The Lost Naval Papers

by Bennet Copplestone

  CHAPTER XIV

  A COFFIN AND AN OWL

  Dawson laid the letter and the telegram upon his breakfast-table, andbent his head over them. In a few minutes he had weighed them up,sorted out their relative significance, and spoke. "We have here,Froissart, two distinct people. I am almost sure of that. My man ofthe dockyard who wants leave to bury his mother in Essex has not yetreceived permission from his Chief. He would not therefore betelegraphing about his train. He does not know yet whether he will bepermitted to go at all. Your man is quite confident that his movementsare in no way restricted. As I read between the lines I judge that myman, who knows the actual truth about the docking and sailing of thebattle-cruisers, wants to reach the East Coast, whence he has means oftransmitting the priceless news to Germany. Your man is of one of theTowns; he has seen the dummy cruisers ashore in the Sound; he believesthem to be genuine, and he also wants to transmit the news to hispaymasters in Germany, He will be an ordinary German agent. Theidentity of place whither both wish to go is partly a coincidence, andpartly explained by its excellence as a jumping-off place for fastmotor-boats, which, during these long autumn nights, could race overto and get back again between sunset and dawn. We have coast watchersalways about for the very purpose of stopping such lines ofcommunication. You shall accompany your own man, and make sure that heis allowed to get through. If he does not himself cross, arrest him assoon as his boat has gone. If he does go, watch for his return andarrest him, and his boat and all on board, the moment that theyreturn. In any event the boat and its crew must be seized upon returnto Essex. Are you quite clear about what you have to do?"

  "Quite," said Froissart. "The spies and their boat must be caughtred-handed, but not till after the false news of the mining of thebattle-cruisers has been carried to Holland. But how shall we makecertain that the sleepless English Navy will not butt in and catch theboat at sea before it gets across to Holland. The Narrow Seas swarmwith fast patrols."

  "I will provide for that. I will write at once for you a letter to theInspector of police at Burnham, and enclose copies of my credentialsfrom the Admiralty. I will also wire to Lord Jacquetot in privatecode. You will find on arrival that the responsible naval authoritiesof the district will be entirely at your service. That motor-boat withthe news of the great spoof shall be shepherded across most craftily,but when it comes to return will find that the way of transgressors isvery hard. Get ready and be off, Froissart; we depend upon your skilland discretion. Get a good view of your man--the police will point himout--before he boards the train, and then don't let him out of yoursight. Take two plain-clothes officers with you. Run no unnecessaryrisks of being spotted. You are rather easily recognisable with thoseshining black eyes and black beard, but no one here has seen youofficially, and you should pass unsuspected as a Scotland Yard man.Can I trust you?"

  "_Mais certainement_," said Froissart crossly. "This is simple policework, which I have done a thousand times. I could do it on my head."

  "Your train leaves at 10.8; the South Western station. I will give youthe letters at once, and then you can start."

  Within a quarter of an hour Dawson--his breakfast forgotten--had givenFroissart his letters, sent a long telegram by special messenger tothe Commander-in-Chief for despatch in code to Jacquetot. Not even toDawson would the Admiralty entrust its private cypher. Then, as soonas Froissart had disappeared, he called up the Chief of the Dockyardon the telephone and arranged to come at once to his office.

  "I had given the easy job to Froissart," he explained to me longafterwards. "It was, as he called it, simple police work. He had,without arousing suspicion, to make smooth the path for his spy justas you and I opened the door to the Hook for the late-lamented Hagan,and escorted him across in the mail-boat. We have helped false newsover to the Germans scores of times. It is grand sport. My job wassomething much more tricky. I had to get plain proof that my man was aspy in the dockyard, to keep him playing on my line to the very lastminute, but to make dead certain of stopping him at the fifty-fifthsecond of the eleventh hour."

  "Why did you not cut out your difficulties by just stopping him fromgoing to Essex? At a word from you his Chief would have refusedleave."

  Dawson smiled at me in a fashion which I find intensely aggravating.He has no tact; when he feels superior, he lets one see it plainly.

  "The fat would have been in the fire then," exclaimed he. "Suppose helay low for a day or two, took French leave, and went. I should havebeen off his track. Shadowing is all very well, but it does not alwayssucceed in a crowded district like the Three Towns. If he had got awaywithout me beside him, the man might have reached Essex and done therewhat he pleased. Besides, he might have had accomplices unknown to me.No, it was the only possible course to give him leave and follow himup close. Then whatever he did would be under my own eye."

  Dawson gulped down a cup of coffee, sadly regarded his rapidlycongealing bacon, and skipped off to the dockyard. "Who is this man ofyours whose mother has died at so very inconvenient a moment for us?What the deuce is he doing with a mother in Essex at all? He ought tobe a Devon man."

  "He isn't, anyway. I have been making close inquiries. Though he hasbeen with us for sixteen years, he did come originally from somewherein the East. The man is one of the best I have--never drinks, keepsgood time, and works hard. He makes big wages, and carries themvirtuously home to his wife. He has money in the savings bank, andholds Consols, poor chap, on which he must have wasted the good toilof years. I can't imagine any one less likely to take German gold thanthis man Maynard. Sure you haven't a bee in your bonnet, Dawson? To apolice officer every one is a probable criminal, but some of us nowand then are passably honest. I will bet my commission that Maynard ishonest."

  Dawson sniffed. "The honest men, with the excellent characters and thevirtuous wives, are always the most dangerous because least likely toarouse suspicion. How do you know that Maynard hasn't a secondestablishment hidden away somewhere in the Three Towns? The upper andmiddle classes have no monopoly in illicit love affairs. Their workingclass betters do a bit that way too."

  "All right. Have it your own way. We will assume for the sake ofsecurity that Maynard is a spy, that he has no dead mother whom hewants leave to bury, and that he has sold his country for the sake ofsome bit of fluff in Plymouth. The point is: what am I to do? Shall Igrant leave?"

  "Yes," said Dawson, "and do it handsomely. Give him four days and runthe sympathetic stunt. Offer him a Service pass by the Great Western.Say how grieved you are and all the rest of the tosh. Have him up now,and put me somewhere close so that I can take a good look at the swinewhen he comes in and when he goes out."

  The Chief of the Dockyards shrugged his shoulders, placed Dawson in anadjoining room, and summoned Maynard from the yard. The man, who wasdressed in the awful dead black of his class when a funeral is inprospect, came up, and Dawson got a full sight of him. Maynard wasabout thirty-five, well set up--for he had served in theTerritorials--and looked what he was, a first-rate workman of the besttype. Even Dawson, who trusted no one, was slightly shaken. "I havenever seen a man who looked less like a spy," muttered he; "but then,those always make the most dangerous of spies. Why has he a mother inEssex, and why has she died just now? Real mothers don't do thesethings; they've more sense."

  Maynard received his third-class pass, respectfully thanked hisOfficer for his kindly expressed sympathy--which in his case was quitegenuine--and disappeared. Dawson jumped into the room again to take aword of farewell. "I should know him anywhere," he cried. "I am goingby the same train in the same carriage. Good-bye."

  Maynard reached the Great Western station in good time, and found acarriage which was not overcrowded. He was carrying a small handbag.At the last moment before the train started a prosperous-lookingpassenger, with "commercial gentleman" written all over him, steppedinto the same compartment and seated himself in a vacant seat oppositethe bereaved workman. It was Dawson in one of his favourite roles."There is nothing less like a detective," he w
ould say, "than amiddle-aged commercial traveller. They are such genial, unsuspicious,open-handed folk. This comes of wandering about the country at otherpeople's expense."

  The 10.15 fast express from the Three Towns to Paddington is anexcellent one, and the journey was not more tedious than five hoursspent in a train are bound to be. All through the journey Dawson, frombehind his stock of papers and magazines, studied Maynard, and became,not, perhaps shaken in his conviction, but certainly puzzled. "Helooked," he explained to me, "like a sick and sorrowful man. One whohad really lost a beloved mother far away would look just like that.But so might one who had been unfaithful to a trusting wife and wasnow risking his neck to pour gold into the greedy lap of a frowsymistress. One must never judge by appearances. A man may look as sickover backing the wrong horse as at losing an only son in the trenches.Human means of expression are limited."

  "It takes time to learn that you are not such a beast as you pretend,"I observed. Dawson grinned.

  At Paddington Maynard took the Tube to Liverpool Street, and did notobserve that his fellow passenger of the brown tweed suit and the fat,self-satisfied, rather oily face followed by the same route. Dawson,who was famished, rejoiced to see Maynard make for therefreshment-room. He could not lunch on the train, since the workman,upon whom he attended, had economically fed himself upon sandwichesput up in a "nosebag."

  "No breakfast, no lunch," groaned Dawson. "What a day!" He did hisbest during five minutes in the refreshment-room at Liverpool Streetto fill up the howling void in his person, and then watched Maynardenter a train for Burnham-on-Crouch. In two minutes he had opened upcommunications with a station Inspector of Police, made himself known,and secured the services of a constable to travel in Maynard'scarriage. He did not wish to be seen again himself just at present. Heyearned, too, for a first-class compartment and an ample tea-basket.Dawson's brain is a martyr to duty, but his stomach continually risesin rebellion. It was a fast train which would not stop until the Essexcoast was reached, so that Dawson did not doubt that his quarry wouldbe upon the platform when he himself got out So he was, and so, too,was a girl in deep mourning who had come to meet him. Dawson wasstaggered; a girl, also in funeral blacks, upset the picture which hehad painted to himself. The man and girl talked together for a fewminutes, and then walked slowly arm in arm out of the station towardsthe village. Dawson picked up his police assistant and followed. Hegave no explanation of the reasons for his shadowing of the manMaynard, for he was just beginning to feel uneasy. Slowly the party offour threaded through the pretty little place, bright under thepleasant autumn twilight. Maynard and the girl were in front, Dawsonand his policeman followed some fifty yards behind. In a side street,at the door of a small cottage--one of a humble row--the pair ofmourners stopped, opened the iron gate, and entered. Dawson waited,watching. He could see through the windows into a little parlour wheresome half a dozen people, all in deep black, were gathered. Presently,as if they had waited only for the arrival of Maynard--which indeedwas the fact--the heavy steps of men clumping down wooden stairsresounded from the open door, and there emerged into the street acoffin borne upon the shoulders of six bearers. The moment that thecoffin appeared Dawson realised his blunder. Maynard had really losthis mother, and, like a dutiful son, had come all the way from theThree Towns to bury her! Off flew Dawson's hat, and he nudged thepoliceman hard in the ribs. "Take off your helmet, you chump," hegrowled savagely. "Don't you see that it's a funeral." The man, ratherdazed--he had been plucked away from Liverpool Street at a moment'snotice and sent upon what he thought was police service--did what hewas told. The group of mourners formed behind the coffin, which wascarried to the cemetery not far off. Still following, with their headsbowed, Dawson and the bewildered policeman attended the funeral, heardthe beautiful service read, and the last offices completed. Then theyturned away and made for the railway station.

  "Why, sir," asked the policeman, looking sideways rather fearfully athis superior officer's stern face--"why, sir, did we come to thisplace?"

  "Why? Haven't you seen?" snapped Dawson. "To attend a funeral, ofcourse."

  * * * * *

  I have never met that policeman. To have conversed with him and tohave sought to chop a way through the tangled recesses of his mindwould have gratified me hugely. For, if police constables think atall, in what a bewildered whirl of confused speculation must his poorbrain have been occupied during the return journey to London! Dawsontossed him into a compartment of the first train which came along, oneof extreme slowness, and then dismissed him into cold space without ascrap of remorse. The humble creature, discharging his station dutieswith the precision of daily habit, had swung into the overpoweringorbit of Chief Inspector Dawson, been caught up, dumped withoutinstructions upon an unknown journey in attendance upon an unknownworkman. Then when the train had stopped, he had been spewed out upona strange country platform, led through strange mean streets, andforced with head bared to the autumn chill of evening, to attend theobsequies of a total stranger. At the end, without a word ofexplanation, still less of apology, he had been returned as an emptyrejected package to the platform at Liverpool Street. Yes, I shoulddearly love to have met and cross-questioned that policeman, and havelistened to the bizarre solution which he had to offer to it all. Butmost probably, in his stolid, faithful way, he never gave the subjectany thought at all. To be tossed about at the whims of superiors wasan experience which he would take as composedly as he would thoseexiguous weekly wages which were the derisory compensation.

  Dawson went to the small hotel which he had picked out with Froissartas a convenient rendezvous. There he sat for hours doing nothing, forhe was far too wise a man to push his head into another man'sbusiness, even though that one were a subordinate and a foreigner. Hehad failed once; he could not afford, by deputy, to fail a secondtime. Besides, he knew nothing of the movements of Froissart and hisquarry. They had not appeared within the visible horizon ofBurnham-on-Crouch, though they had had ample time in which to arrive.I am afraid that his temper got the better of him, and as the nightdrew on, unsolaced by a word from Froissart, and unrelieved by anyliterature more engrossing than old railway time-tables and hoteladvertisements, he consigned to the Bottomless Pit the Chief of theDevonport Dockyard, the disgustingly virtuous and unenterprisingMaynard, and even the harmless soul of his lately buried mother.Dawson in a royal rage is no pleasant spectacle.

  It had gone half-past eleven before Froissart came, a boisterous,triumphant Froissart, bragging of his skill and his success in themanner of a born Gascon.

  "It was tremendous, _mon ami_," roared Froissart, unchecked byDawson's scowls. "I have done the blooming trick: the boat has gone toHolland, and the filthy spy is in the strong lock-up. My vigilance, myastuteness, my resource unfathomable, my flair, my soul of an artist,my patience inexhaustible, my address so firm and yet so delicate, mymastery of the minds of those others less gifted, my--"

  "Oh, stow it!" roared Dawson.

  "Unfailing insight, _mon esprit francais_, my genius for the serviceof police, my unshakable courage and elan, have had their just andinevitable reward. The boat with the message so false has gone toHolland for the German Kaiser to gloat over, and the filthy spy is inthe safe lock-up. I took him with my own hands--I, le Comte deFroissart, I bemired my hands by contact with his foul carcase. Theboat it flew down the river; _ma foi_, like a flash of the lightning,going they said thirty knots, _presque cinquante kilometres parheure_. The glorious _Marine Anglaise_ will see that it reaches lesPays Bas, and then when it is of return your sailors so splendid, withsang-froid so perfect, will gobble it up. Just gobble it up. As I willgobble up this cold beef upon your table. _Peste_, I am of a hungerexcruciating. I have not eaten for five, six, ten hours."

  Froissart sat down at Dawson's table, where still lay the cold remainsof his supper--he had had the decency to reflect that his colleagueFroissart might be hungry upon arrival--and fell to eating copiouslyand loudly. The French are least admirable
when they are seendevouring food.

  Froissart ate while Dawson writhed. Though his colleague's successwould plant laurels upon his own brow--little would he ever say at theYard of that journey to Burnham and the preposterous funeral--he wasjealous, bitterly jealous. I am by special appointment the Boswell ofDawson, yet I do not spare the feelings of my subject. Rather do I goover them with a rake--for the ultimate good of Dawson's variegatedsoul. He was bitterly jealous, but from natural curiosity yearned toknow the details of those feats of which Froissart prated sotriumphantly. And all the while, unconscious, heedless of his wrathfulexasperated chieftain, Froissart devoured food in immense quantities.It was a disgusting exhibition.

  Satisfied at last, Froissart broke away from the table, lit acigarette, and sat himself down beside Dawson before the fire. It waswell past midnight, but to these men regular habits were unknown, andthe hours of work and of sleep always indeterminate.

  "Now," exclaimed Froissart, "I will tell to you, my friend Dawson, thetrue _histoire_ of my exploits so tremendous and unapproachable. Ireached the station at Plymouth at ten hours, my spy was upon theplatform. I knew him, for those who had kept him under watch hadinformed me of him. I had with me two police officers _en bourgeois_,what you call plain clothes, and I distributed them with the acumen ofa strategist. It was _un train a couloir_. The spy disposed himself ina compartment. I placed one of my officers in the same compartmentwith him, the other in the compartment _contiguee_ towards the engine,myself in that _a derriere_. He was thus the meat in our sandwich. Ifhe passed into the corridor and walked this way or that he was seen byme or by my man in advance; all his movements while within his owncompartment were supervised every moment. So we travelled. He didhimself well that spy so atrocious. He partook of his _dejeuner_ inthe _buffet du train_, and we all three took our _dejeuner_ therealso. That was the last meal of which I ate before this my supperhere. The journey was without incident, but when he arrived atWaterloo the trouble began. He was not taking risks, that spy. He knewnot that he was under watch, but he took not risks. He began toperform a voyage designed to throw any man, except one of thevigilance and resource of Froissart, completely off his track. I wasnot learned in your Metropolitain before this day, but now I know yourTubes as if a map of them were printed in colours upon my hand. AtWaterloo that spy, so astute, burrowed into the earth and entered atrain of the railway called Bakerloo, in which he journeyed toGolder's Green. Then he crossed a _quai_ and returned to the towncalled Camden. Again he descended, passed through tunnels, andemerging upon another _quai_ proceeded to Highgate. All the while wethree followed, not close, but so that he never escaped from under oureyes. At Highgate he turned about and returned to Tottenham CourtRoad. Thence he departed by another line to the Bank, and, rising inand _ascenseur_, emerged upon the pavements of your City. He lookedthis way and that, not perceiving us who watched, walked warily to theLord Maire's station of the Mansion House, boarded the DistrictRailway, and did not alight till Wimbledon. It was easy to follow, butmy friend, the billets, the tickets, were _une grande difficulte_. Isolved the problem of tickets by my genius so _superbe_. We at firsttried to take them, but _apres_ we abandoned the project so hopelessand travelled _sans payer_. When asked at the barriers or in thelifts, we offered pennies, and the men who collected took themjoyfully, asking not whence we came. It was _une procedee tressimple_. It is possible that these wayward uncounted pennies droppedinto their own pockets. They rejoiced always to receive them. FromWimbledon we returned to Earl's Court, and then, descending by anelectric staircase, which moved of itself, again found ourselves inthe Tubes. I loved that _escalier electrique_; one day I will returnand ascend and descend upon it for hours. From Earl's Court we went toPiccadilly Circus; there we made another change for Oxford Circus;there we again got out, and at last, after penetrating the bowels ofyour London, travelled to Liverpool Street. By this time it had becomedark, and the spy's passion for underground travel had spent itself.He crossed the street, descended to the grand station of the EasternRailway, and took a ticket for Burnham-on-Crouch. Exhausted, but evervigilant, Froissart and his faithful men took also tickets forBurnham-on-Crouch.

  "I will not weary you more with our wanderings, but after many hours,at ten o'clock, we at last arrived at this place. The spy was met uponthe _quai_ by another villain, with whom he held converse, and thepair of them, ignorant that the vengeance of Froissart overshadowedthem, marched heedlessly, openly, to the river side and entered alarge house of which the gardens ran down to the water. I left theremy two faithful but weary ones on watch, and hastened to the _salle depolice_. There an Inspector and a young _officier anglais_--asub-lieutenant of the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve--were awaiting myarrival with impatience. To them I told my story with the brevity thatI now recount it to you. They were intrigued greatly, and the_sous_-lieutenant struck me violently upon the back and said, _mafoi_, that I was a 'downy old bird,' It was a compliment _tres'bizarre mais tres aimable._ I was, it appeared, an old bird of thedowniest plumage. I had noted the name of the house, and the Inspectorseized a Directory. 'We have suspected that house for some time,' saidhe. There is a big boat-house at the bottom of the garden containing alarge sea-going motor-boat. The proprietor calls himself English, butdoes not look like one. He is doubtless a snake, one whom they call_naturalise_, a viper whom we English have warmed in our bosoms.' Sospake the Inspector. The Sub-Lieutenant whistled. He said only, 'Sendfor little Tommy; it is a job for him.' A call was sent forth, andthere came into the room a scrap of an infant, habited in shortpantaloons and a green shirt. The child carried a long pole and stoodstiffly at attention. '_Ma foi_, do I see before me a Boy Scout?' Iasked. 'You do,' replied the Sub-Lieutenant. 'This is little Tommy,the patrol leader of the Owls.' '_Mon Dieu_' I cried, 'an Owl! _UnHibou_! Is he then stupid as an owl?' I could see that the Tommy sosmall frowned savagely, but the Sub-Lieutenant laughed. 'You will seepresently if he is stupid. I have forty miles of coast to watch, and Ido it all with Boy Scouts like this one.' '_Nom d'un chien_,' I cried.'You English are a great people.' 'We are,' agreed the Sub-Lieutenant,'devilish great.' Tommy grinned.

  "Then the officer so youthful--his age could not have exceedednineteen years--gave orders to the little Tommy. He was to go to thehouse, to enter the garden, to squeeze his tiny person into theboat-house, and watch. When the spy and his associates went towardsthe boat, Tommy was to warn us with a hoot--like an owl--and we wereto take charge. At least so I understood the orders given in a strangesea language. Tommy saluted, and vanished. If he had ten years, Ishould be astonished; but he was a man, every inch of him. Wait till Ihave finished.

  "We followed quickly behind Tommy, but saw him not, and joined my men,who still watched the house. The Sub-Lieutenant and I moved warily,climbed over the wall of the garden, and crept along the grass, softlike moss to our feet, till we could see the boat-house stand outagainst the dull shine of the river. There was no sign of the presenceof _le petit Hibou_. Suddenly the door of the house, which gave uponthe garden, opened, and four men walked down to the boat-house andentered stealthily. My heart turned to water--what a calamity if theyshould find and slay the pretty little Owl! The minutes passed,perhaps five, perhaps ten, and then quite close we heard the soft lowhoot of an owl. The Sub-Lieutenant hooted a reply, and from among somebushes there came out that serene, intrepid infant with the pole! Hejoined us, and whispered eagerly to the officer. I could not hear whathe said. Afterwards the Sub-Lieutenant told me that the men hadentered, three had got into the boat, one remaining on land. It was aforty-foot boat, reported Tommy--who seemed of wisdom and knowledgeencyclopaedic--it had a big cabin forrard, the engine was aWotherspoon, ten cylinders set V-fashion, the power a hundred horses.So Tommy had observed and reported, and so I repeat to you. As wewatched we saw the boat push out into the river, turn towards the sea;the engine so powerful buzzed like a million bees, a wave curled up infront, and it sped away for Holland like the shot of an arrow. Thenight was fine, the sea calm; it would complete the v
oyage in safety.But upon return what a surprise has been prepared for that motor-boatand its detestable owner! What a surprise, _ma foi_. I yearn to hearof the denouement.

  "'We will nab the fourth man who has stayed behind,' whispered theofficer, and we crept towards the boat-house. We were ten yards awaywhen he issued forth and turned to lock the door. Then we sprang uponhim. He was very quick--like the big snake that he was. He heard us,spun round, and struck two blows of his fist. The Sub-Lieutenant gotone upon his beautiful nose; I got the other here under the jaw. Wewere shot, sprawling, upon the grass, one to each side, and thevillain, springing between us, started to flee. I was struck down, butnot stunned; I was alert, undefeated, eager to resume the battle. Irose to my knees. I saw the villain fleeing up the grass. Ah, he wouldescape! But I had not reckoned upon the patrol leader, the little Owl,the _Hibou_ of a Boy Scout so deft and courageous. The spy fled, butinto his path sprang the tiny figure of the Owl, his pole in rest likea lance. They met, the man and the little Owl, and the shock of thattourney aroused the echoes of the night. The man, hit in the belly bythe point of the pole, collapsed upon the grass, and the Owl, drivenbackwards by the weight of the man, rolled over and over like _unherisson_. He was no longer an Owl; he was a round Hedgehog! I wasconsumed with admiration for the gallant Owl. I got to my feet, Ijumped across the lawn, and fell with both knees hard upon the carcaseso foul of the spy whom I had pursued all day. He lay groaning fromthe grievous pain in his belly, and I put upon him the handcuffsbefore that he could recover. The little Tommy, the Hedgehog, pickedhimself up, staggered to the body of his enemy, and there, leaningupon the admirable pole which he had not released in his somersaults,gave forth a hoot of victory. It was the Day of Tommy. But for thatmorsel of a wise Owl the spy would have escaped. I embraced Tommy, whowriggled with discomfort; the Sub-Lieutenant shook his hand, which heappreciated the more. 'Good work,' said the officer. 'Thank you, sir,'said Tommy. That was all; no emotion, no compliments, no embraces.'Good work.' 'Thank you, sir.' _Ma foi_, what a people are theEnglish!

  "We locked up the spy. The Sub-Lieutenant told me that wireless ordershad gone out to the patrols spread far over the seas. The boat, ofwhich we had the name and description, would arrive at Holland, butupon its return on the morrow it would be seized and escorted toHarwich. If by mischance it eluded the patrols, it would be capturedwhen it arrived in the river Crouch. All was provided for. The falsenews has gone to Holland, and Froissart has done good work. I ask forno reward; I will be like the English--cold, implacable. When theofficer said at parting to me, 'Good work, M. Froissart, we are muchobliged to you,' I replied calmly, 'Thank you, sir,' I had, you willobserve, modelled myself upon the little Owl.

  "And you, Mr. Dawson," concluded Froissart, wiping his face, for theeffort of talking so much English had brought out the sweat upon him,"have you also succeeded?"

  "Yes," said Dawson curtly, "I have also done my work, but it was notexciting. My man was no spy, and the real news about the _Intrepid_and _Terrific_ will not get through to Germany."

  "Saved," roared Froissart, springing to his feet. "We are colleaguesmost perfect. We have done work of the most good. _Embracons nous, monami_." Then occurred that deplorable incident which has already beenrelated. Froissart in his enthusiasm embraced the unresponsive Dawson,and was laid out by a short-arm jab upon the diaphragm. It was reallytoo bad of Dawson; but then, as I have said, his temper was atrocious.

  * * * * *

  The two battle-cruisers remained upon the shoals of Picklecombe Pointall through November and well into the following month. The greatsalvage steamer with the arc light went away, but others remained.Work seemed to proceed, though it was unaccountably slow in producinga result. The Three Towns lost interest in the derelicts until oneevening there fell upon them a blow which set them gasping forcoherent speech. The newsboys were crying in the streets a SpecialEdition, very Special. Set in dirty type in an odd column, headed withthe mysterious words "Stop Press," appeared an announcement by theAdmiralty that far away in the South Seas the battle-cruisers_Intrepid_ and _Terrific_, under the command of Vice-Admiral Stocky,had met and sunk the lately victorious German Squadron! It wasglorious news, but the Three Towns thought little at the moment of theglory. They urgently hungered for an explanation of the inscrutablemeans by which two battle-cruisers, mined and cast upon the shoalsbelow Mount Edgecumbe under their very eyes, could race hot foot tothe South Seas and there lay out a German squadron. As soon as thewinter dawn broke an immense crowd surged upon the Hoe gazing intoblank space. The two battle-cruisers, which for a month had lainhelpless before them, were gone! Gone, too, were the salvage steamersand the patrol boats. The waters which had been so active and crowdedwere void! Then the Three Towns understood; they grasped, men, womenand children, the great spoof of which they had been the interestedvictims, and their approving laughter rose to Heaven. For in all thatappertains to the Royal Navy every one born within the circuit of theThree Towns is very wise indeed.

  PART IV

  _THE CAPTAIN OF MARINES_