A Hero of Liége: A Story of the Great War, Page 2

  CHAPTER II--THE FIRST TRICK

  With the door shut, the room was almost wholly dark. It contained nofurniture but a plain deal table and a wooden chair. Kenneth sat downand ruminated. His position was annoying, but also mildly exciting. Itwould be something to tell his people when he got home, that he had beenarrested as a spy.

  It was now five o'clock. Dinner was at seven: his train left athalf-past nine, and the stationmaster had advised him to be at thestation at least an hour in advance. He had addressed his note toFinkelstein at the office, and expected that his friend would arrivewithin half an hour or so and procure his release. In the absence ofany evidence against him a prolonged detention would surely beimpossible.

  Perhaps half an hour had passed when he heard footsteps on the passage;the key turned in the lock, and he started up, expecting to seeFinkelstein. But there entered a constable, bringing a mug of beer anda piece of rye bread.

  "My friend Herr Finkelstein has not come?" Kenneth asked.

  "Nobody has come for you," replied the man.

  "My note was taken to him?"

  "If you wrote a note, I daresay it was."

  "Aren't you sure?"

  "I have only just come on duty, sir."

  The constable set the food on the table and went out, locking the door.

  Anticipating dinner, Kenneth was not tempted to eat the coarse fareprovided. He was still not seriously alarmed, though his annoyance grewwith the passing minutes. Finkelstein never left his office untilhalf-past six; there was plenty of time for him to have received thenote--unless there had been delay in delivering it. This possibilitywas somewhat perturbing.

  Kenneth began to wonder what had led to his arrest. He was quiteunknown to the police; nothing in his appearance was aggressivelyEnglish. So far as he knew he had no enemy in Cologne, so that itseemed unlikely that anyone had put the police on his track out of sheermalice.

  His thoughts reverted to the incident of the afternoon. The discoverythat Hellwig was in the German secret service, surprising as it was,made clear certain things that had puzzled him. During his frequentvisits to London, Hellwig was accustomed to stay at the Amorys' house,and had many callers who came to see him privately, on the firm'sbusiness, as Kenneth had supposed. It seemed only too probable now thatthey were agents in the work of espionage.

  A sudden suspicion flashed into Kenneth's mind. Was it possible thathis arrest was due to Hellwig? From what he had overheard it was clearthat Hellwig was a man of considerable authority in the secret service.A word from him would no doubt suffice. But what could his motive be?Kenneth was under no illusion as to the man's character. He had alwaysthoroughly disliked and distrusted him, and felt instinctively that thedislike was mutual. Could it be that Hellwig, knowing himselfdiscovered, and fearing that Kenneth, on his return to London, wouldinform the authorities, had taken this step to save himself? It seemedan unnecessary precaution, for if war broke out between Britain andGermany, Hellwig would make no more journeys to London for some time tocome.

  The more Kenneth thought over the matter, the more convinced he becamethat Hellwig, whatever his motive might be, had caused his arrest. Theconviction destroyed his confidence in an early release. The man wouldstick at nothing. He would have foreseen an application to Finkelstein,and taken steps to forestall it. What if the note should never reachFinkelstein?

  Kenneth was now thoroughly alarmed. The Germans had a short way withspies, or those they regarded as spies, even during peace; it was likelyto be shorter and sharper than ever on the outbreak of war. Theprospect of being taken out and shot sent cold thrills through him.

  Contemplating this dark eventuality he heard heavy footsteps overhead.He looked up, and for the first time saw a glint of light from theceiling in one corner of the room. The footsteps passed: all was silentagain.

  Kenneth sat thinking. If his suspicions were well founded, he felt thathis doom was sealed. It would be easy for a man like Hellwig tofabricate evidence against him. In default of Finkelstein's assistance,which Hellwig would take care to prevent, his only means of safety layin flight. But what chance was there of escaping from this locked andshuttered room? An examination of the window showed the hopelessness ofit.

  The faint streak of light above again attracted his notice. Noiselesslydrawing the table beneath it, he mounted to examine its source. Aportion of the plaster had fallen away from the ceiling, and the lightfiltered through a narrow crack in the flooring above. This discovery,under pressure of circumstances, gave him a gleam of hope. Taking outhis pocket knife, he began to scrape quietly at the plaster, graduallyenlarging the hole. What there might be above he could not tell;judging by the passing in and out of the footsteps the room wasunoccupied.

  While he was engaged on this work he heard steps in the passage without.Springing down, he swept on to the floor, and under the table, theplaster he had scraped from the ceiling, then stood waiting eagerly.Perhaps it was Finkelstein at last.

  The door opened. A man was thrust into the room, and the door againlocked. The newcomer swore.

  "You're an Englishman?" cried Kenneth.

  "Do I find a companion in adversity?" said the man. "We can condole."

  "Who are you?"

  "What is your father? How many horses does he keep? Bless me, how thisreminds me of my innocent childhood! 'More light,' as Goethe said. ButI can see well enough to know that you are a youngster. Sad, sad!"

  Peering at the stranger, Kenneth saw a man of about thirty-five, withhair _en brosse_, Germanic moustache, and a German military uniform.

  "I should pass in a crowd, one would think," the man went on, smilingunder Kenneth's scrutiny. "But Fate is unkind."

  "You are a spy?" said Kenneth.

  "And you, my friend?"

  "No. They say so, but I'm not."

  "They say so, and they will have their way. Ah, well! They say also,that it is a sweet and comely thing to die for one's country. I alwaysthought I should die in my boots."

  "Can they prove it against you?"

  "A scrap of paper! They can't read it, but what matters that? A notein cipher is evidence enough. But I shall not die unavenged: they arecrying in the streets that war is declared, and I fancy that EmperorWilliam has bitten a little more than he can chew. What brings you tothis deplorable extremity?"

  "I don't know: a private enemy, I think."

  "Well, the rain falls on the just and the unjust. I'm sorry for you.Haven't you any friend, though, who can get this door unlocked?"

  Kenneth explained briefly what had happened. Then, feeling a strangeliking for his companion, he added:

  "When you came in, I was wondering about the chances of escape."

  "A waste of brain tissue, unless you have some talisman. But tell me,you have some definite idea?"

  "You see that hole in the ceiling? I was enlarging it."

  "Ha! A man of action! Nil desperandum, eh? Let me have a look at it."

  He mounted on the table, and thrust his hand into the opening.

  "I say, youngster," he said, a note of eagerness in his voice, "there isa chance, on my life there is. The boards above are not over firm. Wemay be skipping out of the frying-pan into the fire, but one can onlydie once. Continue with your work; I'll mount guard and warn you ofanyone approaching."

  Kenneth scraped away with his penknife, until the hole was large enoughto admit his head and shoulders. The light, coming through a singlecrack, did not increase, so that the enlargement of the hole mighteasily escape notice if a constable entered. The stranger put the chairon the table.

  "Mount on that," he said; "put your back against the boards, andshove--gently."

  Kenneth did as he was instructed. The pressure of his back started thenails, and a plank rose, with an alarming creak.

  "That won't be heard through the rumble of traffic outside," said theman. "Wait a little. You don't know anything of the room above?"

  "Nothing. I heard someb
ody go in and out a while ago; I think it isempty."

  "Well now: let us keep cool. We can get into the room: that is certain.Can we get out of it? We shall have to descend the stairs. Our chanceof life depends on one half-minute. 'Can a man die better than facingfearful odds?' Look here: we'll toss. Heads: we'll go up; tails--why,hang it, we'll still go up! Fortuna fortibus! Wait till we hear therumble of the next artillery wagon; then! ..."

  They had not long to wait. Heavy traffic passed at short intervals.

  "Now!" said the stranger.

  Kenneth gave a heave. In a moment two planks were removed. Resting hisarms on the edges of those on either side of the gap, he hoisted himselfup. His companion quickly followed. They stood in the room.

  The next half minute was filled to breathlessness. It was a bedroom. Astreet lamp outside threw a little light into it. Hanging from a peg onthe door was a policeman's tunic and helmet.

  "Fortune's our friend," murmured the stranger.

  In ten seconds he had helped Kenneth to don the uniform. They crept outof the room, and peeped over the stair rail. The way was clear. Allsounds within were smothered by the noise in the street. They stoledownstairs, past the closed door of the guardroom, through the outerdoor, and into the open. "War with England!" shouted a newsman at thecorner.

  "We win the first trick!" chuckled the stranger, as they hurried along.