The Lost Naval Papers

by Bennet Copplestone

  CHAPTER II

  AT CLOSE QUARTERS

  Dawson entered, and we stood eyeing one another like two strange dogs.Neither spoke for some seconds, and then, recollecting that I was ahost in the presence of a visitor, I extended a hand, offered a chair,and snapped open a cigarette case. Dawson seated himself and took acigarette. I breathed more freely. He could not design my immediatearrest, or he would not have accepted of even so slight a hospitality.We sat upon opposite sides of the fire, Dawson saying nothing, butwatching me in that unwinking cat-like way of his which I find soexasperating. Many times during my association with Dawson I havelonged to spring upon him and beat his head against the floor--just toshow that I am not a mouse. If his silence were intended to make meuncomfortable, I would give him evidence of my perfect composure.

  "How did you find me out?" I asked calmly.

  His start of surprise gratified me, and I saw a puzzled look come intohis eyes. "Find out what?" he muttered.

  "How did you find out that I wrote a story about you?"

  "Oh, that?" He grinned. "That was not difficult, Mr.--er--Copplestone.I asked Mr.--er--Richard Cary for your real name and address, and hehad to give them to me. I was considering whether I should prosecuteboth him and you."

  "No doubt you bullied Cary," I said, "but you don't alarm me in theleast. I had taken precautions, and you would have found your waybarred if you had tried to touch either of us."

  "It is possible," snapped Dawson. "I should like to lock up all youwriting people--you are an infernal nuisance--but you seem to have apull with the politicians."

  We were getting on capitally: the first round was in my favour, and Isaw another opportunity of showing my easy unconcern of his powers.

  "Oh no, Mr.--er--William Dawson. You would not lock us up, even if allthe authority in the State were vested in the soldiers and the police.For who would then write of your exploits and pour upon your heads thebright light of fame? The public knows nothing of Mr. ----" (I held uphis card), "but quite a lot of people have heard of William Dawson."

  "They have," assented he, with obvious satisfaction. "I sent a copy ofthe story to my Chief--just to put myself straight with him. I saidthat it was all quite unauthorised, and that I would have stopped itif I could."

  "Oh no, you wouldn't. Don't talk humbug, Mr. William Dawson. Duringthe past two months you have pranced along the streets with your headin the clouds. And in your own home Mrs. Dawson and the littleDawsons--if there are any--have worshipped you as a god. There isnothing so flattering as the sight of oneself in solid black printupon nice white paper. Confess, now. Are you not at this momentcarrying a copy of that story of mine in your breast pocket next yourheart, and don't you flourish it before your colleagues and rivalsabout six times, a day?"

  Alone among mortal men I have seen a hardened detective blush.

  "Throw away that cigarette," said I, "and take a cigar." I feltgenerous.

  Our relations were now established upon a basis satisfactory to me. Ihad no inkling of the purpose of this visit, but he had lost theadvantage of mysterious attack. He had revealed human weakness and hadceased for the moment to dominate me as a terrible engine of the law.But I had heard too much of Dawson from Cary to be under any illusion.He could be chaffed, even made ridiculous, without much difficulty,but no one, however adroit, could divert him by an inch from hisprofessional purpose. He could joke with a victim and drink his healthand then walk him off, arm in arm, to the gallows.

  "Now, Mr. Dawson," said I. "Perhaps you will tell me to what happycircumstance I owe the honour of this visit?"

  He had been chuckling over certain rich details in the Haganchase--with an eye, no doubt, to future enlarged editions--but thesewords of mine pulled him up short. Instantly he became grave, drewsome papers from his pocket, and addressed himself to business.

  "I have come to you, Mr. Copplestone, as I did to your friend Mr.Cary, for information and assistance, and I have been advised by thosewho know you here to be perfectly frank. You are not at present anobject of suspicion to the local police, who assure me, that thoughyou are known to have access to much secret information, yet that youhave never made any wrongful use of it. You have, moreover, been ofgreat assistance on many occasions both to the military and navalauthorities. Therefore, though my instinct would be to lock you upmost securely, I am told that I mustn't do it."

  "You are very frank," said I. "But I bear no malice. Ask me what youplease, and I will do my best to answer fully."

  "I ought to warn you," said he, with obvious reluctance, "thatanything which you say may, at some future time, be used in evidenceagainst you."

  "I will take the risk, Mr. Dawson," cried I, laughing. "You have doneyour duty in warning me, and you are so plainly hopeful that I shallincriminate myself that it would be cruel to disappoint you. Let usget on with the inquisition."

  "You are aware, Mr. Copplestone, that a most important part of my workconsists in stopping the channels through which information of what isgoing on in our shipyards and munition shops may get through to theenemy. We can't prevent his agents from getting information--that isalways possible to those with unlimited command of money, for thereare always swine among workmen, and among higher folk than workmen,who can be bought. You may take it as certain that little ofimportance is done or projected in this country of which enemy agentsdo not know. But their difficulty is to get it through to theirpaymasters, within the limit of time during which the information isuseful. There are scores of possible channels, and it is up to us towatch them all. You have already shown some grasp of our methods,which in a sentence may be described as unsleeping vigilance. Once weknow the identity of an enemy agent, he ceases to be of any use to theenemy, but becomes of the greatest value to us. Our motto is: Ab hostedoceri." He pronounced the infinitive verb as if it rhymed withglossary.

  "You are quite a scholar, Mr. Dawson," remarked I politely.

  "Yes," said he, simply. "I had a good schooling. I need not go intodetails," he went on, "of how we watch the correspondence of suspectedpersons, but you may be interested to learn that during the threeweeks which I have passed in your city all your private letters havebeen through my hands."

  "The devil they have," I cried angrily. "You exceed your powers. Thisis really intolerable."

  "Oh, you need not worry," replied Dawson serenely. "Your letters werequite innocent. I am gratified to learn that your two sons in theService are happy and doing well, and that you contemplate thepublication of another book."

  It was impossible not to laugh at the man's effrontery, though I feltexasperated at his inquisitiveness. After all, there are things inprivate letters which one does not wish a stranger, and a policeofficer, to read.

  "And how long is this outrage to continue?" I asked crossly.

  "That depends upon you. As soon as I am satisfied that you are astrustworthy as the local police and other authorities believe you tobe, your correspondence will pass untouched. It is of no use for youto fume or try to kick up a fuss in London. Scotland Yard would openthe Home Secretary's letters if it had any cause to feel doubtful ofhim."

  "You cannot feel much suspicion of me or you would not tell me whatyou have been doing."

  "You might have thought of that at once," said Dawson derisively.

  I shook myself and conceded the round to Dawson.

  "It has been plain to us for a long time that the food parcelsdespatched by relatives and 'god-mothers' of British prisoners inGermany were a possible source of danger, and at last it has beendecided to stop them and to keep the despatch of food in the hands ofofficial organisations. Since there are now some 30,000 of militaryprisoners, in addition to interned civilians at Ruhleben, the numberand complexity of the parcels have made it most difficult for athorough examination to be kept up. We have done our utmost, but havebeen conscious that there has existed in them a channel through whichhave passed communications from enemy agents to enemy employers."

  "I can see the possibility, but a practic
al method of communicationlooks difficult. How was it done?"

  "In the most absurdly simple way. Real ingenuity is always simple. Iwill give you an example. An English prisoner in Germany has, we willsuppose, parents in Newcastle, by whom food has been sent outregularly. He dies in captivity, and in due course his relatives arenotified through the International Headquarters of the Red Cross inGeneva. He is crossed off the Newcastle lists, and his parents, ofcourse, stop sending parcels. Now suppose that some one in Birminghambegins to send parcels addressed to this lately deceased prisoner, hisname, unless Birmingham is very vigilant, will get upon the liststhere as that of a new live prisoner. The parcels addressed to thisname will go straight into the hands of the German Secret Service, anda channel of communication will have been opened up between some onein Birmingham and the enemy in Germany. Prisoners are frequentlydying, new prisoners are frequently being taken. Under a haphazardsystem of individual parcels, despatched from all over the BritishIsles, it has been practically impossible to keep track of all thechanges. For this, and other good reasons, we have had to make a cleansweep and to take over the feeding of British prisoners by means of aregular organisation which can ensure that nothing is sent with thefood which will be of any assistance to the enemy."

  "That is a good job done," I observed. "Have you evidence that what ispossible has in fact been done?"

  "We have," said Dawson. "Not many cases, perhaps, but sufficient toshow the existence of a very real danger. It is, indeed, oneparticular instance of direct communication which has brought me toyou to-day. Orders were given not long since that all new cases, thatis, all parcels addressed to prisoners whose names were new to locallists, should be opened and carefully examined. Some six or sevenweeks ago parcels began to be sent from this city addressed to alieutenant in the Northumberland Fusiliers. There was nothingremarkable in that, for though we are some distance here fromNorthumberland, young officers are gazetted to regiments which needthem irrespective of the part of the country to which the officersthemselves belong. In accordance with the new orders all the parcelsfor this lieutenant--which usually consisted of bread, chocolate, andtins of sardines--were examined. The bread was cut up, the chocolatebroken to pieces, and the tins opened. If the parcel contained nothingcontraband, fresh supplies of bread, chocolate and sardines to takethe place of those destroyed in examination were put in, and theparcel forwarded. For the first two weeks nothing was found, but inthe third parcel, buried in one of the loaves, was discovered acutting from an evening newspaper which at first sight seemed quiteinnocent. But a microscopic search revealed tiny needle pricks incertain words, and the words, thus indicated, read when taken bythemselves the sentence, 'Important naval news follows.' At this stageI was sent for. My first step was to inquire very closely into theantecedents of this lieutenant of Northumberland Fusiliers. I foundthat his friends lived at Morpeth, that he had been taken prisonerduring the Loos advance of September 1915, and that he had died abouta year later of typhoid fever in a German camp. His friends, as soonas they had been informed, of the death, had stopped sending parcelsof food out to him. They were not told the object of the inquiries. Itwould have caused them needless pain. It was bad enough that theironly son had died far from home in a filthy German prison."

  Dawson's rather metallic voice became almost sympathetic, and I waspleased to observe that his harsh profession had not destroyed in himall human feeling.

  "After this you may suppose that the parcels addressed to our poorfriend the late lieutenant were very eagerly looked for. The allegedsender, whose name and residence were written upon the labels, wasfound not to exist. Both name and address were false. It was a hotscent, and I was delighted, after a week of waiting, to see anotherparcel come in. This would, in all probability, contain the 'importantnaval news,' and I took its examination upon myself. I reduced thebread and the chocolate to powder without finding anything."

  "Excuse me," I cried, intensely interested, "but how could one conceala paper in bread or in chocolate without leaving external traces?"

  "There is no difficulty. The loaves were of the kind which have softends. One cuts a deep slit, inserts the paper, closes up the cut witha little fresh dough, and rebakes the loaf for a short time, till allsigns of the cut have disappeared. The chocolate was in eggs, not inbars. The oval lumps can be cut open, scooped out, a paper put in, andthe two halves joined up and the cut concealed by means of a strongmixture of chocolate paste and white of egg. When thoroughly dried ina warm place, chocolate thus treated will stand very close scrutiny. Idid not trouble to look for signs of disturbance in either loaves oreggs; it was quicker and easier to break them up. I then addressed myattention to the sardine tins, which from the first had seemed themost likely hiding-places. A very moderately skilled mechanic canunsolder a tin, empty out the fish and oil, put in what he pleases inplace, weight judiciously, and then refasten with fresh solder. Iopened all the tins, found that all except one had been undisturbed,but that one was a blissful reward for all my trouble, for in it was atightly packed mass of glazier's putty, soft and heavy, and at thebottom the carefully folded paper which I have now the honour ofshowing to you."

  Dawson handed me a stiff piece of paper, slimy to the touch andsmelling strongly of white lead. Upon it were two neatly made drawingsand some lines of words and figures. "It is just what I should haveexpected," said I.

  "You recognise it?"

  "Of course," said I. "We have here a deck plan showing the dispositionof guns, and a section plan showing arrangement of armour, of one ofthe big new ships which has been completed for the Grand Fleet. Belowwe have the number and calibre of the guns, the thickness and extentof the armour, the length, breadth, and depth of the vessel, hertonnage, her horse power, and her estimated speed. Everything iscorrect except the speed, which I happen to know is considerablygreater than the figure set down."

  "You have not by any chance seen that paper before?" asked Dawson,with rather a forced air of indifference.

  "This? No. Why?"

  "I was curious, that's all." He looked at me with a queer, quizzicalexpression, and then laughed softly. "You will understand my questiondirectly, but for the moment let us get on. What sort of person shouldyou say made those drawings and wrote that description?"

  I am no Sherlock Holmes; but any one who has had some acquaintancewith engineers and their handiwork can recognise the professionaltouch.

  "These drawings are the work of a trained draughtsman, and the writingis that of a draughtsman. One can tell by the neatness and thetechnique of the shading."

  "Right first time," said Dawson approvingly. "At present I have thatdraughtsman comfortably locked up; we picked him out of the drawingoffice at ----" he named a famous yard in which had been built one ofthe ships of the class illustrated upon the paper in my hands.

  "Poor devil," I said. "What is the cause--drink, women, or thepressure of high prices and a large family?"

  "None of them. His employers give him the best of characters, he getsgood pay, is a man over military age, and has, so far as the policecan learn, no special embarrassments. He owns his house, and has twoor three hundred pounds in the War Loan."

  "Then why in the name of wonder has the _schweinehund_ sold hiscountry?"

  "He declares that he never received a penny for supplying theinformation upon that paper, and we have no evidence of any outsidepayments to him. He did not attempt to conceal his handwriting, andwhen I made inquiries of his firm, he owned up at once that the paperwas his work. He said that for years past he had given particulars ofships under construction to the same parties as on this occasion. Headmitted that to do so was contrary to regulations, especially inwartime, but thought that under the circumstances he was doing noharm. I am not exactly a credulous person, and I have heard some tallstories in my time, but for once I am inclined to believe that the manis speaking the truth. I believe that he received no money, and wasacting throughout in good faith."

  "I am more and more puzzled. What in the w
orld can the circumstancesbe which could induce an experienced middle-aged man, employed inhighly confidential work in a great shipyard, not only to break faithand lose his job, but to stick his neck into a rope and his feet onthe drop of a gallows. Reveal the mystery."

  "You are sure that you have never seen that paper before?" askedDawson again, this time slowly and deliberately.

  "Of course not!" I said. "How could I?"

  "That is just what I have to find out," said Dawson. He stopped, tookout a knife, prodded his nearly smoked cigar, puffed once or twicehard to restore the draught, and spoke. "That is what interests mejust now. For, you see, this very indiscreet and reprehensibleswinehound of a draughtsman, who is at present in my lockup, declaresthat he was without suspicion of serious wrong-doing, because--because--the particulars of the new battleship upon that paperwere supplied to YOU."