back."
"Then you had better go over by the air express to-morrow morning,"replied Yvette, "and fly back to-morrow night. I will meet you at theold place ready to start. You can leave all papers to me."
Then Jules took up the story and for a couple of hours Dick listenedcarefully to the details of the organisation which Jules and Yvette hadset up in Langengrad, and he marvelled greatly at the extent andthoroughness of the work which had been done in so short a time.
A few days later Dick and Yvette, under the names of Monsieur andMademoiselle Victor, sister and brother, crossed the German frontier inthe Mohawk in the guise of tourists motoring through Germany andAustria-Hungary to Galdavia. Their passports, prepared by the FrenchSecret Service and bearing all the necessary _visas_, got them throughwithout the smallest difficulty. Speaking French really well, Dick hadno doubt that, outside France at any rate, he could safely pass for ayoung French officer. Jules had remained behind to carry out his shareof the campaign.
Dick drove steadily via Stuttgart and Munich to Salzburg, where heloaded up the Mohawk with all the petrol she could carry for the laststage of the journey. From Salzburg he proposed to fly across themountains to Klagenfurt, where he hoped to pick up the line of the DraveRiver and follow it to its confluence with the Danube. From there abrief trip by road would bring them to the borders of Galdavia.
It was a lovely autumn evening when the queer-looking motor-car left the"Bristol Hotel" at Salzburg and slid along the road to Radstadt, the"winter sport" resort. Very soon a sufficiently lonely spot was reachedand from a smooth patch of moorland turf the Mohawk rose into the airjust as the full moon was rising above the great mountains. The enginewas working splendidly and the Mohawk climbing swiftly into the keen airtravelled steadily until, just before midnight, Dick and Yvette sightedsimultaneously the lake at Klagenfurt and the silvery line of the Dravestretching away to the eastward.
With nearly three hundred miles to fly Dick set the Mohawk on a courseparallel to the Drave and slightly to the south of it, and for hourafter hour they flew on through the brilliant night. Five thousand feetup, they had no fear of detection and gave themselves up to enjoy thebeauty of the glorious panorama unfolded below them.
In less than five hours the Danube was sighted and crossed, and just asdawn was breaking, the Mohawk came to earth a few miles from the littletown of Neusatz. Quickly the aeroplane was metamorphosed into amotor-car and the "tourists" ran into Neusatz, the little Danube town,for breakfast and rest. A few hours later they were across the bordersof Galdavia and heading for Langengrad, the old capital surmounted by afrowning fortress built by the Turks in the Middle Ages.
Twenty-five miles from the city they halted at a wayside inn.
"This is where we shall meet Fedor," Yvette explained.
It was not until after they had had dinner, a homely meal in the trueGaldavian fashion, and it grew dark, that they heard from the roadwaythree sharp blasts on a motor-horn.
"There he is!" exclaimed the shrewd athletic girl. "Get the car out,Dick!"
The latter hurried to the shed at the rear which served as a garage andwhen, a few moments later, he drove the Mohawk into the white dustyroadway he found a big touring car drawn up and Yvette talking to atall, dark-eyed young fellow whom she introduced to Dick as "Count FedorRuffo."
Dick gazed at him with quick interest, for he had heard much of awonderful invention of the Count which was expected to play an importantpart in their quest. Fedor was a young fellow of quiet demeanour, withthe long nervous hands of an artist, a delicately cultured voice andsoft dreamy eyes. Dick took him for an Austrian, which he afterwardsfound to be correct. He had taken a high degree in science at Viennaand had settled in Langengrad as a teacher at the University there.
"Follow the Count's car as closely as possible, Dick," said Yvette. "Wewant to slip into Langengrad unnoticed, if possible. The fewer peoplewho see the Mohawk the better."
The Count's car moved away almost noiselessly into the darkness.Several times Fedor stopped and listened intently, and once they waitedan hour at a point where two roads crossed. Nothing happened, however,and about one o'clock in the morning they reached the outskirts ofLangengrad. Here the Count left the main road and slipped into a seriesof crooked by-streets lit only by the light of the moon. Finally, heturned into the courtyard of an old-fashioned house standing in its owngrounds and the Mohawk was speedily backed into a large empty shed, andthe door locked.
"Now, Mr Manton," said the Count in fair English, "will you drive MissPasquet in my car to the Continental and register there? She knows theway. Rooms have been taken for you. You had better use my car whileyou are here. In the meantime if we meet in public remember we arestrangers. Foreigners here are pretty closely watched."
The Hotel Continental at Langengrad is one of those cosmopolitancaravanserais dear to the heart of the tourist. As usual it wascrowded, and even at two o'clock in the morning the cafe was hummingwith activity. Consequently Dick and Yvette arrived almost unnoticed.Explaining that they had been delayed by a motor breakdown they weresoon in their rooms and were sound asleep.
Next morning Yvette took Dick out into the gay pleasant city ofboulevards and handsome buildings. He was immensely interested in thebrilliant scene, but he realised they were on a desperate mission andtook care to fix firmly in his mind the roads they would have to use.It was necessary, of course, to keep up the appearance of being meregaping sightseers and they went from shop to shop buying a quantity ofsouvenirs which neither desired in the smallest degree, and arrangingfor them to be delivered to their hotel.
In the Balkanskaya, one of the principal streets, Yvette paused at lastbefore a jewellers' window which blazed with gems. A moment later,followed by Dick, she slipped into a narrow passage at the side of theshop and turning into a doorway began to mount a flight of stairs whichseemingly led to suites of offices in the upper part of the building.On the third floor she halted before a dingy door, and knocked softly.
Instantly the door was opened by Fedor who, inviting them within, shutthe door and locked it. "Well, Fedor, what luck?" Yvette asked.
"The best," was the reply. "We have been able to find out exactly thepeople with whom Bausch and Horst are associating, and where theirmeetings are being held. You have arrived in the very nick of time. Ifancy--indeed, I am almost sure--the agreement will be signed eitherto-night or to-morrow night. I have overheard most of their talk."
"But how have you managed that?" Dick asked eagerly.
"Miss Pasquet's telephone, of course," said Fedor. "Didn't she tell youabout it?" Yvette blushed and laughed.
"You didn't know I was an electrician, did you, Dick?" she said. "Well,you will soon see my little invention at work. But it is nothing tocompare with Fedor's."
The good-looking Count talked earnestly for half an hour, acquaintingthem fully with the work of Yvette's agents in the Galdavian capital,until Dick became amazed at the perfection of the organisation which thealert young French girl had so swiftly created.
"Ostrovitch's Party," Fedor concluded, "usually meet at the house ofGeneral Mestich, who, as you know, is the Commander of the HeadquarterTroops in Langengrad. He is a wonderfully able man, but is a confirmedgambler and _bon viveur_, and is head over ears in debt. He plays atthe Jockey Club each night. There can be no doubt whatever that he hasbeen bought by Germany. His house in the Dalmatinska for a long timehas been notorious for its rowdy parties, and as a result it is quiteeasy for the conspirators to meet there without attracting undueattention. I am certain the Government does not realise how far thingshave gone yet. There is not a scrap of direct evidence. Mestich ispersonally very popular, and would in any ordinary matter carry with hima big volume of public opinion. But he dare not, as yet, venture on anydirect revolutionary action. His hope is to give his plot somesemblance of a popular movement, and he is gradually winning importantadherents. If he is given enough time I think he will succeed. Butwithout Bausch and Horst--t
hat is without Germany--the plot must go topieces. They are finding the money, which is being spent like water."
"This is certainly interesting," Dick exclaimed. "What are yourintentions?"
"Well, immediately opposite Mestich's house is an old building which formany years has been used as a store. It belongs to a loyalist friend ofours, and I can use it as I like. From one of the upper windows it ispossible to see right into Mestich's little _salon_, where the meetingsare held. We will meet there to-night. You must come separately to thealley at the back; we dare not enter by the front. There is a smalldoorway there, half overgrown by clematis and apparently never used. Iwill be inside waiting to open the door when you knock."
For the rest of the day Dick and Yvette