Читать книгу The Fritz Strafers - Percy F. Westerman - Страница 10

ERNST VON GOBENDORFF was up betimes. A forty or fifty miles' railway journey was before him. Until he was within a short distance of Poldene Station he did not consider it prudent to assume his disguise.

He knew that the great Poldene Bridge was closely guarded both by land and water. To attempt to approach would be courting suspicion, even if he appeared in a military officer's uniform. He knew that he could board a "Service" train at Poldene, but here again the difficulty arose as to how he could obtain the privacy necessary for the ultimate attainment of his designs.

The spy alighted at a small station midway between the town and the bridge. He had had a first-class carriage to himself, and the fact that he had entered it as a well-groomed civilian and had left the train dressed in the uniform of a major of the Intelligence Staff passed unnoticed.

His next step was to make for an isolated cottage standing on high ground overlooking the river. Three small boys, sauntering along the leafy lane, turned and gazed at the khaki-clad man. It was mere curiosity. They would have stared at any stranger, whether in uniform or otherwise, but von Gobendorff's lowering brows betokened intense annoyance. It meant that he had to walk past his immediate objective and return when the youngsters were at a safe distance.

A little farther down the lane a middle-aged man in worn fustian clothes was ambling along. Seeing the supposed major approach the fellow stopped, and, pulling out a clasp knife, began to cut hazel switches from the hedge. By this time von Gobendorff was within ten paces of him, and the man resumed his walk with three wands in his hand.

Von Gobendorff seemingly paid little or no attention, but, shifting his suit-case from his right hand to his left, he struck his heel lightly with his malacca cane—thrice, in a most casual way.

"Have you been to the cottage, Herr von Gobendorff?" asked the man in German. "I had to go down to the river, but I hoped to be back before you arrived."

"It matters little," replied the spy. "Have you arranged about a dog?"

"A huge beast," was the reply. "Terrifying in appearance, but he's muzzled and chained."

"It is well," rejoined von Gobendorff. "Now listen carefully. I don't want this business bungled. You say you can get across to the signal-post without being seen from the signal-box, and you know what to do?"

"Yes," was the reply. "All that is necessary is to remove a bolt from the rod, and the signal-arm, being weighted, will rise to the danger position."

"Quite so," agreed von Gobendorff; "but the point is this: can you lower the arm again? The train must be delayed for not longer than five minutes—less if possible. I will place the explosive between the rails. It has a six-minute fuse, so there is little margin. I don't want to be blown up with a crowd of Englishmen."

"I understand," replied the other. "But will six minutes be enough?"

"Enough and no more," rejoined the spy. "The moment the down train crosses the bridge and gains the double-track the American troop train, which will have to wait for it, will start again. Once over the bridge it will not matter whether the engine is over the point of detonation, for the whole structure will collapse and the train with it. Now, fetch me the dog."

The huge St. Bernard showed neither enthusiasm nor mistrust at the sight of its new master. It suffered itself to be taken away on the lead, and, as previously related, the pseudo major and his canine companion contrived to board the guard's van of the Service down train to Trecurnow.

In spite of his steady nerves von Gobendorff's pulse quickened as the train came to a standstill on the centre of the lofty bridge. As he expected, the guard's attention was directed towards the signal set at danger. What was better still, the man alighted and walked along the permanent way.

The spy waited until he saw the guard returning. Five minutes had almost elapsed, but the signal had not dropped. Von Gobendorff was confronted by two alternatives: either to set the fuse in action and drop the explosive under the carriage before the guard returned, or else wait until the line was reported clear. He chose the former, relying implicitly upon his assistant's ability to lower the signal-arm.

Therein he made a grievous error, for the bolt, in being released from the operating rods of the signal, took it into its head to jerk itself out of the man's grasp, rolling down the embankment and choosing a secure retreat under the roots of a thick thorn-bush. The wrench which von Gobendorff's accomplice employed was too massive to be used as a temporary bolt, and in the absence of anything suitable it was impossible to pull down the arm to the safety position. The train beginning to move towards the fellow's scene of action warned him that it was unhealthy to linger longer, so taking to his heels he bolted.

Meanwhile the spy cautiously lowered the explosive out of the window, intending to swing it under the carriage, but forgetting that the dog's chain was padlocked round his own wrist von Gobendorff was unpleasantly surprised when the St. Bernard shook his massive head. The sudden jolt had the result of jerking the cord out of the spy's hand, and the leather case dropped upon the permanent way in full view of the occupants of the two adjoining carriages.

Von Gobendorff made no effort to retrieve his dangerous property. It was high time that he put a safe distance between him and the explosive, for the fuse had now been active for two minutes and the signal-arm still remained at danger.

Uttering maledictions upon himself for not having unlocked the dog's chain from his wrist the spy drew the key from his pocket. To his dismay the key failed to open the padlock, while an attempt to unfasten the rusty spring-hook that fastened the chain to the animal's collar was equally fruitless.

Once again the Teutonic love of detail had over-reached itself. Von Gobendorff had arranged everything to the minutest point, but there was a slight flaw in the operations and it led to failure.

Followed by the St. Bernard the spy leapt from the van and, taking advantage of the fact that the attention of the spectators at the window was centred upon the still obstinately fixed signal, was soon lost in the drifting mist that, fortunately for him, was rising over the eastern end of the bridge.

Knowing that there was a sentry posted on the embankment von Gobendorff advanced boldly, trusting to his disguise to enable him to pass. In this he was quite successful, for the man, on seeing the "Brass Hat" approach, stood still to the salute, the pseudo major returning the compliment in correct military style.

Once clear of the sentry von Gobendorff scrambled down the embankment and made towards the well-wooded country at high speed. With luck he hoped to cover half a mile before the expected explosion occurred; even then his margin of safety was perilously small.

Suddenly the deep boom of a heavy explosion rent the air. Instinctively the spy stopped and listened intently; but no crash of falling girders and masonry, nor the cries of hundreds of men hurtling to their doom, followed the initial roar.

Conscious of failure von Gobendorff broke into a string of oaths as he resumed his flight. The dog was beginning to become a hindrance, for hitherto it had followed well; but now it showed a strong disinclination to be urged at a rapid pace at the end of a chain.

Pulling out a revolver the spy eyed the animal with the intention of trusting to a bullet to sever the recalcitrant chain. At the sight of the weapon the St. Bernard's misgivings were roused, for with a deep growl the powerful brute backed, tugging viciously at the restraining links. Too late the spy thought of unbuckling the massive metal collar, for a warning growl from the muzzled brute let him know very effectively that the St. Bernard's motto was "Noli me tangere." One of the links snapped, and the dog sat down on its haunches while the spy retreated for several feet before subsiding upon the gnarled, and exposed root of a large tree.

Regaining his feet von Gobendorff took to his heels, wrapping the severed portion of the padlocked chain round his wrist as he ran. Before he had gone very far the St. Bernard came bounding to his side.

"Go back, you brute!" exclaimed the spy apprehensively. "Go home!"

Somewhat to his surprise the animal turned tail and ambled off. Just then came the sound of voices. Already his pursuers were on his trail.

Then the unpleasant thought occurred to him that perhaps the dog might be pressed into the service of the men on his track. He wished that he had risked the sound of a revolver shot and had put a bullet through the creature's brain. He had no love for man's best friend; in his youth he had been systematically cruel to animals, and the instinct still lingered. At the best he regarded a dog simply as a slave—an instrument: When no longer of use to him he would not have the slightest compunction in taking its life. It was only fear of discovery that stayed his hand.

Von Gobendorff was a fair athlete. He was especially good at long-distance running, and as he ran with his elbows pressed to his sides his footsteps made hardly any noise. He recognised the fact that it was necessary to avoid stepping on the dried twigs that lay athwart the path or to plunge recklessly through the brushwood.

Presently he came to a fairly wide brook. He hailed the sight with delight. For one thing the water would slake his thirst; for another he could throw the dog off the scent (supposing the animal turned against its temporary master) by wading up-stream.

Before he had waded ten yards he heard sounds of his pursuers coming straight ahead as well as on his left. It was an ominous sign, for they had evidently made their way through the wood on a broad front, and some had out-distanced the rest.

Ahead was a thick clump of willows, the thickly leafed branches trailing in the limpid water. For this cover the spy made, bending low to avoid the trailing boughs. Suddenly he stepped into a deep hole. Immersed to his neck he regained his footing; steadying himself against the force of the stream by grasping a bough.