by Mark Hodder
THE STUDY OF the Prime Minister’s house in Downing Street looked exactly as it had done when Sexton Blake was first summoned to it, to be sent from there to the Shetlands. The map of Great Britain still hung on the wall, a number of little flags, evidently indicating the position of the vessels of the manoeuvring fleet, being stuck in it. That was the only change.
And the Prime Minister himself, his clever face wearing a worried look, was again pacing up and down the room. Also, as before, he stopped from time to time and studied the map, his finger tracing the way from the Shetlands to the western coast.
Then, just as before, the door opened, and a manservant announced:
“Mr. Kennard.”
The young-looking Lord of the Admiralty came in briskly, and shut the door behind him. He was older-looking, and the dark marks under his eyes suggested that he was suffering from want of sleep. In his right hand he carried a bundle of papers.
“Still studying roads for enemies,” he remarked, with a laugh that was distinctly forced.
“Precisely,” the Prime Minister agreed. “You know what Mr. Sexton Blake said: ‘if you do not hear from me you will know that I have learnt things that I dare not trust to the wires.’ Now I am worrying my brain as to what he has discovered. Can you guess, Kennard?”
Mr. Kennard seated himself with an air of carelessness, but the twitching of his mouth showed that he was not so much at his ease as he wished to appear.
“Will you give me a cigar?” he asked. “It steadies my nerves.”
The Prime Minister pushed a box over, and Mr. Kennard lit up. It might have been noticed that his strong, capable fingers were shaking a trifle. The Prime Minister did notice it, and wondered what was the matter.
“Can you guess what Sexton Blake has discovered?” he repeated.
Mr. Kennard flung the used match into the grate, and twisted his cigar nervously between his fingers.
“I know,” he answered, with a quick glance towards the door.
“You have heard from him?” the Prime Minister asked eagerly.
“No, from Ferrar,” Mr. Kennard corrected. “I have the message here—sent by wireless via Dover. Obviously he is afraid of saying too much.”
“The message!” the Prime Minister cried eagerly. “In the half an hour I must be in the House, and it may be something to speak about.”
“I fancy not,” Mr. Kennard answered; and there was a savage note in his voice. “Listen! This is the message:
“‘Germans have marked special harbours. Shetlands to have been base for operations. Nine prisoners. Sexton Blake will explain.’”
Mr. Kennard looked up, the paper shaking between his fingers.
“Nine prisoners!” the Prime Minister echoed in amazement. “What does he mean?”
Mr. Kennard flung his half-smoked cigar into the grate, and his brow was furrowed across and across.
“They can’t have got as far as that,” he muttered.
“Don’t talk in riddles! As what?” the Prime Minister demanded.
“Of garrisoning the place!” Mr. Kennard explained desperately. “Yet how otherwise could there be prisoners?”
There was silence for fully a minute; then the Prime Minister spoke.
“You have seen Sexton Blake?”
“No,” Mr. Kennard admitted. “I sent to his house yesterday evening, but he had not returned. I then left a message that he was to come here as soon as he was back in London.”
The Prime Minister shrugged his shoulders wearily, and suddenly looked like a man who wondered whether the weight of the office he had voluntarily taken upon himself was worth supporting.
“I have always known that Germany was making preparations in case of war with us,” he muttered, evidently speaking his thoughts aloud, “but to have gone so far as this—no.”
“This mimic naval war may turn into grim earnest,” Mr. Kennard said; and his jaw bent forward, and his eyes sparkled.
He was a peaceable man, some said too much so for his post; but now that danger loomed so close ahead the fighting blood of the Britisher was showing. Even his slim body seemed to expand, and he squared the shoulders made rounded by much study.
“Hardly that—” the Prime Minister began, but stopped as a knock came at the door.
“Mr. Sexton Blake, sir,” the servant announced.
The two Ministers looked at each other, their eyes sparkling.
“Show him in at once!” the Prime Minister ordered sharply.
The man departed, but a few seconds later the door re-opened, and Sexton Blake entered. He came in slowly and heavily, like a man who is tired. His face was pale, and he carried his right hand in a sling.
“You are hurt!” the Prime Minister ejaculated, pushing a chair forward for the detective.
“Why, yes,” the latter admitted, in a voice not quite so strong as usual. “Our profession is like that, you know; there are dangers.”
He seated himself, and leant back wearily, but there was a sparkle in his eyes, and a faint smile came to his lips as he thought of what he had come to tell.
“We have had a message from Admiral Ferrar,” Mr. Kennard said sharply, impatient to come to the point, “but it tells little.”
“I may see it?” Sexton Blake held out his uninjured hand, and the message was handed to him without hesitation. He smiled as he read it, and tossed it on to the table.
“It certainly tells little,” he admitted.
“But why?” Mr. Kennard demanded.
“Because the admiral only knew a little,” the detective explained. “There were certain things that it was well not to tell even him. The existence of the German airship he was bound to know, and—”
“Airship at the Shetlands?” the Prime Minister gasped.
“Precisely,” Sexton Blake assured him. “An airship carrying twelve men—Germans.”
The Prime Minister rose excitedly from his chair, unable to keep still.
“What were they doing there?” he cried.
Sexton Blake shrugged his shoulders, and his eyes glittered.
“What have the men been doing there for months past?” he answered.
Mr. Kennard held up a hand as the Prime Minister was about to speak.
“Let us get the matter straight,” he said, in a voice made hard by his efforts to keep it under iron control. “Kindly tell us all that has happened, Mr. Blake—all.”
Then Sexton Blake told everything, leaving out the identity of the Kaiser, and the two Ministers sat and stared at him in astonishment. They were drinking to the dregs a very bitter cup, for they knew that long since the North should have been guarded.
The Prime Minister crossed the room, and traced his fingers along the great map. Unconsciously he drew out the flags, and jabbed him them into places right inland. Certainly he was very upset by the news that he had just received, and not without reason.
“Who was the man behind all this?” he asked suddenly, facing the detective.
“The Kaiser,” the latter answered.
“No, no; I mean the man at the Shetlands,” the Prime Minister explained.
“The Kaiser,” Sexton Blake said again.
There was a dead silence, during which the two Ministers stared at the detective with startled eyes.
“You don’t mean,” Mr. Kennard said at last, in a low voice, “that the Kaiser was on the airship, that he himself was directing operations?”
“You have seen the reports in the papers,” Sexton Blake answered, “the rumours as to where the Kaiser really was? Well, I could clear them up. The Kaiser was in the Shetlands, and is now in London.”
“In London?” Mr. Kennard repeated the words like a man in a dream.
“As a matter of fact”—a faint smile played round the detective’s lips—“he is waiting in the next room.”
The Prime Minister stared at the detective.
“He must be mad!” he muttered.
“No; I can fetch him in,” Sexton Blake assured. “I
f you think, you will understand that I could do nothing else. I dared not let him fall into the admiral’s hands. It would have meant war.”
“But what does it mean now?” the Prime Minister asked, like a man in a dream.
“Why, just what you like to make it,” the detective answered; “but one thing I will tell you. The Kaiser realises the awkward position that he is in, and that at all costs he must get back to his own country without delay. He is ready to make practically any terms to accomplish that.”
The Ministers looked keenly at each other. At last they saw how the detective had placed the game in their hands.
“You have done more than well, Mr. Blake,” the Prime Minister said earnestly, “so well that I am going to ask you to do one thing more.”
The detective bowed, his eyebrows raised inquiringly.
“Suggest our terms,” the Minister explained.
“That is simple,” Sexton Blake answered. “It is rumoured, not without good foundation, I believe, that five millions must be spent on warships at once.”
Mr. Kennard nodded, and looked eager.
“This is necessitated almost entirely by the action of Germany,” the detective continued. “If we can induce them to swear not to increase their naval strength, not to go on with this mad competition in naval expenditure, the five millions need not be spent.”
The Prime Minister rose to his feet, and held out his hand.
“Mr. Blake,” he said, “you and I ought to change places.”
Sexton Blake rose, and moved towards the door.
“I will bring his Majesty in,” he said quietly.
The two Ministers stood staring at the open doorway, and they stared even harder when Sexton Blake returned with a clean-shaven man. Then an angry laugh broke from the Prime Minister.
“This is no time to joke, Mr. Blake,” he protested. “This is not the Kaiser.”
The clean-shaven man drew his heels together, bowed, and stared at the Ministers haughtily.
“Unfortunately it is, gentlemen,” he said quietly, “though the last few days I have almost doubted my identity.”
Then the Ministers realised that Sexton Blake had spoken the truth, and they bowed respectfully.
“Let us get to work, gentlemen,” the Kaiser said abruptly. “I admit myself in your hands. Your terms are bound to be mine.”
“You will not find them so very hard, your Majesty,” the Prime Minister murmured.
“In five years things would have been different,” the Kaiser continued, with a burst of anger. “There would have been no talk of terms then.”
“I am glad that it is not five years hence, then, your Majesty,” the Prime Minister said, “just as I hope that trouble between our two nations may always be five years ahead.”
For half an hour the Ministers and the Kaiser spoke in low tones.
“I have your permission to announce this in the House?” the Prime Minister said at the end of that time.
“So!” the Kaiser admitted. “In fact, with your permission—” he lowered his voice, as if someone outside the room might hear.
“Why, certainly, sire,” the Prime Minister agreed; and there was a little smile on his lips.
ALL THROUGH THE afternoon the House had been engaged in a debate on Irish Small Holdings, and, despite a few heated speeches by the Labour members, it had developed into such a heavy business that the benches had practically emptied. But with the evening they began to fill, and by eight o’clock a strong muster of the members had assembled.
A rumour had gone round the House that the Prime Minister had an important announcement to make, and it had been added, apparently on good authority, that it was with regard to the naval manoeuvres now in progress. That was enough to bring the usually lagging members to their places, especially when they heard that it was the attitude of Germany towards Great Britain that was to be discussed.
Every member knew that the proposed expenditure of at least five millions of increasing the Navy was entirely due to the fact that Germany was laying down huge ships as fast as possible, and they wondered whether it could be possible that even a larger sum would have to be voted if Great Britain was to still command the ocean. Labour members sat and blandly smiled, thinking that here was a chance to pour out heated words in favour of the scheme, for new ships would mean work for hundreds of men.
At five minutes to nine the Prime Minister entered, Mr. Kennard with him. The former looked a trifle pale, but his eyes were those of a man who has gained a great triumph, and who sees the realisation of one of his fondest dreams within reach. Mr. Kennard held his head high, but his thin face showed no sign of anything.
As the Ministers entered, two visitors were ushered into the Distinguished Strangers’ Gallery. The pale man, whose right hand was in a sling, a few of the Members might have recognised as Sexton Blake, the famous detective, but it is safe to say that in the clean-shaven man with the haughty expression not a single one of them recognised the fiercely-moustached Emperor of Germany.
A few more remarks concerning the Irish Small Holdings were made, then Mr. Kennard rose to his feet. Instantly a great hush fell over the House.
“Gentlemen,” he said, and in his voice there was just the suggestion of a tremor, “I have a statement to make to-night which I believe will meet with general satisfaction—even from the Opposition. For some time past the action of certain foreign nations has led us to consider whether we ought not to considerably add to the numerical strength of our fleet.”
“Germany!” a Labour member cried.
“As my honourable friend has remarked,” Mr. Kennard continued, “Germany is the nation to which I chiefly refer. For years she has been endeavouring to make our supremacy on the sea a thing of the past, until we have been driven into a corner, forced to spend millions of money. Well, we have thought over the situation, diplomacy has not been idle, and at last I am able to announce that an arrangement with Germany is about to be entered into which will render the expenditure of this vast sum on ships of war unnecessary. In short, Germany will not increase its navy, and so we, too, may call a halt.”
As the Chief Lord of the Admiralty paused, Mr. Alexander Brown, Labour member for North Buswell, rose excitedly to his feet.
“And may I ask whose word we have for that?” he demanded.
“The word of the Kaiser himself!” Mr. Kennard answered, with dignity; and for a moment his eyes were turned towards the Strangers’ Gallery, to where a clean-shaven man of haughty aspect sat nervously feeling at his upper lip. “I may also add”—Mr. Kennard spoke slowly and impressively—“that it is quite likely that, as a mark of confidence,
his Majesty will be permitted to witness the end of the present naval manoeuvres.”
The excitable member for North Buswell was on his feet in an instant.
“May I ask whether his Majesty will witness them under an oath of secrecy?” he demanded.
But Mr. Kennard sat down without answering, and up in the gallery the Kaiser laughed softly.
“After all, my friend,” he whispered to Sexton Blake, “there are more boring entertainments than this Parliament of yours. So?”
THE FOURTEENTH CHAPTER
The Attack on the Thames—Repelled—The Kaiser Leaves for Germany—The Imperial Explanation—The End.
IN THE BROAD mouth of the river all was dark as pitch, and the wind that blew in sharply from the sea raised waves that would not have discredited an ocean. Here and there sailing barges beat their way out, the water washing over their scuppers, but most of the smaller vessels were content to lie in safety further up the river. A day or two made no real difference, and a fair wind and sea is worth waiting for.
Through the choppy waves a vessel came ploughing its way, its white hulk looking ghostly in the darkness, and swung round right beside a huge battleship which was steaming just strongly enough to hold her own against the tide.
The white boat was the Hohenzollern, the Kaiser’s yacht, and the German
Emperor himself stood on the bridge. Once more a fiercely-upturned moustache adorned his lip, and only the man who stood beside him, who was none other than Sexton Blake, could have said that it was one of the finest imitations that had ever been worn.
By an act of diplomacy the famous detective had got the Kaiser aboard his yacht at Dover without attracting attention, and now, as had been extensively published in the papers, he was to watch the final stages of the manoeuvres—the attack on the Thames and attempted capture of London.
Away to right and left of the Hohenzollern great battleships, not a light aboard of them, loomed up, and it was only the occasional rattle of a chain, or the snap of an order, that made one sure that they were real, and not things of the imagination. Other craft; cruisers, destroyers, torpedo-boats, lay rocking in the waves, but their low-lying hulks were invisible in the darkness.
Now and again there was a sharp swish of water, a quick panting of machinery, and one of the torpedo-boats would dash by, the water coming back in a sheet over her bows, her crew in oilskins, bound on a scouting expedition.
All this seemed to fascinate the Kaiser, for he stood on the bridge of his yacht and watched every movement with his eyes in absolute silence.
“They are well handled, these boats,” he said at last, a trifle grudgingly.
“Their officers come of a seafaring race, sire,” the detective answered quietly.
The Kaiser lapsed into silence again, and pulled carefully at his moustache. And all the time warships were creeping up, stealthily and surely, taking up their positions for resisting an attack.
Then, right ahead, at a distance it was difficult to judge, a light flashed sharply—once, twice.
From all sides came the ringing of bells in engine-rooms, and the air was filled by the great white arms of the Fleet’s searchlights. From side to side they swept, circling, making sudden plunges, hunting out the enemy. For the moment the night had vanished, and a day of dazzling brightness had taken its place.
Right ahead lay the attacking fleet, which one of the torpedo-boats had discovered creeping up, and now she lay—battleships, cruisers, and seemingly numberless smaller craft—exposed to the defending fleet. Technically she was beaten, but the discovery did not complete the manoeuvres that the Kaiser was to witness.
