Part 23 (1/2)

”Here, sir.”

The speaker was of different appearance from the nine. Although dressed in rough clothes his garments bore the appearance of being practically new, nor did his features betray the traces of months of semi-starvation.

”Not much to complain about,” he replied in answer to the flight-sub's question. ”I was at Eylau. Fair amount of food and of good quality.”

”You are not sixty, by any means,” said Barcroft.

”No, not fifty yet. Heart trouble--fit for nothing, so they sent me back to England.”

”H'm,” muttered the flight-sub.

”He's one of a few that drew a lucky number, I'm thinking, sir,”

remarked the man who stood next to him. ”Fair slave-driven, that's what we were. But that's all over now, thank G.o.d.”

The rest of the pa.s.sengers pa.s.sed muster. They were Danish subjects--merchants and farmers, brought over at the instance of the British Government to a.s.sist in certain transactions between Great Britain and Denmark.

”A clean bill of health,” reported Billy as the destroyer's sub rejoined him.

”And all serene down below,” rejoined the latter. ”We'll shove off.

Thanks, captain, for your a.s.sistance; sorry we had to hold you up, but we're at war, you know.”

”Yes,” added the Dane, ”and you have our moral support. I wish that we were a bigger nation. We, too, have old scores to wipe off--my family lived at Flensburg for years until '66. Flensburg is in Germany now, but some day--who knows?”

”A good sort,” announced the sub, as the boat made her way back to the ”Antipas.” ”These Danes remember Schleswig-Holstein almost if not quite as much as the French do Alsace Lorraine. I shouldn't be surprised if they chip in just before the end, if only to get their lost provinces back. How about Denmark extending frontiers to the Kiel Ca.n.a.l, and making that artificial waterway an international concern, eh?”

The sight of the destroyer dipping her ensign caused both officers to turn their heads and look at the ”Trone.” The latter was again under way and had just rehoisted her ensign after saluting the British wars.h.i.+p.

”I feel downright sorry for those ten Britishers,” thought Billy.

”Their experiences have put years on to their lives.”

But, had he known, he might have made an exception; for, holding aloof from his companions, Mr. William McDonald was thanking his lucky stars that he had again bluffed the inspecting officer. Within the next twelve hours William hoped to rea.s.sume the name of Andrew Norton, trusting to his natural cunning to explain satisfactorily the reason why he left the neighbourhood of Barborough so suddenly on the night of the raid.

Evidently Siegfried von Eitelwurmer, _alias_ Andrew Norton, otherwise McDonald, had strong reasons for leaving his Fatherland in order to risk his life in the British Isles.

CHAPTER XX

INVESTIGATIONS

”To come straight to the point, my dear Entwistle,” said Peter Barcroft. ”I may say that I have two reasons for looking you up. The first is purely a matter of form--to inquire after your injured ankle. Judging by the way in which you crossed the room I think I am right in concluding that your recovery has been rapid and, I hope, permanent. No, don't limp, old man. That won't do. The second is to make inquiries respecting a donkey--to wit, one b.u.t.terfly.”

”Oh!” remarked Entwistle. ”Anything wrong? What are the symptoms?”

”A bad form of absent.i.tis,” replied Peter grimly. ”Don't you know?”

The vet shook his head.

”Continue,” he said, as he handed his tobacco-pouch to his caller.