worstsetback in my whole campaign. But thanks to my check-book and the goodAltamont all will be well to-night."
The Baron looked at his watch and gave a guttural exclamation ofdisappointment.
"Well, I really can wait no longer. You can imagine that things aremoving at present in Carlton Terrace and that we have all to be at ourposts. I had hoped to be able to bring news of your great coup. DidAltamont name no hour?"
Von Bork pushed over a telegram.
Will come without fail to-night and bring new sparking plugs.
Altamont.
"Sparking plugs, eh?"
"You see he poses as a motor expert and I keep a full garage. In ourcode everything likely to come up is named after some spare part. Ifhe talks of a radiator it is a battleship, of an oil pump a cruiser,and so on. Sparking plugs are naval signals."
"From Portsmouth at midday," said the secretary, examining thesuperscription. "By the way, what do you give him?"
"Five hundred pounds for this particular job. Of course he has asalary as well."
"The greedy rogue. They are useful, these traitors, but I grudge themtheir blood money."
"I grudge Altamont nothing. He is a wonderful worker. If I pay himwell, at least he delivers the goods, to use his own phrase. Besides heis not a traitor. I assure you that our most pan-Germanic Junker is asucking dove in his feelings towards England as compared with a realbitter Irish-American."
"Oh, an Irish-American?"
"If you heard him talk you would not doubt it. Sometimes I assure youI can hardly understand him. He seems to have declared war on theKing's English as well as on the English king. Must you really go? Hemay be here any moment."
"No. I'm sorry, but I have already overstayed my time. We shallexpect you early to-morrow, and when you get that signal book throughthe little door on the Duke of York's steps you can put a triumphantFinis to your record in England. What! Tokay!" He indicated aheavily sealed dust-covered bottle which stood with two high glassesupon a salver.
"May I offer you a glass before your journey?"
"No, thanks. But it looks like revelry."
"Altamont has a nice taste in wines, and he took a fancy to my Tokay.He is a touchy fellow and needs humouring in small things. I have tostudy him, I assure you." They had strolled out on to the terraceagain, and along it to the further end where at a touch from theBaron's chauffeur the great car shivered and chuckled. "Those are thelights of Harwich, I suppose," said the secretary, pulling on his dustcoat. "How still and peaceful it all seems. There may be other lightswithin the week, and the English coast a less tranquil place! Theheavens, too, may not be quite so peaceful if all that the good Zepplinpromises us comes true. By the way, who is that?"
Only one window showed a light behind them; in it there stood a lamp,and beside it, seated at a table, was a dear old ruddy-faced woman in acountry cap. She was bending over her knitting and stoppingoccasionally to stroke a large black cat upon a stool beside her.
"That is Martha, the only servant I have left."
The secretary chuckled.
"She might almost personify Britannia," said he, "with her completeself-absorption and general air of comfortable somnolence. Well, aurevoir, Von Bork!" With a final wave of his hand he sprang into thecar, and a moment later the two golden cones from the headlights shotthrough the darkness. The secretary lay back in the cushions of theluxurious limousine, with his thoughts so full of the impendingEuropean tragedy that he hardly observed that as his car swung roundthe village street it nearly passed over a little Ford coming in theopposite direction.
Von Bork walked slowly back to the study when the last gleams of themotor lamps had faded into the distance. As he passed he observed thathis old housekeeper had put out her lamp and retired. It was a newexperience to him, the silence and darkness of his widespread house,for his family and household had been a large one. It was a relief tohim, however, to think that they were all in safety and that, but forthat one old woman who had lingered in the kitchen, he had the wholeplace to himself. There was a good deal of tidying up to do inside hisstudy and he set himself to do it until his keen, handsome face wasflushed with the heat of the burning papers. A leather valise stoodbeside his table, and into this he began to pack very neatly andsystematically the precious contents of his safe. He had hardly gotstarted with the work, however, when his quick ears caught the soundsof a distant car. Instantly he gave an exclamation of satisfaction,strapped up the valise, shut the safe, locked it, and hurried out on tothe terrace. He was just in time to see the lights of a small car cometo a halt at the gate. A passenger sprang out of it and advancedswiftly towards him, while the chauffeur, a heavily built, elderly manwith a gray moustache, settled down like one who resigns himself to along vigil.
"Well?" asked Von Bork eagerly, running forward to meet his visitor.
For answer the man waved a small brown-paper parcel triumphantly abovehis head.
"You can give me the glad hand to-night, mister," he cried. "I'mbringing home the bacon at last."
"The signals?"
"Same as I said in my cable. Every last one of them, semaphore, lampcode, Marconi--a copy, mind you, not the original. That was toodangerous. But it's the real goods, and you can lay to that." Heslapped the German upon the shoulder with a rough familiarity fromwhich the other winced.
"Come in," he said. "I'm all alone in the house. I was only waitingfor this. Of course a copy is better than the original. If an originalwere missing they would change the whole thing. You think it's all safeabout the copy?"
The Irish-American had entered the study and stretched his long limbsfrom the armchair. He was a tall, gaunt man of sixty, with clear-cutfeatures and a small goatee beard which gave him a general resemblanceto the caricatures of Uncle Sam. A half-smoked, sodden cigar hung fromthe corner of his mouth, and as he sat down he struck a match and relitit. "Making ready for a move?" he remarked as he looked round him."Say, mister," he added, as his eyes fell upon the safe from which thecurtain was now removed, "you don't tell me you keep your papers inthat?"
"Why not?"
"Gosh, in a wide-open contraption like that! And they reckon you to besome spy. Why, a Yankee crook would be into that with a can-opener.If I'd known that any letter of mine was goin' to lie loose in a thinglike that I'd have been a mug to write to you at all."
"It would puzzle any crook to force that safe," Von Bork answered."You won't cut that metal with any tool."
"But the lock?"
"No, it's a double combination lock. You know what that is?"
"Search me," said the American.
"Well, you need a word as well as a set of figures before you can getthe lock to work." He rose and showed a double-radiating disc roundthe keyhole. "This outer one is for the letters, the inner one for thefigures."
"Well, well, that's fine."
"So it's not quite as simple as you thought. It was four years agothat I had it made, and what do you think I chose for the word andfigures?"
"It's beyond me."
"Well, I chose August for the word, and 1914 for the figures, and herewe are."
The American's face showed his surprise and admiration.
"My, but that was smart! You had it down to a fine thing."
"Yes, a few of us even then could have guessed the date. Here it is,and I'm shutting down to-morrow morning."
"Well, I guess you'll have to fix me up also. I'm not staying in thisgol-darned country all on my lonesome. In a week or less, from what Isee, John Bull will be on his hind legs and fair ramping. I'd ratherwatch him from over the water."
"But you're an American citizen?"
"Well, so was Jack James an American citizen, but he's doing time inPortland all the same. It cuts no ice with a British copper to tellhim you're an American citizen. 'It's British law and order overhere,' says he. By the way, mister, talking of Jack James, it seems tome you don't do much to cover your men."
"What do y
ou mean?" Von Bork asked sharply.
"Well, you are their employer, ain't you? It's up to you to see thatthey don't fall down. But they do fall down, and when did you everpick them up? There's James--"
"It was James's own fault. You know that yourself. He was tooself-willed for the job."
"James was a bonehead--I give you that. Then there was Hollis."
"The man was mad."
"Well, he went a bit woozy towards the end. It's enough to make a manbug-house when he has to play a part from morning to night with
His Last Bow: An Epilogue of Sherlock Holmes Page 2