Читать книгу The Day, or The Passing of a Throne - Fred M. White - Страница 7

Table of Contents

For a long time the two conspirators sat there smoking their cigarettes in silence. There was no patriotism in the mind of either though they were both German born. They were just spies, brilliant and audacious mercenaries, prepared to sell the seeds of their dirty work to the highest bidder. The mere fact that the German Government was prepared to pay a higher price than any other Government was the one thing that kept them straight. No other great Power in Europe besides Germany had any incentive to squander millions of money to purchase strategic secrets, and well those spies knew it. They were trusted agents of Prussia, and had known years ago that 'The Day' was inevitable. They knew too, that the thunderbolt would be launched at harvest time in 1914, and hitherto their task had been easy. They chuckled over the deluded Peace Party in Great Britain, and smiled at the country apparently dead to all sense of danger. Because of this Lady Loxton and her confederate, moving freely as they did in official circles, had no difficulty in supplying Berlin with priceless information, which was lavishly paid for.

For years they had lived on the fat of the land, but the sudden outbreak of hostilities froze the sources of supply, and the confederates were hard up for the opportunities of making a living.

Probably the authorities of Berlin had traded upon the fact. It had become a case of no cure no pay, and the failure of the ingenious Aldeborough scheme had found Lady Loxton and Garzia at the end of their resources. The mere thought of Rosslyn's aeroplane set their mouths watering. If they could get hold of the plans and specifications, to say nothing of the aeroplane itself, then they would be in clover for many a long day to come.

"We must think this out, Marie," Garzia muttered. "This prize is a rich one, and others will be put on the scent unless we move quickly. Meanwhile don't forget that I did not come here to-night merely to talk. There is work to do before we sleep, and it is getting late. Come, are you ready?"

The clocks in the sleeping city were striking the hour of two as Lady Loxton and her companion made their way through a trapdoor on to the roof of the flat. They were both shrouded from head to foot in black so that they could crouch behind a mass of chimneys without fear of being detected by the many searchlights playing across the chill, autumn sky. Here, too was an iron standard supporting scores of telephone wires, and from one of these a gleaming strand of copper dangled. To the end of this filament Garzia attached a telephone receiver. A strand of wire was in contact now with an official line connected with an intelligence department, and he was in position to hear everything that passed one way.

The little scheme had its drawback, but many a priceless bit of information had been tapped in that way in the dead of the night. It was Lady Loxton's business to act as amanuensis to Garzia and jot down in shorthand in a notebook such points as were worthy of record.

They crouched there for a long time, quite an hour or more, and the notebook was still a dreary blank.

Then Garzia started violently, and Lady Loxton stiffened.

"Here is something at last," Garzia murmured. "Have you got that notebook ready?"

Lady Loxton muttered that she had. In the excitement of the moment her German accent clearly betrayed her nationality. But there was no time now to be wasted in idle chatter, besides, such a thing was highly dangerous work before daylight.

Garzia did not say any more. He held the receiver to his left ear and with his right hand ticked off a sort of abbreviated Morse code on the leads of the flat. The woman by his side translated the sentences quickly in her notebook. At the end of half an hour Garzia dropped his receiver, and turned to his companion with an evil grin of triumph on his face.

"That is about all," he said. "Any way, we have netted a fine lot of fish to-night, and there is a real beauty amongst them. Now let us go back to the dining-room, and you shall read it all to refresh your memory. Then we will get busy."

The pair crept through the trap door and regained the dining-room without anybody apparently being any the wiser. The burglar-alarm had not been disturbed, as the state of the indicator proved, and none of the servants could have left their room without giving the signal.

So far everything had gone off well, and nothing remained for the present but to read the stolen message.

"I recognised the voice," Garzia exclaimed. "I need not tell you that it came from the Admiralty, and the speaker was calling up Stuart Hallett, who I need not tell you is our young friend Paul Rosslyn's chief. They were talking about that precious aeroplane. But I daresay you have gathered that."

Lady Loxton's eyes gleamed with joy.

"I did not," she said. "I was too busy taking down your information. Perhaps I had better read it."

She rattled it off glibly enough. Somebody in authority at the Admiralty had rung up Stuart Hallett at that late hour in the morning—for it was three o'clock—and the questioner was evidently anxious to get in contact with Rosslyn without delay. There was immediate and important work for him to do, but what it was had not been mentioned over the telephone. This was somewhat disappointing to the conspirators, and they would have given a great deal for further particulars, though Garzia had gathered that Rosslyn's task would have something to do with the new aeroplane.

This was something disturbing in a way, for it certainly meant more trouble for the spies. And there was something else that troubled them, because Garzia could make out from the one sided conversation that Hallett was uneasy in his mind inasmuch as Rosslyn had gone off on a dangerous mission, and had not yet returned, though in the ordinary course of things he should have been back in his rooms long ago. But against this they had the priceless information of the spot where the aeroplane was concealed and the combination letters with the lock on the door of the shed. The Admiralty official had repeated this twice by way of verifying his notes, and Garzia smiled grimly over this priceless bit of information.

"Now I wonder if anything has happened to Rosslyn?" he muttered. "I should not be surprised if he had gone off doing a bit of spy hunting on his own account. We are not the only people in London who know something about the work he is doing. What a glorious bit of luck this has been! Now we can safely rely upon the Admiralty man doing nothing before to-morrow. He will naturally wait for Rosslyn to turn up after the cool way officials do lag, and the moment to us will be distinctly precious."

Lady Loxton carefully tore her notes into fragments, and dropped them into the heart of the burning fire. She never left anything, however small, to chance, and in the matter of the letter lock combination she had a devoted faith in her own marvellous memory.

"I see you have something in your mind," she said eagerly. "I should like to know what you propose to do?"

"Walk off with the aeroplane," Garzia said, coolly. "Start out now and fetch it. There is nobody in London who knows the roads within a twenty-mile radius better than you do. Besides, you have not had an adventure for so long that your nerves must be getting flabby."

Lady Loxton laughed, and the gleam of battle shone in her eyes. For here was an adventure after her own heart. She was sick of inaction and the comparative failures of the past few weeks. She stood up live and graceful, a mass of pluck and courage to her finger tips. She would have hesitated at nothing, and if the worst came to the worst, she was quite ready and willing to use a revolver.

"It would be grand," she cried. "Let us start at once. But there are certain precautions, of course—"

Garzia made light of the suggestion.

"You shall see what you shall see," he said. "Now go and get ready, and I will fetch the car round."