The Bomb-Makers

by William Le Queux

aspuppets of Germany while the Kaiser played the tune. Many of them,subjects of neutral countries, had been perfectly friendly to us, butsince the war the relentless thumbscrew of blackmail had been placedupon them by Ernst von Ortmann, and they were compelled to do hisbidding and act against the interests of Great Britain.

  Over the heads of most of them, men and women--especially the latter--the wily Ortmann and his well-organised staff held documentary evidenceof such a damning character that, if handed to the proper quarter, wouldeither have caused their arrest and punishment, or, in the case of thefair sex, cause their social ostracism. Hence Ortmann held his oftenunwilling agents together with an iron hand which was both unscrupulousand drastic. Woe betide either man or woman who, having acceptedGermany's good-will and favours before the war, now dared to refuse todo her dirty work.

  Truly, the Hidden Hand was that of the "mailed-fist" covered withvelvet, full of double cunning and irresistible influence in quiteunsuspected quarters.

  Old Theodore Drost was but a pawn in Germany's dastardly attack uponEngland, but a very valuable one, from his intimate knowledge ofexplosives. Moreover, as an inventor of death-dealing devices, hecertainly had no equal in Europe.

  In order to discuss in secret a daring and terrible plot, the pair hadlunched in company at Park Lane.

  At that same hour, on that same day, Flight-Commander Seymour Kennedy,in his naval uniform with the "pilot's wings," was on leave from acertain air-station on the South-East coast, and was seated oppositeElla Drost in the Cafe Royal, in Regent Street, discussing a lobstersalad _tete-a-tete_.

  It was one of the favourite luncheon places of Drost's daughter.

  The revue in which she had been appearing and in which, by the way,Ortmann was financially interested in secret, had finished its season,and the theatre had closed its doors for the summer. Consequently Ellahad taken a tiny riverside cottage near Shepperton-on-Thames, though shestill kept open her pretty flat in Stamfordham Mansions, her faithfulFrench maid, Mariette, being in charge.

  "You seem worried, darling," Kennedy whispered, as he bent across thetable to her. "What's the matter?"

  "I've already told you."

  "But you really don't take it seriously, do you?" asked the well-knownair-pilot. "Surely it's only a mere suspicion."

  "It is fortunate that I succeeded in obtaining for you an impression ofthe key of the laboratory," was the girl's reply.

  "Yes. It was. Your father never dreams that we know all that is inprogress there. It's a real good stunt of yours to keep in with him,and stay at Barnes sometimes."

  "Well, I've told you what I ascertained the night before last. Ortmannwas there with the others. There's a big _coup_ intended--a dastardlyblow, as I have explained."

  And in the girl's eyes there showed a hard, serious expression, as shedrew a long breath. It was quite plain to her lover that she was fullof nervous apprehension, and that what she had related to him was afact.

  Another deeply-laid plot was afoot, but one so subtle and so daring thatKennedy, with his cheerful optimism and his high spirits, could not yetfully realise its nature.

  Ella had, an hour before, told him a very remarkable story.

  At first, so extraordinary and improbable had it sounded, that he hadbeen inclined to pooh-pooh the whole affair, but now, amid the clatterand bustle of that cosmopolitan restaurant, the same to-day as in themid-Victorian days, he began to realise that the impression left uponhis well-beloved, by the knowledge she had obtained, had been adistinctly sinister one.

  "Well, dearest," he said, again leaning across the little_table-a-deux_, "I'll go into the matter at once if you wish it, andwe'll watch and wait."

  "Yes, do, Seymour," exclaimed the girl anxiously. "I'll help you.There is a deeply-laid plot in progress. Of that I'm quite certain--more especially because Ortmann came to see dad yesterday morning andwent to see him again to-day."

  "You overheard some of their conversation--eh?"

  "I did," was her open response. "And for that reason I am so full offear."

  At nine o'clock that same night, in accordance with an appointment, EllaDrost stood upon the whitewashed kerb in Belgrave Square, at the cornerof West Halkin Street.

  Darkness had already fallen. The London streets were gloomy because ofthe lighting order, and hardly a light showed from any house in theSquare.

  For fully ten minutes she waited until, at last, from out of BelgravePlace, a car came slowly along, and pulled up at the spot where shestood.

  In a moment Ella had mounted beside her lover who, next second, movedoff in the direction of Knightsbridge.

  "It's rather fortunate that we've met here, darling," were his firstwords. "Since we were together this afternoon I have been followedcontinuously. Had I called at Stamfordham Mansions, Ortmann would havehad his suspicions confirmed. But I've successfully eluded them, andhere we are."

  "I know--I feel sure that Ortmann suspects us. Why does he live as MrHorton over at Wandsworth Common?"

  "Because he is so infernally clever," laughed the air-pilot, in hischeery, nonchalant way.

  Neither of them knew, up to that moment, anything more of Mr HenryHarberton, of Park Lane, save reading in the papers of his socialdistinction. Neither Kennedy nor his charming well-beloved had dreamedthat Ortmann, alias Horton, patriotic Britannia-rule-the-WavesEnglishman, was identical with that meteoric planet in the socialfirmament of London, Mr Henry Harberton, whose wealth was such thateven in war-time he could give two-guinea-a-head luncheons to hisfriends at one or other of the half-dozen or so London restaurants whichcater for such clients.

  Seymour Kennedy was driving the car swiftly, but Ella, nestling besidehim, took no heed of the direction in which they were travelling. Thenight-wind blew cold and he, solicitous of her welfare, bent over andwith his left hand drew up the collar of her Burberry.

  They were leaving London ere she became aware of it, travellingwestward, branching at Hounslow upon the old road to Bath, the road ofDick Turpin's exploits in the good old days of cocked-hats,powder-and-patches, and three-bottle men.

  Passing through Slough, they crossed the river at Maidenhead and againat Henley, keeping on the ever ascending high-road over the Chilterns,to Nettlebed, until they ran rapidly down past Gould's Grove throughBenson, and past Shillingford where, a short distance beyond, he pulledup and, opening a gate, placed the car in a meadow grey with mist.

  Afterwards the pair, leaving the high-road, turned into a path which ledthrough the fields down to the river. Reaching it at a point not farfrom Day's Lock, they halted.

  Before them, between the pathway and the river's brink, there showed alighted window obscured by a yellow holland blind, the window of acorrugated iron bungalow of some river enthusiast, the room beingapparently lit by a paraffin lamp.

  Carefully, and treading upon tiptoe, they crept forward without a sound,and, approaching the square, inartistic window, halted and strainedtheir ears to listen to the conversation in progress within.

  Words in German were being spoken. Ella listened, and recognised herfather's voice. Ortmann was speaking, too, while other voices ofstrangers also sounded.

  What Seymour overheard through the thin wood-and-iron wall of theriverside bungalow quickly convinced him that Ella's suspicions wereonly too well founded. A desperate conspiracy to commit outrage wascertainly being formed--a plot as daring and as subtle as any everformed by the Nihilists in Russia, or the Mafia in Italy.

  The Germans, _par excellence_ the scientists of Europe, were out to winthe war by frightfulness, just as thousands of years ago the Chinese wontheir wars by assuming horrible disguises and pulling ugly faces tobring bad luck upon their superstitious enemies. The Great War Lord ofGermany, in order to save his throne and substantiate his title ofAll-Highest, had set loose his sorry dogs of depravity, degeneracy, anddesolation. And he had planted in our island a clever and unscrupulouscrew, headed by Ortmann, whose mission was, if possible, to wreck theShip of State of Grea
t Britain.

  The air-pilot listened to the conversation in amazement. He realisedthen how Ella had exercised a shrewder watchfulness than he had everdone, although he had believed himself so clever.

  Therefore, when she whispered, "Let's get away, dear, or we may bediscovered," he obeyed her, and crawled off over the strip of gravel tothe grass, after which both made their way back to the footpath.

  "Well?" asked the popular actress, as they strode along hand in hand towhere they had left the car. "What's your opinion now--eh? Haven't youbeen convinced?"

  "Yes, darling. I can now see quite plainly that there is a plot on footwhich, if we are patriots, you and I, we must scotch, at all hazards."

  "I agree entirely, Seymour," was the girl's