Читать книгу The Adventures of Heine - Edgar Wallace - Страница 7

Table of Contents

WHEN I left London hurriedly, after the arrest of Alexander Koos, I must confess that my mind was greatly disturbed. I sat half the night in my sleeper, turning over all the circumstances leading up to the arrest of my good friend. We Germans are the most logical people in the world. We argue with precision from known facts, and we deduce from those facts such subtle conclusions as naturally flow.

We do not indulge in frivolous speculations—we Germans are a serious people with a passion for accurate data.

Thus I argued: (1) if a secret police force bad been established it is a post-war creation. Otherwise our general staff would have known of its existence and have advised us. (2) Supposing a secret service had been initiated where would its agents be found? Naturally in the vicinity of the great arsenals and military camps. Under these circumstances it was not surprising that Koos, confining his investigations to Woolwich, had been brought into contact with a member this new organisation. (3) It was humanly impossible that the operations of an improvised secret service could be extended in a few days to areas other than military and arsenal areas. Therefore it behoved the investigator to avoid as far as possible arousing suspicion by pursuing his inquiries in the neighbourhood of arsenals and camps.

At eight o’clock in the morning I was taking my breakfast in the station-buffet at Edinburgh. Von Kahn was awaiting me, and over the meal, served by sleepy waitress, I had an opportunity of retailing the events which had I to my hasty departure from London. Von Kahn stroked his moustache thoughtfully.

“Koos was an impetuous man,” he said. “I am not surprised that he has been detected. You must not forget, my dear Heine, that we Germans have only one thought, only one goal, the welfare of the Fatherland. Koos allowed his penchant for feminine society to overcome his judgment. That is a mistake which should never make.”

I looked at our good Von Kahn, with his big red face and his short, well-fed body, and I could not help thinking that it would be indeed a remarkable circumstance if he allowed himself to be lured to destruction in such a manner.

He joined the train and went on with me to Dundee. We had not gone far from the station before the train stopped and an attendant came in and pulled down all the blinds, removing, in spite of our protest, all our baggage, which he locked in an empty compartment.

“What is the meaning of this?” I demanded.

“I am very sorry, sir,” said the man “but those are my orders.”

For a moment I had a cold feeling inside me that I was suspected, but his next words reassured me.

“We do it to everybody, sir, before we cross the—— Bridge.”

When he had gone I turned to von Kahn. “This is an extraordinary thing,” I said. ”I never suspected the English of taking such intelligent precautions.”

Von Kahn laughed.

“The English here are Scots,” he said, “and they are very cautious.”

I should have dearly liked to peep out when the rumble of the wheels told we were passing the famous bridge, but in the corridor outside the carriage discovered, to my amazement, a Scottish soldier with fixed bayonet, and for some reason or other his eyes never left us.

It was not until we were a very long way past the bridge that the attendant returned my bag and suit-case and pulled up the blind, and not until we reached Dundee that I discussed the matter at with von Kahn.

“I have reason to believe he said, “that we have passed a portion of the British Fleet, and it will be my endeavour during the next few days to discover what units are at present in the region of Rosyth.”

He told me this in the cab on the way to our hotel and he also gave me a great of deal of information about the East Coast defences which it had been his business to investigate.

“It is practically impossible to get near the important parts of the coast,” he said, “and I think you must give up all idea of establishing light-signal stations at X and Q.”

This was a sad disappointment to me, which I did not attempt to bide.

“My dear von Kahn,” I said testily, “you are getting hypnotised by the English. You are giving them credit for gifts which are not theirs. You are imagining that these people, these Scots for example, have the same keen national sense of suspicion as we Germans possess.”

We drove the rest of the journey to an hotel in silence. I registered here in the name by which I was known to the Chilean Legation. I had never been in Dundee before and I hope I may never see the town again, for reasons which will be sufficiently obvious to all the good friends who read my narrative.

My local agent here was a barber named Schmidt, and the first thing I did on my arrival at the hotel was to send for a barber! What was more natural than that a weary traveller should require shaving! Ah! do not smile, my friends! By such acts of forethought and detail was our great service built up and wonderfully established. Our good friend came with his little black bag and was admitted to my room. The honest fellow was almost overcome by the sight of one whom he regarded as being a veritable link between himself and his “Supreme War Lord”.

“It is beautiful to be able to speak our noble German tongue again,” he said; “think of it, Herr Heine! Here I am week in and week out talking Scotch—not even English.”

He had much to tell me that I committed to memory. He even had had the good fortune to be called in professionally to an admiral who was passing through Dundee on the way to a certain town in the north.

“Naturally,” said Schmidt “I was extremely tactful and suspicion-avoiding. But, Herr Heine, not even the high officers of State know discretion. Reticence is not!”

“I wish you’d take me with you, Sir Jones,” I said; he was well-born and had been created a Sir for war knowledge.”

“Come along,” said Sir Jones, “but I’m afraid you will not be comfortable when our fleet goes into action next week against Heligoland.”

“That is a strong fortress, Admiral, I said.”

“We have been undermining it for a month,” said Sir Jones.

“Herr Heine I nearly fainted with excitement. Consider the position. Here was I, a faithful servant of the Fatherland listening to one of the most important military secrets from an Excellency of the English Navy. I kept my blood cool and went on lathering without a tremble of hand. ” ‘That must have been terribly difficult Sir Jones,’ I said. ‘Not at all,’ said Sir Jones; ‘we have a new submarine on. wheels that creeps along the bed of the ocean and fortunately there are beneath Heligoland several very large caves in which our divers can store explosives. I trust you will regard all I have told you as confidential!’”

By the time Schmidt had finished I was on my feet. I knew that there had been a secret vote or appropriation for the British Navy a year before. So this was the reason. “Send Herr von Kahn to me, you will find him in Room 84,” I said; and long before my companion had arrived I was working at my codes.

“We must find a way to get this information to Germany,” I said.

“The way is simple,” said he; “the Sven Gustavus is in harbour waiting to clear for Bergen. She has wireless, and outside of the territorial waters she can get into touch with the Bremen wireless station.”

The message I sent was a large code, and I have since learnt that it created something like a sensation at the Admiralty. All the warships in the vicinity of Heligoland were ordered away, the Corps of Divers came from Cuxhaven and the foundations of the island were thoroughly explored, although the Admiralty Marine Survey Department was emphatic on the point that no caverns existed under the island. As a matter of fact none were discovered, though a certain suspicious-looking hole was found in one of the rocks.

[This is not an extravagant story of German credulity but is based upon the fact. The more improbable a story was at the beginning of the war, particularly in regard to the British Navy, the more eagerly did the German Admiralty swallow it.— E.W.]

We stopped at the top of the hill and von Kahn pointed out the shooting-box which stood on the crest of the farther rise—a little white building.

“Our Mr. Brown is at home,” he said and pointed to the flag, a yellow flag with a red lion in the centre, the same being the secret standard of Scotland, which is always flown in defiance of the English, whose banner is the Union Jack. We had discussed our plans thoroughly the night before because, obviously, nothing could be left to the last, and it would have been extremely dangerous to have talked in the presence of the chauffer of our hired car.

I have always made it a point to have no dealings with anybody outside our own service, and I had arranged with von Kahn to undertake all negotiations with this stranger. I said good-bye to my friend and wished him good luck, and I watched him as he descended a steep footpath and walked along the little road that led to the farther hill.

I sent the chauffeur back to the main road, telling him to rejoin me at noon, and profitably spent the time of waiting by exploring ground and coding a message on the Swiss incident, for transmission to Germany. Through my glasses I could watch from time to time the progress of. my comrade. I saw him climb the hill and stand before the door of the cottage, and presently a man came out! They talked together for about ten minutes and then they both disappeared into the interior.

It was not until half ten that von Kahn made his appearance again. I saw him shake hands with his host and wave his hand cheerily and three-quarters of an hour later he rejoined me on the crest of the hill.

“Well ?” I asked. There was no need to ask von Kahn His eyes were gleaming with. triumph.

“I can only say,” said he, “that our Mr. Brown is a remarkable man.”

“In what way?”

“He speaks German, he reads German, and he is German,” said von Kahn emphatically, “he has a library of all the German classics. I discovered that when he was out of the room. His flag-post obviously supports a, wireless aerial in the night-time, and although he is bland and uncommunicative, I have no doubt whatever about his character. He is one of the Higher Service.”

I nodded.

“Did he give you any hint—?” I began.

“Not a word,” said. von Kahn emphatically: “he speaks splendid English, is well acquainted with Australia, and pretends that he is a wealthy pleasure-seeker with no other interest than fishing and shooting.”

“I hope you were tactful,” I said suddenly. Von Kahn smiled.

“My dear Heine,” he said, “you need have no apprehension. I whistled a certain little tune you know, and he finished it without hesitation. He is not only in the Higher Service, but he stands very high in the Higher Service.”

To make absolutely sure, we returned that night, and in company with von Kahn I crossed the valley and climbed the hill. I was half-way up the hill when I heard a familiar sound. If you can imagine the rattling of dried peas in a tin canister shaken at irregular intervals, you know the sound that wireless makes, and that a wireless message was being tapped from the cottage on the hill there was no doubt. More than this, the unknown Mr. Brown had taken elaborate precautions to avoid detection. We climbed the hill a little higher and suddenly my foot caught an obstruction. I flashed my electric lamp down and saw that I had snapped a tiny wire.

Instantly the “clickety-click” of the wireless ceased. There was a stealthy footstep at the top of the hill and I guessed that the aerial was being taken down, and that it would be stowed and hidden, together with the instruments, long before any intruder could reach the cottage.

“Go up now,” I whispered to Kahn; “go quickly and reveal yourself.”

I handed him the message I had coded and which I had brought with me.

“Give him your official number, show him your credentials and ask the illustrious gentleman to send this message through.”

Kahn took the massage without a word and began the ascent. I watched him, lot moving from my position and presently I heard him challenged sharply.

“It is I,” said von Kahn’s voice and, like the bold fellow that he was, he spoke in German. Some one replied in the same language. There was a brief exchange of question and answer and the three—the Swiss valet was evidently present—disappeared into the cottage, and a few minutes later I saw the red glow of a light from the windows.

I was sorely tempted to creep up and listen. After all, there was no reason why von Kahn alone should have an opportunity of greeting this well-born gentleman who might be in a position to speak a favourable word in the highest quarters regarding myself. Then again, I was not sure that von Kahn would fulfil his mission to my satisfaction.

I determined to risk it, and keeping as much in the shadow as possible, and feeling gingerly for other wire signals, I made my way to the little platform upon which the cottage stood. We had specially put on rubber-soled shoes for the night’s work, and I moved noiselessly. The door was closed, but there was no difficulty in discovering the room to which von Kahn bad been taken. I crept nearer to the window. The two men were talking and laughing and, thank heaven their speech was in German.

“But how do I know,” I heard Mr, Brown say, “that you are not a member of the British Secret Service?”

“For the matter of that,” said von Kahn jovially, “how am I to know that your Excellency is not also of that phantom body?”

And they both laughed together. I heard the clink of a bottle on a glass and two hearty “Prosits,” and then Mr, Brown spoke again.

“Now what can I do for you? I suppose you know that you ought not to have come anywhere near me? How did you find me out ? Was it the ever-to-be-condemned tune I whistled?”

Von Kahn chuckled. “I have known about you for a long time,” he said, “and as I am in need of help I thought I would take the bull by the horns and seek this interview.”

“Are you alone ? ” asked Mr. Brown.

“Quite alone,” said von Kahn promptly.

“I mean, were you alone in making the discovery?”

“Quite alone,” said von Kahn again.

“Then you are a remarkably shrewd fellow,” laughed Brown.

I can tell you it made my blood boil to bear this swine hound taking all the credit for this discovery. Little he know that I was standing outside the window listening to his immodest perfidy! Could he not have said, “No, Excellency, the credit is due entirely to my respected chief whose name I am forbidden to mention I am merely an instrument in a superior hand?” Oh, no! His vanity and deceit he must take full kudos to himself. Would he go any further?

Almost as I framed this question he spoke. “I would ask your Excellency,” he said, “if you ever refer to this meeting to the illustrious Chief of Naval Intelligence that you will give him a testimonial.”

I could hardly restrain myself. For one second it was in my mind to rap sharply at the window and denounce this underling. But, fortunately, I restrained myself, though I was boiling with rage. We Germans have a keen sense of justice and are inherently, almost transparently, honest, and nothing distresses us, so angers us, as duplicity and ingratitude.

“But surely,” said Mr. Brown’s voice, “you did not come alone to-night?”

I waited. Just as I had been anxious far von Kahn to give me full credit, so was I now anxious to hear him deny my presence. I do not know what it was that brought this revulsion of feeling, whether it was something in the tone of Mr Brown or some instinctive flash of knowledge that all was not well, but I sweated as I stood waiting for the answer which seemed an eternity in coming, though in reality it was only a second or so.

“No, I assure you, Herr Brown,” said von Kahn, “I came alone.”

“That makes matters simple,” said Brown’s voice, and as he spoke the light went out. I heard von Kahn shout, but his voice was instantly muffled There was a struggle, a thud that seemed to shake the little building, a groan and then silence.

I had my automatic pistol in my hand in a second.

Should I go to his rescue and take the risk of capture or should I leave him I his fate? It was a terrible decision I was called upon to make. We Germans do not shrink from our responsibilities nor are we governed by the foolish sentimentality which dictates the actions of the commoner tribes. I made n way down the hill with great rapidity You may say that I was leaving a comrade to his fate, but I answer that when one cog of a wheel breaks off do the other cogs disintegrate themselves in sympathy. We were part of a great machine von Kahn and I, and my action, if it needed such justification, was justified in the events which followed.

I was within fifty yards of the narrow road which winds along the base of the hill when I thought I heard a sound before me and I stopped, flattened myself on the ground between two bushes, and listened. There was no doubt that I had reason for my suspicions. I heard, not one stealthy footfall, but a dozen, and peering up, I saw against the artificial sky-line which I had created by lowering myself to the earth half a dozen shadowy figures. The nearest was ten yards away and my heart came to my throat when I saw a gleam of light upon the tunic of a policeman.

They were police, undoubtedly, and they were making their way up the hill such a manner as led me to believe that the hill itself was practically surrounded. I watched holding my breath. The first of the figures passed two yards away, the second on my right less than a yard. I waited until they were well up the hill before I moved, and then I wriggled forward with the utmost caution for I thought it was possible that they had left a guard on the road. This view proved to be correct as I had not got far before I saw a man pacing the roadway.

Fortunately his beat was long and I was able to gain the road and cross it.

I found myself in a field of cabbages Here again luck was with me, for running two sides of the field was a deep ditch. Into this I sank and with great labour reached the opposite hill, on the top of which, hidden in a small copse, were the two motor-bicycles which had brought us on our night adventure.

Here again German forethought saved me from what might have been destruction. Von Kahn had suggested we should have the chauffeur and the car we had in the morning, but as I pointed out, this would have aroused suspicion and so instead we bad hired two motor bicycles, not from the town in which we were staying, but one five miles farther along the line from whence we had set forth upon our quest.

Nearby by the copse, as I had seen earlier in the day, was a disused quarry overgrown with vegetation. Swiftly I wheeled Kahn’s bicycle to the edge and flung it over. It would remain undiscovered for at least a few days, and possibly for ever, unless a search was made.

To leap upon the other motor-cycle and to go flying down the road was the work of a, few minutes. I confess I was agitated and nervous. Who was the mysterious man who lived at the top of the hill ? How did he know we were coming that night and was so sure of the hour that he could surround his house with policemen to trap us? Why had he assaulted my friend when he and his servant could have overcome him or have held him at the point of a revolver until the police arrived?

My position was a precarious one. Von Kahn had been seen with me in Dundee and obviously my business was to make myself scarce. It was half past eleven that night when I rode up to the cycle dealer’s in X —, and knocked at the door. The town was asleep and the street deserted, but the man had been expecting our return and was waiting up.

He looked surprised at my muddy appearance and more surprised at the absence of my companion. I apologized to him, and told him that my friend bad been called away to London and had ridden down to a station on the main line. I think he was most surprised when I offered to buy the cycle I was using and also to buy that of von Kahn. I told him that I had taken a liking to the machine and that von Kahn had similarly expressed a wish to retain his. The price he fixed was a fairly moderate one—we had already paid a large deposit—and I concluded the bargain there and then.

I was anxious, of course, to finish this business of the motor-cycles in order that I should not set on foot independent inquiries as to their whereabouts, inquiries which would certainly have identified me with von Kahn. Taking on a supply of petrol and trimming my lamp, I set out for Dundee, arriving at my hotel a little after four o’clock in the morning. After some difficulty I aroused the night porter, a sleepy old man whose name, I remembered, was Angus, and went to my room, packed my small valise and, awaiting my opportunity, stole out of the hotel, strapped my bag to the carrier of the bicycle, and rode through the drear, menacing streets of Dundee for the last time.

Twenty miles out of Dundee all trace of the mysterious person who had disappeared from big hotel leaving a £5 note to cover his bill and a polite request that his letters should be forwarded to the Majestic Hotel, London, vanished. A cool young Englishman joined an early morning train to Edinburgh at an intermediate station, and certainly that cool young Englishman in his grey tweeds and his eye-glass bore no resemblance to the muddy cyclist in soiled overalls who bad crossed the river at Perth and had excited the attention of a certain mounted constable.

That cool young Englishman, perfect in every detail, might have been seen leaving the Central Station at Glasgow that same afternoon not only accompanied by his valise but by a large portmanteau which he had taken from the cloak-room at the station and which with characteristic German foresight he had caused to forwarded to Glasgow on the night he left London for Dundee.

I had communicated with London by telephone. Nothing had been heard of von Kahn but the whole of my service in England was now on the qui vive. Posser, one of my assistants, was on his way to Glasgow to confer with me, and half a dozen agents in that town were busy investigating the mystery of the man on the hill.

I was sitting at dinner that night in one of the fashionable restaurants of Glasgow, a restaurant approached through a magnificent marble vestibule, searching the latest edition of the papers, hoping for two lines which would give me a clue to von Kahn’s fate, when a staring headline met my eye and I gasped.

SWISS FORGERS

SENSATIONAL ARRESTS AT GLEN MACINTYRE

“The Sheriff’s Court at Stirling was crowded to-day when Emil Zimmerwald, alias Brown, a Swiss, Louis Swart, Swiss, and Heinrich Kahn, also described as a Swiss, were remanded on a charge of forging Swiss bank notes. Inspector Macguire, of the Stirling Constabulary, stated that the prisoner Zimmwald, who called himself Brown, rented a cottage at Glen Macintyre, Swart posing as his valet. The two men were well-known international forgers, and had been engaged in printing a very large number of Swiss banknotes. The attention of the police had first been attracted to the house owing to the noise of working of the small printing machine which the prisoners used for their nefarious purpose. On raiding the premises the prisoner Kahn was discovered in a dazed condition. There had evidently been a quarrel and. Kahn had been struck. The prisoner Zimmerwald made a rambling statement to the effect that Kahn was a detective who had been sent to arrest him, but this highly improbable story will be investigated by the sheriff at a later sitting. The man Kahn resolutely refuses to make any statement at all.”

My poor von Kahn! Thou shalt go down in Scottish history as a confederate of forgers and shall spend many years in that grim penitentiary at Perth, pleading guilty to a crime abhorrent to thee, lest the confession of thy true crime lead thee to a firing party in the chilly dawn!