by Mark Hodder
As the door closed behind the man the Kaiser turned angrily upon the detective.
“This is too much!” he cried angrily. “I have only to announce who I am to be treated with proper respect.”
“Or disbelieved and be treated as a spy!” Sexton Blake answered.
The meal was served quickly, Sexton Blake whispering a few instructions to Tinker before it arrived, and the boy at once left. It was eaten practically in silence, and at the finish the Kaiser stood staring out into the street. Presently he started, and dragged a handkerchief from his pocket.
“Recognise friends, sire?” the detective queried pleasantly.
“Why?” the Kaiser snapped.
“I fancied you were waving to them.”
“What friends should I have in this place?” the Kaiser answered hastily. “I am tired. Show me my room, and I will get to sleep.”
Sexton Blake led the way to a room at the back, which overlooked the gardens of the hotel.
“Pleasant dreams, sire,” he said, as he retired. “You will, of course, have no objection to a watch being kept outside your door? I am very anxious about your safety, as you know.”
“As you will,” the Kaiser answered shortly; and there was a little smile on his lips.
OUT IN THE garden Sexton Blake crouched behind a clump of bushes, and beside him were Spearing and Tinker.
“You are sure of what you have said, my lad?” the detective whispered.
“Yes,” the boy answered confidently. “Two Germans passed the hotel, and that was when I saw the Kaiser raise his handkerchief.”
“How know he is here, though?” Spearing jerked doubtfully, nodding towards the window of the Kaiser’s bed-room, which was quite dark.
“Riddles are not in my line, my friend,” Sexton Blake answered, his eyes in the same direction; “but I should say that—Ah! Look!”
A light had appeared in the window, evidently that of a candle, and three times it moved from side to side before disappearing.
“Looks uncommonly like a signal,” Sexton Blake remarked.
“Sorry for the men who obey it—very!” Spearing jerked, feeling the great muscles of his arms.
Half an hour passed, and there was not a sound in the garden, and the light appeared no more in the window. From the harbour came the occasional hooting of sirens.
What was that?
Something very like a soft thud reached the ears of the waiting men, then they caught sight of two dark figures, bearing something between them, coming across the grounds.
“Ladder!” Tinker whispered.
Spearing moved, ready to get into the fight at once, but Sexton Blake held him back with a touch on the arm.
Cautiously the two men moved across the grounds, reached the wall of the hotel, and raised the ladder beneath the window.
“Now!” Sexton Blake whispered, and moved forward. Only a dozen yards or so separated them from the window.
One man was already climbing the ladder, the other holding it at the foot, when the detectives made their leap. There was the click of handcuffs, and the man at the bottom was as neatly manacled as Spearing had ever done a job of the same kind in his life. The one above looked down quickly, and reached for his pocket, but before he could draw weapon Sexton Blake had snatched the ladder from under him, and he fell sprawling to the ground.
Click! The second man was handcuffed.
“What does this mean?” he blustered, in German.
Sexton Blake drew a cigar from his pocket, and lit it.
“That is just what you will shortly have to explain to the police, my friend,” he answered.
“Tinker.” He turned to the boy, and handed him a whistle. “Just go and call the police. You will guard these men, Spearing, and charge them as a suspected characters. Remember that we were taking a stroll in the grounds when we discovered them.”
“Right!” The worthy official jerked. “What about you?”
Sexton Blake reared the ladder against the window again.
“Oh, I have a little call to make!” he answered, with a smile.
Up the ladder he went, and tapped at the window. It was instantly opened.
“It is you, Fritz?” the agitated voice of the Kaiser asked.
Sexton Blake clambered into the room, dropped the window, and switched on the electric light. A cry of anger broke from the Kaiser as he saw who it was in the room with him.
“What—what are you doing here?” he asked, in a shaking voice.
“I am guarding you, sire,” Sexton Blake answered coolly. “There are a terrible lot of suspicious characters about, you know; in fact, we have just arrested two in the garden of the hotel.”
“Who—who were they?” the Kaiser asked, trying to speak indifferently, but with poor success.
“I really did not have time to question them,” Sexton Blake replied lightly; “but I certainly fancy that they were Germans.”
THE EIGHTH CHAPTER
The Terms That Were Not Accepted—Spearing in Error—Where is the Kaiser?—On the Roof—Arrested.
THE TRAIN WHIRLED along from Liverpool, carrying its usual load of passengers to London. The majority of the compartments were well filled, but a first class one, right in the centre of the train, on the window of which had been stuck a “reserved” label, held only three men and a boy—the Kaiser, Sexton Blake, Mr. Spearing, and Tinker. Pedro was back in the guard’s van.
The detective smoked away placidly, and on his face was the expression of a man who is quite satisfied with life. Spearing, sleeping in a corner, also looked as if there was nothing much to trouble him just now, while Tinker busied himself with writing a chronicle of the events of the past few days.
Only the Kaiser, sitting moodily in a corner, his fine eyes staring out through the window into the night, looked discontented. His face was pale, unnaturally so, and the fingers that felt his upper lip trembled suggestively. No difficulty had been experienced in getting him away from Lerwick, and now they were speeding on towards London. That was what probably worried the Kaiser. He knew that he was in no personal danger, also that it would be possible for him to explain his absence from his own country, but he did not know the exact reason why his captors insisted upon taking him to London.
Maybe it was to exact a price from him. But why could they not have arranged that already, and let him go? Surely his word was enough to ensure payment of any sum, however large?
“It is permitted that a prisoner smoke, Mr. Blake?” he asked.
“I apologise, sire,” Sexton Blake answered, pulling out his case and offering the Kaiser a cigar. “I think you will like these.”
The Kaiser bit off the end with his strong teeth, and lit up. For a minute he smoked steadily, but it was obvious from the way that he continually glanced at the detective that he had something to say.
“What do you gain by all this?” he asked abruptly, when he did break the silence.
“Why, little enough,” Sexton Blake answered. “A little honour, perhaps, and that is not a very substantial thing.”
“It would be secret, too,” the Kaiser continued. “Whatever you are taking me to London for it will be impossible to hold me there.”
Sexton Blake flicked the ash of his cigar through the open window.
“As to that, sire,” he answered, “the length of your stay will depend upon yourself.”
“Then it will not be long!” the Kaiser growled.
“The moment our terms are accepted, and your word given to keep them, I shall see that you reach your own country in safety,” Sexton Blake assured him.
The Kaiser gnawed at his upper lip. There was an angry look in his eyes, and it was plain that he only controlled his temper by an effort of will.
“What will the terms be?” he demanded.
Sexton Blake shook his head protestingly.
“Perhaps I can guess,” he said, “but guessing is an unsatisfactory thing.”
The Kaiser chewed at the end of his
cigar until it was of no further use as a smoke, and flung it impatiently away. Sexton Blake offered him a fresh one, but he refused.
“Mr. Blake,” he said in a low tone, after glancing across at Spearing to make certain that he was really asleep, “let me suggest the terms. I have been beaten over the Shetlands, and I admit it. Your report will permit the authorities to take precautions to prevent such a thing happening again, and that is all you want. It would be easy for me to escape if this train slackens; my English is good, and I would find my way back to my own country.”
“You will not find it easy to escape, sire,” Sexton Blake corrected.
“But why not?” The Kaiser was bending forward eagerly, and his strong face was working. “You have but to fall asleep—in an instant I have thrown open that door and dropped out onto the line. You awake and rush after me with your companions—but you go the wrong way. It is all so simple! I return to Germany, and you receive—what is your price?”
“It is all so simple, as you say, sire,” the detective agreed; “but one thing you have erred.”
“So?” the Kaiser queried.
“I should rush after you the right way,” Sexton Blake explained. “It is a habit of mine that I have often found useful.”
The Kaiser’s hands clenched as if he would have loved to strike the smiling detective in the face.
“You are a hard man!” he said bitterly. “But the price must be fixed soon, if I am to escape before London is reached! A hundred thousand marks—what of that?”
Sexton Blake shook his head, and his eyelids drooped as if the conversation bored him.
“You shall be head of my secret police,” the Kaiser went on eagerly. “I would give much to have such a man as you in my service!”
“A man who has sold his own country?” Sexton Blake asked meaningly. “You must have strange tastes, sire!”
“Then, Himmel, name your own price!” the Kaiser growled.
Sexton Blake lit a fresh cigar, and through the blue smoke he looked his distinguished prisoner full in the face.
“My price is beyond your compassing,” he said sternly, “for your escape will only be purchased by my death.” His face set hard, and there was an angry light in his eyes. “Had any other man asked me to sell my honour—my country—I would have thrashed him as one beats a faithless dog! In your country such things may be easy—the buying and dealing in men’s consciences—but here a man puts his conscience before his fortune; his country before everything!”
“All men?” the Kaiser sneered.
“There is no country that has not got its black sheep,” Sexton Blake answered, with a shrug of his shoulders; “but thank Heaven ours is a small flock!”
The Kaiser opened his lips to speak again, but the detective held a hand up sharply to silence him.
“I have given you my answer,” he said quietly.
The brakes grated on the wheels, the lights of a station showed ahead, and the train drew up in it.
“My chance!” the Kaiser said sharply. “Two hundred thousand marks!”
For answer, Sexton Blake leant forward and roused Spearing.
“Got there?” the latter jerked, reaching for his hat.
“No,” Sexton Blake answered. “I am going to the bar to get fresh cigars. You will guard our—er—guest until I return.”
“May I come with you, sir?” Tinker asked eagerly. “I’m as stiff as a board.”
Sexton Blake nodded, and he and his young assistant stepped out onto the platform, leaving only Spearing and the Kaiser in the compartment. The detective did not hurry, for the train waited ten minutes, and he and Tinker lingered in the bar drinking coffee.
“Time to go, my lad,” Sexton Blake said, putting his cup down.
As he turned towards the door Spearing, his usually ruddy face pale, came rushing through the crowd. Sexton Blake caught his breath sharply, knowing that the worst had happened.
“Gone!” Spearing gasped.
But before he could say any more, for his wild look was already attracting attention, Sexton Blake gripped him by the arm and led him outside, where there were fewer people.
“Quick!” he ordered. And even his usually steady voice shook a trifle. “Tell me what has happened!”
“Someone came to window!” Spearing jerked. “Looked like German! Got up to tell him compartment was reserved! A door banged behind me—looked round—Kaiser gone!”
Sexton Blake had expected this the moment he caught sight of the Scotland Yard official, but now that the truth was put into words it nevertheless staggered him. After all the trouble—after all the danger that he had gone through—that the Kaiser should escape in this simple manner!
Then his jaw set hard. He was not beaten yet; he would prevent the Kaiser leaving the country.
At a run, he went down the platform, followed by Spearing and Tinker; for the guards were already bustling people into the train. He seized an official by the arm.
“Could anyone have left the down side without a ticket—someone who had arrived by this train?” he asked sharply.
“No fear, sir!” the man answered, with a confident grin. “We’ve got used to people trying to bilk us in that way, and that there is no earthly chance of anyone getting through on either side without a ticket!”
Sexton Blake slipped a sovereign into the man’s hand, and the latter at once became all attention.
“Try the gates,” the detective ordered. “Find out if anyone without a ticket has paid to go through.”
“Right you are, sir!” the man answered, and hurried away at a trot. He wondered what all the excitement could be about, but the sovereign was in his pocket, and that was good enough for him.
That the Kaiser had no money on him Sexton Blake knew, but the man who had tapped at the window might have joined him and paid.
The official came hurrying back.
“No, sir,” he announced. Then a brilliant idea struck him. “Detectives?” he queried. “Prisoner got away?”
“Yes,” Sexton Blake admitted, not seeing what else he could do.
“Then I’ll tell you what the man has done, sir,” the official continued. “He’s slipped into another carriage, and means to try and get away when the train slackens down somewhere.”
A whistle blew, and there was no time for the detectives to hesitate.
“He may be right,” he said sharply. “We must take the train and watch.” In a lower voice he added: “if he has escaped I’ll follow him to Germany if necessary—the matter shall not rest here!”
Sexton Blake was not the type of man to give in easily, and he had no intention of being beaten now.
As the train was on the move, the detectives and the boy scrambled into their reserved compartment and dropped into their seats. The door on the opposite side still swung open, showing how their prisoner had escaped, and Spearing, growling with anger, closed it. Just then he would have fought an army singlehanded, if it would have given him the chance of getting the Kaiser back. Never before had he made such a bloomer; though, like every other man, including Sexton Blake, he had made mistakes in his time.
“Being a fool!” he jerked disgustedly. “If I were you, never let me work with you again!”
A wry smile crossed Sexton Blake’s lips, but he held out his hand to the crestfallen official.
“It was not your fault,” he said simply. “I never ought to have left you alone. I should have remembered that he was no ordinary prisoner, and that some steps were bound to be taken to free him.”
“But all the men who were with him on the airship were captured, sir,” Tinker put in.
“Yes, but you can be sure that there were others in Lerwick,” Sexton Blake answered bitterly; “men who had been working at the cables showing the new harbours. It is one of them who has got him away.”
“And do you think that he is on the train, sir?”
Sexton Blake shrugged his shoulders, with the manner of a man who admits himself baffled.
“We shall know soon, lad,” he replied.
But he was to know sooner than he expected—very much sooner. From above, on the roof of the carriage, sounded a sharp blow, such as might have been made by a man’s boot, and Sexton Blake, his eyes sparkling, leapt to his feet.
“That’s it!” he cried. “Why didn’t I think of it? In the dark station, no one would have noticed him crouching on the roof!”
To the door Sexton Blake sprang, and flung it open. He saw that his compartment was the last one of the coach, so that it would be easy enough for a man to slip to the back of it and mount the iron steps that led to the roof.
Sexton Blake went in this direction now, moving confidently despite the speed of the train, and reached the back of the compartment; Spearing and Tinker behind him. Up the steps he went, and peered over the roof.
On it lay a man at full length, his fingers gripping the electric light fitting, and at a glance it was possible to see that it was the Kaiser.
“Hardly a comfortable way of travelling, sire!” Sexton Blake called out; having to raise his voice to make himself heard above the wind.
With a jerk that nearly threw him from the roof the Kaiser swung round, and a revolver gleamed in his hand.
“Go back!” he cried fiercely. “I have the means of protecting myself now, and I shall use it!”
With a sharp jerk Sexton Blake drew himself on to the roof, and a bullet whistled by his head. The next second he was on the Kaiser, gripping his revolver-wrist and holding him down. But even then the Kaiser was not giving in easily. His blood was up. Freedom had been so near to him, and he was going to struggle to retain it.
Now Spearing and Tinker were on the roof, too, crawling along to help their chief.
With a mighty show of strength, for which few would have given his slender physique credit, the Kaiser raised himself to his knees, his arms locked round the detective, and the two swayed backwards and forwards, the revolver going off again in the scuffle, the bullet cutting through Spearing’s felt hat.
It looked as if the Kaiser was never destined to return to Germany, but was to be picked up—a corpse—from the line. A fall from the train, at the pace at which she was travelling, would mean certain death.
