Number 70, Berlin Part 9

Admiralty officials are not too well paid for their splendid and untiring work, therefore to Charles Trustram this unexpected addition to his income was truly welcome.

The establishment of Lady Betty Kenworthy's Anti-Teutonic Alliance had caused a wave of indignant hatred of the German across the country, and hence it was receiving universal support. It aimed at the internment of all Germans, both naturalised and unnaturalised, at the drastic rooting out of the German influence in our officialdom, and the ousting of all persons who, in any sphere of life, might possess German connections by blood or by marriage.

While Trustram was, of course, debarred, on account of his official position, from open sympathy with the great movement, Lewin Rodwell and Sir Boyle went up and down the country addressing great and enthusiastic audiences and denouncing in violent terms the subtle influence of "the enemy in our midst."

Jack Sainsbury watched all this in grim silence. What he had overheard in the boardroom of the Ochrida Copper Corporation rang ever in his ears.

More than once he had sat in Sir Houston Bird's quiet, sombre consulting-room, and the pair had discussed the situation. Both agreed that the clever masquerade being played by Rodwell and his baroneted puppet was, though entertaining, yet a highly dangerous one. But without being in possession of hard, indisputable facts, how could they act? The British public had hailed Lewin Rodwell as a fine specimen of the truly patriotic Englishman, little dreaming him to be a wolf in sheep's-clothing. To all and every charitable appeal he subscribed readily, and to his small, snug house in Bruton Street came many of the highest in the land. Alas! that we always judge a man by his coat, his cook, his smiles and his glib speeches. Put a dress-suit upon the biggest scoundrel who ever stood in the dock at the Old Bailey--from Smith who murdered his brides in baths downwards--and he would pa.s.s as what the world calls "a gentleman."

One evening in December--the ninth, to be exact--there had been a big dinner-party at Sir Boyle's, in Berkeley Square, and afterwards Trustram had accompanied Rodwell home to Bruton Street in a taxi for a smoke.

As the pair--the spider and the fly--sat together before the fire in the small, cosy room at the back of the house which the financier used as his own den, their conversation turned upon a forthcoming meeting at the Mansion House, which it was intended to hold in order to further arouse the Home Office to a true sense of the danger of allowing alien enemies to be at liberty.

"I intend to speak quite openly and plainly upon the subject," declared Rodwell, leaning back in his chair and blowing a cloud of cigar-smoke from his lips. "The time has now pa.s.sed for polite speeches. If we are to win this war we must no longer coddle the enemy with Donnington Hall methods. The authorities know full well that there are hundreds of spies among us to-day, and yet they deliberately close their eyes to them. To me their motto seems, `Don't aggravate the Germans. They are such dear good people.' The whole comedy would be intensely humorous--a rollicking farce--if it were not so terribly pathetic. Therefore, at the meeting, I intend to warn the Government that if some strong measure is not adopted, and at once, the people themselves will rise and take matters into their own hands. There'll be rioting soon, if something is not done--that's my firm conviction," and in his dark eyes was a keen, earnest look, as he waved his white hand emphatically. Truly, Lewin Rodwell was a clever actor, and the line he had taken was, surely, sufficiently bold to remove from him any suspicion of German birth, or of double-dealing.

"Yes, I quite agree," declared Trustram enthusiastically. "We know well enough at the Admiralty that the most confidential information leaks out to the enemy almost daily, and--"

"And what can you expect, my dear fellow, when we have so many Germans and naturalised Germans here in our midst?" cried Rodwell, interrupting.

"Intern the whole lot--that's my idea."

"With that I entirely agree," exclaimed Trustram, of course believing fully in his friend's whole-hearted sincerity. "There are far too many Germans in high places, and while they occupy them we shall never be able to combat their craftiness--never!" Lewin Rodwell fixed his cold, keen eyes upon the speaker, and smiled inwardly with satisfaction.

"My poor friend Dr Jerrold held exactly similar views," Trustram went on. "Dear old Jerrold! He was ever active in hunting out spies. He a.s.sisted our Secret Service in a variety of ways and, by dint of diligent and patient inquiry, discovered many strange things."

"Did he ever really discover any spies?" asked Rodwell in a rather languid voice.

"Yes, several. I happen to know one case--that of a man who collected certain information. The doc.u.ments were found on him, together with a pocket-book which contained a number of names and addresses of German secret agents in England." Rodwell instantly became interested.

"Did he? What became of the book? That surely ought to be most valuable to the authorities--eh?"

"It has been, I believe. But, of course, all inquiries of that nature are done by the War Office, so I only know the facts from Jerrold himself. He devoted all the time he could s.n.a.t.c.h from his profession to the study of spies, and to actual spy-hunting."

"And with good results--eh? Poor fellow! He was very alert. His was a sad end. Suicide. I wonder why?" asked Rodwell.

"Who knows?" remarked the other, shrugging his shoulders. "We all of us have our skeletons in our cupboards. Possibly his might have been rather uglier than others?"

Rodwell remained thoughtful. Mention of that pocket-book, of which Jerrold had obtained possession, caused him to ponder. That it was in the hands of the Intelligence Department was the reverse of comforting.

He had known of the arrest of Otto Hartwig, alias Hart, who had, for many years before the war, carried on business in Kensington, but this was the first he had learnt that anything had been found upon the prisoner.

He endeavoured to gain some further details from Trustram, but the latter had but little knowledge.

"All I know," he said, "is that the case occupied poor Jerrold fully a month of patient inquiry and watchful vigilance. At last his efforts were rewarded, for he was enabled to follow the man down to Portsmouth, and actually watch him making inquiries there--gathering facts which he intended to transmit to the enemy."

"How?" asked Rodwell quickly.

"Ah! that's exactly what we don't know. That there exists a rapid mode of transmitting secret intelligence across the North Sea is certain,"

replied the Admiralty official. "We've had ill.u.s.trations of it, time after time. Between ourselves, facts which I thought were only known to myself--facts regarding the transport of troops across the Channel--have actually been known in Berlin in a few hours after I have made the necessary arrangements."

"Are you quite certain of that?" Rodwell asked, with sudden interest.

"Absolutely. It has been reported back to us by our friends in Germany."

"Then we do have friends in Germany?" remarked Rodwell, with affected ignorance.

"Oh, several," was the other's reply. Then, in confidence, he explained how certain officers had volunteered to enter Germany, posing as American citizens and travelling from America with American pa.s.sports.

He mentioned two by name--Beeton and Fordyce.

The well-dressed man lolling in his chair, smoking as he listened, made a mental note of those names, and grinned with satisfaction at Trustram's indiscretions.

Yet, surely, the Admiralty official could not be blamed, for so completely had Lewin Rodwell practised the deception that he believed him to be a sterling Englishman, red-hot against the enemy and all his knavish devices.

"I suppose you must be pretty busy at the Admiralty just now--eh? The official account of the Battle of the Falklands in to-night's papers is splendid reading. St.u.r.dee gave Admiral von Spee a very nasty shock. I suppose we shall hear of some other naval successes in the North Sea soon--eh?"

Trustram hesitated for a few seconds. "Well, not just yet," was his brief reply.

"Why do you say `not yet'?" he asked with a laugh. "Has the Admiralty some thrilling surprise in store for us? Your people are always so confoundedly mysterious."

"We have to be discreet," laughed Trustram. "In these days one never knows who is friend or foe."

"Well, you know me well enough, Trustram, to be quite certain of my discretion. I never tell a soul any official information which may come to me--and I hear quite a lot from my Cabinet friends--as you may well imagine."

"I do trust you, Mr Rodwell," his friend replied. "If I did not, I should not have told you the many things I have regarding my own department."

Lewin Rodwell smoked on, his legs crossed, his right hand behind his head as he gazed at his friend.

"Well, you arouse my curiosity when you say that the Admiralty have in store a surprise for us which we shall know later. Where is it to take place?"

Again Charles Trustram hesitated. Then he answered, with some reluctance:

"In the North Sea, I believe. A certain scheme has been arranged which will, we hope, prove effectual."

"A trap, I suppose?"

Trustram laughed faintly.

"I didn't tell you so, remember," he said quickly.

"Ah, I see!--a trap to draw the German Fleet north--up towards Iceland.

Is my surmise correct?"

Trustram's smile was a silent affirmative. "This is indeed interesting," Rodwell exclaimed. "I won't breathe a word to anyone.

When is it to be?"

"Within a week."

"You mean in a week. To-day is Wednesday--next Wednesday will be the sixteenth."

Again Trustram smiled, as Rodwell, with his shrewd intelligence, divined the truth.