Two Daring Young Patriots Part 7

"Well, reckless or no, we may as well move cautiously. Let us keep well under cover of this hedge. Whew! What a row there is!"

As the two friends drew nearer to the cottage they became convinced that not only was the firing taking place quite near the Crofts, but that it was going on in the very garden itself. Closer and closer they crept, their curiosity keenly whetted by this unexpected discovery, until they reached a little clump of thick undergrowth which overlooked the garden.

Here the greatest discovery of all awaited them.

Two big 28-cm. guns were in position in the centre of the garden, and being loaded and fired without a moment's respite. The sight was fascinating--nay, awe-inspiring--enough, but to the two lads the thing that most caught and fixed their attention was the fact that both guns were planted full on their asphalted tennis-court. To Dale this was merely curious, but to Max it had a significance so terrible and nerve-shaking that it was all he could do to prevent himself crying out.

"What's the matter, Max?" cried Dale in alarm, as he caught a glimpse of his friend's pale, drawn face and staring eyes.

"Come away--quick! Let us get away and I will tell you," cried Max in a hoa.r.s.e voice, and, followed by his friend, he sped swiftly from the scene towards a thick wood a short distance away. Once well within the shelter of its leafy screen, he stopped and faced Dale excitedly, his face aflame.

"That scoundrel Schenk! He is at the bottom of it all. He is a paid traitor and spy of the German Government, and, fool that I was, I never saw it before!"

"Why, what has happened to tell you this? A traitor I dare say he is, but why so suddenly sure?"

"That tennis-court. Do you know that Schenk, when he heard we were thinking of one, pressed us to have an asphalt one for use in all weathers. He saw to it himself, and dug down six feet for the foundations. I asked him why he was doing that, and he said he had a lot of material, concrete or something, over from something else--I didn't take much notice what it was--and that it would make it all the better.

It was all a ruse to lay down solid concrete gun-platforms ready to blow our forts to pieces. The utter scoundrel!"

"Ah! And that was why he replaced the Walloon and Flemish workmen by naturalized Germans! I see. He wanted to have men he could be sure of and to have the works ready for running without a hitch directly the Germans entered. And the sh.e.l.ls----"

"Yes," almost shouted Max, grasping his friend roughly by the arm, "yes, their calibre will be that of German, not Belgian, guns! They never were for Belgian guns! That was why they were kept covered up so closely in the yard."

"Phew! It was a risky game to play; but no doubt he expected the town to fall quickly--perhaps even more quickly than it did."

"And there are other things," Max went on in a quieter tone. "Why was it Schenk persuaded us to go to Germany instead of to Holland for our holiday? Why--why? Simply because he wanted to get us out of the way.

Then do you remember those men who were captured after trying to a.s.sa.s.sinate General Leman in the town? I thought I had seen two or three of them somewhere before. I remember now. They were some of the workmen of the sh.e.l.l-shops, and one was a foreman. The plot was hatched by Schenk, not a doubt of it."

"Not a shadow of a doubt. The whole business is as plain as a pikestaff.

But who would have dreamed of such devilish forethought? He must have been planning it for years!"

"Yes, he has been my father's right-hand man for nine or ten years at least. He must have come for no other purpose--and my father never knew it! How glad I am my mother is out of it all, safe and sound."

For some time the two friends discussed the great discovery in all its bearings. Matters stood out in a fresh perspective, and one of the first things to appear prominently was the peril in which both of them now stood. In peril from the Germans they had known they stood, but the peril from Schenk was new and far greater. At any moment he might come to the conclusion that their continued presence about the works or in the town was inconvenient, and denounce them as hostile to the occupation. In fact--and a bitter realization it was--they were only saved from this by the manager's contempt of them as adversaries and his calm a.s.surance that they were really not worth considering one way or the other.

"Well, Max," said Dale at last, "what line are we now going to take? It is time we made up our minds once and for all. We are clearly outcla.s.sed by this Schenk--he holds all the cards--and the best thing we can do is to make tracks to join the Belgian army before it is too late to get away."

"Yes, Dale, that is the best thing--for you. Only _I_ cannot come with you. You go and join the British army. My place is here more than ever, and leave it I will not."

"Come now, Max, don't be obstinate! There is nothing to be done here.

You are absolutely helpless pitted against Schenk and his friends the Germans. You must recognize it. Come with me and we will see what we can do for the good cause elsewhere."

Max shook his head decidedly. His face was very downcast, and it was clear to his friend that he felt most keenly the way in which his father's name and resources had been exploited by the enemies of their country; but his lips were firmly set, and in his eyes was the steady look Dale remembered so well during the dark days of the struggle for Benson's. Benson's! The recollection brought back again to Dale the words spoken by the master at the close of the races: "Fixity of purpose ... there is almost nothing that fixity of purpose will not accomplish."

"No," Max said simply, after a moment's pause, "I am going to keep watch and ward over the Durend workshops. Cost what it may I am going, by all means in my power, to hinder the use of them for the enemy's purposes.

What influence I have--little enough I fear--with the real Belgian workmen, I will exert to keep them from aiding Schenk. The works are mine--I speak for my mother--and I will not hesitate to destroy them if I find opportunity. There must be many ways in which I can make trouble, and I am going to strain every nerve to do so. Let Schenk look out; it is war to the knife!"

"Hurrah!" cried Dale excitedly. Then he went on in a sober tone: "But it is risky work, Max. Schenk will very soon suspect us--he has agents and spies everywhere, you may be sure."

"We must be as cunning as he is--more so. We must outdo him at his own game. We--I, I should say, for you must go back to England--I am going to disappear and emerge as a simple workman, with German sympathies of course. Then the fight will begin."

"Yes, and I'm in it, Max," cried Dale joyously. "I wouldn't miss it for worlds. It sounds good enough for anything. To outwit the Germans is great, but to outwit Schenk is ten times better. Come along, let's get to work."

"All right!" cried Max, smiling at his friend's enthusiasm. "We'll get back at once, and, as a start, go home and fetch away some of our things. It will have to be the last time we go there."

Quickly, and yet with caution, the two lads retraced their steps to the town. They knew every foot of the country, and, though there were numerous patrolling parties of Germans between them and the town, they were able to pa.s.s them without difficulty. At the door of his house one of the servants met Max and handed him a note.

"A young man brought it, Monsieur, an hour ago. He has come all the way from Maastricht with it. It is from Madame, your mother, and he said it was very important."

Rapidly Max tore away the cover and opened the missive. His senses were perhaps preternaturally sharpened, for he felt a sense of foreboding.

After many fond messages, and repeated injunctions that he would take care of himself and not offend the Germans, the note went on:

"And now, Max, I want to tell you something that distresses me extremely, though I have hopes that it may be all a mistake. When I left, bringing only a few things and a purse with such money as I had by me at the moment, M. Schenk, on my explicit instructions, a.s.sured me that he would arrange at once for a large sum of money to be transferred to my account at the Maastricht Bank. I have been there repeatedly, asking about it, but none of the officials know anything of the matter.

They say they have not been approached, and though they have enquired of other banks in the place they can learn no tidings. They have been very good to me, for, hearing who I was, they advanced me a small sum for my immediate use. Will you now please see M. Schenk and have this matter--which is so distressing--put right?"

Max clenched the paper in his hand. The blood flooded up into his head with such force that he had to put his hand against the doorpost to steady himself.

"What's the matter?" cried Dale, again in alarm at the look on his face.

"Is it bad news?"

"Aye--the worst--the blackest treachery," cried Max in a voice which trembled with the intensity of his emotion. "I must see Schenk--and wring from him the money he has stolen," and, turning impetuously on his heel, Max strode rapidly away from the house in the direction of the works.

Dale darted after him and caught him up. "You must do nothing rash, Max," he cried earnestly. "Wait a while until you are calm; you are no match for Schenk like that. Let us walk slowly along while you tell me what has happened."

Max thrust at him the crumpled letter. Then in a few broken words he told him, what was scarcely needed, that the manager had tricked his mother into leaving the country, and had then left her stranded without a penny to live upon. The baseness of it all came as a shock, even on the top of their knowledge of the man's deep treachery.

"There's more behind it, I believe," said Dale, after a few minutes'

cogitation in silence. "I think this may be a lever to get _you_ out of the country. He will think you will be compelled to go to your mother and work for her support."

"He knows he can get me out of the way at any time by denouncing me to the Germans," replied Max in dissent. "No--that will not explain it. But as sure as I live I will wring the truth from him before another hour is gone."

Dale gazed in some apprehension at his friend as he strode feverishly along towards the Durend works. He feared that he might, in his anger, do some rash act that would destroy all. But presently, to his relief, he saw that he was regaining control over his feelings, and, by the time they reached the works, he seemed his usual self again. The only evidence of his past emotion was to be found in his somewhat gloomy looks and in lips tightly compressed as though to hold in check feelings that struggled for an outlet.

CHAPTER IX

The Opening of the Struggle

The manager was in his room, and stared in some alarm at Max and his friend as they strode unceremoniously in. Then he touched a bell and his secretary entered.

"Remain at the door, Erbo. I shall want you in a moment," he said coolly.

It was a declaration of distrust, if not war, and both sides knew it. It robbed Max's words of any circ.u.mlocution he might otherwise have used, and he went straight to the point.

"You have not sent my mother the money that she instructed you to send, Monsieur Schenk. Why is that?"

The manager cleared his throat. "The German commander has forbidden any moneys to be sent out of the country, Monsieur Max, and it is unfortunately now impossible for me to do so."