Spies of the Kaiser: Plotting the Downfall of England

by William Le Queux

  CHAPTER IX

  THE SECRET OF OUR NEW GUN

  Ray and I were in Newcastle-on-Tyne a few weeks after our success infrustrating the German plot against England.

  Certain observations we had kept had led us to believe that a franticendeavour was being made to obtain certain details of a new type of gun,of enormous power and range, which at that moment was under constructionat the Armstrong Works at Elswick.

  The Tyne and Tees have long ago been surveyed by Germany, and no doubtthe accurate and detailed information pigeon-holed in the IntelligenceBureau at Berlin would, if seen by the good people of Newcastle, causethem a _mauvais quart d'heure_, as well as considerable alarm.

  Yet there are one or two secrets of the Tyne and its defences which arefortunately not yet the property of our friends the enemy.

  Vera was in Switzerland with her father.

  But from our quarters at the Station Hotel in Newcastle we made manycareful and confidential inquiries. We discovered, among other things,the existence of a secret German club in a back street off GraingerStreet, and the members of this institution we watched narrowly.

  Now no British workman will willingly give away any secret to a foreignPower, and we did not suspect that any one employed at the great ElswickWorks would be guilty of treachery. In these days of socialistic,fire-brand oratory there is always, however, the danger of a dischargedworkman making revelations with objects of private vengeance, neverrealising that it is a nation's secrets that he may be betraying. Yet inthe course of a fortnight's inquiry we learned nothing to lead us tosuspect that our enemies would obtain the information they sought.

  Among the members of the secret German club--which, by the way, includedin its membership several Swiss and Belgians--was a middle-aged man whowent by the name of John Barker, but who was either a German or a Swede,and whose real name most probably ended in "burger."

  He was, we found, employed as foreign-correspondence clerk in theoffices of a well-known shipping firm, and amateur photography seemedhis chief hobby. He had a number of friends, one of whom was a man namedCharles Rosser, a highly respectable, hardworking man, who was aforeman fitter at Elswick.

  We watched the pair closely, for our suspicions were at last aroused.

  Rosser often spent the evening with his friend Barker at theatres andmusic-halls, and it was evident that the shipping clerk paid foreverything. Once or twice Barker went out to Rosser's house in DilstonRoad, close to the Nun's Moor Recreation Ground, and there spent theevening with his wife and family.

  We took turns at keeping observation, but one night Ray, who had beenout following the pair, entered my room at the hotel, saying:

  "Barker is persuading his friend to buy a new house in the BentinckRoad. It's a small, neat little red-brick villa, just completed, and theprice is three hundred and fifty pounds."

  "Well?" I asked.

  "Well, to-night I overheard part of their conversation. Barker actuallyoffers to lend his friend half the money."

  "Ah!" I cried. "On certain conditions, I suppose?"

  "No conditions were mentioned, but, no doubt, he intends to get poorRosser into his toils, that he'll be compelled to supply someinformation in order to save himself and his family from ruin. The spiesof Germany are quite unscrupulous, remember!"

  "Yes," I remarked. "The truth is quite clear. We must protect Rosserfrom this. He's no doubt tempting the unsuspecting fellow, and posingas a man of means. Rosser doesn't know that his generous friend is aspy."

  For the next few days it fell to my lot to watch Barker. I followed himon Saturday afternoon to Tynemouth, where it seemed his hobby was tosnap-shot incoming and outgoing ships at the estuary, at the same timeasking of seafaring men in the vicinity how far the boat would be fromthe shore where he was standing.

  Both part of that afternoon and part of Sunday he was engaged in takingsome measurements near the Ridges Reservoir, North Shields, afterwardsgoing on to Tynemouth again, and snap-shotting the castle from variouspositions, the railway and its tunnels, the various slips, the jetty,the fish quay, the harbour, and the Narrows. Indeed, he seemed to bemaking a most careful photographic survey of the whole town.

  He carried with him a memorandum book, in which he made many notes. Allthis he did openly, in full presence of passers-by, and even of thepolice, for who suspects German spies in Tynemouth?

  About six o'clock on Sunday afternoon he entered the Royal StationHotel, took off his light overcoat, and, hanging it in the hall, wentinto the coffee-room to order tea.

  I had followed him in order to have tea myself, and I took off my ownovercoat and hung it up next to his.

  But I did not enter the coffee-room; instead, I went into thesmoking-room. There I called for a drink, and, having swallowed it,returned to the pegs where our coats were hanging.

  Swiftly I placed my hand in the breast pocket of his coat, and therefelt some papers which, in a second, I had seized and transferred to myown pocket. Then I put on my coat leisurely, and strolled across to thestation.

  MAP OF THE NORTH SHIELDS RESERVOIRS, AND HOW TO CUT OFFTHE WATER SUPPLY, PREPARED BY THE SPY JOHN BARKER.]

  A train was fortunately just about to leave for Newcastle, and I jumpedin. Then when we had moved away from the platform I eagerly examinedwhat I had secured.

  It consisted of a tipster's circular, some newspaper cuttings concerningfootball, a rough sketch of how the water supply of North Shields couldbe cut off, and a private letter from a business man which may be ofinterest if I reproduce it. It read as follows:

  "Berkeley Chambers, "Cannon Street, "London, E.C., "_May 3rd_, 1908.

  "MY DEAR JOHN,

  "I herewith enclose the interest in advance--four five-pound notes.

  "Continue to act as you have done, and obtain orders wherever possible.

  "Business just now, I am glad to say, leaves but little to be desired, and we hope that next year your share of profits may be increased.

  "We have every confidence in this, you understand.

  "Write to us oftener and give us news of your doings, as we are always interested in your welfare.

  "It is unwise of you, I think, to doubt Uncle Charles, for I have always found him to be a man in whom one can repose the utmost confidence. He is, I believe, taking a house near Tynemouth.

  "Every one is at present well, but the spring in London is always trying. However, we are hoping for warmer weather.

  "My wife and the children, especially little Charlie, Frederick, and Charlotte--who is growing quite a big girl--send their love to you.

  "Your affectionate cousin, "HENRY LEWIS."

  That letter, innocent enough upon the face of it, contained certaininstructions to the spy, besides enclosing his monthly payment of L20.

  Read by the alphabetical instructions with which every German secretagent is supplied and which vary in various districts, the message itcontained was as follows:

  (Phrase I) I send you your monthly payment.

  (Phrase 2) Your informations during the past month are satisfactory.

  (Phrase 3) Your service in general is giving satisfaction, and if it continues so, we shall at the next inspection augment your monthly payment.

  (Phrase 4) We wish you, however, to send us more detailed notes, and report oftener.

  (Phrase 5) Cease your observations upon Charles. We have what we require. Turn your attention to defences at Tynemouth.

  (Phrase 6) As you know, the chief (spring) is very difficult to please, for at the last inspection we were given increased work.

  (Phrase 7) Remain in negotiation with your three correspondents--Charles (meaning the foreman, Rosser), Charlotte, and Frederick--until you hear further. You may make them offers for the information.

  Thus it will be seen that any one into whose hands th
is letter from"Henry Lewis" fell would be unable to ascertain its real meaning.

  The fictitious Lewis, we afterwards discovered, occupied a small officein Berkeley Chambers in the guise of a commission agent, but was nodoubt the travelling agent whose actions were controllable by HermannHartmann, but who in turn controlled the fixed agents of that districtlying between the Humber and the Tweed.

  Most of these travelling agents visit their fixed agents--the men who dothe real work of espionage--in the guise of a commercial traveller ifthe agent is a shopkeeper, or if he is not, he will represent himself asa client or an insurance agent, an auctioneer or a house agent. Thislast _metier_ is greatly recommended by the German Secret Police as thebest mode of concealing espionage, and is adopted by the most dangerousand ingenious of the spies.

  When I returned I showed my treasures to Ray, who at once becameexcited.

  "The fellow is a fixed agent here in Newcastle, no doubt," he declared."We must watch him well."

  We continued our observations. The spy and Rosser were inseparable. Theymet each evening, and more than once the whole Rosser family went out toentertainments at Mr. Barker's expense. He would allow the foremanfitter to pay for nothing.

  Judicious inquiries at Elswick revealed the fact that Charles Rosser wasone of the most skilful fitters in the employ of the firm, and that suchwas the confidence placed in him, that he was at present engaged in thefinishing of the new gun which was to be a triumph of the BritishNavy--a weapon which was far and away in advance of any possessed by anyother nation, or anything ever turned out from Krupp's.

  It was ticklish and exciting work, watching the two men and observingthe subtle craftiness of the German, who was trying to get the honestEnglishman into his power. But in our self-imposed campaign ofcontra-espionage we had had many stirring adventures, and after all, ourlife in Newcastle was not unpleasant. Barker was engaged at his officeall day, and we were then free. It was only at evening when we werecompelled to adopt those hundred and one subterfuges, and whenever thewatching was wearisome and chill we always recollected that we wereperforming a patriotic duty, even though it be silent, unknown, andunrecognised.

  One night the pair were together in a bar in Westgate Road, when, fromtheir conversation, it was made very clear to me that Barker hadadvanced his friend one hundred and seventy-five pounds, and that thedeeds of the new house were to be signed next day. Rosser was extremelygrateful to his friend. Half the purchase-money was to remain onmortgage--a mortgage made over to Barker himself--just as we hadexpected.

  The men clinked glasses, and it was plain that Rosser had not the leastsuspicion of the abyss opened before him. There are some men who areentirely unsuspecting, and perhaps the British workman is most of all.

  When I reported this to Ray and we had consulted together, we decidedthat the time was ripe to approach Rosser and expose his generousfriend.

  It was now quite plain to us that Barker would quickly bring pressure tobear upon the foreman fitter to either supply a drawing and roughspecifications of the new gun, or else come face to face with ruin. Wehad ascertained that, though an honest workman, Rosser only lived uponhis weekly wages, and had nothing put by for the support of his wife andfour children. The patriotic scruples of a man are not difficult toovercome when he sees his wife and family in danger of starvation.

  On the next evening we followed Rosser from his work up to Dilston Roadand called at his clean and humble home.

  At first he greatly resented our intrusion, and was most indignant atour suggestion that he was about to be made a cat's-paw by the Kaiser'sspies.

  But on production of the letter, which we deciphered, the plan of theRidges Waterworks, and our allegations concerning his generous friend,he began to reflect.

  "Has he ever asked you about the new gun now being made at Elswick?" Iasked.

  "Well"--he hesitated--"now I recall the fact, he has on severaloccasions."

  "Ah!" I said. "He intended to either ruin you, Rosser, or compel you tobecome a traitor."

  "He'd never do that!" declared the stout-hearted Briton. "By God! Ifwhat you tell me is true," he cried fiercely, "I'll wring theblackguard's neck."

  "No," I said, "don't do that. He's paid the purchase money for a newhouse for you, hasn't he?"

  "Yes."

  "Then leave him to us. We'll compel him to hand back the mortgage, andyour revenge shall be a new house at the expense of the GermanGovernment," whereat both Ray and he laughed heartily.

  Next night we faced the spy at his own rooms, and on pain of exposureand the police compelled him to hand over the new little villa to hisintended victim unconditionally, a fact which caused him the mostintense chagrin, and induced him to utter the most fearful threats ofvengeance against us.

  But we had already had many such threats. So we only laughed at them.

  We had, however, the satisfaction of exposing the spy to the firm whichemployed him, and we were present on the platform of the Central Stationwhen, two days later, having given up his rooms and packed hisbelongings, he left the Tyne-side for London, evidently to consult histravelling-inspector, "Henry Lewis."

  Several months passed. The attempt to obtain details of our new gun hadpassed completely from my mind.

  An inquiry which Ray and I had been actively prosecuting into an attemptto learn the secrets of the "transmitting-room" of our new_Dreadnoughts_ had led me to the south of Germany. I had had a ratherexciting experience in Dresden and was now on my way back to London.

  "Ah! Your London is such a strange place. So dull, so _triste_--so verydamp and foggy," remarked the girl seated in the train before me.

  "Not always, mademoiselle," I replied. "You have been there in winter.You should go in June. In the season it is as pleasant as anywhere elsein the world."

  "I have no desire to return. And yet----"

  "Well?"

  "And yet I have decided to go straight on from the Gare du Nord."

  "The midday service! I shall cross by that also. We shall befellow-travellers," I said.

  We were together in the night _rapide_ from Berlin to Paris, and hadjust left the great echoing station of Cologne, with few stops betweenthere and Paris. Day was breaking.

  I had met Julie Granier under curious circumstances only a few hoursbefore.

  At Berlin, being known to the controller of the Wagon-lit Company, I wasat once given a two-berth compartment in the long, dusty sleeping-car,those big carriages in which I so often spent days, and nights too, forthe matter of that.

  "M'sieur is for Paris?" asked the brown-uniformed conductor as Ientered, and after flinging in my traps, I descended, went to the buffetand had a mazagran and cigarette until our departure.

  I had not sat there more than five minutes when the conductor, a manwith whom I had travelled a dozen times, put his head in at the door,and, seeing me, withdrew. Then, a few moments later, he entered with atall, dark-haired, good-looking girl, who stood aside as he approachedme, cap in hand.

  "Excuse me, m'sieur, but a lady wishes to ask a great favour of you."

  "Of me? What is it?" I inquired, rising.

  Glancing at the tall figure in black, I saw that she was not more thantwenty-two at the outside, and that she had the bearing and manner of alady.

  "Well, m'sieur, she will explain herself," the man said, whereupon thefair stranger approached bowing, and exclaimed:

  "I trust m'sieur will pardon me for what I am about to ask," she said inFrench. "I know it is great presumption on my part, a total stranger,but the fact is that I am bound to get to Paris to-morrow. It isimperative--most imperative--that I should be there and keep anappointment. I find, however, that all the berths are taken, and thatthe only vacant one is in your compartment. I thought----" and shehesitated, with downcast eyes.

  "You mean that you want me to allow you to travel here, mademoiselle?" Isaid, with a smile.

  "Ah, m'sieur! If you would; if you only would! It would be an act offriendship that I would never forget."

/>   She saw my hesitation, and I detected how anxious she became. Her glovedhands were trembling, and she seemed agitated and pale to the lips.

  Again I scrutinised her. There was nothing of the spy or adventuressabout her. On the contrary, she seemed a very charmingly modest youngwoman, for in continuation of her request she suggested that she couldsit in the conductor's seat in the corridor.

  "But surely that would be rather wearisome, mademoiselle?" I said.

  "No, no, not at all. I must get to Paris at all costs. Ah, m'sieur! Youwill allow me to do as I ask, will you not? Do. I implore you."

  I made no reply, for truth to tell, although I was not suspicious, Ihesitated to allow the fair stranger to be my travelling companion. Itwas against my principle. Yet reading disinclination in my silence, shecontinued:

  "Ah, m'sieur! If you only knew in what deadly peril I am! By grantingthis favour to me you can"--and she broke off short. "Well," she wenton, "I may as well tell you the truth, m'sieur," and in her eyes therewas a strange look that I had never seen in those of any woman before,"you can save my life."

  "Your life!" I echoed, but at that moment the sleeping-car conductor,standing at the buffet-door, called:

  "_En voiture_, m'sieur. The train is just starting."

  "Do take me," implored the girl. "Do, m'sieur. Do."

  There was no time for further discussion, therefore I did as sherequested, and a few moments later, with a dressing-case, which was allthe baggage she had, she mounted into the _wagon-lit_, and we moved offto the French capital.

  I offered her the sleeping-compartment to herself, but she steadilyrefused to accept it.

  "No, m'sieur, certainly not," was her reply. "I shall sit in thecorridor all night, as I have already said."

  And so, hour after hour, while all the passengers had retired to rest,we sat at the end of the car and chatted. I asked her if she liked acigarette, and she gladly accepted. So we smoked together, while shetold me something of herself. She was a native of Orleans, where herpeople had been wealthy landowners, she said, but some unfortunatespeculation on her father's part brought ruin to them, and she was nowgoverness in the family of a certain Baron de Moret, of the Chateau deMoret, near Paris.

  A governess! I had believed from her dress and manner that she was atleast the daughter of some French aristocrat, and I confess I wasdisappointed to find that she was only a superior servant.

  "I have just come from Breslau," she explained. "On very urgentbusiness--business that concerns my own self. If I am not in Paris thismorning I shall, in all probability, pay the penalty with my life."

  "How? What do you mean?"

  In the grey dawn as the express roared on towards Paris I saw that hercountenance was that of a woman who held a secret. At first I had beenconscious that there was something unusual about her, and suspected herto be an adventuress, but now, on further acquaintance, I becameconvinced that she held possession of some knowledge that she wasyearning to betray, yet feared to do so.

  One fact that struck me as curious was that, in the course of ourconversation, she showed that she knew my destination was London. Atfirst this puzzled me, but on reflection I saw that the conductor,knowing me, had told her.

  At Erquelinnes we had descended and had our early _cafe complet_, andnow as we rushed onward to the capital she had suddenly made up her mindto go through to London.

  "When we arrive in Paris I must leave you to keep my appointments," shesaid. "We will meet again at the Gare du Nord--at the Calais train, eh?"

  "Most certainly," was the reply.

  "Ah!" she sighed, looking straight into my face with those dark eyesthat were so luminous. "You do not know--you can never guess what agreat service you have rendered me by allowing me to travel here withyou. My peril is the gravest that--well, that ever threatened awoman--yet now, by your aid, I shall be able to save myself. Otherwise,to-morrow my body would have been exposed in the Morgue--the corpse of awoman unknown."

  "These words of yours interest me."

  "Ah, m'sieur! You do not know. And I cannot tell you. It is asecret--ah! if I only dare speak you would help me, I know," and I sawin her face a look full of apprehension and distress.

  As she raised her hand to push the dark hair from her brow, as though itoppressed her, my eyes caught sight of something glistening upon herwrist, half concealed by the lace on her sleeve. It was a magnificentdiamond bangle.

  Surely such an ornament would not be worn by a mere governess! I lookedagain into her handsome face, and wondered if she were deceiving me.

  "If it be in my power to assist you, mademoiselle, I will do so with thegreatest pleasure. But, of course, I cannot without knowing thecircumstances."

  "And I regret that my lips are closed concerning them," she sighed,looking straight before her despairingly.

  "Do you fear to go alone?"

  "I fear my enemies no longer," was her reply as she glanced at thelittle gold watch in her belt. "I shall be in Paris before noon--thanksto you, m'sieur."

  "Well, when you first made the request I had no idea of the urgency ofyour journey," I remarked. "But I'm glad, very glad, that I've had anopportunity of rendering you some slight service."

  "Slight, m'sieur? Why, you have saved me! I owe you a debt which I cannever repay--never." And the laces at her throat rose and fell as shesighed, her wonderful eyes still fixed upon me.

  Gradually the wintry sun rose over the bare, frozen wine-lands overwhich we were speeding, when with a sudden application of the brakes wepulled up at a little station for a change of engine.

  Then, after three minutes, we were off again, until at nine o'clock weran slowly into the huge terminus in Paris.

  She had tidied her hair, washed, brushed her dress, and, as I assistedher to alight, she bore no trace of her long journey across Germany andFrance. Strange how well French women travel! English women are alwaystousled and tumbled after a night journey, but a French or Italian womannever.

  "_Au revoir_, m'sieur, till twelve at the Gare du Nord," she exclaimed,with a merry smile and a bow as she drove away in a cab, leaving me uponthe kerb gazing after her and wondering.

  Was she really a governess, as she pretended?

  Her clothes, her manner, her smart chatter, her exquisite _chic_, allrevealed good breeding and a high station in life. There was no touch ofcheap shabbiness--or at least I could not detect it.

  A few moments before twelve she alighted at the Gare du Nord and greetedme merrily. Her face was slightly flushed, and I thought her handtrembled as I took it. But together we walked to the train, wherein Ihad already secured seats and places in the _wagon-restaurant_.

  The railway officials, the controller of the train, the chief of therestaurant, and other officials, recognising me, saluted, whereupon shesaid:

  "You seem very well known in Paris, m'sieur."

  "I'm a constant traveller," I replied, with a laugh. "A little tooconstant, perhaps. One gets wearied with such continual travel as I amforced to undertake. I never know to-morrow where I may be, and I moveswiftly from one capital to another, never spending more than a day ortwo in the same place."

  "But it must be very pleasant to travel so much," she declared. "I wouldlove to be able to do so. I'm passionately fond of constant change."

  Together we travelled to Calais, crossed to Dover, and that same eveningalighted at Victoria.

  On our journey to London she gave me an address in the Vauxhall BridgeRoad, where, she said, a letter would find her. She refused to tell meher destination, or to allow me to see her into a hansom. This latterfact caused me considerable reflection. Why had she so suddenly made upher mind to come to London, and why should I not know whither she wentwhen she had told me so many details concerning herself?

  Of one fact I felt quite convinced, namely, that she had lied to me. Shewas not a governess, as she pretended. Besides, I had been seized bysuspicion that a tall, thin-faced, elderly man, rather shabbily dressed,whom I had noticed on the platform in Paris, ha
d followed us. He hadtravelled second-class, and, on alighting at Victoria, had quickly madehis way through the crowd until he lingered quite close to us as Iwished her farewell.

  His reappearance there recalled to me that he had watched us as we hadwalked up and down the platform of the Gare du Nord, and had appearedintensely interested in all our movements. Whether my pretty travellingcompanion noticed him I do not know. I, however, followed her as shewalked out of the station carrying her dressing-bag, and saw the tallman striding after her. Adventurer was written upon the fellow's face.His grey moustache was upturned, and his keen grey eyes looked out frombeneath shaggy brows, while his dark, thread-bare overcoat was tightlybuttoned across his chest for greater warmth.

  Without approaching her he stood back in the shadow and saw her enter ahansom in the station-yard and drive out into Buckingham Palace Road. Itwas clear that she was not going to the address she had given me, forshe was driving in the opposite direction.

  My duty was to drive direct to Bruton Street to see Ray and report whatI had discovered, but so interested was I in the thin-faced watcher thatI gave over my wraps to a porter who knew me, exchanged my heavytravelling-coat for a lighter one I happened to have, and walked out tokeep further observation upon the stranger.

  Had not mademoiselle declared herself to be in danger of her life? Ifso, was it not possible that this fellow, whoever he was, was a secretassassin?

  I did not like the aspect of the affair at all. I ought to have warnedher against him, and I now became filled with regret. She was a completemystery, and as I dogged the footsteps of the unknown foreigner--forthat he undoubtedly was--I became more deeply interested in what was inprogress.

  He walked to Trafalgar Square, where he hesitated in such a manner as toshow that he was not well acquainted with London. He did not know whichof the converging thoroughfares to take. At last he inquired of theconstable on point-duty, and then went up St. Martin's Lane.

  As soon as he had turned I approached the policeman, and asked what thestranger wanted, explaining that he was a suspicious character whom Iwas following.

  "'E's a Frenchman, sir. 'E wants Burton Crescent."

  "Where's that?"

  "Why, just off the Euston Road--close to Judd Street. I've told 'im theway."

  I entered a hansom and drove to the place in question, a semicircle ofdark-looking, old-fashioned houses of the Bloomsbury type--most of themlet out in apartments. Then alighting, I loitered for half an hour upand down to await the arrival of the stranger.

  He came at last, his tall, meagre figure looming dark in the lamp-light.Very eagerly he walked round the Crescent, examining the numbers of thehouses, until he came to one rather cleaner than the others, of which hetook careful observation.

  I, too, took note of the number.

  Afterwards the stranger turned into the Euston Road, crossed to King'sCross Station, where he sent a telegram, and then went to one of thesmall uninviting private hotels in the neighbourhood. Having seen himthere, I returned to Burton Crescent, and for an hour watched the house,wondering whether Julie Granier had taken up her abode there. To me itseemed as though the stranger had overheard the directions she had giventhe cabman.

  The windows of the house were closed by green Venetian blinds. I couldsee that there were lights in most of the rooms, while over the fanlightof the front door was a small transparent square of glass. The frontsteps were well kept, and in the deep basement was a well-lightedkitchen.

  I had been there about half an hour when the door opened, and amiddle-aged man in evening dress, and wearing a black overcoat and crushhat, emerged. His dark face was an aristocratic one, and as he descendedthe steps he drew on his white gloves, for he was evidently on his wayto the theatre. I took good notice of his face, for it was a strikingcountenance, one which once seen could never be forgotten.

  A man-servant behind him blew a cab-whistle, a hansom drew up, and hedrove away. Then I walked up and down in the vicinity, keeping a wearyvigil, for my curiosity was now much excited. The stranger meantmischief. Of that I was certain.

  The one point I wished to clear up was whether Julie Granier wasactually within that house. But though I watched until I became halffrozen in the drizzling rain, all was in vain. So I took a cab and droveto Bruton Street.

  That same night, when I got to my rooms, I wrote a line to the addressthat Julie had given me, asking whether she would make an appointment tomeet me, as I wished to give her some very important informationconcerning herself, and to this, on the following day, I received areply asking me to call at the house in Burton Crescent that evening atnine o'clock.

  Naturally I went. My surmise was correct that the house watched by thestranger was her abode. The fellow was keeping observation upon it withsome evil intent.

  The man-servant, on admitting me, showed me into a well-furnisheddrawing-room on the first floor, where sat my pretty travellingcompanion ready to receive me.

  In French she greeted me very warmly, bade me be seated, and after somepreliminaries inquired the nature of the information which I wished toimpart to her.

  Very briefly I told her of the shabby watcher, whereupon she sprang toher feet with a cry of mingled terror and surprise.

  "Describe him--quickly!" she urged in breathless agitation.

  I did so, and she sat back again in her chair, staring straight beforeher.

  "Ah!" she gasped, her countenance pale as death. "Then they meanrevenge, after all. Very well! Now that I am forewarned I shall know howto act."

  She rose, and pacing the room in agitation pushed back the dark hairfrom her brow. Then her hands clenched themselves, and her teeth wereset, for she was desperate.

  The shabby man was an emissary of her enemies. She told me as much. Yetin all she said was mystery. At one moment I was convinced that she hadtold the truth when she said she was a governess, and at the next Isuspected her of trying to deceive.

  Presently, after she had handed me a cigarette, the servant tapped thedoor, and a well-dressed man entered--the same man I had seen leave thehouse two nights previously.

  "May I introduce you?" mademoiselle asked. "M'sieur Jacox--M'sieur leBaron de Moret."

  "Charmed to make your acquaintance, sir," the Baron said, grasping myhand. "Mademoiselle here has already spoken of you."

  "The satisfaction is mutual, I assure you, Baron," was my reply, andthen we reseated ourselves and began to chat.

  Suddenly mademoiselle made some remark in a language--some Slavlanguage--which I did not understand. The effect it had upon thenewcomer was almost electrical. He started from his seat, glaring ather. Then he began to question her rapidly in the unknown tongue.

  He was a flashily dressed man of overbearing manner, with a thick neckand square, determined chin. It was quite evident that the warning I hadgiven them aroused their apprehension, for they held a rapidconsultation, and then Julie went out, returning with another man, adark-haired, low-bred looking foreigner, who spoke the same tongue ashis companions.

  They disregarded my presence altogether in their eager consultation;therefore I rose to go, for I saw that I was not wanted.

  Julie held my hand and looked into my eyes in mute appeal. She appearedanxious to say something to me in private. At least that was myimpression.

  When I left the house I passed, at the end of the Crescent, a shabby manidly smoking. Was he one of the watchers?

  Four days went by.

  One evening I was passing through the red-carpeted hall of the SavoyHotel when a neatly dressed figure in black rose and greeted me. It wasJulie, who seemed to have been awaiting me.

  "May I speak to you?" she asked breathlessly, when we had exchangedgreetings. "I wish to apologise for the manner in which I treated youthe other evening."

  I assured her that no apologies were needed, and together we seatedourselves in a corner.

  "I really ought not to trouble you with my affairs," she said presently,in an apologetic tone. "But you remember what I told you when yo
u sokindly allowed me to travel by the _wagon-lit_--I mean of my peril?"

  "Certainly. But I thought it was all over."

  "I foolishly believed that it was. But I am watched--I--I'm a markedwoman." Then, after some hesitation, she added, "I wonder if you woulddo me another favour. You could save my life, M'sieur Jacox, if you onlywould."

  "Well, if I can render you such a service, mademoiselle, I shall be onlytoo delighted."

  "At present my plans are immature," she answered after a pause. "But whynot dine with me to-morrow night? We have some friends, but we shall beable to escape them and discuss the matter alone. Do come!"

  I accepted, and she, taking a taxi in the Strand, drove off.

  On the following night at eight I entered the comfortable drawing-roomin Burton Crescent, where three well-dressed men and three rather smartladies were assembled, including my hostess. They were all foreigners,and among them was the Baron, who appeared to be the most honouredguest. It was now quite plain that, instead of being a governess as shehad asserted, my friend was a lady of good family, and the Baron'ssocial equal.

  The party was a very pleasant one, and there was considerable merrimentat table. My hostess's apprehension of the previous day had alldisappeared, while the Baron's demeanour was one of calm security.

  I sat at her left hand, and she was particularly gracious to me, thewhole conversation at table being in French.

  At last, after dessert, the Baron remarked that, as it was his birthday,we should have snap-dragon, and, with his hostess's permission, left thedining-room and prepared it. Presently it appeared in a big antiqueWorcester bowl, and was placed on the table close to me.

  Then the electric light was switched off and the spirit ignited.

  Next moment with shouts of laughter, the blue flames shedding a weirdlight upon our faces, we were pulling the plums out of the fire--achildish amusement.

  I had placed one in my mouth, and swallowed it, but as I was taking asecond from the blue flames, I suddenly felt a faintness. At first I putit down to the heat of the room, but a moment later I felt a sharp spasmthrough my heart, and my brain swelled too large for my skull. My jawswere set. I tried to speak, but was unable to articulate a word!

  I saw the fun had stopped, and the faces of all were turned upon meanxiously. The Baron had risen, and his dark countenance peered intomine with a fiendish murderous expression.

  "I'm ill!" I gasped. "I--I'm sure I'm poisoned!"

  The faces of all smiled again, while the Baron uttered some words whichI could not understand, and then there was a dead silence, all stillwatching me intently.

  "You fiends!" I cried, with a great effort, as I struggled to rise."What have I done to you that you should--_poison--me_?"

  I know that the Baron grinned in my face, and that I fell forwardheavily upon the table, my heart gripped in the spasm of death.

  Of what occurred afterwards I have no recollection, for, when I slowlyregained knowledge of things around me, I found myself, cramped andcold, lying beneath a bare, leafless hedge in a grass field. I managedto struggle to my feet and discovered myself in a bare, flat, opencountry. As far as I could judge it was midday.

  I got to a gate, skirted a hedge, and gained the main road. Withdifficulty I walked to the nearest town, a distance of about four miles,without meeting a soul, and to my surprise found myself in Hitchin. Thespectacle of a man entering the town in evening dress and hatless inbroad daylight was, no doubt, curious, but I was anxious to return toLondon and give information against those who had, without any apparentmotive, laid an ingenious plot to poison me.

  At the old Sun Inn, which motorists from London know so well, I learnedthat the time was eleven in the morning. The only manner in which Icould account for my presence in Hitchin was that, believed to be deadby the Baron and his accomplices, I had been conveyed in a motor-car tothe spot where I was found.

  A few shillings remained in my pocket, and, strangely enough, beside mewhen I recovered consciousness I had found a small fluted phial marked"Prussic acid--poison." The assassins had attempted to make it apparentthat I had committed suicide!

  Two hours later, after a rest and a wash, I borrowed an overcoat andgolf-cap and took the train to King's Cross.

  At Judd Street Police Station I made a statement, and with twoplain-clothes officers returned to the house in Burton Crescent, only tofind that the fair Julie and her friends had flown.

  On forcing the door, we found the dining-table just as it had been leftafter the poisoned snap-dragon of the previous night. Nothing had beentouched. Only Julie, the Baron, the man-servant, and the guests had allgone, and the place was deserted.

  The police were utterly puzzled at the entire absence of motive.

  On my return to Guilford Street I at once telephoned to Ray, and he wasquickly with me, Vera accompanying him.

  I related the whole of the circumstances, while my friends sat listeningvery attentively.

  "Well," Ray said at last, "it's a great pity, old chap, you didn'tmention this before. The Baron de Moret is no other person than LucienCarron, one of Hartmann's most trusted agents, while Julie's real nameis Erna Hertfeldt, a very clever female spy, who has, of late, beenengaged in endeavouring to obtain certain facts regarding the defencesof the Humber estuary. She was recalled to Berlin recently to consultHirsch, chief of the German Intelligence Department. You evidently cameacross her on her way back, while the old man whom she met at the Garedu Nord was Josef Gleichen, the spy whom I told you was in associationwith Barker up at Newcastle."

  "Ah! I remember," I cried. "I never saw him."

  "But he had evidently seen you, and again recognised you," Ray replied."It seems that he must have followed you to London, where, having toldLucien Carron, or 'the Baron,' of your return, they formed a plot toavenge your action up at Elswick."

  "Then I was entrapped by that woman Julie, eh?" I exclaimed, my headstill feeling sore and dizzy.

  "Without a doubt. The spies have made yet another attempt upon yourlife, Mr. Jacox," Vera remarked.

  "But why did they take me out in a motor-car to Hitchin?"

  "To make it appear like a case of suicide," Ray said. "Remember thatboth of us, old chap, are marked men by Hartmann and his unscrupulousfriends. But what does it matter if we have managed to preserve thesecret of our new gun? We'll be even with our enemies for this one dayere long, mark me," he laughed, as he lit a fresh cigarette.