle.
In a moment fully a dozen men, some of whom I recognised as Customsofficers in mufti and police in plain clothes, together with severallongshoremen, emerged from the shadow, and in a moment we had surroundedthe public-house.
The door had closed upon the two men who carried up the boxes, and ademand that it should be reopened met with no response. Therefore a longiron bar was procured from somewhere, and two policemen working with itsoon prised the door from its hinges.
The lights within had all been suddenly extinguished, but finding myselfin the little bar-parlour with two others of the party, I struck a vestaand relit the gas.
Two of the mysterious wooden cases brought from the ship were standingthere.
We heard loud shouts in German, and a scuffle upon the stairs in thedarkness, followed by a shot. Then a woman's scream mingled with theshouts and curses of my companions, and I found myself in the midst of awild melee, in which furniture and bottles were being smashed about me.My friends were trying to secure Bramberger and Freeman, while both werefighting desperately for their lives.
Ray made a sudden spring upon the young man who had been so attracted byVera Vallance, but for his pains received a savage cut in the arm from aknife.
The man stood at bay in the corner of the smoke-room with half a dozenof us before him. The fellow had set his jaws fiercely, and there wasmurder in his black eyes. Bramberger, however, had already been secured,and handcuffs had been slipped upon him by the police.
"Now," cried Ray Raymond, "tell your story, Richardson. These twoblackguards must hear it before we hand them over." And I noticed thatnear me were two policemen, who had covered Freeman with theirrevolvers.
From among us a rough man in a shabby pea-jacket, whom I had seen onceor twice in that inn, came forward, and without a word of preliminaryexclaimed:
"Jim Pavely, the poor fellow whom these accursed foreigners murdered,was my brother-in-law. The night before he was killed he slept at myhouse. He was drunk, but he told me something that at first I didn'tbelieve. He told me that on the previous day, spending so much timeabout this place, he had stumbled on the fact that a certain Germantimber-ship was in the habit of bringing up among its cargo a quantityof saccharine which was smuggled ashore at night and stored in thecellars below here. He had had words with the landlord Bramberger, butthe latter had made him promise to keep his secret till next morning,when he would pay him a certain sum to say nothing to the Customsofficers. Next afternoon at four o'clock he went to the 'Goat andBinnacle' to receive the money, and I entered after him, intending toassist him in getting all he could out of the German. But that fellowFreeman, yonder--whom I know to be also a German--was with hiscompatriot, and the three had consultation together in the back room.Half an hour later Jim Pavely came back to my house and showed me fiftypounds, and a written agreement signed by Bramberger to pay one hundredand fifty pounds more in gold in Calais, on condition that he remainedabroad and held his tongue."
Then the informer paused.
"Go on," I urged. "What then?"
"Pavely told me something--something he had discovered. But I foolishlylaughed his statement to scorn. He added that he was to sail in a Frenchschooner that night, and that Freeman, who was in partnership withBramberger, was to go over to Latchingdon with him that evening andintroduce him to the skipper, who would land him at Calais. When he hadgone, the story he had told me struck me as very astounding; therefore Iresolved to follow him. I saw him come with Freeman out of this placejust after midnight, and I followed them. When they got to Button'sHill, on that lonely stretch of road, I saw with my own eyes Freemansuddenly attack him with a life-preserver, and having smashed his skullbefore I could interfere, he stole the German's undertaking from hispocket."
At this, the man accused, standing in the corner covered by severalrevolvers, turned livid. He tried to protest, but his voice was onlyfaint and hollow before the living witness of his crime.
He had collapsed.
"My first impulse was to denounce the assassin, but what the dead manhad told me caused me to hesitate, and I resolved to first get at thetruth, which I have done with Mr. Raymond's aid," Richardson went on."The story of the schooner was true," he added, "except that it was asteam schooner-rigged yacht which was about to land some stuff foranother depot at Burnham."
"What stuff?" I asked quickly.
"Ammunition ready for the German army when it lands upon this coast. Itwas that fact which Pavely had discovered and told me. After agreeing tokeep the secret of the saccharine, it seems that he discovered that theboxes really contained cartridges, a fact which he urged me tocommunicate to the War Office after he had secured the German's bribe."
"Yes," declared Raymond, "the extensive cellaring under this place ispacked to the ceiling with ammunition ready for the Day of Invasion. Seethis, which has just been brought!"
After prising open one of the boxes, many rounds of Germanrifle-cartridges were revealed. "That man Freeman before you, thoughbrought up in England and passing as an Englishman, is, I havediscovered, a German agent, who, in the guise of estate-pupil, has beenbusy composing a voluminous report upon supplies, accommodation, forage,possible landing-places, and other information useful to the invader.His district has been the important country between the Blackwater andthe Crouch, eastward of Maldon and Purleigh. Bramberger, who is also inthe German Secret Service, has been accumulating this store ofammunition as well as forwarding his coadjutor's reports and plans toBerlin, for, being German, it excited no suspicion that he posted manybulky letters to Germany. He is often in direct communication with ourfriend in Pont Street. My secret investigations revealed all this,Jacox, hence I arranged this raid to-night."
"You'll never take me!" cried Freeman in defiance. But next moment thesemen, all of them constables in plain clothes, closed with him.
For a moment there was another desperate struggle, when with startlingsuddenness a shot rang out, and I saw Bramberger drop to the floor likea stone at my feet.
Freeman had wrested a weapon from one of his assailants and killed hisfellow-spy; while, next instant, without reflection, he turned therevolver upon himself, and, before they could prevent him, had put ashot through his own brain, inflicting a wound that within half a minuteproved mortal.
When we searched the cellars of the "Goat and Binnacle" we found nofewer than eighty-two cases of rifle cartridges; while next morning, ina small cottage within a stone's-throw of the "White Hart" at Burnham,we discovered sixty-odd cases of ammunition for various arms, togetherwith ten cases of gun cotton and some other high explosives. Also wefound six big cases full of proclamations, printed in English,threatening all who opposed the German advance with death. The documentwas a very remarkable one, and deeming it of sufficient interest, I havereproduced it in these pages.
DECREE CONCERNING THE POWER OF COUNCILS OF WAR.
WE, GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF EAST ANGLIA, by virtue of the powers conferred upon us by His Imperial Majesty the German Emperor, Commander-in-Chief of the German Armies, order, for the maintenance of the internal and external security of the counties of the Government-General:--
ARTICLE I.--Any individual guilty of incendiarism or of wilful inundation, of attack, or of resistance with violence, against the Government-General or the agents of the civil or military authorities, of sedition, of pillage, of theft with violence, of assisting prisoners to escape, or of inciting soldiers to treasonable acts, shall be PUNISHED BY DEATH.
In the case of any extenuating circumstances, the culprit may be sent to penal servitude with hard labour for twenty years.
ARTICLE II.--Any person provoking or inciting an individual to commit the crimes mentioned in Article I. will be sent to penal servitude with hard labour for ten years.
ARTICLE III.--Any person propagating false reports relative to the operations of war or political events will be imprisoned for one year, and fined up to L100.
In any case where the affirmation or propagation may cause prejudice against the German army, or against any authorities or functionaries established by it, the culprit will be sent to hard labour for ten years.
ARTICLE IV.--Any person usurping a public office, or who commits any act or issues any order in the name of a public functionary, will be imprisoned for five years, and fined L150.
ARTICLE V.--Any person who voluntarily destroys or abstracts any documents, registers, archives, or public documents deposited in public offices, or passing through their hands in virtue of their functions as government or civic officials, will be imprisoned for two years, and fined L150.
ARTICLE VI.--Any person obliterating, damaging, or tearing down official notices, orders, or proclamations of any sort issued by the German authorities will be imprisoned for six months, and fined L80.
ARTICLE VII.--Any resistance or disobedience of any order given in the interests of public security by military commanders and other authorities, or any provocation or incitement to commit such disobedience, will be punished by one year's imprisonment, or a fine of not less than L150.
ARTICLE VIII.--All offences enumerated in Articles I.--VII. are within the jurisdiction of the Councils of War.
ARTICLE IX.--It is within the competence of Councils of War to adjudicate upon all other crimes and offences against the internal and external security of the English provinces occupied by the German Army, and also upon all crimes against the military or civil authorities, or their agents, as well as murder, the fabrication of false money, of blackmail, and all other serious offences.
ARTICLE X.--Independent of the above, the military jurisdiction already proclaimed will remain in force regarding all actions tending to imperil the security of the German troops, to damage their interests, or to render assistance in the Army of the British Government.
Consequently, they will be PUNISHED BY DEATH, and we expressly repeat this, all persons who are not British soldiers and--
(_a_) Who serve the British Army or the Government as spies, or receive British spies, or give them assistance or asylum.
(_b_) Who serve as guides to British troops, or mislead the German troops when charged to act as guides.
(_c_) Who shoot, injure, or assault any German soldier or officer.
(_d_) Who destroy bridges or canals, interrupt railways or telegraph lines, render roads impassable, burn munitions of war, provisions, or quarters of the troops.
(_e_) Who take arms against the German troops.
ARTICLE XI.--The organisation of Councils of War mentioned in Articles VIII. and IX. of the Law of May 2, 1870, and their procedure are regulated by special laws which are the same as the summary jurisdiction of military tribunals. In the case of Article X. there remains in force the Law of July 21, 1867, concerning the military jurisdiction applicable to foreigners.
ARTICLE XII.--The present order is proclaimed and put into execution on the morrow of the day upon which it is affixed in the public places of each town and village.
THE GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF EAST ANGLIA.
Copy of the German Proclamation found in the Secret Store of Arms at Burnham-on-Crouch.
The affair caused the greatest consternation at the War Office, at whoseinstigation it was instantly hushed up by the police for fear ofcreating undue panic.
But the truth remains--a very bitter, serious, and significant truth--ofGermany's hostile intentions at a not distant date, a date when anEnglishman's home will, alas! no longer be his castle.