Chapter 2

THE MARKED PLANS

The fierce shouting of the man as he called on them to stop did not terrify either of the scouts, but it did confirm Paul's guess. There could no longer be any doubt that his presence meant mischief; that he was indeed a spy. Or else why should he have such papers? Why, again, should their loss so greatly disturb him?

There was not a chance for him to catch them. Well as he might know the country, they knew it better. They had played in these fields and woods since they had been able to walk at all. Every hollow, every ridge, every tree, almost, was familiar to them. Circling about, they soon reached the garden of their summer home, a fine, spacious house, with ample grounds surrounding it, that belonged to their Uncle Henri de Frenard, whose wealth was derived from his considerable holdings of coal land around Liege.

"Did you get a good look at him, Paul?" gasped Arthur, when at last they felt that it was safe for them to stop running. "I couldn't really make sure of him--"

"I think I'll know him again, Arthur. What I'm wondering is if he'll know us."

"I don't see what difference that makes, except that if he saw us before we saw him, it would give him a chance to escape--"

"We're more likely to be trying to escape from him than he from us, I'm afraid, Arthur, for a little while. If the Germans are spying as openly as all that, it must mean that they're getting ready to come into Belgium. They wouldn't take such chances unless they felt that it didn't make any difference now."

"Don't you think we could find him, Paul? If we could, we could have him arrested, I think."

"Don't say a word--yet," cautioned Paul. "Uncle Henri would only laugh at us. Let's wait until we can look at his papers, and see what there really is there besides the sketch of Fort Boncelles. If that's all there was in the papers, I don't see why he was so awfully anxious to get them back. Perhaps we've done even better than we know, Arthur."

"All right, I won't say anything," said Arthur. "But you are going to do something about it, aren't you, Paul?"

Paul laughed. He knew that Arthur was a little disappointed at the idea of having to keep what they had done secret, especially as he had probably rehearsed already the astonishment with which all those at the dinner table would greet the startling announcement of the discovery of the spy.

"I certainly hope we're going to do something about it, Arthur," he said. "We'll slip away from the table as soon as we can, and then when we're alone, we'll see exactly what it is we've got."

But at the table there was a great surprise for them. Their uncle (though they both called him uncle the relationship was not really so close) was not in his accustomed seat, and Madame de Frenard's eyes were suspiciously red. She had been crying.

"Uncle Henri may not be back for two or three days," she said, gravely. "He is a member of parliament, as you know, and he has been called to Brussels on account--on account of what we all hope may not come."

"War?" asked Arthur, in a hushed voice.

"It looks terribly as if war must come," she said. "And if it does, I am afraid our poor Belgium must suffer as well as the lands that are really concerned. We have done nothing; we want nothing except to be left alone. If they will only do that! But I am afraid we must not hope for that. Your uncle expects to join the army at once if there is an invasion."

"Then we'll stay here and look after you," proposed Arthur, promptly. "Won't we, Paul?"

"For as long as we are needed," Paul said, gravely.

It was easy enough for them to cut their dinner short that night. The house was uneasy, stirring with a strange foreboding of what was to come. Servants, everyone, indeed, seemed to look always toward the east. There were the Germans. Often during the summer they drove to Aix-la-Chapelle, the first city over the German border--Aachen, as the Germans called it. Paul remembered, with a smile, as he thought of the German city, how indignant he had been when he had first discovered that the Germans invariably spoke of Liege as Luttich, and how he had been appeased when he was told that he and most people outside of Germany refused to adopt the German name for Aix-la-Chapelle.

No one in the house, least of all their aunt, had time that night to think of the two boys. As a matter of fact, it was that now famous Saturday upon which Germany finally cast the die by declaring war upon Russia in the interest of her Austrian ally, whose quarrel with Servia she thus made her own. France, as the ally of Russia, was bound to fight Germany. Belgium lay between the two huge powers on either side of her, well-nigh certain to be caught in the disaster that war meant. But the news that war had actually been declared had not yet come. Madame de Frenard was waiting with the utmost anxiety for a telephone message from her husband in Brussels, who had promised to send her word as soon as there were any important developments.

And so Paul and Arthur slipped out to the garage, which was a favorite hiding place. Now it was especially safe, since Marcel, the chauffeur, had gone to Brussels with their uncle, and there was no likelihood of any unwelcome interruptions. They repaired, therefore, to the room above the one in which their uncle's automobile was kept, and spread out the papers they had captured from the German spy. First there was the sketch they had already seen of the Boncelles fort; then, equally detailed, they found sketches and maps of the other forts--Flemalle, Embourg, Chaudfontaine, Fleron, Evegnee, Pontisse, Liers, Lanlin, Longin and Hollogne--the great chain of detached forts that made Liege, in the opinion of military engineers, one of the strongest fortified towns in Europe.

These forts were not immediately in the town; they were about five miles, on an average, from the old citadel, long since disused as a place for actual fighting. The connections between the various forts, intended, as both boys knew, for the greater facility of their defence by means of troops fighting more or less independently, were carefully traced on another map, in which the contour of the land and the natural shelter were shown. And on this map, at certain spots, there were strange marks--well beyond the perimeter of the forts themselves, that is, outside the line that might be drawn around Liege and passing through each of the forts.

"Look at those crosses," said Paul. "What do you suppose they mean, Arthur?"

"I don't know," said Arthur, frowning. "But we can find out, you know."

"You mean by going to one or two of these places? They're some distance off."

"But we ought to find out--don't you think so?"

"Yes, you're right, of course. We can find them easily enough."

"Yes. All we've got to do is to take the map along with us. Then when we get near we can make sure by looking at it."

"We could do that, but I think we won't, Arthur. Suppose we ran into the man it belongs to again? We might not get away from him another time, and I think it would be just as well to leave these maps here. We can hide them, and then write a note and leave it where it will be found in the morning, telling them where we hid the maps."

"What's the use of hiding them if we tell some one where they are, Paul?"

"Can't you see? Suppose something happens to us, so that we can't get back? We'd want the maps to be found and taken to the commander of the forts, wouldn't we?"

"Of course. I didn't think of that, that's all. But if we come back we can get the note back before anyone sees it. Is that what you mean, Paul?"

"Yes. Now study that map very carefully. I think we can remember where the cross marks are, all right."

"I can remember this one," said Arthur. "It's exactly on the spot where that new house was built last summer, near the Ourthe. Don't you remember? We stopped and got some milk there, and we wondered how a farmer could build such a solid looking house when he didn't seem to have much money or much of anything else. A stupid fellow, he was. He scarcely knew enough to give us the milk we wanted."

"Yes, I remember now," said Paul, looking at the map again. He was thinking hard, trying to fathom the connection between what they both remembered of that house and the strange, significant cross on the map. There was a connection; the cross did have some significance. Of so much he was sure. But for the life of him that was all he could guess. It was a perplexing problem.

"Come on," he said, at last, impatiently. "I may be very stupid, but I don't understand. The only way we'll find out will be by going there."

"All right," agreed Arthur, grinning. "I'm wiser than you for once, Paul. I haven't even tried to find out. I know I can't guess, so I'm not wasting time trying to. I think we'll be lucky if we find out when we do get there."

"So do I, come to think of it," said Paul. Somehow he felt better; before he had been inclined to blame himself for being stupid. "After all, you know, Arthur, even if they didn't expect anyone like us to get hold of these maps and sketches, that doesn't mean that they would make everything on them so plain that you could guess it at first sight. That sort of mark is awfully easy to understand when you have the key, but it's as bad as a cipher if you haven't."

It was quite dark, of course, when they finally set out. Though it was Saturday night few people were about, and the locality was a lonely one. Then, too, all of those who could had gone into the town. It was there that news of what was going on in the great world outside would first be had; it was there that the country people could count upon getting the first hint of the intelligence that was to have so frightful a meaning for them.

The course the two scouts took carried them along the bank of the placid Ourthe, flowing peacefully, calmly along toward its confluence with the more important stream of the Meuse at Liege. Behind them one strange thing proved that all was not quite normal. From Fort Boncelles a searchlight began to play. They had seen that light before, but only when it was being tested or when there were manoeuvres in progress. Now it seemed to have a sinister meaning.

"I think that means that there is war," said Paul. "They are keeping the searchlight going so that they may be sure to escape a surprise."

"I think it's the Germans who will get the surprise," said Arthur, confidently.

But most of the time they walked on in silence. Both were thinking a good deal; thinking of what war might mean, and wondering what part they themselves might play if it came. Of one thing they were sure. All Belgium would rise to repel the invader, no matter what the pretext for the invasion might be.

"Here we are," said Arthur, suddenly. "That's the house, Paul."

"It looks quite dark, Arthur. But let's go along toward it. Not by the road--we'll cut through this field here."

This they proceeded to do. But suddenly, as they neared the house, the ground seemed to give way beneath Paul. He suppressed a cry, and the next moment he was vigorously turning back the treacherous ground with his foot. Arthur turned on his light. And there, beneath the soft loam, they saw a plate of shining steel.