CHAPTER XXVIII

Next morning, at twelve o'clock, Doctor Voules sat at the big oak table in his dining-room at Brooke. He had arrived from London in the morning, and was busy consuming a heavy lunch.

The brightness of the day before had vanished; a heavy driving rain was falling. From the single window of the apartment the doctor could obtain a view of drenched foliage in his garden. And, sharp to the left, as one stood at the window, a view of the sea, grey and restless beneath a leaden sky, was visible.

The doctor ate stolidly, grinding his food in heavy, powerful jaws. The only other occupant of the room was Captain Cherriton, who lounged in a chair at the hearth and read a morning newspaper assiduously. Beside him, on the floor, lay four or five other morning news-sheets.

For many minutes, save the drive of the rain and the chink of Voules's knife and fork, no sound broke the stillness of the room. Then Voules turned his chair, took out a cigar and lit it.

"The barometer is falling, Rathenau," he said in his grating, imperious voice--quite another voice from that which he assumed as the bland Doctor Voules.

"It is going down steadily, Excellenz," answered Cherriton.

"Good," returned the elder man. "We must have unsettled weather for the twenty-eighth--eh, Rathenau?"

"It is much to be desired, Excellenz."

The twenty-eighth--it was always the twenty-eighth with General von Kuhne. With machine-like precision his forceful mind returned again and again to that date--the date which was to mark the consummation of his work. The blow, the subtle, heavy blow at England's heart--the blow planned, schemed for, and ordered; the great destruction that had originated in his martial and ruthless mind.

"Things go well, eh?"

"Quite well, Excellenz," Cherriton answered promptly, for as yet he had not found courage to mention to the general his suspicion of Treves. He was not yet positive that Treves had betrayed them, and, in the meantime, he had resolved to say nothing. Rather would he wait and watch, seeking for tangible proof of duplicity on Treves's part.

These thoughts were passing through his mind when a knock came at the door, and Conrad entered to clear away the luncheon things. In his hand he carried a salver upon which lay a single letter, addressed to Doctor Voules, and without a stamp.

The doctor took up the letter.

"Herr Manwitz brought it from Newport, Excellenz," said the servant in German.

"Tell Herr Manwitz I will see him presently, and remain out of the room until I ring for you."

General von Kuhne had recognised Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's handwriting. He began to read almost casually; then, suddenly, his interest intensified, and as he read the lines of his heavy face grew hard, firm and implacable. His colour rose; he eased his collar about his throat and bit heavily upon his long cigar.

Cherriton, noticing his agitation, noticing the blazing wrath that illuminated his face, watched him with anxious eyes.

Suddenly von Kuhne sprang to his feet.

"Stand up!" he bellowed, looking at the younger man with an expression of utter ferocity. "You blind, thick-witted fool!"

Captain Cherriton's pallid features were flushed, an angry light lit in his eye. He opened his mouth and was about to speak, but von Kuhne swept the words out of his mouth with a savage gesture.

"Speak no words to me, you ---- but read that letter!"

He thrust Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's closely-written sheets into the younger man's hands.

"Read that!" he roared, "and see to what pass you have brought us!"

Cherriton began to read, and as he read the colour left his face. Von Kuhne hurried to the bell and jangled it savagely. Conrad precipitated himself into the room in a state of nervous agitation. He was used to authority, but he had never yet known a bell to ring with such violence.

Doctor Voules's face turned towards him did nothing to dissipate his alarm.

"Tell Herr Manwitz to come here this instant," roared Voules.

"Very good, Excellenz." He paused a moment, then added: "Mr. Bernard Treves is here, Excellenz. Shall I also tell him to enter?"

Doctor Voules drew in a deep breath. He turned slowly and looked into Cherriton's eyes.

The stillness that ensued was intense and portentous. The glance that passed between Voules and Cherriton was one of infinite meaning. Voules's expression of ferocity moderated; he turned his eyes again to the intimidated Conrad standing in the doorway.

"How long has Mr. Treves been here?"

"A few minutes only, Herr Excellenz. He came in after Herr Manwitz."

"Very good, Conrad! You will take particular care Mr. Treves does not leave the house, and you will in the meantime send Herr Manwitz to me."

"Very good, Excellenz."

"You understand my order in regard to Herr Treves?"

"Yes, Excellenz. He is not to leave the house."

General von Kuhne nodded and turned on his heel. As the door closed upon Conrad, his implacable eyes once more sought Cherriton.

"The letter you hold," he began, making a stiff gesture towards Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's missive, which Cherriton was still studying--"the letter you hold in your hand convicts this man completely. His treachery to us, his espionage"--he paused a moment--"may bring upon us the utmost disaster. In failing to discover his duplicity you have shown yourself no less than a sheep-headed fool!"

"Herr Excellenz!" protested Baron von Rathenau, drawing himself up, a flush of colour animating his dull pallor.

"I am your superior officer!" countered von Kuhne. "It is, fortunately, my privilege to speak plain words to you; it is equally my privilege to command your obedience. You have failed in regard to this young man, Bernard Treves. From the first hour of his contact with Manwitz he has clearly tricked you both!"

"May I venture to remind you, Excellenz, that he tricked you also?"

Von Kuhne lifted his fierce and truculent gaze.

Cherriton was neither intimidated nor silenced.

"He tricked you, Herr Excellenz, the day of his first visit here. You announced to me then that you were satisfied. You observed upon his wrists the punctured marks which proved him, as you said, Excellenz, to be addicted to the injection of drugs."

Von Kuhne waved these objections aside.

"I based my opinion upon his dossier provided for me by you and Manwitz." He began to pace the floor, with his hands behind his back, his head thrust forward in deep thought. "This affair, Rathenau," he said at length, "this discovery grows more and more sinister. It is clear to anyone not utterly a fool that every step of yours and Manwitz has been dogged for many weeks past. What this young man knows of our plans we shall never learn; what he has confided to his authorities we can only guess. One thing, however, is certain: whether he knows much or little, his activities must cease." He paused and looked full into the younger man's face. "Do you gather my meaning?"

Cherriton bowed.

"I understand, Excellenz."

Von Kuhne continued to pace the carpet.

"I shall rely upon you for effective measures."

At that moment a knock fell upon the door, and Conrad ushered Herr Manwitz into the room, and closed the door upon him. The big, fat man, with his swarthy, pouched cheeks, his bristling black moustache and iron-grey hair, bowed deferentially to von Kuhne.

"You desired to see me, Excellenz?"

Von Kuhne walked to the table, took up Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's letter, and handed it to him.

"Read that!" he said curtly. He spoke in German, and used the commanding tone of an exalted German officer speaking to a subordinate. Manwitz read the letter from end to end, and as he read the colour receded from his cheeks, his heart-beat quickened in growing apprehension. As the import of the letter grew plain to him, his apprehension amounted almost to terror. The thought that Treves was a member of the English secret service filled him with infinite dread. He had never in his most suspicious moments conceived such a thing as possible. Treves, the neurotic, the weak-minded drug-taker! The man who had shown cowardice in the face of the enemy, and had narrowly escaped court-martial! Was it possible that this good-looking, feeble fool had been at one and the same time a steady-nerved, watchful member of the English Intelligence Department? Even now, as he read Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's plain words, he could not credit them. Nevertheless he was afraid--mortally afraid--for his own skin. The Tower of London and a firing squad had always loomed at the back of Manwitz' mind as a thing of infinite menace. The English were so peremptory in these matters--no talk, no fuss; merely a firing squad and oblivion! He possessed none of Cherriton's cold and brutal courage. And the thought that his own name was written in the tablets of the English secret service, the knowledge that his every movement may have been watched by a skilful English spy, sent a tremor through him that was visible both to von Kuhne and Cherriton.

"You discovered this man!" said von Kuhne, thrusting out his chin and fixing his cold gaze upon Manwitz.

"That I admit," answered Manwitz; "but I am prepared to swear that he was indeed what I thought him to be. I took the utmost care, Excellenz, and it was long before I trusted him. His information, Excellenz, enabled us to sink the _Polidor_."

"That is quite true, Excellenz," Cherriton said, suddenly puzzled.

"And in regard to his habits," went on Manwitz, "I have seen him many times under the influence of drugs, with all the symptoms, Excellenz, which I was careful to study--dilation of the pupils, irritability, fear of imaginary enemies----"

Von Kuhne waved his hand, but Manwitz persisted.

"Excellenz, he must have changed greatly, if he is, indeed, the man mentioned here!"

"You fool!" von Kuhne thrust at him; "of course he is the same man! We are speaking of Treves, and no other!"

"He must have changed, Excellenz!" protested Manwitz. "Treves, as I knew him, would never have had the nerve to act against us. I impressed upon him, Excellenz, what the punishment for treachery would be, and he values his own skin above all things in the world."

"Perhaps almost as much as you value yours!" added von Kuhne, with a sneer of contempt. "I have to warn you, Manwitz, I shall expect you to act decisively and without reservation! The Fatherland requires that this man who has betrayed us shall expiate his treachery! Do you get my meaning?"

"Yes, Excellenz."

"You will understand," he said, looking from one to the other, "that I am speaking officially and in my capacity as director of intelligence. You will obey me"--his eyes turned towards Cherriton--"as though we were upon the sacred soil of the Fatherland!"

He was standing at the table, resting one hand on the cloth. He spoke as a judge pronouncing a sentence, and in the eyes of von Rathenau and Manwitz he was, indeed, this. They took orders from him as inferior officers receiving orders from a general of division. "The removal of this man is an act of mere military justice. My orders are that you, Manwitz, and you, Baron von Rathenau, administer this just sentence!" He was passing what amounted to sentence of death on Bernard Treves. In doing this he felt no qualm, no sensitive doubt whatever. If he had occupied an English town in his true character as a German general in command, he would have put to death a hundred persons for not a tithe of the crime that John had committed against him. In sentencing John to death, in appointing Cherriton and Manwitz his executioners, he was carrying out what to him was a just, even a moderate law. He had been brought up to slaughter; he had been taught from boyhood to crush the Fatherland's enemies. To intimidate by frightfulness was the highest German ideal. He was a typical military German--that is, a typical cold-blooded murderer. He crossed to the bell now and jangled it again--this time not quite so sharply.

"My orders," he said to Cherriton, over his shoulder, "are to be carried out as expeditiously as possible. I leave the method in your hands." He turned his eyes upon Manwitz. "I shall expect you to co-operate in the work, Manwitz!"

At that moment Conrad presented himself in the door-way.

"Tell Mr. Treves to come in," said von Kuhne.

Two minutes later John entered the room. His erect figure, his clear eye, instantly caught von Kuhne's attention; every one of the German's suspicions was in that moment doubly confirmed. For a moment von Kuhne felt inclined to draw his pistol and shoot Manton down where he stood, but by a powerful effort he assumed his suave "Doctor Voules" manner.

"Come in, Mr. Treves," he said. "We have seen very little of you of late."

John came into the room and shook hands with Manwitz. He had not seen him for some time. Manwitz's hand was cold and flabby to the touch. John felt the atmosphere tense and electrical; he knew in some subtle way that Voules' smoothness of tone was a veneer to hide other and deeper feelings. The eyes of the three Germans seemed to watch him with unusual closeness. He instantly jumped to the conclusion that Cherriton had been conveying his suspicions to von Kuhne. The thought that Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's suspicions had been aroused was the last thing that would have entered his head.

He stayed for some minutes talking upon general topics. He had come in answer to a summons from von Kuhne, and was surprised that the German had given him no definite instructions. On behalf of Dacent Smith, John had already gathered a good deal of data about the approaching operations. He knew more than a little of the great blow Germany was preparing, and he felt a little puzzled that von Kuhne appeared to have upon this occasion nothing for him to do.

"You must come again," said the German; "we will have a further talk." He glanced at Cherriton. Cherriton understood the meaning of the look.

"Which way are you going, Treves?"

"Oh! I shall cycle back to Freshwater," John answered. "I promised my father I'd stay a night with him."

"That's exactly my way back," answered Cherriton.

"It is my way also," added Manwitz, "but I'm afraid you'll have to leave me behind, as I have no cycle."

The upshot was that a few minutes later, in a pause between two heavy downfalls of rain, John and Cherriton set out and cycled away together from Voules's residence.

John and Cherriton cycled side by side. It was John's plan to spend the night with Treves's father. He was fond of the old soldier, and in deceiving him was merely carrying out his chosen part. He was playing a dangerous game in his country's interests. And the first man to applaud his actions would have been the fine old soldier, whose own son had proved so utter a disappointment. Therefore John felt no compunction in the deception.

He knew that infinite caution was required of him, and that the shrewd eyes of Captain Cherriton were always upon him. He knew that at any moment "Voules," or Cherriton or Mrs. Beecher Monmouth might stumble upon the knowledge of his true identity. In that case not only would his utility to Dacent Smith come to an abrupt end, but his own chances of escape from his enemies' ruthlessness would be hardly worth contemplating. He was surprised to find that, as he and Cherriton rode side by side, the tall German talked more volubly and affably than usual. He seemed to have forgotten his suspicions of John, his peculiar attitude in Doctor Voules's room had vanished. He questioned John cheerfully as to his recent movements, and, when John evaded his questions a little too obviously, he rallied his companion, suggesting that he was a gay dog, that he was neglecting his wife and bestowing his attentions elsewhere.

John looked at him keenly upon the mention of Elaine's name, but he could read nothing on the German's pallid, heavy-boned face. Nevertheless, as he rode, and as they drew near to Freshwater, John became aware that his companion had been pumping him with a good deal of subtlety. He was trying to find out something--what that something was John could not guess.

They rode up a long hill together and came in sight of the sea. The view was magnificent, despite the lowering clouds and the rain, which had begun to fall again. Upon their right hand, sloping towards the sea and the white cliffs, lay a wide expanse of down, broken by small coppices and clumps of gorse. There was an old grey stone farm-house, with farm buildings, in the distance and in the middle of the down, near a clump of trees, were two single-storied labourers' cottages.

Cherriton drew John's attention to these buildings.

"I want you to come and have a look at that little place, Treves," he said, in a casual tone.

"What is its particular interest?" asked John.

"It has a particular interest for me," Cherriton answered, "because I have rented it furnished for six months. It is a delightful little place, and just the sort of bachelor abode to suit me." He turned his light blue eyes and looked with what might have been called frankness into John's face. "I hope you'll give me the pleasure of being my guest there one of these days soon. Doctor Voules is lending me Conrad for servant, and I shall be able to make you fairly comfortable."

"Thanks," said John; "I shall be pleased to come."

"Why not come and have a look at it now?" continued Cherriton. "We can't ride across the heather, but there is a path, and we can push our bicycles."

"Thanks all the same," said John, "but I am afraid I cannot spare the time."

"I can give you a very decent peg of whisky," said Cherriton, quietly.

John, playing the part of Bernard Treves, smiled.

"I am afraid I must keep off the whisky, as I am going to see my father," he answered adroitly.

After that Cherriton pressed him no more. Presently, however, he slackened his pace.

"This is where I get off," he said. He dismounted, and John also alighted. "Why not come in until the rain is over?"

"I don't mind the rain," said John.

Cherriton turned and pushed his bicycle through the gap in the stone wall. He was still scheming with all his thoughts to get John into the secluded cottage. A new thought came to him.

"By the way," he said, "has your friend Manwitz been able to give you any of the tablets you used to be so anxious about?" He paused a moment, looking John steadily in the eyes, "or have you managed to break the habit?"

John detected something in his tone which caused him to move warily.

"I have had nothing from him for some time; and, as for breaking that sort of habit, it isn't so easy. What made you ask that?"

"Merely the fact," answered Cherriton, cunningly, "that I think I can give you what you want."

John had already detected that the other had a strong reason for getting him into the cottage, and, though at first he had made up his mind to accept no invitation, he now saw that he was liable to fall into a trap. For if he declined to come to the cottage for the tablets, which were a mania with Treves, he would without doubt deepen Cherriton's suspicions. Therefore, acting the part of Treves, he broke into a laugh.

"Well, if you put it like that," he said, "I suppose I must come."

Five minutes later he followed Cherriton through a gate in a low stone wall, crossed the patch of ground before the cottage, and entered the single-storied building. The house was silent and deserted. John discovered that the place, formerly two workmen's cottages, had been knocked into one, and furnished for the purpose of letting.

The room in which John stood was low, and a gate-legged table occupied the middle of the apartment. There was an old-fashioned fireplace, three or four chintz-covered chairs, and chintz curtains. From the window John could obtain a distant view of a grey sea and a leaden sky.

"It's not over cheerful in here, is it?" said Cherriton. "I think we had better have a fire." He put a match to the fire, then took whisky and glasses from the cupboard. "One peg won't hurt you," he remarked, pouring out a drink for John. "While you are drinking, I'll look for the tablets."

He stayed in the room for some minutes after that. John noticed that he poured himself a stiff dose of whisky, and drank it down with only a moderate addition of water. He gave John the impression of a man who is strung up to a high pitch of tension. He was restless and walked the floor, explaining to John that he intended to spend the rest of the summer and the autumn there.

"I have a good deal of writing to do," he said, "and Dr. Voules wants me to be near him. It's not a bad little place this, is it?"

"Not at all," said John.

Cherriton went out of the room into a bedroom with two windows, one of which looked over a deserted-looking yard, with a covered well at the further end. He stood at the window, gazing out into this yard, with puckered brows, for several minutes. Then he began to open and shut drawers in the dressing-table, making a considerable noise.

He came into the sitting-room a few minutes later and apologised to John, saying that he must have made a mistake about the tablets.

"I can find no sign of them," he said, "but you must come again, and I promise to have some for you."

John, who had been watching him closely, suddenly rose from his chair and confronted him.

"Look here, Cherriton," he demanded, "what's your game?"

Cherriton's face took on a stony expression

"What game?" he demanded.

"Why are you so deucedly restless?"

Cherriton broke into a laugh.

"It's your imagination. I am not in the least restless; I am only worried that I have dragged you here for nothing. Have another whisky?"

"No, thanks," said John, this time firmly. "I must be pushing along." He happened to be looking into Cherriton's face as he said this, and something took place on the other's face that startled him--a flame of something like ferocity lit up in the German's eyes, then instantly vanished. After that, however, he made no further attempt to detain John. He came to the end of the little cottage garden as John went away, and watched him as he mounted his bicycle and rode away towards Freshwater. Then he returned to the cottage, closed the door behind him, and, dropping into a chair, took out Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's letter and read it carefully from end to end.

He was still in his chair at the hearth half an hour later when Manwitz knocked at the door, and came in.

"Come in, Manwitz, come in!" said Cherriton, rising. Manwitz had halted in the doorway, and was slowly drawing off his mackintosh. There was a mute expression in his eyes. Cherriton, reading his expression, pointed to a chair at the opposite side of the hearth.

"Sit down, Manwitz; nothing has happened yet; our friend is spending the night with his father, but he has arranged to come over here to see me to-morrow."

Manwitz took a handkerchief from his inner pocket, and mopped his brow.

"It is terrible, Herr Baron! His Excellenz affirms that he has been watching us from the beginning, but in that case how can he explain the sinking of the _Polidor_?"

"The time for explanations has gone, Manwitz. Treves's discoveries, whatever they are, must not be permitted to check the great work his Excellenz has put his hand to."

For some minutes after that there was silence between the two men; then Manwitz spoke, easing his collar about his fat throat:

"His Excellenz impressed upon me, Herr Baron, the business of Mr. Treves is of the utmost urgency."

"That is understood," Cherriton answered grimly. "But His Excellenz has no wish that I should play the fool and expose myself to unnecessary danger. His Excellenz can rely entirely upon my discretion--and our united capacity to carry out his command, eh, Manwitz?"

Manwitz smiled and nodded, but entirely without enjoyment. Cherriton's coolness in face of the terrible duty that lay before them filled him with both terror and envy.