Part 21 (1/2)
Jimmy's case was altogether different. Young though he was, he found that on such an occasion as this sleep was no easy matter. Unlike the little sea-captain, his had not been a life of adventure and excitement.
Never in his wildest dreams had he thought it possible that he personally would take part in so tremendous an undertaking.
The whole thing was amazing. The Scotland Yard detective had appeared to have little or no doubt that ”Valentine” was the Baron von Essling himself. It was, indeed, quite possible. Von Essling had told Rosencrantz that, in all probability, he would visit England, and he may have done so at the time of the outbreak of war. Also, there was nothing to prevent him repeating his visits, disguised and under an a.s.sumed name, as often as he liked. In these days of quick travelling, the journey across the Atlantic seldom occupies longer than seven days.
The secrecy with which the whole plot had been laid, and the care with which every detail had been considered, spoke volumes for German efficiency and organization. No one in London--least of all in the Edgware Road itself--had thought for a moment that the large block of untenanted flats had been purchased outright by the German Government, in order to be used as the headquarters of a gang of spies. The military attache went about his business in Was.h.i.+ngton, the capital of the United States, and no shred of suspicion rested upon himself.
Nothing had been overlooked. German agents had been found in Hull; and a fis.h.i.+ng smack, the ”Marigold,” was able to put out from an English port and patrol the high seas on behalf of the German Navy, which dared not show its face within range of the great fifteen-inch guns of the British super-Dreadnoughts. Stork had been specially selected for work of a singularly dangerous character, and there was little doubt that his services would prove of inestimable value to those who controlled the destiny of the most formidable nation in arms that any country has ever been called upon to face. But, perhaps, the most remarkable thing of all was that the whole plot should have been discovered as it seemed by a mere stroke of luck. Had it not been for the particular gust of wind--a little eddy in the air, in mid-Atlantic, hundreds of miles from the nearest land--that blew Stork's cypher message back upon the deck, nothing would have been found out, and the Secret Service Department in the Wilhelmstra.s.se of Berlin would have been able to carry out their plans unimpeded.
It was such thoughts as these that kept Jimmy Burke awake. And when, at last, he fell asleep, it was to dream in a vague disjointed way of Rosencrantz and Rudolf Stork, the thunder of the ”Dresden's” guns, and the silent, shadowy form of the U93, gliding northward to the fog-soaked Dogger Bank.
How long he had actually been asleep he never had the least idea, when the door of the railway carriage was thrown open, and the guard seized both Crouch and Jimmy by the shoulders and shook them to wake them up.
”Here you are, sir! This is Hull.”
Jimmy sat up and rubbed his eyes. It was broad daylight and bitterly cold. The few pa.s.sengers and railway servants that were to be seen upon the platform were all enwrapped in m.u.f.flers and overcoats.
Crouch sprang to his feet, cast aside his tartan rug, and jammed his battered white bowler on to the back of his head.
”Come on!” he cried. ”If Stork's here, there's no time to lose.”
CHAPTER XXI--On Board a White Star Liner
Whilst Jimmy and Crouch were travelling at the rate of about forty miles an hour upon the track of the Great Northern Railway, Superintendent-detective Etheridge was traversing the country every bit as rapidly, upon an almost parallel route.
Leaving Whitehall shortly after ten o'clock at night, he followed the old Roman road which goes by the name of Watling Street that runs from London to Chester. He knew what he was about; and he knew also that, provided the Rolls-Royce car met with no mishap upon the road, he could reach Liverpool before the ”Baltic” sailed. He had already telegraphed to the police both at that place and at Hull, giving a detailed description of ”Mr. Lewis Valentine” and Rudolf Stork. It was discovered afterwards--and we have already said as much--that his telegram reached Hull too late. Stork, with his usual luck, had arrived in the nick of time, and before Detective-inspector Manning could trace his whereabouts, he had embarked upon the ”Marigold,” and was well out to sea in one of those dripping, impenetrable fogs, which are of such common occurrence upon the Dogger Bank.
At Liverpool, however, the case was very different. The police in that city were warned in time; and besides, it so happened that the boat-train was delayed by the breaking down of an engine which obstructed the main-line traffic for several hours. The great White Star liner lay alongside her wharf, under steam, with her cargo all aboard; but, long before the first batch of pa.s.sengers had arrived, no less than six detectives and plain-clothes policemen were in possession of the gangways. A Mr. Lewis Valentine, registered as an American citizen, of Minneapolis, appeared in the list of pa.s.sengers; and the police were already in possession of Etheridge's description of the man he wanted.
In the meantime, the superintendent-detective himself was speeding northward upon the famous road that in bygone days had conducted the Roman legions to the strong fortified posts upon the frontier of Wales.
Etheridge knew the possibilities of the Rolls-Royce, which on many a previous occasion had stood him in good stead. It was by means of this car that he had captured Jack White, the famous Ealing murderer, and had been able to run down Joss Hubbard, the anarchist, whose arrest he brought about at the very moment when the criminal was setting foot upon the cross-Channel boat at Dover.
Towards morning, it rained steadily--a fine, drizzling rain which soon after daybreak turned to sleet. Even the main roads were covered with mud and slush, whereas the country lanes were converted into quagmires.
Hour by hour, the Rolls-Royce tore northward. Its great staring lights rushed through many a sleeping village. Its horn sounded repeatedly, giving ample warning to the few people who happened to be abroad--for the most part agricultural labourers going to their work in the small hours of the morning--that one of His Majesty's servants had urgent and important business to transact on behalf of the public safety.
In such a situation there was nothing novel as far as the superintendent-detective was concerned. He knew exactly where he was going, when he would get there, and what would--or what would not--happen, when he did. Accordingly, he folded his arms, turned up the collar of his fur coat, and lying well back in his seat, slept no less soundly, though not quite so noisily, as Captain Crouch himself.
He woke up as the car was entering Liverpool, pulled out his watch, and looked at the time. He had still three-quarters of an hour to spare; he would arrive on board the ”Baltic” before she was due to sail.
Leaving the Rolls-Royce at the dock gates, he walked along the magnificent wharf owned by the White Star Company, where at the foot of the gangway he was recognized by one of the local detectives. Though no one, watching the two men's faces, would have imagined for a single instant that they had known each other for years, Etheridge gathered all the information he desired: namely, that the so-called ”Mr. Valentine”
had not yet come on board.
He ascended the gangway to the main promenade deck, where, cigar in mouth, he leaned upon the taffrail, surveying the crowd of dock labourers, customs house officials and pa.s.sengers that was a.s.sembled under the wharf-shed.
Presently, a tall man approached who was wearing a heavy ulster, and who addressed Etheridge as if he were talking to an absolute stranger, though as a matter of fact he was no less a person than Superintendent-detective McGowan of Liverpool who had worked with Scotland Yard for years.
”I beg pardon, sir,” said he, producing a cigarette from a morocco case, ”but would you be so good as to oblige me with a light?”