The Riddle of the Sands Part 40

'Ten minutes.'

'When's daylight?'

'Sunrise about seven, first dawn about five. Where are we bound?'

'Holland, or England.'

'Are they invading it now?' said Davies, calmly.

'No, only rehearsing!' I laughed, wildly.

'Then we can wait.'

'We can wait exactly an hour and a half. Come ash.o.r.e and knock up Dollmann; we must denounce him, and get them both aboard; it's now or never. Holy Saints! man, not as you are!' (He was in pyjamas.) 'Sea clothes!'

While he put on Christian attire, I resumed my facts and sketched a plan. 'Are you watched?' I asked.

'I think so; by the 'Kormoran's' men.'

'Is the 'Kormoran' here?'

'Yes.'

'The men?'

'Not to-night. Grimm called for them in that tug. I was watching.

And, Carruthers, the Blitz is here.'

'Where?'

'In the roads outside--didn't you see her?'

'Wasn't looking. Her skipper's safe anyway; so's Bohme, so's the Tertium Quid, and so are the 'Kormoran''s men. The coast's clear--it's now or never.'

Once more we were traversing the long jetty and the silent streets, rain driving at our backs. We trod on air, I think; I remember no fatigue. Davies sometimes broke into a little run, muttering 'scoundrel' to himself.

'I was right--only upside down,' he murmured more than once. 'Always really right--those channels are the key to the whole concern.

Chatham, our only eastern base--no North Sea base or squadron--they'd land at one of those G.o.d-forsaken flats off the Crouch and Blackwater.'

'It seems a wild scheme,' I observed.

'Wild? In a way. So is _any_ invasion. But it's thorough; it's German. No other country could do it. It's all dawning on me--by Jove! It will be at the _Wash_--much the nearest, and as sandy as this side.'

'How's Dollmann been?' I asked.

'Polite, but queer and jumpy. It's too long a story.'

'Clara?'

'_She's_ all right. By Jove! Carruthers--never mind.'

We found a night-bell at the villa door and rang it l.u.s.tily. A window aloft opened, and 'A message from Commander von Bruning--urgent,' I called up.

The window shut, and soon after the hall was lighted and the door opened by Dollmann in a dressing-gown.

'Good morning, Lieutenant X--,' I said, in English. 'Stop, we're friends, you fool!' as the door was flung nearly to. It opened very slowly again, and we walked in.

'Silence!' he hissed. The sweat stood on his steep forehead and a hectic flush on either cheek, but there was a smile--what a smile!--on his lips. Motioning us to tread noiselessly (a vain ideal for me), he led the way to the sitting-room we knew, switched on the light, and faced us.

'Well?' he said, in English, still smiling.

I consulted my watch, and I may say that if my hand was an index to my general appearance, I must have looked the most abject ruffian under heaven.

'We probably understand one another,' I said, 'and to explain is to lose time. We sail for Holland, or perhaps England, at five at the latest, and we want the pleasure of your company. We promise you immunity--on certain conditions, which can wait. We have only two berths, so that we can only accommodate Miss Clara besides yourself.'

He smiled on through this terse harangue, but the smile froze, as though beneath it raged some crucial debate. Suddenly he laughed (a low, ironical laugh).

'You fools,' he said, 'you confounded meddlesome young idiots; I thought I had done with you. Promise me immunity? Give me till five?

By G.o.d, I'll give you five minutes to be off to England and be d.a.m.ned to you, or else to be locked up for spies! What the devil do you take me for?'

'A traitor in German service,' said Davies, none too firmly. We were both taken aback by this slas.h.i.+ng attack.

'A tr--? You pig-headed young marplots! I'm in _British_ service!

You're wrecking the work of years--and on the very threshold of success.'

For an instant Davies and I looked at one another in stupefaction. He lied--I could swear he lied; but how make sure?

'Why did you try to wreck Davies?' said I, mechanically.

'Pshaw! They made me clear him out. I knew he was safe, and safe he is.'

There was only one thing for it--a last finesse, to put him to the proof.

'Very well,' I said, after a moment or two, 'we'll clear out--silence, Davies!--as it appears we have acted in error; but it's right to tell you that we know everything.'

'Not so loud, curse you! What do you know?'

'I was taking notes at Memmert the other night.'

'Impossible!'

'Thanks to Davies. Under difficulties, of course, but I heard quite enough. You were reporting your English tour--Chatham, you know, and the English scheme of attack, a mythical one, no doubt, as you're on the right side! Bohme and the rest were dealing with the German scheme of defence A to G--I heard it all--the seven islands and the seven channels between them (Davies knows every one of them by heart); and then on land, the ring of railway, Esens the centre, the army corps to mobilize and entrench--all nugatory, wasted, ha!

ha!--as you're on the rights--'

'Not so loud, you fiend of mischief!' He turned his back, and made an irresolute pace or two towards the door, his hands kneading the folds of his dressing-gown as they had kneaded the curtain at Memmert.

Twice he began a question and twice broke off. 'I congratulate you, gentlemen,' he said, finally, and with more composure, facing us again, 'you have done marvels in your misplaced zeal; but you have compromised me too much already. I shall have to have you arrested--purely for form's sake--'

'Thank you,' I broke in. 'We have wasted five minutes, and time presses. We sail at five, and--purely for form's sake--would rather have you with us.'

'What do you mean?' he snarled.