stranger,carrying a thick stick, cross the lawn to the gate which gave entranceto the wood, and watched how he remained there for about ten minutes,while presently there emerged a second figure, who crossed to thecow-shed wherein the electric tapping-key remained concealed.
Kennedy glanced at his wrist-watch.
The munition train was almost due to enter the tunnel, therefore thestranger Tragheim, one of Ortmann's poor, miserable dupes, had been sentforward to depress the key as soon as he heard the second bell ring inthe signal-box at the exit of the tunnel--all the signal bells beingdistinctly heard in the night from the door of the shed.
The ringing of that second bell would announce that the train waspassing over the exact point in the line under which the mine had beenlaid.
The man Bohlen, seeing his companion come out, moved away from the gateacross the lawn back to the house, whereupon Kennedy crept up to thespot where the German had been standing, and whence they could obtain agood view of the shed from which the dastardly attempt was to be made.
Beside the gate they found a walking-stick--a thick one made of bamboo.
"That fellow has forgotten his stick," remarked Kennedy, taking it up,all unconscious of the peril.
From one of the darkened windows of the house Ortmann was watching hisaction, and chuckled.
Of a sudden, however, a fierce blood-red flash lit up the wholecountry-side, and with a deafening roar, the shed was hurled high intothe air, together with the shattered remains of the man who had pressedthe key.
Instead of exploding the mine under the railway tunnel, as was intended,he had exploded the tinful of picric acid derivative which Kennedy hadconcealed beneath the straw!
Then, a few seconds later, the heavy train laden with munitions for theBritish front emerged from the tunnel in safety, its driver allunconscious of the desperate attempt that had been made by the enemy inour midst.
Kennedy, having witnessed the consummation of his well-laid plan to blowup any conspirator who touched the key, cast the walking-stick to theground and, taking Ella's arm, retraced his steps through the woods.
But they had not gone far ere a second explosion, a sharp concussionwhich they felt about them, came from somewhere behind them.
"Funny!" he remarked to his well-beloved. "I wonder what that secondnoise was, dearest?"
"I wonder," said Ella, and they both hurried back to their car.
CHAPTER THREE.
THE HYDE PARK PLOT.
Two men sat in a big, handsome dining-room in one of the finest housesin Park Lane. One was Theodore Drost, dressed in his usual garb of aDutch pastor. A look of satisfaction overspread his features as heraised his glass of choice Chateau Larose.
Opposite him at the well-laid luncheon table sat his friend, ErnstOrtmann, alias Horton, alias Harberton, the super-spy whose hand was--ifthe truth be told--"The Hidden Hand" upon which the newspapers were evercommenting--that secret and subtle influence of Germany in our midst inwar-time.
Count Ernst von Ortmann was a very shrewd and elusive person. For anumber of years he had been a trusted official in the entourage of theKaiser, and having lived his early life in England, being educated atOxford, he was now entrusted with the delicate task of directing theadvance guard of the German army in this country.
Two years before the war Mr Henry Harberton, a wealthy, middle-agedEnglish merchant from Buenos Ayres, had suddenly arisen in the socialfirmament in the West End, had given smart dinners, and, as an eligiblebachelor, had been smiled upon by many mothers with marriageabledaughters. His luncheon-parties at the Savoy, the Ritz, and the Carltonwere usually chronicled in the newspapers; he was financially interestedin a popular revue at a certain West End theatre, and the rumour that hewas immensely wealthy was confirmed when he purchased a fine househalf-way up Park Lane--a house from which, quite unsuspected, radiatedthe myriad ramifications of Germany's spy system.
With Henry Harberton, whose father, it was said, had amassed a hugefortune in Argentina in the early days, and which he had inherited,money was of no account. The fine London mansion was sombre andimpressive in its decoration. There was nothing flamboyant orout-of-place, nothing that jarred upon the senses: a quiet, calm, andrestful residence, the double windows of which shut out the sound of themotor-'buses and taxis of that busy thoroughfare where dwelt London'scommercial princes. Surely that fine house was in strange contrast tothe obscure eight-roomed one in a long, drab terrace in Park Road,Wandsworth Common, where dwelt the same mysterious person in very humbleand even economical circumstances as Mr Horton, a retired tradesmanfrom the New Cross Road.
As Ortmann sat in that big dining-room in Park Lane, a plainly decoratedapartment with dead white walls in the Adams style, and a few choicefamily portraits, his friend, Drost, with his strange triangular face,his square forehead and pointed grey beard, presented a picture of thetrue type of Dutch pastor, in his rather seedy clerical coat and hisround horn-rimmed spectacles.
The pair had been discussing certain schemes to the detriment of theEnglish: schemes which, in the main, depended upon the crafty oldDrost's expert knowledge of high-explosives.
"Ah! my dear Count!" exclaimed the wily old professor of chemistry inGerman, as he replaced his glass upon the table. "How marvellouslyclever is our Emperor! How he befooled and bamboozled these silly sheepof English. Listen to this!" and from his pocket-book he drew a largenewspaper cutting--two columns of a London daily newspaper datedWednesday, October 28, 1908.
"What is that?" inquired the Kaiser's arch-spy, his eyebrows narrowing.
"The interview given by the Emperor to a British peer in order to throwdust into the eyes of our enemies against whom we were rapidlypreparing. Listen to the Emperor's clever reassurances in order to gaintime." Then, readjusting his big round spectacles, he glanced down thecolumns and read in English the following sentences that had fallen fromthe Kaiser's lips: "You English are mad, mad, mad as English hares.What has come over you that you are so completely given over tosuspicions unworthy of a great nation? What more can I do than I havedone? My heart is set upon peace, and it is one of my dearest wishes tolive on the best of terms with England. Have I ever been false to myword? Falsehood and prevarication are alien to my nature. My actionsought to speak for themselves, but you listen not to them, but to thosewho misinterpret and distort them. This is a personal insult, which Ifeel and resent!"
Drost replaced the cutting upon the table, and both men burst intohilarious laughter.
"Really, in the light of present events, those printed words must causeour dear friends, the English, considerable chagrin," declared Ortmann.
"Yes. They now see how cleverly we have tricked them," said Drost witha grin. "That interview gave us an increased six years for preparation.Truly, our Emperor is great. He is invincible!"
And both men raised their tall Bohemian glasses in honour of theArch-Murderer of Europe.
That little incident at table was significant of the feelings andintentions of the conspirators.
"Your girl Ella is still very active, and that fellow Kennedy seemsever-watchful," Ortmann remarked presently in a decidedly apprehensivetone. "I know, of course, that your daughter would do nothing to harmyou personally; but remember that Kennedy is a British naval officer,and that he might--from patriotic motives--well--"
"Kill his prospective father-in-law--eh?" chimed in the Dutch pastor,with a light laugh.
The Count hesitated for a second. Then he said:
"Well, perhaps not exactly kill you, but he might make things decidedlyunpleasant for us both, if he got hold of anything tangible."
"Bah! Rest assured that he'll never get hold of anything," declaredDrost. "I've had him out to Barnes to dinner once or twice lately, buthe's quite in the dark."
"Are you absolutely certain that he knows nothing of what is in progressin your laboratory upstairs!" queried Ortmann. "Are you absolutelycertain that Ella has told him nothing?"
"Quite--because she herself knows nothing."<
br />
"If she knows nothing, then why are we both watched so closely byKennedy?" asked Ortmann dubiously.
"Bah! Your fancy--mere fancy!" declared the professor of chemistry. "Iknow you've been unduly suspicious for a long time, but I tell you thatElla and her lover are far too much absorbed in their own affairs totrouble about our business." Ortmann shrugged his shoulders. He didnot tell his friend Drost the true extent of his knowledge, for it wasone of his main principles never to confide serious truths to anybody.By that principle he had risen in his Emperor's service to the high andresponsible position he now occupied--the director of The Hidden Hand.
As such, he commanded the services of many persons of both sexes in theUnited Kingdom. Some were persons who, having accepted German money orGerman favours in the pre-war days, were now called upon to dance