Part 10

"Of course, you hadn't. You'd have been too scientific for a secret service operative, wouldn't you?"

"Can't secret service people be scientific?" Irving inquired.

"What do you think about it?" asked the surgeon. "You ought to know more about it than I do. But I'll tell you what my frank and unscientific opinion in the matter is."

"What is it?"

"That government secret service is 1 per cent information and 99 per cent bluff."

"That's a little strong on the side of the bluff," said the spy, smiling.

"But there's something to it?"

"Yes."

"Now you need this much science to prevent your bluff from getting you into trouble. When you attempt to bluff a scientific man be sure not to bluff along the line of his knowledge and the line of your ignorance. By the way, when do you want that operation performed?

"The sooner the better," Irving replied.

"How about now?"

This almost took the boy's breath away, but after a few minutes he answered:

"That's all right, I suppose, but I'd better call up my office first and tell the boss what's doing."

"Very well; here's a telephone. Call him up."

Irving did so and in a few minutes had authority to "go ahead and have it over as soon as possible."

*CHAPTER XXXV*

*THE TAPPING ON THE WINDOW*

Irving slept under an anaesthetic during the operation. He objected at first to the administration of ether, but the surgeon insisted.

"I don't want you to make any trouble," he insisted. "Remember you're not a scientific youth and might do something ridiculous. If I'm going to perform this operation you must take orders and obey them."

That settled it; Irving acquiesced. When he recovered consciousness he found himself in a hospital bed with his left arm bandaged and feeling a good deal like a limb of a tree, or anything else with a like degree of life. He remained in bed until the next morning, when his arm was put in a sling and he was permitted to move about as he pleased, although directed to remain in the hospital. Two days later he was allowed to leave the institution, but was instructed to return daily for examination and redressing of the graft.

He returned at once to the intelligence office and reported the success of the operation. The chief surgeon had informed him that his arm might be taken out of the sling in about a week.

During this period Irving was in the office much of the time, although he was able to be of little service with the use of only one arm. Still, he found it possible to add a good deal to his knowledge of the system of which the government was planning to make him an important agent, and this was, on the whole, quite satisfactory to him.

The youthful spy's plans for carrying out his mission for the British government had been developing rapidly since he became a member of the staff in the German intelligence office. And not a little of this development had been quite unforeseen by him. His original plans, therefore, underwent considerable change as time and experience advanced.

For instance, he decided not to attempt to make a list of names of leading enemy agents in the United States and Canada to take back with him. This had been his original purpose. He now regarded it as unwise, unsafe. He would depend on his memory to retain a store of information of this kind. So he watched and examined and probed and memorized, going over the information he had accumulated many times in his leisure hours in order to keep it fixed and unmistakable in his mind.

"I think I could go back to school and memorize history dates as I never did before," he told himself one evening about a week after the skin-grafting operation. "Gee! I never realized I had such a memory. I can run off a string of dope as long as the tune the old cow died on, just like saying the ABC's."

Irving had forgotten the "tune the old cow died on," but the expression stuck in his mind as a relic of nursery days.

One of the divisions of service in the intelligence department that interested the spy particularly was the telegraphic division. It came as an intermediate grade in his course of instruction, and he was required to learn to read the ticking of the telegraph instrument. Fortunately, a few years before, he had learned the alphabet while amusing himself with an amateur wireless outfit, and it now required comparatively little time for him to develop a fair degree of proficiency as a key-listener.

"You can never tell when it'll be greatly to your advantage to be able to read the telegraph instrument," Mr. Herrmann explained. "In fact, that may be one of your most important occupations in America--tapping wires, for instance."

Indeed, the spy caught a number of messages of incalculable importance while pursuing his studies in this division and made careful note of them in his mental repository.

About a week later he had a novel "telegraphic" experience, which, in turn, was to have an important bearing on his fortunes as a spy in the enemy's country. The affair took place in the rooming house where he was living. While he endeavored to get out in the evening, as a rule, and mingle with citizens of all sorts and descriptions, in order to absorb as much general information as possible, still he retired almost every night in good season, and not infrequently went early to his room to study, rehearse, memorize and plan. In this manner he endeavored to improve every opportunity to make his excursion a success.

He had just finished one of these solitary sessions in which several leading newspapers and magazines played an important part, and was about to lay them aside and prepare for bed, when his attention was attracted by a faint tapping sound. At first he gave little heed to it, presuming, in a semi-conscious way, that it was occasioned by a continuous breath of air and a tiny, loose pendant of some sort in the exterior construction work of the house. But it continued in a strangely familiar way and seemed to grow a little louder very gradually.

Suddenly, Irving sat up straight and listened rigidly. Anyone observing him in this attitude could not have failed to be impressed with the feeling that an alarm of some character was thrilling his every nerve center.

"My goodness!" was the exclamation that smothered itself within him. "What in the world can that mean? Yes, no, yes--somebody is trying to communicate with me. He's using the telegraphic signal. He's asking me to answer, to indicate in some way that I am getting his message. He says he's a friend. He knows I'm a British spy. But maybe it's a trap to catch me. What shall I do? If he's a friend he surely ought to know better than to expect me to make such an admission. But he says he has important information. What--what in the world shall I do? I may be in very great danger. Here is certainly the test of my life."

*CHAPTER XXXVI*

*A REVELATION*

"I have an important message for you. I am a French spy. I must get this message to you. Answer me in some way. Heave a big yawn or clear your throat and I'll know you hear me and get what I'm saying. I merely want to make sure you are what I think you are. I don't dare reveal myself to you for fear that I may be mistaken and you'd turn me over to the government."

These words were tapped off, alphabetically, with a small instrument, probably a pencil, on the window overlooking a court inclosed by the building on three sides. After a pause of half a minute, following the appeal just recorded, the dot-and-dash tapping continued thus:

"I am looking through the shade of your window and can see that you are listening attentively; so you need not reply. Just continue to listen, and I shall know everything is all right.

"When you leave for America you will be supplied with a message in cipher, prepared by me, for a certain agent of the kaiser. That message will bear the appearance of having been written by a friend of yours to you, but it will contain information in invisible ink for your benefit as a loyal agent of the Allies. This information will be of great value to the Allies, supplying them with material for undermining the Teutonic spy system in England, France, and America, which recently declared war.

"This is all. I merely wished to advise you of what you will find written with invisible ink on the paper that will be placed in your possession when you set out on your return to America."

The tapping ceased. Irving remained like a statue in his chair for several minutes. Then he arose, went to the window and pulled the shade aside. The court was dark, save for a solitary dim light out at the entrance. He could just faintly discern the steel structure of the fire escape near the window.

"That's the way he got up," he half muttered. "He stood there on that landing while he tapped his message. I wonder who he is and how he spotted me. He must be a very clever fellow. I really believe he's what he represented himself to be; and yet, it may possibly be a trap to catch me. However, I don't see what I can do except await developments."

He went to bed and slept better than might have been expected under the circumstances. But he had become so used to critical situations by this time that he felt almost capable of sleeping peacefully on the "edge of the earth" with a torpedo for a pillow.

Next day the mystery of the window-telegraph spy bothered him a good deal, even more than it did immediately after the fellow had "dotted and dashed" his message on the pane of glass.

"I wonder who he was?" he repeated many times. "I wonder if he's somebody I'm in close touch with every day?"

The suggestion caused him to watch narrowly every person in the office with whom he did business for the German government. But the more he watched, the more unsatisfactory the situation became. He continued his furtive outlook several days, but finally admitted to himself that the prospect of his efforts solving the mystery was anything but bright.

Meanwhile the spy's preparations for a new excursion out into a broad field of international espionage were rapidly drawing to a close. The surgeon at the hospital who had performed the skin-grafting operation on his arm pronounced it sufficiently well healed, first, to warrant taking the limb out of the sling, and then, a week later, for the removal of the bandage. There were a few slightly rough places here and there. around the edges of the patch, and one small scar at the lower end of the middle strip of skin where it had been twisted to cause it to lie "right side out" through the middle of the larger patch and make the latter complete by meeting the outer edges that had been undercut and drawn to it.

All things considered, Irving was well pleased with the course of events during his sojourn in the German capital. Although a number of situations had developed with rather dangerous aspect, he had pulled through all of them with apparent success. While he was still reporting daily at the hospital for the dressing of his arm his lieutenancy commission was acted upon in the war office and was delivered to him through Mr. Herrmann.

At last the day arrived for a windup of the young spy's affairs in the intelligence offices, and he was summoned into the presence of "the baron" and Superintendent Herrmann. A third man also was present to receive the young espionage student. He wore a navy uniform and was introduced as Capt. Bartholf of the submarine service.

"You will go with Capt. Bartholf on board his boat," "the baron" announced, addressing "Lieut. Hessenburg." "He will land you on the coast of Spain and from there you will go to a German consul and devise a method for getting you to Mexico and from there into the United States.

"By the way," the high intelligence official remarked, suddenly interrupting himself and addressing Superintendent Herrmann; "how about that letter that was being prepared for Lieut. Hessenburg to take along?"

"I'll see," replied Herrmann, as he started for the door.

"Bring Strauss in with you," "the baron" called after him. "I may want to ask him some questions."

"Strauss!"

The name echoed in Irving's brain with a succession of significant thrills. What did Strauss have to do with the preparation of the letter he was to take with him? Was it possible--?

He did not finish the sentence in words, but the idea was there and remained uppermost in his mind during the remainder of the session in "the baron's" office. Presently Herrmann returned, accompanied by the card-catalog expert, who carried an envelope of ordinary business-correspondence size in one hand. This envelope he laid on the desk in front of the intelligence chief.

The latter picked it up, looked keenly at Strauss and asked with like sharpness of voice:

"This paper was prepared entirely by you, was it?"

"Yes," the cataloger answered.

"And it has been in no other person's hands at any time since you began work on it?"

"No."

"And you vouch for the accuracy and thoroughness of its preparation?"

"Yes."

"That's all. You may retire."

Strauss left the room. "The baron" turned to Irving, handed him the letter, and said:

"This innocent looking missive is of vast importance. It is addressed in cipher to a very important person in America who is high in the confidence of the United States government. You have learned how to read this cipher and will work it out for yourself. That is all. Good-by. I wish you a continuation of the success that has been yours in a remarkable degree heretofore."

Irving took "the baron's" offered hand and then left the office accompanied by Capt. Bartholf. As he went the name of Strauss continued to ring in his head, together with this startling conviction:

The catalog expert was the French spy who had tapped the "telegraph message" on his window at the rooming house!

*CHAPTER XXXVII*

*THE SUBMARINES*

Lieut. Ellis of the Canadian army, alias Lieut. Hessenburg of the German army, had quite enough to think about as he left the office of "the baron" in company with the submarine commander. Out in the reception room the latter took leave of him, saying, "Meet me at the Kaiserhof at 9 o'clock tomorrow morning"; then the youthful spy, with a counter-spying commission from the enemy, went to his desk and began to make arrangements for his departure.

Mr. Herrmann selected from the office force a former soldier who had lost one arm, and to him Irving made a brief statement of the work he had been doing so that his successor might continue where he had left off. For a short time he debated in his mind whether to go to those of his fellow workmen with whom he had been more intimately associated and bid them farewell, but he decided that this would not be in harmony with the "community conduct" of the officials and employes of the bureau. In fact, he had observed little in the association of the office that had suggested real community life. Everybody connected with the intelligence bureau seemed either to have been born with a cold furtiveness of manner or to have developed an espionage attitude of this sort in the atmosphere of the greatest spy system the world had ever known.

However, he disliked very much to leave the place for the last time without passing at least an "aufwiedersehen" to the one person there who he felt certain was a friend of the great cause of human liberty for which the allied nations were fighting. But Strauss seemed disposed to ignore him if possible. He passed several times near the expert's desk, but the latter pored more diligently than ever over his work. Once Irving caught his eye and attempted to pass him a look of intelligent meaning, but Strauss turned away quickly, and Irving left the building without saying good-by to one of the occupants.

"A very cold-blooded business," he told himself. "My! I'm glad to be out of there. I'm afraid I'm not built along cold enough lines for a spy even in behalf of a great and meritorious cause. That fellow Strauss is an ideal spy. He must be the best any nation ever produced. He certainly has worked himself into a powerful position of confidence with the enemy. But that was some chance he took when he tapped that message on my window. I wonder if he expected me to discover who he was after he told me he was the fellow that prepared the letter that was to be given to me. And when he assured the baron that nobody else had had the letter in his possession, nobody else remained for me to suspect. Well, he must know now that I spotted him; but he surely exhibited extremely wise caution when he refused to recognize even a significant look from me. Good-by, Mr. Strauss, or whatever your name is. You were too shrewd to let me shake your hand, and cold judgment tells me you were right. I hope after the war is over I may take a trip to Europe and look you up. But, judging from the way you looked at me, or avoided looking at me, I'm afraid you'd take advantage of the opportunity to give me a calling down such as few people have ever received. I'd probably feel the knives of your sarcasm making ridiculous mince meat out of me."

Next morning, promptly at the appointed hour, Irving was at the information desk of the Kaiserhof, asking for Capt. Bartholf. The latter was in his room waiting for the young intelligence officer. Two hours later, arrangements having been made for the transfer of baggage, the captain and the lieutenant were on board a train and headed for one of the principal submarine ports of the German coast.

The trip was uneventful, except that it afforded Irving an opportunity to make a study of the character of an official representative of the policy of ruthlessness of the military government of Germany. Capt. Bartholf was a fit exponent of this policy and exceedingly efficient because of the intelligence with which he could disguise the barbarous nature of his ideas. Hours before they reached the port of their destination, the spy was convinced that an enemy who fell into the clutches of this sub-sea commander might as well toss hope to the fishes.

"I don't believe he'd take a prisoner if he could help it," Irving mused as a climax to his conclusions. "I'd never surrender to a man like him if I knew in advance what kind of fellow he was. It'd be a finish fight even though there were no hope in it for me."

They arrived at the seaport in the evening and took rooms at a hotel. Two days they remained in this city. The captain explained the delay by saying that he was awaiting orders to start on a raiding cruise. Finally the orders arrived, and he announced that they would go on board at once.

Half an hour later they were at the docks, where a dozen U-boats were lined up, some of them taking in provisions and oil, or undergoing inspection and minor repairs. Irving's eyes were busy with new objects of interest at this submarine harbor, for he had never before seen an undersea craft. Eagerly he took in the scene, regarding the various objects with more than the calculating interest of an international spy; and while in the act of boarding the vessel in which he was about to take his first submarine trip, he almost forgot, as the romantic thrill of the experience went through him, that he was surrounded by enemies in whose hands his life would be worth only a volley of rifle balls if his real identity were revealed to them.

*CHAPTER XXXVIII*

*"KAMERAD!" AGAIN*

"Shut off the power."

Irving was in the conning tower with Capt. Bartholf and Lieut. Voltz of U-31 when the latter, who was at the periscope, gave the foregoing order through the speaking tube.

They had been out all night and half the preceding day, running much of the time on the surface of the ocean in order to make the best possible speed. Irving had not a clear idea where they were, but presumed that they must have passed a considerable distance beyond the western end of the English channel.

Lieut. Voltz gazed again into the glass of the periscope after giving his order to the engineer. He had had his hand on the lever at his right and with this had turned the periscope tube so that his eye could sweep the horizon. Now, however, he had discovered something, and he no longer moved the lever except occasionally little more than a hair's breadth in order to keep the object of interest in view. After a few moments of further careful examination and reference to the telemeter attachment to determine the distance away of the discovered object, he called again into the speaking tube.

"Go down four fathoms."

Then turning to Capt. Bartholf, he said:

"There are two vessels about five knots a little south of west from here. One is probably a convoy."

"Run about three knots closer and take another peep," the captain ordered. "Did 17 and the 23 sight them also?"

"I think so. Seventeen just went under."

Irving understood this question and answer to refer to two other U-boats that accompanied No. 31 on this trip. Meanwhile the latter submerged to the depth ordered by Lieut. Voltz.

Twenty minutes later the periscope was again a few feet out of the water with the lieutenant's eye glued to the glass and his right hand working the lever.

"Let me have a look," said the commander.

He gazed a minute into the glass and then said:

"I'm going to try to get that convoy first and then the other, which appears to be a hospital ship."

Irving shuddered.

The order was again given to submerge. The lieutenant seemed to be doing all the work of lookout, pilot and operating master, for he was busy at the steering wheel, periscope, and speaking tube almost simultaneously much of the time. All these were within easy reach from one position. The "sub" arose several times near enough to the surface to enable the lieutenant or the captain to take a peep at the prospective prey, and then down again it would go. At last, under direction from the captain, the lieutenant gave this order through the speaking tube:

"Have the men slide a torpedo into one of the forward tubes."

Eager to witness this operation, Irving sprang to the stairway and was soon down on the lower deck. There he saw several members of the crew remove the safety attachment from the nose of a sixteen-foot phosphor-bronze torpedo, which was seventeen or eighteen inches in diameter, and slide it into a tunnel-like hole in the midst of a maze of operating machinery. A minute or two later the order was given to "shoot," and out it went, under initial propulsion from a compressed air engine.

Then the order to submerge was given again, and away they went southward at full speed under three fathoms of water. Ten minutes afterward the periscope peeped up over the surface of the sea once more, and Capt. Bartholf had his eye glued eagerly to the glass.

A moment later he gave a yelp of delight, and Irving knew that a hit had been scored.

"We've hit 'em both fine!" the commanding officer exclaimed. "One of the other boats must have fired a torpedo about the same time we did. Both of those ships are going down."

It was not regarded safe to show the hulks of the submarines above the water yet, however, for fear lest the convoy hit one or more of them with a shell as a last living act of revenge. But they did not have to wait long, however, for the doomed vessels sank rapidly.

Then all three submarines showed themselves on the surface and Irving was delighted to observe that apparently all of the sailors, soldiers and nurses that had been on the hospital ship and the convoy were now in lifeboats, which were being rowed with frantic desperation away from the U-boat-infested spot.

"Follow them up and let's see what they look like," Capt. Bartholf ordered, with a kind of gloating glee.