CHAPTER VII.
THE RAIN OF BOMBS.
THE boys in silence watched the secret agent as he further displayedhis gratification over the news conveyed in the telegram by snappinghis fingers and slapping his knees, completing the performance byvigorous puffing of a big black cigar, of which brand he always carrieda plentiful supply.
Billy and Henri were just aching to learn more about the reportedcapture of Anglin (Ardelle), just where the "stone box" that held himwas located, and how the "smiling sleuth" had happened to run into anet that he could not break through.
But they were well aware that it would not be a bit of use to seekthe eagerly desired information in advance of Roque's disposition togive it, and they did not dare openly to show personal interest in thematter.
It was not until the master plotter had burned his cigar to inchmeasure that he thought to address the lads, fixing expectant gaze uponhim.
"They jugged the fox in Alsace, on the way to his home den, and filledup, I suppose, with some choice morsels to regale the enemy."
"Maybe it's another case of 'now you see him and now you don't.'" Itwas Henri who plucked up courage to say this.
"Not this time," insisted Roque. "He is tightly in the toils, and nevera chance to show his cunning. His course is run."
It soon became evident that the speaker proposed to be "in at thedeath," as fox chasers call the finish.
In less than two hours Vienna, the city gay and unafraid, was behindthe three travelers, and their next goal the imperial territory ofAlsace-Lorraine.
Into Lower-Alsace, on the last leg of the journey, Roque and the boystook to horse, with cavalry escort. They were again on real fightingground.
Henri picked out of a conversation between Roque and the captain ofthe troop the words "Homberg castle," later that a group of importantGerman officers resided there, and still later that within those wallsAnglin was a prisoner.
Billy was immediately posted by his chum as to the situation.
Upon arrival at the castle, Roque, in that mysterious but effective wayof his, established his footing as a privileged guest, and his firstmove was to pass the guard at the door of the strong-room, where hischief rival in the art peculiar was confined.
The boys without reprimand were close at the heels of the German agent.
Anglin was sitting on a bench, under the checkered light of a high,barred window. While his face showed harsh lines of great strain, theinevitable smile was in his eyes. He arose instantly from the bench,and bowed gracefully to the foe who confronted him.
"Monsieur, you are welcome." This to Roque. Upon the boys he bestowednot the slightest recognition.
Roque, not to be outgeneraled as a diplomat, inclined his head inreturn.
"I came a long way to visit you, sir," he politely stated, "and wouldhave regretted had you felt otherwise than you have intimated."
This fencing with buttons on the foils was soon succeeded by the sharppoints unprotected.
"Ardelle, the longer the breath is in you the more you can tell; is thebreath worth the telling?"
"You speak in riddles, Monsieur," quietly replied the prisoner.
"Do you deny that you are Ardelle?" demanded Roque.
"Am I now on trial?" was the counter-question.
Roque extended a menacing finger. "Have a care, man!" he thundered.
The prisoner calmly ignored the growing wrath of his arch-enemy,shrugged his shoulders, and with a wave of the hand indicated thatcontinued argument was useless.
"You will have until to-morrow morning to decide whether you willaccept me as an advocate or an accuser."
The Frenchman turned wearily toward the window, and with his handsfolded behind him stood watching through the bars the little graycloudlets pushing their way through the blue expanse of the sky. Itmight be that this view would not concern him after the morrow. He wasthus engaged when Roque stamped his way out of the room. Henri wouldhave paused in the hope of one look from Anglin but the latter seemedwholly unconscious of the presence of the lads.
Under the steely exterior of Roque, the milk of human kindness had notwholly curdled, for he sadly said, half to himself and half to his boycompanions:
"He must expect no more than I could expect; when we fail we failalone, and so alone must we suffer."
It was about two o'clock in the morning of the day when Anglin, orArdelle, was expected to read his fate in the eyes of those assembledas a military tribunal. The identity of the prisoner was, no doubt,fully established, for the boys had noted the presence in the assemblyhall earlier in the night of the sandy-topped man who had started thehue and cry in the Bremen hotel, where the French sleuth was posing asa public singer.
Billy and Henri were tossing in uneasy slumber. The only sounds insidethe castle were occasional snores from adjoining apartments and fromthe outside the whinnying and stamping of the cavalry horses.
Suddenly the quiet was shattered as if by a thunderbolt. The boysliterally tumbled out of bed, gasping from the shock. A blinding flashat the windows and another crash.
Soul-shaking cries of "fire!" resounded throughout the building, andthrough the halls swept volumes of smoke.
The celebrated ancient furniture in the castle, it having been thesummer residence of French nobility, was fine food for flames, and thered destroyer soon raged in conflagration.
Crash after crash, and with each concussion myriad sparks shot throughgreat holes in the castle roof.
Bombs were being dropped from aloft.
The boys hastened with other occupants of the upper floors to the broadstaircase in front of the structure. There they paused, elbowed againstthe wall by those pressing from the rear. There was no wild confusionor panic behind them, however, such as might have ensued under the sameterrifying circumstances with other than trained soldiers involved.When Billy and Henri took to the wall at the head of the staircaseit was a voluntary act on their part. The same thought with both hadimpelled the pause:
Had Anglin been released from the fiery vortex or still restrained byiron bolts and bars?
The room in which the captive was held faced a gallery running at rightangles from the main stairway.
Pulling their jackets up and over their heads, the boys plunged throughthe wall of smoke on mission of rescue--a mission without result, forthe door of the place of confinement was wide open, and no one wasthere.
The rescuing party of two then turned their intent upon themselves,and none too quickly, for they had hardly won safety when the castleenclosure was wholly enveloped by consuming flame.
Farm buildings adjoining were also ablaze, and the wide highwaystretching away to the east showed whitely in the glare.
In the red canopy overhead winged shadows whirred and whirled, dippedand leaped.
Billy and Henri proceeded down the road to escape the growing heat androlling smoke. When the roaring of the fire had somewhat lessened intheir hearing, they detected a familiar hum, just ahead and closingdown beyond the border of the rising mist of the morning.
As aviators, the boys were instantly aware that an aeroplane wasworking near and the proof was immediately furnished by the appearanceof the aircraft itself, swooping into the circle of illumination,skimming close to the surface of the highway.
The lads sprang forward to greet the aerial visitor, and as they did soa tall figure, hatless and coatless, leaped from the cover of a ditchnearby, ran like a deer alongside the skimming biplane, and vaultedinto the frame behind the daring navigator.
As the machine took the uplift, Billy and Henri were so close, and thefire-flow so vivid, that they plainly saw the faces of both the saverand the saved.
The man who had jumped into the machine was Anglin; the aviator wasGilbert Le Fane, the noted airman of Rouen, whom our boys had oncefollowed in flight from Havre to Paris.
From the fire zone there was coming a hurrying body of men, and riflesbegan to spit lead at the swiftly rising aircraft. Too late, though,to reach the height attained by
the biplane. A shrill yell of defiancefloated back on the breeze of the morning, and deep and heavy were theexpressions of baffled rage by those grouped in the road below.
Roque and the sandy-haired assistant could be heard above all the rest.
The boys were again in the role of innocent bystanders.
When the sun later replaced the flames in lighting up the sky, not atrace of the French airmen could be sighted, save the marks of theirraid--the blackened ruin of the castle and smouldering remains of theadjoining buildings.
Investigation instituted by Roque related solely to the escape of theprisoner. To put a quietus on his rival had drawn him from afar, andhere again the elusive Frenchman had been jerked out of his clutches,this time into the very sky.
With the fall of the first bomb the single night guard over the captivehad drawn the bolts that he might be ready to quit his post upon firstorder with the Frenchman in close custody. The second bomb so stunnedthe guard that he knew no more until regaining consciousness in therear courtyard outside. He could only account for his presence thereby the belief that the man over whom he had held watch had picked himup and carried him out of danger. There was a back way that could betraveled, smoke hidden, without observation.
"But how about the aeroplanes dipping just at the right time and placeto carry him off?"
This was the point that especially puzzled Roque.
A farmer boy, listening, open-mouthed, to the questioning, offered asolution.
"You see, Monsieur," he bashfully explained, "it was a ghostly noisethat was making between the big noises, like the wind blowing throughthe neck of a bottle stuck in a knot hole. I heard it in the road, along way."
It occurred to the boys that this distress signal must have been givenbefore they got away from the roar of the fire, or while they wereprobing the smoke in the gallery to reach Anglin.
"They were flying mighty close down and could probably hear a howllike that, if they were listening for it and knew what it meant." Thisopinion was advanced by Billy.
"I don't much believe they could hear a call from the ground, unless itcame from the business end of a gun." Henri was the doubter.
"It is no use to argue," said Roque. "The fact remains that the airfellow had his bearings, and he got the lead from somewhere. I am notgiving him credit for being a mind reader."
"That reminds me, Mr. Roque," remarked Billy, "that we might test thisbearing business by a little air trip somewhere and soon."
"I have just such a thing in thought," grimly advised Roque, "and Iwill warrant that you will hear a few ground sounds before the quittingminute. We are going to take a down look at Belfort."
Now Belfort is a French fortress, where the soldiers in red and bluehad been finding security every time they were rolled back from theplains of upper Alsace.
A tremendous amount of gunpowder had been burned on the flat groundin front of this stronghold, and our boys were in for a smell ofit--something that would recall perilous travel with Colonel Bainbridgeand Sergeant Scott in previous campaigns.
A wire to Friedrichshaven had started on the way the makes of biplanesthat Billy called "Roque's best bet" since the day of the famous raceover Lake Constance.
"Business will soon be looking up," joked Henri, when he heard of theorder for the shipment of "No. 3's."
The presence of Ardelle in this region, extreme southwesternGermany, had raised suspicion in the mind of Roque that some specialdemonstration was brewing, and the lurid performance of the Frenchairmen in blowing the roof from over his head served to further elevatethe confirmed idea that trouble and the French agent always traveledtogether.
Roque was not here to mix in the actual military operations--that wasnot his business, but he was ever open-eyed on the trail of the bossgamester on the other side. He had expected this time to put his rivalon the safe side of the ground, but spades did not prove to be trumps.
Somewhere in the gap of Belfort, as the valley south of the Vosgesmountains is popularly known, Ardelle was, no doubt, preparing foranother comeback, and Roque was scheming to meet him halfway.
There was no chance to get under the guns of the frowning fortressbeyond the frontier, so the only way to size up the situation was to goover them.
Here was where flying experts jumped to the front.
Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in Germany; or, Winning the Iron Cross Page 7