I was beginning to waver because, after all, what he said bore the stamp of common sense.
“It all sounds very well,” I replied hesitatingly.
“But that does not do away with the fact that when I blurted out her name as she passed me, she started as if she had received an electric shock....”
“You think so because you reckoned on producing an impression on her. You hoped to surprise her and you did in fact surprise her. She did not expect you to be there. A shadow burst out upon her from under the counter, and stealthily rapped out a word or two, it doesn’t matter what. A more nervous woman would have screamed. She was satisfied with putting you in your place!... And now let’s turn our attention to the flagon if you don’t mind.”
But it was too late. A sergeant-major entered the shop and making straight for me, although I did not know him at all, called me by name, and informed me that he was ordered to take me to Admiral von Treischke who had an urgent communication to make to me.
I immediately went into the street with him. On the doorstep of the shop, as it was raining, Peter lent me one of his old umbrellas. I have kept it religiously ever since as a souvenir of this worthy man whom I was destined never to see again.
CHAPTER V
IN WHICH I REALISE THAT I AM NOT YET OUT OF THE WOOD
ON OUR WAY, as the sergeant-major did not even answer my questions, I began to reflect upon all that Peter had said, and I came to the conclusion that he was right. I had been misled by a chance resemblance. What could be more probable! My recollection depended only upon a portrait, a painting; in a word, upon something quite accidental. And I might have been influenced by the visit which the Admiral paid to the veiled lady. I had stupidly jumbled up these things in my mind, for after all, if this lady were Mrs. G — , Admiral von Treischke would be only too happy to surrender her for his own wife and children. No exchange of prisoners would be more warmly welcomed on both sides, or bring in its train happier consequences.
I reached this point in my reflections when we found ourselves at the Corn Exchange which had been converted into barracks. I was at once admitted to the Admiral’s presence. He was seated at his desk, alone, in a room of some size, the doors of which were guarded by a veritable army of men. He gave me a look of particular severity which could not but astonish me after our conversation of the preceding evening. The tyrant of Flanders, the scourge of the sea, did not ask me to sit down, but proceeded to question me like a judge examining a prisoner. I was entirely taken aback by his first words:
“It seems, Monsieur, that you have grossly insulted a very honourable lady whom you met in a shop in the town.”
“I,” I exclaimed, turning crimson in my amazement at this method of attack. “Who reported such a lie to you?”
“She herself, Monsieur. She came here to lodge a complaint and she has just left.”
“What did she complain of?”
“She complained of your impudence in speaking to her without having been introduced, Monsieur. Do you maintain that such was the conduct of a gentleman?”
“I was, perhaps, lacking to some extent in propriety,” I returned somewhat embarrassed, for I had an intuition that I was entering upon a new and very serious trouble which might be extremely compromising, “but there is all the difference between a breach of etiquette and a gross insult.”
“I’ve repeated to you the expression which she herself used, Monsieur Herbert. What did you say to this very honourable lady?”
What was he driving at, what was he driving at? Did he know the whole story? Had he — or had some one already repeated to him the words which had so spontaneously arisen to my lips? After all, what should I risk if I told him the truth? Would to Heaven, I say again, that my assumption were correct for all our sakes, and particularly for the Admiral’s sake.... Thus I leant forward and made my confession:
“Would you believe, Admiral, that I was misled by a resemblance, a strange, extraordinary resemblance, a resemblance which made my heart rejoice, for it might have been the end of the terrible sufferings and anxieties caused by the mania of the Captain in question.... What a relief for all of us?”
“Come... I say... What do you mean?” said the Admiral in a tone of impatience.
“Well, I thought I recognised in a certain veiled lady — you will understand everything, Admiral — Captain Hyx’s wife. And my delight was so great that I could not refrain from addressing this lady by name, by the name which I believe to be hers.”
“That’s very curious.”
He gazed searchingly at me without saying another word, with his set smile, the smile of a moustached tiger, and I was constrained to turn my head, feeling more and more embarrassed.
And then I began to speak as if I were determined to treat of really serious and much more urgent things than tales about veiled ladies. And I told him of what had occurred during that very night, in our house, after his departure: the visit of the unknown marauders, their brutality with the two soldiers on guard, and the desire that we had, my old mother and I, to get away to Holland. He continued to stare at me with his set smile.
“Don’t you think,” he said at last, “that this aggression was directed against me? Was it not the work of your men?”
“They are capable of anything, Admiral, and if they know that you are here, you cannot, as I have said before, take too many precautions to protect yourself.”
“In short,” he said, still with his set smile, “the inference is that the air of Renich is not good for you and me. Well, we will change it!” And he rang his bell, whereupon the officer who had driven me in a motor-car from Zeebrugge to Renich came in.
“Fritz,” he said, “we are going away. Let everything be ready in an hour. I hand Monsieur over to you. You will be responsible for him. I would rather lose an arm than the pleasure of his company.”
“Let me inform my mother,” I interrupted.
“Your mother shall be informed. We are not barbarians.”
Fritz conducted me to a small study next to the Admiral’s room and requested me to sit down at an office desk on which were spread out several sheets of white paper, different coloured inks, drawing pens, a pair of compasses, and sundry pencils.
“The Admiral wishes you to set to work without a moment’s delay,” explained Fritz. “You will understand that it is of the highest importance that you should let us have plans and specifications of the structure and dimensions and secrets of this infernal vessel which you managed to board and which for several months has given us no end of trouble.”
While he uttered these words in a quiet and pleasant voice leaning over the desk, I looked at him attentively. Smart and fresh-complexioned, he was, to all seeming, quite a charming young man. Suddenly I gave a start, for I observed a large scar running down from his left cheek to his neck, quite close to the artery, and burying itself under his collar. He must have received a pretty blow. Was it a cut from a sword or a dagger?... Or a pair of scissors? His name was Fritz, he was Von Treischke’s man, and he bore that scar. Egad, as Peter used to say, he must be the man who came to life after the incident in Vigo; Dolores’ admirer and Gabriel’s rival. Anyway I should keep that particular discovery to myself.
I settled to my task to the best of my ability, drawing a rough sketch of the “Vengeance “and giving as many definite details and figures as I could. Fritz was not at all displeased with the result of my labours when he came to fetch me. He rolled up the papers and requested me to accompany him. We made our way into the street.
And here I saw the motor-car that was intended for us. It was neither more nor less than an armoured gun-car.
“We’re going to make our journey in an armoured gun-car,” said Fritz. “Reports have reached us that a number of enemy bombing aeroplanes are making for our reserves between Liège and Namur, and we have to pass that way.” It was a delightful prospect.
The Admiral was already seated in this little movable fortress. He gave me a slight inclinatio
n of the head, and remarked that we should have a fine day for our journey. The mechanics, gunners, and two naval officers were in their places. Three unarmoured motor-cars each containing a machine-gun and filled with soldiers, were getting ready to accompany us. At all events Von Treischke was determined not to be left mouldering in Captain Hyx’s prison. The Terror of Flanders believed in discretion as the better part of valour.
I was seated on my portmanteau near Fritz’s legs; and Von Treischke was deeply immersed in my drawings. Every now and again he shook his head and stared at me in astonishment. It was obvious that he was aghast at my figures, which gave him some indication of the exceptional prowess of the “Vengeance.”
“Have you not exaggerated?” he asked.
“I am certain that I have understated the truth. I assure you that you will do well to come to terms with those people.”
I must have said something that was considered an enormity, for an alarmed look spread over Fritz’s face, and the Admiral grinned in so lugubrious a fashion that my blood froze in my veins.
“Probably,” he grunted.
It was not until very late on the following night that, after many changes of direction, we reached the end of our journey. I was worn-out with fatigue, and I was about to ask that I might be allowed a rest when I heard the Admiral’s voice informing me that I had a quarter of an hour in which to prepare myself to go before a court-martial.
I was thunderstruck.
CHAPTER VI
THE COURT-MARTIAL
IT WAS TWO o’clock in the morning when I was ushered into a large, low-ceilinged room in the prison in which I had already passed some moments of intolerable anguish at the time of my first visit to Zeebrugge.
I was in this ominous room with Fritz, the fat-cheeked naval lieutenant who never ceased to roll some chewing-gum between his thick lips. He did not leave me a moment. I put a few questions to him to no purpose. He pretended not to understand them. Not far away three lamps with green shades spread three little discs of light on the cloth of a long table covered with papers. Some arm-chairs stood against the wall; the rest was darkness, darkness.
A door opened and three men entered, three men only, not one more and not one less, but what men they were! I knew them as soon as they came within the radius of the little discs of light.
It was not an ordinary court-martial. There were no ceremonies, no clanking of swords, no soldiers, no sentries — not one ear too many.... Fritz chewing gum, his revolver in his belt, and these three men.... The man in the centre was no less a personage than Prince Henry, the Hohenzollem head of the fleet, the leading man in the sea forces. The man on his right was Admiral von Tirpitz, the apostle of submarine Frightfulness, just as Captain Hyx was the apostle of submarine Vengeance. You will readily divine that the man on the left of Prince Henry was Von Treischke.
It was a formidable trinity, a three-headed monster who would have little difficulty in ravening on your humble servant. When the Prince ordered me to come nearer I felt that I was already partly devoured. The amiable Fritz assisted me to drag forward my exhausted frame.
“Come nearer.... Come nearer still.” And thus I went up until I stood against the table.
“You will repeat to us everything that you told Admiral von Treischke,” ordered the Prince. “Pull yourself together. You have nothing to fear from us; at least as long as you answer us according to our wishes.”
I was quite willing to answer according to their wishes; I was nothing loth. But could one ever be certain what would please these people?
I began my story. I was frozen, because it was like speaking to three blocks of ice. My narrative lasted about an hour; and I was not once interrupted. The Court rose and there was an adjournment for a quarter of an hour. When they returned they had my drawings with them, and I was obliged to give them additional explanations by word of mouth. They pressed me, in particular, with questions about the Control Room, and they listened to me with interest as I advanced my theory as to the reconstituted electricity.... It seemed as if they concerned themselves least of all with the fate of their poor wretched imprisoned compatriots on the brink of torture.
The Court rose a second time and returned at the end of half an hour; and a look of extreme gravity was on the faces of the three men.
“Did you not touch at any port after you left Madeira?” asked the Prince.
“Yes, Your Highness,” I replied, endeavouring to suppress my intense excitement. “ I know that we stopped off the Spanish coast.”
“Where?”
“I cannot say positively. It would perhaps be unwise to make a definite statement. Some persons on board spoke of Cadiz?”
“And others?”
“Others mentioned Vigo.”
A great silence, an immense silence, a prodigious silence ensued. And then the Prince said in a dry voice:
“The question that I’m now going to put to you is a question of life or death for you, young man if you lie to me, we shall know it. We shall know it here and now. Do you fully understand?... Do you fully understand?”
I did not answer him. I waited for him to speak. I held my breath. A question of life or death! They had not hitherto put a question to me with a scarcely veiled threat. The Prince came to the point:
“You know that the vessel touched at Vigo. Do you know if Captain Hyx went ashore?”
“I believe,” I answered, leaning for support on the table, “that the Captain landed at a small island.”
“Yes, and was not this island one of the Cies Islands?”
“Well, I never heard tell of those islands on board, but I think it is quite possible, because I examined an atlas of the western coast of Spain, and could not find any other islands off the Bay of Vigo.”
They were no longer listening to me. They rose and adjourned for the third time; but meanwhile the Prince said:
“I tell you that he’s our man.”
The door closed behind them, but not quickly enough to prevent me from overhearing these words spoken in angry tones:
“If the Man of the Cies Island and Captain Hyx are one and the same person His Majesty will never forgive America.”
I had to wait an hour for them this time; one tremendous hour. Never had an hour of sixty minutes seemed so interminable.
From their demeanour as they once more entered the room, I realised that everything that had happened up to that moment was as nothing compared with that with which they were now about to confront me. They were to confront me... with another question of life or death. They told me as much. Prince Henry, before putting this question of life or death to me, warned me — he had the goodness to warn me — that if by chance I escaped the dangers which these questions brought in their train, it would suffice for me to repeat a word of what had transpired there, to mention a single figure, and I should afterwards be rendered incapable of saying anything whatsoever!
I felt that the question was coming. I was already on tenterhooks. The threats in this room recalled only too forcibly those at Renich, and I gathered all my strength to meet the blow with which they wished to crush me.... Beware!... Steady now!... The thing is to look them straight in the face and lie. A question of life or death! If I tell the truth I am a dead man.
The Prince’s face appeared under the lamp-shade and, staring at me fixedly quite close, he rapped out in a hollow voice:
“What do they say on board the ‘Vengeance’ about Mark six metres eighty-five?”
“I never heard of it. I don’t understand what your Highness means.”
May God and the Blessed Virgin forgive me, but no truth ever issued from my lips in accents of such complete conviction as that utter falsehood. I was perfectly certain that if I had not replied with this barefaced but convincing piece of cynicism, His Highness, whose hand was in the right-hand pocket of his tunic, would have fired at me point-blank, without more ado, and blown my brains out. I read in his eyes, fixed searchingly on me under the lamp-shade, that nothing mu
st be known of the Invisible Battle.
CHAPTER VII
EAT AND DRINK, BUT THINK OF GOD
ON A SIGN from the Prince my warder took me out of the room and back to my cell. I tried to question Fritz on the effect which the proceedings had produced on his mind, but he told me that it was difficult to express an opinion in a matter of that kind, and wished me good night.
I could not, of course, close my eyes. In my heart of hearts I firmly hoped that I had not been altogether a bungler.
It was ten o’clock in the morning when Fritz appeared and without saying a word proceeded to blindfold me. Was he going to lead me to the place of execution? I was so greatly amazed by the thought, and this last indignity of blindfolding me so greatly upset me, that my limbs began to give way under me, whereupon Fritz feeling, perhaps, that he might have to carry me, condescended to enlighten me.
“They are quite satisfied with you, Monsieur Herbert,” he said, “and you will be treated in future as a valued friend. The Admiral cannot do without you. We are going to rejoin him.”
Thus I made a fresh journey in a motor-car, closed as though it were a small movable prison, with Fritz, a basket of cold eatables, and half a dozen bottles of champagne. We ate and slept and smoked in the car. What a litter and what a kennel!
Fritz from time to time allowed me to get out on the road after putting my bandage on again; and he amused himself by firing a revolver at the trees.... Once there was a confabulation with the chauffeur. Words were spoken that were incomprehensible to me.... Yes, I caught one syllable, two syllables which recurred but were spoken very rapidly. Was the end of the sentence Wilhelmshaven or Cuxhaven? What was the haven, what was the port to which they were referring?
At last we reached a large fortified town, the entrance to which was well guarded; that was as clear, of course, as a password is to sentries.
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 362