The Revellers

by Louis Tracy

  CHAPTER XIX

  OUT OF THE MISTS

  This record of a Yorkshire village--a true chronicle of life among thecanny folk who dwell on the "moor edge"--might well be left at the pointit reached when one of its chief characters saw before him the smoothand sunlit road of a notable career.

  But history, though romantic, is not writ as romance, and the story ofElmsdale is fact, not fiction. After eight years of somnolence thevillage awoke again. It was roused from sleep by the tumult of a worldat war; mayhap the present generation shall pass away before the hamletrelapses into its humdrum ways.

  Martin was twenty-two when his father and he journeyed north to attendthe annual sale of the Elmsdale herd, which was fixed for the twoopening days of July, 1914. Each year Colonel Grant brought his son tothe village for six weeks prior to the twelfth of August; this yearthere was a well-founded rumor in the little community that the colonelmeant to buy The Elms.

  The announcement of Bolland's sale brought foreign agents from abroadand well-known stock-raisers from all parts of the Kingdom. No less thanforty animals entered the auction ring. One bull, Bainesse Boy IV.,realized L800. Bainesse Boy IV. held a species of levee in a specialstall. He had grown into a wonder. On a table, over which SergeantBenson mounted guard, were displayed five championship cups he hadcarried off, while fifteen cards, arranged in horseshoe pattern on thewall, each bore the magic words, "First Prize," awarded at Islington,Birmingham, the Royal, and wherever else in Britain shorthorns and theiradmirers most do congregate.

  The village hummed with life; around the sale ring gathered a multitudeof men arrayed in Melton cloth and leather leggings, whose generalappearance betokened the wisdom of Dr. Johnson's sarcastic dictum: "Whodrives fat oxen should himself be fat."

  Martha and a cohort of maids boiled hams by the dozen and baked cakes infabulous quantities. John graced the occasion by donning a new suit andnew boots, in which the crooked giant was singularly ill at ease.

  Mrs. Pickering drove over from Nottonby--Kitty was married two yearsbefore to a well-to-do farmer at Northallerton--and someone rallied heron "bein' ower good-lookin' te remain a widow all her days."

  She laughed pleasantly.

  "I'm far too busy at Wetherby to think of adding a husband to my cares,"she said; but those who knew her best could have told that she hadrefused at least two excellent offers of matrimony and meant to remainMrs. Pickering during the rest of her days.

  At the close of the second day's sale, when the crowd was thinned by thedeparture of a fleet of cars and a local train at five o'clock, theWhite House was thronged by its habitues, who came to make a meal of the"high tea."

  Colonel Grant and John had just concluded an amicable wrangle whereby itwas decided that they should jointly provide the considerable sum neededto acquire The Elms and some adjoining land. The house and grounds wereto be remodeled and the property would be deeded to Martin forthwith.

  The young gentleman himself, as tall as his father now, and wearingriding breeches and boots, was standing at the front door, turningimpatient eyes from a smart cob, held by a groom, to the bend in theroad where it curved beyond the "Black Lion."

  A smartly-dressed young lady passed, and although Martin lifted his hatwith a ready smile his glance wandered from her along the road again.Evelyn Atkinson wondered who it was that thus distracted his attention.

  A few yards farther on, Elsie Herbert, mounted on a steady old hunter,passed at a sharp trot. Evelyn's pretty face frowned slightly.

  "If _she_ is home again, of course, he has eyes for nobody else," shesaid to herself.

  And, indeed, it was true. Elsie had been to Dresden for two years. Shehad returned to Elmsdale the previous day, and a scribbled note toldMartin to look for her after tea.

  The two set off together through the village, bound for the moor. Many acritical look followed them.

  "Eh, but they're a bonny pair," cried Mrs. Summersgill, who becamestouter each year. "Martin allus framed to be a fine man, but I nivverthowt yon gawky lass o' t' vicar's 'ud grow into a beauty."

  "This moor air is wonderful. Look at the effect it has on you, Mrs.Summersgill," said Colonel Grant with a twinkle in his eye.

  "Oh, go on wi' ye, Colonel, pokin' fun at a poor owd body like me. But Ideaen't ho'd wi' skinny 'uns. Martha, what's become o' Mrs. Saumarez an'that flighty gell o' hers. What did they call her--Angel? My word!--anice angel--not that she wasn't as thin as a sperrit."

  "Miss Walker told me, last Christmas twel'month, they were i' France,"said Martha.

  "France? Ay, maist like; it's a God-forsaken place, I'll be boun'."

  "Nay," interposed Bolland, "that's an unchristian description of onnycounthry, ma'am. Ye'll find t' Lord ivverywhere i' t' wide wulld, if yeseek Him. There's bin times when He might easy be i' France, for Heseemed, iv His wisdom, to be far away frae Elmsdale."

  Mrs. Summersgill snorted contempt for all "furriners," but Marthacreated a diversion.

  "Goodness me!" she cried, "yer cup's empty. I nivver did see sike awoman. Ye talk an' eat nowt."

  Martin, now in his third year at Oxford, was somewhat mystified by thechange brought about in Elsie by two years of "languages and music"passed in the most attractive of German cities. Though not flippant, hermanner nonplussed him. She was distinctly "smart," both in speech andstyle. She treated a young gentleman who had already taken his degreeand was reading for honors in history with an easy nonchalance that washighly disconcerting. The last time they parted they had kissed eachother, she with tears, and he with a lump in his throat. Now he daredno more offer a cousinly, or brotherly, or any other sort of salute inwhich kissing was essential, than if she were a royal princess.

  "You've altered, old girl," he said by way of a conversational openingwhen their horses were content to walk, after a sharp canter along amoorland track.

  "I should hope so, indeed," came the airy retort. "Surely, you didn'texpect to find the Elmsdale label on me after two years of _kultur_?"

  "Whatever the label, the vintage looks good," he said.

  "You mean that as a compliment," she laughed. "And, now that I look atyou carefully, I see signs of improvement. Of course, the Oxford swankis an abomination, but you'll lose it in time. Father told me last nightthat you were going in for the law and politics. Is that correct?"

  Martin, masterful as ever, was not minded to endure such supercilioustreatment at Elsie's hands. He had looked forward to this meeting with alonging that had almost interfered with his work; it was more thanirritating to find his divinity modeling her behavior on the lines ofthe Girton "set" at the University.

  They had reached a point of the high moor which overlooked Thor ghyll.Martin pulled up his cob and dismounted.

  "Let's give the nags a breather here," he said. "Shall I help you?"

  "No, thanks."

  Elsie was out of the saddle promptly. She rode astride. In awell-fitting habit, with divided skirt and patent-leather boots, shelooked wonderfully alluring, but her air of aloofness was carriedalmost to the verge of indifference.

  She showed some surprise when Martin took her horse's reins and threwthem over his left arm.

  "Are you going to lecture me?" she said, arching her eyebrows. "It wouldbe just like a fledgling B. A., who is doubtless a member of theOfficers' Training Corps, to tell me that my German riding-master taughtme to sit too stiffly."

  "He did," said Martin, meeting the sarcastic blue eyes withoutflinching. "But a few days with the York and Ainsty and Lord Middleton'spack will put that right. You'll come a purler at your first stone wallif you ride with such long stirrup leathers. However, I want you to jumpanother variety of obstacle to-day. You asked me just now, Elsie, if Iwas going in for the law. Yes. But I'm going in for you first. You knowI love you, dear. You know I have been your very humble but loyal knightever since I won your recognition down there in the valley, when I wasonly a farmer's son and you were a girl of a higher social order. I havenever forgotten that you didn't seem to heed class di
stinctions then,Elsie, and it hurts now to have you treat me with coldness."

  Elsie, trying valiantly to appear partly indignant and even more amusedat this direct attack, failed most lamentably. First she flushed; thenshe paled.

  She faced Martin's gaze confidently enough at the outset, but her eyesdropped and her lips quivered when she heard the words which no womancan hear without a thrill. Still, she made a brave attempt to rally herforces.

  "I didn't--quite mean--what you say," she faltered, which was aschoolgirl form of protest for one who had achieved distinction in acourse of English literature.

  Martin took her by the shoulders. The two horses nosed each other. They,perforce, were dumb, but their wise eye's seemed to exchange the causticcomment: "What fools these mortals be! Why don't they hug, and settlethe business?"

  "I must know what you do mean," said Martin, almost fiercely. "I loveyou, Elsie. Will you marry me?"

  She lifted her face. The blue eyes were dim with tears, but the adorablemouth trembled in a smile.

  "Yes, dear," she murmured. "But what did you expect? Did you--think Iwould--throw my arms around you--in the village street?"

  After that Martin had no reason to accuse Elsie of being either stiff orcold. When the vicar heard the news that night--for Martin and thecolonel dined at the Vicarage--he stormed into mock dissent.

  "God bless my soul," he cried, "my little girl has been away two wholeyears, and you come and steal her away from me before she has been hometwenty-four hours!"

  Then he produced a handkerchief and yielded, apparently, to a violentattack of hay fever. Yet it was a joyous company which gathered aroundthe dinner table, for Elsie herself, casting off the veneer of Dresden,drove posthaste to summon the Bollands to the feast.

  John was specially deputed by Colonel Grant to make a significantannouncement.

  "We're all main pleased you two hev sattled matters so soon," he said,peering alternately at Martin's attentive face and Elsie's blushing one."Yer father an' me hev bowt The Elms, an' a tidy bit o' land besides, soye'll hev a stake i' t' county if ivver ye're minded te run forParlyment. The Miss Walkers (John pronounced the name "Wahker") aregoin' te live in a small hoos i' Nottonby. They've gotten a fine lot o'Spanish mahogany an' owd oak which they're willin' te sell byvallyation; so the pair of ye can gan there i' t' mornin' an' pick an'choose what ye want."

  Elsie looked at her father, but neither could utter a word. MarthaBolland put an arm around the girl's neck.

  "Lord luv' ye, honey!" she said brokenly, "it'll be just like crossin'the road. May I be spared te see you happy and comfortable in yer newhome, for you'll surely be one of the finest ladies i' Yorkshire."

  No shadow darkened their joy in that cheerful hour. Even next day, whena grim specter flitted through Elmsdale, the ominous vision evoked onlya passing notice. Colonel Grant and the vicar, each an expert in oldfurniture, accompanied the young people to The Elms and examined itsantique dressers, sideboards, tables, and the rest. Many of the bedroomchests were of solid mahogany. The Misses Walker had cleared the drawersof the lumber of years, so that the prospective purchasers could notethe interior finish.

  Miss Emmy, not so tactful as her elder sister, brought in a name whichthe others present wished to forget.

  "Mrs. Saumarez used this room as a dressing-room," she said, "and whileturning out rubbish from a set of drawers I came across this."

  She displayed a small red-covered folding road-map, such as cyclists andmotorists use. Martin thought he recognized it.

  "I believe that is the very map lost by Fritz Bauer, Mrs. Saumarez'schauffeur," he said.

  "Probably, sir. He made a rare row with Miss Angele about it. I was halfafraid he meant to shake her. No one knew what had become of it, buteither Miss Angele or her mother must have hidden it. Why, I can'tguess."

  Elsie helped to smooth over an awkward incident. She took the map andbegan to open it.

  "It couldn't have been such an important matter," she said. Then sheshook apart the folded sheet, and they all saw that it bore a number ofentries and signs in faded ink, black and red. The written words were inGerman, and Elsie scanned a few lines hurriedly. She looked puzzled,even a trifle perturbed, but recovered her smiling self-possessioninstantly.

  "The poor man, being a foreigner, jotted down some notes for hisguidance," she said. "May I have it?"

  "With pleasure, miss," said the old lady.

  It was not until the party had returned to the vicarage that Elsieexplained her request. She spread the map on a table, and her smoothforehead wrinkled in doubt.

  "This is serious," she said. "I have lived in Germany long enough tounderstand that one cannot mix with German girls in the intimacy ofschool and at their homes without knowing that an attack on England issimply an obsession of their menfolk, and even of the women. They regardit as a certainty in the near future, pretending that if they don'tstrike first England will crush them."

  "I wish to Heaven she would!" broke in Colonel Grant emphatically. "Inexisting conditions this country resembles an unarmed policeman waitingfor a burglar to fire at him out of the darkness."

  Mr. Herbert, man of peace that he was, might have voiced a milddisclaimer, had not Elsie stayed him.

  "Listen, father," she said seriously. "Here is proof positive. Thatchauffeur was a military spy. See what is written across the top of themap: 'Gutes Wasser; Futter in Fuelle; Ueberfluss von Vieh, Schafen undPferden. Einzelheiten auf genauen Ortlichkeiten angegeben.' That means'Good water; abundance of fodder; plenty of cattle, sheep, and horses.Details given on exact localities.' And, just look at the details! Coulda child fail to interpret their meaning?"

  Elsie's simile was not far-fetched, yet gray-headed statesmen, thoughthey may have both known and understood, refused to believe. That littleroad-map, on a scale of one mile to an inch, contained all theinformation needed by the staff of an invading army.

  The moor bore the legend:

  "Platz fuer Lager, leicht verschanzt; beherrscht Hauptstrassen von Whitby und Pickering nach York. Rote Kreise kennzeichnen reichlichen Wasservorrat fuer Kavallerie und Artillerie." (Site for camp, easily entrenched. Commands main roads from Whitby and Pickering to York. Red circles show ample water supply for cavalry and artillery.)

  Every road bore its classification for the use of troops, showing thewidth, quality of surface, and gradients. Each bridge was described as"stone" or "iron." Even cross-country trails were indicated whenfordable streams rendered such passage not too difficult.

  The little group gazed spellbound at the extraordinarily accuratesynopsis of the facilities offered by the placid country of Yorkshirefor the devilish purposes of war. Martin, in particular, devoured theentries relating to the moor. On Metcalf's farm he saw: "Six hundredsheep here," and at the Broad Ings, "Four hundred sheep, three horses,four cows." Well he knew who had given the spy those facts. His glowingeyes wandered to the village. A long entry distinguished the WhiteHouse, and though he knew a good deal of German he was beaten by theopening technical word.

  "What is that, Elsie?" he said, and even his father wondered at the hotanger in his utterance.

  The girl read:

  "Stammbaum Vieh hier; drei Stiere, achtzehn Kuehe und Faersen, nicht zum Schlachten, sehr wertvoll. Neben bei sechs Stuten, besten Types zur Zucht."

  Then she translated:

  "Pedigree cattle here; three bulls, eighteen cows and heifers, not to be slaughtered; very valuable. Also six brood mares of best type for stud."

  "The infernal scoundrel!" blazed out Martin. "So the Bolland stock mustbe taken to the Fatherland, and not eaten or drafted into service! Andto think that I gave him nearly all that information!"

  "You, Martin?" cried Elsie.

  "Yes. He pumped me dry. I even showed him the site of every pond on themoor."

  "Don't blame the man," put in Colonel Grant. "I knew him as a Prussianofficer at the first glance. But he was simply doing his duty. Blame ourcriminal c
arelessness. We cannot stop foreigners from prowling about thecountry, but we can and should make it impossible for any enemy toutilize such data as are contained in this map."

  "But, consider," put in the perturbed vicar. "This evil work was doneeight years ago, and what has all the talk of German preparation cometo? Isn't it the bombast of militarism gone mad?"

  "It comes to this," said the colonel. "We are just eight years nearerwar. I am convinced that the break must occur before 1916--and for tworeasons: Germany's financial state is dangerous, and in 1916 Russia willhave completed on her western frontier certain strategic lines whichwill expedite mobilization. Germany won't wait till her prospective foesare ready. France knows it. That is why she has adopted the three years'service scheme."

  "Then why won't you let me join the army, dad?" demanded Martin bluntly.

  Colonel Grant spread his hands with the weary gesture of a man who wouldwillingly shirk a vital decision.

  "In peace the army is a poor career," he said. "The law and politicsoffer you a wider field. But not you only--every young man in thecountry should be trained to arms. As matters stand, we have neither themen nor the rifles. Our artillery, excellent of its type, is aboutsufficient for an army corps, and we have a fortnight's supply ofammunition. I am not an alarmist. We have enough regiments to repel araid, supposing the enemy's transports dodged the fleet; but Heaven helpus if we dream of sending an expeditionary force to France or Egypt, orany single one of a score of vulnerable points outside the BritishIsles!"

  "Beckett-Smythe retained one of those German chauffeurs in his servicefor a whole year," said the vicar, on whom a new light had dawned withthe discovery of the telltale map.

  "Are there many of the brood in the district now?" inquired the colonel.

  "I fancy not."

  "There is no need, they have done their work," said Elsie. "Last winterI met a young officer in Dresden, and he told me he had taken a walkingtour through this part of Yorkshire during the summer. He knew Elmsdalequite well. He remembered the vicarage, The Elms, and the White House.Yet he said he was here only a day!"

  "Fritz Bauer's maps are the best of guides," commented Colonel Grantbitterly.

  The vicar was literally awe-stricken. He stooped over the map.

  "Is this sort of thing going on all over the country?" he gasped.

  "More or less. Naturally, the east coast has been the chief huntingground, as that must provide the terrain of any attack. Of course, solong as the political sky remains fairly clear, as it is at this moment,there is always a chance that humanity will escape Armageddon foranother generation. The world is growing more rational and its interestsare becoming ever more identical. Even the Junkers are feeling thepressure of public opinion, and the great masses of the people demandpeace. That is why I want Martin to learn the power of voice and penrather than of the sword. I have been a soldier all my life, and I hatewar!"

  The man who had so often faced death in his country's cause spoke withreal feeling. He longed to make war impossible by making victoryimpossible for an aggressor. He claimed no rights for Britain that hewould deny Germany or any other country in the comity of nations.

  Suddenly he took the map off the table and folded it.

  "I'll send this curio to Whitehall," he said with a smile. "It will formpart of a queer collection. Now, let's talk of something else....Martin, after the valuer has inspected that furniture, you might see toit that the whole lot is stored in the east bedrooms. The architect willnot disturb that part of the house."

  "Oh, when can we look at the plans?" chimed in Elsie.

  These four people, who in their way fairly represented the fortymillions of Great Britain, discussed the spy's map in the drawing-roomof Elmsdale vicarage on July 6th, 1914. On the sixth of August, exactlyone month later, two German army corps, with full artillery andcommissariat trains, were loaded into transports and brought to themouth of the Elbe. They hoped to avoid the British fleet, and theirobjective was the Yorkshire coast between Whitby and Filey. Once ashore,they meant entrenching a camp on the Elmsdale moor. Obviously, they didnot dream of conquering England by one daring foray. Their purpose wasto keep the small army of Britain fully occupied until France washumbled to the dust. They would lose the whole hundred thousand men. Butwhat of that? German soldiers are regarded as cannon fodder by theirrulers, and the price in human lives would not be too costly if itretained British troops at home.

  It was an audacious scheme, and audacity is the first principle ofsuccessful war. Its very spine and marrow was the knowledge of the Northand East Ridings gained in time of peace by the officers who would leadthe invading host. That it failed was due to England's sailors, the menwho broke Napoleon, and were destined, by God's good grace, to break therobber empire of Germany.