Bob Cook and the German Spy

by Frank V. Webster

  CHAPTER II

  THE SECRET SERVICE AT WORK

  The following morning Bob was in the trolley car on his way to school.The car was full, and every one was eagerly scanning a newspaper ordiscussing the war with his neighbor. Words of praise for the Presidentwere to be heard on all sides, and enthusiasm was everywhere in evidence.Old men wished they were young enough to enlist.

  All at once Bob heard voices raised in dispute. The trouble was at theopposite end of the car, but he could hear plainly what was said.

  "It is wrong, all wrong," exclaimed a florid-faced man with a lightmustache, who plainly was of German blood. "What has Germany done tothis country?"

  "They've sunk our ships when they had no right to, and they've murderedour peaceful citizens," said the man next to him. "Isn't that enough?"

  "They were forced to do it," the German insisted.

  "Oh, no, they weren't," said his neighbor calmly. "Any one can play thegame according to the rules if he wants to; there is never any excusefor dirty work."

  "Germany wants peace with the United States," said the German loudly.

  "Well, if they do, they take a strange method of showing it," replied theother man with a grim smile. "Personally it's my opinion that we've beenpatient with Germany far too long. Now they've forced war upon us and formy part I'm ready to go out and fight for my country."

  Every one in the car was now listening to the discussion, and perhaps themost interested listener of all was young Robert Cook.

  "Well, I won't fight for the United States!" exclaimed the big German,rising to his feet. "I won't fight for Germany either, but I'll fight allright." He started toward the door of the car, while Bob pondered overhis last remark and wondered what it could mean.

  As the German approached the door, a man dressed in a neat black suit andsoft hat got up out of his seat. Bob was watching the German and alsonoticed this man, though not particularly; he did see that he had asquare jaw and a determined look in his gray eyes.

  The German started to crowd past the stranger who stood squarely in theaisle. "Don't be in such a hurry," said the man quietly. "You stay here."

  "I want to get off this car," shouted the German angrily. "Get outof my way."

  "I want you to come with me," said the man still in the same quiet tone.As the German started to protest once more he drew back his coat slightlyand Bob saw the gleam of a badge on his coat. "Sit down," he said to theGerman, who obeyed without further question.

  There was a mild flurry of excitement in the car, and there were smilesof amusement on the faces of many of the passengers as they glanced atthe German sitting meekly in the corner of the seat. He seemed entirelycowed now, and kept his eyes fixed upon the floor, save for an occasionallook he stole at the secret service man standing in front of him. Thelatter seemed entirely at his ease and acted as if not a thing out of theordinary had taken place.

  Bob was greatly impressed, and looked with marked respect at thequiet-mannered detective standing near him. He wondered what it was allabout, and his father's words of the evening before concerning plottersand spies came again to his mind. He wondered if he could join the secretservice and help his country in that way. Then he remembered that he wasonly seventeen and sighed to think that there was probably less chance ofthat than there was of being taken into the army.

  What was the detective going to do with the German, wondered Bob. Thecar was approaching the high school, and he would have to get off soonand he did not want to miss any of the drama. Suddenly he remembered thepolice station on the block adjoining the school building and decidedthat that must be the detective's destination. Bob decided to stay on thecar long enough to see anyway.

  They passed the high school, and sure enough, as they came to the nextcorner, the secret service agent motioned to the German to follow himout. Bob decided to go along. They got off the trolley car and enteredthe police station. Behind the desk sat the sergeant, a man named Riley,well known to Bob. The detective led his prisoner up to the rail.

  "I want you to take care of this man for me, Sergeant," he said, at thesame time displaying his badge.

  "Certainly," said Sergeant Riley quickly. "Here, Donovan," he called to apoliceman standing near by. "Take this man and lock him up."

  Officer Donovan beckoned to the German who was standing sullenly by theside of the policeman; his face was white and his eyes gleamed wickedlywhile he opened and closed his hands nervously. He even started toprotest, but before he could say anything Sergeant Riley quicklysilenced him. Without further ado he joined the policeman, and togetherthey disappeared through the door leading out to the room where thecells were located.

  Satisfied that his prisoner was taken in charge, the secret service agentturned and without further ado left the building.

  Bob was much excited and interested. "Who was that secret service man?"he inquired of the sergeant.

  "Dunno," said Riley. "I never saw him before."

  "He didn't even make a charge against the man," said Bob.

  "I know it," said Riley. "He don't have to."

  "I thought you couldn't lock up a man unless there was some chargeagainst him," exclaimed Bob.

  "We have orders to lock up every man them fellers bring in here," saidSergeant Riley. "We keep 'em here until we get word to do something elsewith 'em. It's not for us to ask questions, you know."

  "Have you got any more here?" demanded Bob.

  "That's the first; we have accommodations for seventy-five though."

  "Whew," exclaimed Bob. "Do you think there'll be much trouble with theGermans here in High Ridge?"

  "Can't say. Some of them are a crazy lot. At any rate we're ready for'em. And what are you doing here at this time o' day anyhow? You'll belate for school; your visiting hour here is usually in the afternoon."

  "I saw that fellow on the trolley," Bob explained. "I wanted to see whathappened to him."

  "Well, you better run along," advised the sergeant. "Come in and seeme later."

  Bob hurried out and ran down the block toward the high school. His mindwas not on his lessons, however. War was uppermost in his thoughts, andhe still pondered over what his father had said the evening before, andthe recent arrest of the German in the trolley car. Probably after allthere was something in this scare about spies and plotters.

  He arrived at school fifteen minutes late, but nothing was said to him.School discipline was greatly relaxed that morning and instead ofrecitations the first period, the principal gave a talk on patriotism andwhat the declaration of war would mean. He especially warned the pupilsagainst acting differently toward any of their number who might be ofGerman blood.

  "They may be just as good and loyal citizens as we are," he said. "Atany rate we must act as though they were until they convince usotherwise."

  Bob considered this good advice, but he still thought of his father'swords and his experience of that morning. "Suppose anything should happento father's steel works," he thought. They were making shells for theGovernment and could afford to run no risks. "I'll see if I can be of anyhelp in protecting them," he told himself.

  He tried to concentrate his mind on his tasks, but it seemed hopeless.The words of the German in the trolley came back to him continually--"Iwon't fight for Germany. I won't fight for the United States either, butI'll fight all right." What could he have meant? Did he mean that hewouldn't try to enlist in either the German or American armies, but thathe'd do his fighting on his own account? How could that be? Bob wonderedif the fighting he would do would be for this country or Germany. If forthis country, it seemed queer that the secret service officer should havearrested him. The thought of bombs returned insistently to Bob's mind.

  Recess came at last and he sought out Hugh Reith, his best friend. Hughwas a boy of Bob's own age, almost exactly his size, and as they bothliked to do the same things they were bosom companions. Bob was light andHugh was dark, his hair was almost raven black, and his eyes a deepbrown. He had large hands and several croo
ked fingers owing to the factthat he had broken them playing base ball. He was stronger than Bob,though not so agile or quick on his feet, and while he could defeat hislight-haired friend in tests of strength he was not a match for him whenit came to speed.

  "What do you think of this war, Hugh?" Bob asked eagerly.

  "I wish I could enlist," said Hugh.

  "So do I, but I guess we can't."

  "We're too young, I suppose. Isn't there anything we can do to help?"

  "My father thinks we may have trouble with the Germans here in town. Ifanything starts you can be sure I'm going to get in it if possible."

  "Say," exclaimed Hugh, "did you see young Frank Wernberg this morningwhen the principal was making his speech about patriotism?"

  "No, what was he doing?"

  "Oh, he was snickering and making side remarks to Jim Scott, and makinghimself generally objectionable."

  "If I'd been Jim I'd have told him to keep quiet," said Bob warmly.

  "That's just what he did do finally."

  "Did he stop?"

  "Oh, for a little while," said Hugh. "He was awful, I thought."

  "You know," said Bob, "my father says that Mr. Wernberg is about the mostrabid German in High Ridge. He's crazy on the subject."

  "Who, your father?"

  "No, Mr. Wernberg. He's crazy on the subject of Germany. He thinks it isthe greatest country in the world and that every one in the United Statesis a fool or something."

  "Why doesn't he go back to Germany then?" demanded Hugh angrily.

  "That's what I--"

  "Sh," hissed Hugh. "Here comes Frank Wernberg now."