Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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The Kaiser's Speech—The Base in the North Sea—
What Did He Mean?—Sexton Blake to Decide.
"THESE manoeuvres—what will they show?" Colonel von Harmann asked in a rather sneering tone of the junior officer who sat next to him.
"Why, many things," Lieutenant Krantz answered doubtfully. "There is the test of seamanship, the—er—"
"Seamanship!" the colonel growled. "Himmel! What does seamanship count for in a modern sea battle? It would just be hammering away with the great guns, and the one that got the right shot in first would win. A game of chance—like all these affairs of war!"
This conversation was taking place at the mess of the First Regiment of the Kaiser's Pink Dragoons, and, as usual, the conversation after dinner had turned upon the subject of arms, for your German soldier is a man who makes more than a light study of his profession. He loves it until he believes that nothing could stand against his army and its organisation. And on this particular night there were the coming British naval manoeuvres to discuss, the meeting of more than three hundred war vessels in the North Sea. Not for years had such a huge naval demonstration taken place, scarcely ever before had strict secrecy with regard to them been kept to the extent of not allowing even distinguished spectators aboard the ships while the mimic fighting, the attacking and repelling, was in progress.
It was this secrecy most probably that had attracted to the eyes of all countries to the North Sea. Previously Great Britain, proud in her great naval strength, had not hesitated to make quite public all her manoeuvres by sea, yet this time—
Other nations, including some who could scarcely be said to love the little island, were asking each other what it meant.
Colonel von Harmann lit a large cigar, and puffed away jerkily. He felt in the mood for argument, and the young lieutenant was likely to prove rather an easy victim.
"And why," he asked, "has the North Sea been chosen for the scene of this affair?"
Lieutenant Krantz twisted his wineglass between his fingers, and his high German forehead, crowned by bristling hair, puckered thoughtfully. He parted his lips to give an answer, but before he could do so one came right from behind the colonel's chair
"But I can tell you, friends," it said. "Britain has just awakened to the fact that it is from the North Sea that she is most open to attack."
Colonel von Harmann turned sharply, then sprang to his feet, his hand going up to the salute.
"The Kaiser!" someone else ejaculated; and, with a clattering of chairs, every officer was on his feet.
Wilhelm II, Emperor of Germany, flung off his long military cloak, revealing the fact that he was wearing the uniform of a colonel of the regiment; and certainly, with his upturned moustache, and rather grim expression, he looked a soldier to the life.
"Be seated, comrades," he said quietly. "There is no need for officers to stand to welcome a brother officer."
In obedience to this permission the officers, who numbered rather more than a score, dropped back into their chairs again, and the Kaiser seated himself beside Colonel von Harmann.
"A cigar, your Highness?" the latter suggested, pushing a box forward.
"No, colonel," the Kaiser answered, with rather a wry smile. "The throat is still troublesome. But you were discussing when I came in?"
"The value of these British naval manoeuvres in the North Sea," the colonel answered promptly.
The Kaiser laughed softly and sipped the glass of wine that the colonel had poured out for him.
"Their value?" he echoed.
"Yes, sire," Colonel von Harmann glanced keenly at the upright figure beside him. He knew, as many another powerful man in Germany did, that the Kaiser was perhaps the best informed man in the country, and that his opinion was one to be relied upon.
"So." The Kaiser sipped at his wine again, then the smile died from his lips, and he rose to his feet. Instantly every eye was turned upon him. There was something curiously strong about the rather spare, upright figure.
Memories of other speeches that had stirred the political world, of letters written in hot haste and afterwards repented, entered the minds of the officers present, and some of the older ones regretted that a few civilians were present. Through them things might leap out—things that were better left—
"Comrades"—the Kaiser's voice rang out strongly, though with just the touch of hoarseness that told of a throat liable to give trouble at times—"some of you were discussing why these manoeuvres are to take place in the North Sea.
"The explanation is not hard. For years and years the British have thought only of the south as the point where they would be attacked in case of war, and there they have built their great forts, and sunk their mines, and held their ships in readiness, making their position so strong that it would have taken more than an ordinary foe to go against them with a chance of success. But now"—the Kaiser threw out his right arm with a dramatic gesture—"they have looked towards the north, and into their brains has come a certain thought."
There was a pause, so silent that it seemed as if every man in the room was holding his breath.
"In the North lie the Shetland Islands"—the Kaiser spoke slowly and distinctly, as if he did not wish a word to be lost—"unprotected, yet the finest base a force attacking Great Britain could possibly possess."
"Why have we not examined them?" Colonel von Harmann muttered excitedly, but not in so low a tone that the Kaiser failed to hear him.
"But we have!" The Kaiser's voice rang enthusiastically, and there was a grim little smile on his lips. "We have no enmity with England now, but even then we do not blind our eyes to the future. Some day the quarrel may arise—which Heaven forbid—and then it will be remembered that more than once our fleet has cruised there, even anchoring in Lerwick Harbour, and taking soundings of every fathom of the waterway, until our officers know it better than the men of the British navy. So, we have not been idle, and even now that these manoeuvres are to be secret, are there not ways—"
The Kaiser stopped abruptly, and pulled at his moustache. A sudden doubtful light had come into his eyes, and he stood like a man who fears that he has committed himself. Then he sat down, leaving his sentence unfinished, and began to discuss the affairs of the regiment with Colonel von Harmann.
"KAISER'S STRANGE SPEECH!"
Everywhere in London the newsboys were shouting it out, and Londoners, with memories of other speeches, were buying the papers eagerly.
Somehow, most of the details of the German Emperor's speech had leaked out, and for the first time Britishers were realising why the manoeuvres were to take place in the North. Some, strong in geography, were pointing out how easily a hostile fleet could pass from the Shetlands to the Atlantic, and so to the unguarded Western coast.
"Why don't the Admiralty think of these things?" men asked each other.
As a matter of fact, the report of the speech had sent ugly thoughts into the brain of more than one man responsible for the safeguarding of Great Britain, and into none more than that of the Prime Minister himself. He had already taken action, and now he was pacing his study in Downing Street, waiting for the arrival of Mr. Henry Kennard, Chief Lord of the Admiralty.
Time after time he paced the room, a look of worry on his face—the face which, save for the white hair above it, was that of practically a young man. And from time to time he paused by a great map of England that had evidently just been hung on one of the walls, and his white, rather nervous finger traced a track from the Shetlands round to the western coast.
"Mr. Kennard!" a footman announced, and a man of medium height, with a thin, keen face, walked briskly into the room. He was in evening-dress, and the black clothes made him look slimmer and younger than he really was.
"I am glad you have come," the Prime Minister said eagerly.
"This speech?" Mr. Kennard queried, as he coolly seated himself and took a cigar from the open box on the table.
"Yes." The Prime Minister had ceased to pace the room, but he did not seat himself. "Since the report of that speech came through I have learnt some unpleasant things. It is only too true that the Germans know the Shetlands and Lerwick better than we do, that both by land and sea they have made a most thorough examination of the part."
"You believe in the speech, then?" Mr. Kennard asked quietly.
"Yes." The Prime Minister spoke as a man who is utterly and entirely convinced. "That there is actual danger from Germany just now I do not fear. The countries are friendly, and even if they were not the business that they do with us is too important to be shattered by a war. So far peace pays them, but we must not forget that some day it may cease to do so, and then—"
"And then?" Mr. Kennard echoed.
The Prime Minister was standing in front of the map again.
"We shall know what fools we have been unless we act quickly," he answered.
Mr. Kennard started, and removed the cigar from between his lips. The line that was cut between his eyes had suddenly become deep and black, and the well-marked eyebrows nearly met above it.
"You have a plan," he said shortly, stating a fact, not asking a question.
"Yes."
"What is it?"
Before the Prime Minister could answer, the footman had entered again.
"Mr. Sexton Blake to see you, sir," he announced.
Mr. Kennard rose sharply from his chair, took the Prime Minister by the arm, and led him to the window.
"This is the famous detective?" he asked, in a whisper.
"Yes."
"But surely you are not going to allow him to dabble in affairs of State?" Mr. Kennard objected.
The Prime Minister shrugged his shoulders a trifle wearily, and his eyes roamed back to the map.
"Who else is there?" he answered.
"The secret service agents," Mr. Kennard said sharply.
The Prime Minister turned sharply, and there was that in the expression of his face which showed that his mind was fully made up. Men who knew him well, colleagues in the Cabinet, were aware that when that look came into his eyes that there was no turning him from his purpose.
"This is no case for them," he said, in a low voice. "They are clever men, some of the best in England, but for this task we must have the best, and this Sexton Blake is acknowledged to be that."
"And suppose I refuse to let him dabble with my department?" Mr. Kennard queried a trifle sharply.
"Then I shall act on my own account," the Prime Minister assured him. "You cannot prevent an agent of mine going to the Shetlands." He turned to the waiting footman. "Show Mr. Blake in here," he ordered.
A few seconds later Sexton Blake entered the room. Over his evening-clothes he wore a heavy motor-coat.
"I am sorry I am late," he said quietly; "but I was engaged in a case at Somerset when your message came. My assistant 'phoned me, and I motored up."
"It was very good of you to come so promptly," the Prime Minister said. "Perhaps you can guess what the trouble is?"
Sexton Blake smiled, nodded at Mr. Kennard, and then crossed to the map on the wall.
"There is the trace of where a finger has passed more than once from the Shetlands to the Western coast," he said quietly. "Adding that to the fact that Mr. Kennard is here, I can surely suggest that I am wanted with regard to this speech of the Kaiser's."
"Yes," the Prime Minister assented eagerly. "Do you think there is anything in it?"
"Yes."
Mr. Kennard smiled cynically, and put down the butt of his cigar.
"Surely—you will pardon the seeming rudeness—there is no reason why you should be the judge of that?" he said.
"I fancy there is," Sexton Blake answered coolly. "I have the pleasure of knowing the Kaiser—having worked both for and against him—and I can assure you that even his wildest speeches have truth in them—a good foundation of truth."
He turned to the Prime Minister.
"There is no need to beat about the bush," he said. "You wish me to find out how far the Germans have gone, and whether they are even watching these manoeuvres?"
Just for a second the Prime Minister hesitated; then he nodded.
"If you are willing," he agreed.
"I can start tonight," the great detective said simply.
"And we have your word that everything you discover, or see, you will keep secret?" Mr. Kennard put in sharply.
Sexton Blake drew himself up with a touch of haughtiness.
"You are at liberty to send someone else!" he answered.
"Tush, man! We mustn't quibble over a word," Mr. Kennard said quickly. "You would go alone?"
"No!" Sexton Blake answered. "I shall take one man with me, and my young assistant."
"They are to be trusted?"
"As myself," Sexton Blake said quietly. "I will be going. There is no time to be lost."
"And as regards fee," the Prime Minister put in, "why—"
Sexton Blake raised a hand sharply.
"I do not think there is any need to discuss that," he said, with a touch of pride. "I would willingly undertake this task for nothing—I am patriotic enough for that. Anyway, there will be time enough when I have finished to settle such matters."
By the door the great detective paused.
"You will hear from me day by day," he said quietly—"unless matters prove so serious that I dare not trust them to the wires. Good-night!"
The door closed behind Sexton Blake, and Mr. Kennard picked up a fresh cigar and lit it.
"A self-reliant man," he remarked.
"The only man in Britain for this task!" the Prime Minister answered, with conviction.
Sexton Blake stepped into his waiting motor, and as it drove away he lit up a cigar. There was nothing in the expression of his face to show that he was returning home to make preparations for commencing on one of the biggest cases of his life—a case that involved the security of a great nation.
In the Shetlands—The Whirr From Above—
The Trailing Rope—Aboard the Airship.
THE wind came strongly from the sea, so that the two men and the boy who stood looking out across the water had to bend forward to keep their balance. They were standing on a rocky promontory, of which there are many in the Shetland Islands. To their right, the lights of the town of Lerwick lay, but beyond that everything was dark.
From below, came the snapping of the waves as they spent themselves against the rocks.
"Don't believe Fleet here at all," Inspector Spearing, of Scotland Yard, who was the shorter and broader of the two men, jerked impatiently. "No lights, no whistles, no anything!"
Sexton Blake laughed, and turned his back to the wind while he lit his pipe. He had lost no time in setting out on his mission; and Spearing, after some difficulty in the way of obtaining leave without giving the exact reason for it, had come with him.
Sexton Blake had thought of him the moment the Prime Minister had asked him to undertake the work, for he knew well the splendid qualities of dogged pluck that the worthy official of Scotland Yard possessed. True, such qualities might not be required; yet Sexton Blake had a strong impression that they would be.
For years it had been common knowledge with him—there were few things escaped him—that the Germans had more than once cast eyes upon the Shetlands, and he did not think it probable that these manoeuvres would be allowed to take place without them knowing as much as possible about them.
"What's that, sir?" Tinker asked sharply, pointing seawards.
Sexton Blake shaded his eyes with his hand, and stared out into the darkness. There was not a star in the sky, and beyond the rocks on which the men stood everything was dark as a pit. Only the breaking waves told how near the water was.
A speck of light shone out—but how far away it was impossible to tell—winked, and vanished. Then a second one—away to the left—leapt into existence, and began to flash and blink at a tremendous rate.
"Warships—signalling, my lad," Sexton Blake said quietly. "If it's a general order from the flagship, you'll see more lights in a minute. Ah, there they go!"
Suddenly, right out in the darkness, fully a hundred bright, blinking lights had leapt into life, evidently answering the first one that had appeared, and the sea that had been so dark seemed to be illuminated by powerful stars.
"Is the Fleet there?" Sexton Blake queried, turning to Spearing, with a laugh.
"Don't know!" the worthy official growled, not willing to admit himself wrong. "Fool's game, anyway! Don't believe understand each other's signals!"
The lights went out as quickly as they had come, but only for a second did the sea slip back into darkness. Then, from a hundred different places, great flashlights glared out, dazzlingly white, and played upon the rocky coast.
A few fell upon the harbour itself, revealing the masses of shipping lying there—the hundreds of drifters and trawlers that make Lerwick one of the most important fishing centres of the world. But most of the lights played upon the barren rocks, and one, flashing a trifle upwards, shone full upon the detectives as they stood on the rocks. They were compelled to turn their heads, the light was so dazzling.
"Give in!" Spearing snapped. "Fleet there, sure enough!"
Now the lights swung away from the shore, and flashed around the sea in great circles. From place to place they slipped, and every time they moved their rays were broken by the great turrets of battleships, by the four straight funnels of the first-class cruisers, by the low-lying, waspish looking torpedo craft that seemed to fairly swarm round the larger vessels.
Sexton Blake drew his breath in sharply.
"A sight like that makes you believe that we do really boss the sea," he said, in a low tone.
For more than half an hour the lights swung round slowly, then rapidly, resting on certain places on the land, as if trying to wrest the very secrets of Nature from the rocks.
And they went out, leaving the night darker than before, and not even the twinkling of a riding light showed where the great Fleet lay. Possibly they had steamed away; maybe they still lay at anchor. There was nothing to give an answer.
"Getting hungry!" Spearing growled, rubbing his eyes to get the departed glare out of them. "Time for supper. Hungry—very!"
"All right; you get along with Tinker," Sexton Blake answered. "I shall stop here and finish my pipe."
"Can't I stay, too, sir?" the boy asked eagerly.
"No. There is nothing to stay for."
Sexton Blake was left alone on the rocks, and he seated himself—knees drawn up, elbows on them, pipe between his teeth—and stared out to sea. He was trying to think in what manner the Germans could—
The detective sniffed sharply, tapped the ashes from his pipe, put his foot on them—and sniffed again.
"Petrol!" he muttered, and stood staring round. "Yet there can't be a car round here. No roads worth speaking about."
But the smell of petrol, faint but pungent, was in the air right enough, and as the seconds passed it seemed to be growing stronger. For a moment the detective thought of motor-boats, but quickly put that idea away from him. He knew that the Fleet did not carry them, and that the searchlights would quickly have picked out anything of that kind had it been on the water.
Whi-r-r-r!
It was a curious sound—not unlike that made by a revolving air fan—and Sexton Blake looked round sharply as it reached his ears. The wind was light and variable now, so that it was difficult to judge from what direction it came.
Whi-r-r-r! The sound came nearer, and was followed by a small but distinct explosion.
"The exhaust of a motor!" Sexton Blake muttered; and again his eyes searched the darkness.
He remembered that there had apparently been nothing but a very rocky footpath up to the spot on which he was standing, so how was it possible for a motor-car to be coming in that direction? Yet, unless his usually keen ears were playing him false, one was certainly approaching.
A rope struck sharply across his face, and mechanically he gripped it. It swung him off his feet, clear of the rocks, and so out over the breaking waves. Then, for the first time, he knew that the whirring noise came from something dark and huge that hovered above him in the air. From there also came the faint smell of petrol.
With the instinct of self-preservation, Sexton Blake pulled up the slack of the rope that hung beneath him, and hitched it around his chest, so that the strain of holding it was no longer on his hands. It was the work of a few seconds only; then he turned his eyes upwards.
In the darkness of the night it was possible to see nothing more than a patch that loomed darker than the sky, and to hear very faintly the thudding of a motor. This last noise was so slight that another hundred yards would have made it inaudible.
Sexton Blake knew, as he swung out over the waves, that he was hanging on to the trail-rope of an airship or dirigible balloon, which had come from somewhere inland, and was now stealing out to where the Fleet lay, if it had not sailed to execute some manoeuvre.
Was it a hostile craft? Sexton Blake caught his breath sharply as the thought occurred to him. It might be one of the British airships from Aldershot; but it might just as easily be one of the foreign ones that had lately met with much success. If the tales about their flights were true, they might easily have flown a long way on a dark night like this—secretly and unobserved.
And for what purpose?
Until now the sound of breaking waves had come clearly to Sexton Blake's ears; but they began to die away, and he knew that the airship, whatever her nationality, was rising rapidly. This certainly looked as if she wished to escape observation, and to be out of the range of the searchlights should they flash out again.
A dash of sand, ballast from the strange craft above him, struck the detective's face, and as it did so a terrible thought came into his mind.
Suppose some hostile power had been waiting for such time as this, a moment when most of Great Britain's magnificent Fleet lay within a small space, to drop deadly melinite bombs, or some equally death-dealing and destructive explosive among them?
Sexton Blake felt as if his heart had stopped beating, and for the briefest fraction of a second the trail-rope nearly slipped from him. Then his grip tightened, and he resolved that whatever the risk to himself he had got to discover what nationality the men were who were controlling the airship that swayed along above his head.
No sooner was Sexton Blake's mind made up than he was ready to act. By keeping the rope hitched under his arms, and holding it in place with his teeth, he contrived to get his hands free, and set to work to drag off his boots and socks, which he let fall into the sea. That accomplished, the really arduous part of his task commenced.
Hand over hand, using his bare feet to grip with, so as to take some of the strain off his arms, Sexton Blake clambered upwards. He knew that the climb before him was most probably one of three hundred feet or more, enough to make the strongest and most determined man hesitate; but he reckoned that by resting frequently he would be able to accomplish it.
Sixty feet he covered, until he was panting for breath. A hitch of the rope under his arms and across his chest, and he hung resting in a natural swing. Only a minute, then on again, upwards over another sixty feet of swaying rope.
All the time he kept his eyes turned upwards, and with every foot he covered he began to see more plainly the airship that lay above him. At first it had been nothing but a darker blotch in a dark night, but now it was beginning to take shape and form. He could see the long balloon, narrow at one end, broadening out at the other—much the shape of a bottle-nosed shark.
From the narrower end something like a tail protruded, and there were projections, not unlike fins, half-way along the body. Below the body lay a long canvas car, capable of holding at least a dozen men, and it seemed to Sexton Blake that the airship was large enough to be capable of lifting that number.
Up again, another rest, on once more, until every line of the airship was visible to the detective's eyes. He recognised the pattern then. It was like the Zeppelin, so recently purchased by Germany, but built on a much larger scale. Only a short time back he had made a journey abroad specially to see the airship about which so much had been written, and so he could make no mistake now, even though this craft of the air was fully twice as large as the one he had previously seen.
Ay, Sexton Blake knew now that this ship was no Nulli Secundus[*], but the airship of a rival—if not mildly hostile—country, and he hesitated as to whether he should continue his climb, or slide down the rope and hang there until a chance of escaping either by sea or land presented itself to him.
[*] Nulli Secundus ("Second to none") was Britain's first powered military airship. Officially British Army Dirigible No 1, she was launched on 10 September 1907. A month later, while she was moored, high winds posed such a danger that she was dismantled and later rebuilt as Nulli Secundus II.
He looked down, and as he did so the flashlights of the ships of war stretched out their great arms of light again, and he realised what a distance he was up, that no one aboard the ships could possibly catch so much as a glimpse of the airship.
His mind was made up. He would learn more fully what the men above him were doing. Probably he would be captured, but there were ways of escape, and—
Sexton Blake started to climb upwards again, resting as before, until his fingers gripped the thin aluminium rails that formed the bottom of the car of the airship. He raised himself still higher, gripped the edge of the car, and pulled himself upwards.
A startled, angry cry in German reached his ears, powerful hands gripped him, and he was dragged into the car.
The car swayed violently as the detective was hoisted into it, and a voice from the forward end of it, a voice that Sexton Blake seemed to recognise, called out for them to be more careful.
Ten men were in the car, not counting the one who was steering and the one who was controlling the engines.
They came crowding forward now, all save one, who remained in the front of the car, a military cloak drawn tightly round him.
"Who is the spy?" this man demanded, in German.
And again Sexton Blake fancied that he had heard the sharp, commanding tones of the voice before.
A big man, with a certain tone of authority, faced the detective, as the latter clambered to his feet.
"How did you get here?" he growled.
Sexton Blake smiled coolly, and waved a hand to where the guide-rope trailed down.
"By that," he answered.
"Yes," the German agreed, thrusting his face closer. "But why did you do it?"
"Not for fun, I can assure you," Sexton Blake replied, holding up his hands to show how the climb had torn the skin on them. "I was standing on the edge of the cliffs when your rope struck me. I had to grip it to save myself from being flung over into the sea. And then—why, what else could I do but clamber up?"
"So?" the German growled doubtfully.
"That is the truth?" the man in the bows demanded.
"Why, yes, your Majesty!" Sexton Blake answered.
A sharp cry broke from the man in the bows, and he flung his cloak from him with an impatient gesture.
"How do you know me?" he asked sharply.
"Yours is a voice to remember, sire!" the detective answered coolly.
The man in the bows rose and came forward along the swinging car, and even in the darkness it was possible to make out the martial visage and upturned moustache of one of the greatest rulers that Germany has ever known—Wilhelm II.
The man in the bows rose and came forward along the swinging
car, and even in the darkness it was possible to make out the
martial visage and upturned moustache of the Kaiser.
"Who are you?" he asked sternly.
Sexton Blake bowed, and there was a hard little smile on his lips.
"Once I worked for your Majesty," he answered, "twice—the regret is mine—against you."[*]
[*] This is a reference to earlier Union Jack stories.
"Sexton Blake!" the Kaiser ejaculated.
"Precisely," the detective agreed; "and I am sorry that I cannot add, at your service!"
The Escape—The Airship Makes a Search—
Inland Before the Dawn—The Hiding Place Among the Rocks.
ONE of the greatest manoeuvres that the British Fleet had ever made was in progress, the utmost secrecy being kept with regard to it, not a single man, save the officers and crews, being allowed aboard the ships of war, though previously guests had been permitted to be aboard.
Yet over the Fleet, though hidden by the night, hung the airship of a great foreign Power that for years had been building a navy that was to rival the one that lay off the Shetlands—a Power that by land had for many years been Great Britain's superior, and which now was doing its utmost to add to that its superiority by sea as well.
And on board this airship was none other than the ruler of this nation—the Kaiser Wilhelm himself.
As the latter stood pulling at his moustache, his keen eyes on Sexton Blake, he had much the look of a naughty boy caught robbing an orchard. His blue eyes held a doubting look, and more than once he stopped when about to speak.
"It is well it is you, Mr. Blake!" he said at last. "If it had been another man—" He shrugged his shoulders, and explained no further. "I admire such men as yourself—men who have in their time even dared to thwart my will."
Sexton Blake smiled. He knew, as well as anyone living, that the Kaiser's great fault was his entire belief in his divine rights as a ruler.
"I consider myself honoured, sire," he answered.
The Kaiser hesitated, then took the detective by the arm and led him to the forward end of the cage, where no one would be able to overhear them if they spoke in a subdued tone. He took a stool, and motioned the detective to take another.
There was silence for some minutes, during which time Sexton Blake saw that the great airship was hovering almost motionless over the Fleet, and it was the Kaiser who broke it.
"You wonder why I am here?" he said abruptly.
"No," Sexton Blake answered, with a smile; "I know!"
"You think it is to spy upon these manoeuvres?" the Kaiser continued sharply.
"The word spy is a hard one to apply to your Majesty," Sexton Blake objected.
"But the right one—so?" the Kaiser persisted, tugging at his moustache. "This is no time to mince words, Herr, but to make terms. For the first, let me explain why I am really here."
Sexton Blake bowed, and his face became positively wooden in expression. He did not know what the Kaiser was going to tell him, but he did know that it would be wise to appear not to doubt it.
"I am here"—the Kaiser spoke slowly, and his eyes met the detective's unflinchingly—"more by chance than anything else. For nearly a year back this airship has been building secretly, and as soon she was completed, nothing could satisfy me but that I myself test her merits. So I embarked on her. That we headed here was natural."
Sexton Blake bowed, but made no answer. Inwardly he thought that some of the explanation was true—some.
"For the rest"—the Kaiser spoke with a lightness that he obviously did not feel—"there is the question of your silence."
"Yes?" the detective murmured.
The Kaiser was tugging at his moustache again, for he knew that in Sexton Blake he was dealing with no ordinary man.
"It will be awkward, cause bad feeling, if it is known what has happened," the Kaiser went on. "You can see that I have done no harm; but even then I would like to show my high esteem for you by offering some little present."
"Your Majesty was always a diplomat," Sexton Blake murmured. "I have never had a bribe offered me in such nice terms!"
"Bribe?" The Kaiser's face flushed. "I am offering you a present!"
"I apologise, sire," Sexton Blake answered; "but I never accept presents from rulers of foreign nations in cases like this!"
The Kaiser sat silently twisting his moustache, and from time to time glancing inquiringly at the detective.
"Very well," he said at last; "there are other ways of getting your silence—without buying it!"
The Kaiser moved back to where the man sat working the petrol-engine, and Sexton Blake was alone. He sat still in the bows of the car, trying to see down to the ships that lay below, but only an occasional flashing signal told him where they were. All the time, too, he listened for anything that the Germans might let drop, but heard nothing of importance.
The airship hung almost motionless, and it was not until one in the morning that she began to move back towards the shore, Sexton Blake judging the direction she was taking from the wind.
Then he looked down, and saw lights moving out to sea. The warships were outward bound on some manoeuvre. But he had more than that to occupy his brain, for he wanted to know what had really brought the Kaiser to the Shetlands, how they had managed to keep the presence of the great airship secret, and just how much had already been done to make the islands a naval base for the German Fleet should it ever be required.
Of one thing Sexton Blake was certain, and that was that at the first moment he would have to escape. What he would do after that there was plenty of time to decide.
Back towards the land the great airship was travelling at a steady pace, her screw hardly turning, the wind carrying her along; and as she drew nearer she sank lower, the men in charge evidently wishing to be able to sight some particular spot.
This gave Sexton Blake hope, and from time to time he glanced over the side of the car to see how far she hovered above the water.
A hundred feet below the water showed darkly, and as that height was reached two of the Germans came towards Sexton Blake, a coil of stout cord in their hands. As they approached, Sexton Blake rose to his feet. He knew what the rope was for—to make him a prisoner—and he was not taking anything of that kind just yet.
"You will make no resistance," the nearest of the Germans growled. "Even a brave man knows when defeat is his."
Then once again Sexton Blake glanced over the side of the car, and this time he saw that the water was no more than eighty feet below him. Without hesitation he gripped a rope, and leapt to the side of the car. On the rail he balanced himself, and, with sharp cries, the Germans rushed at him.
Too late! Cleanly, as dexterously as if there had been no hurry whatever, Sexton Blake dived, and went flashing down towards the water. It was an ugly job, but he was an accomplished diver, and had no fear of it. Besides, he was not a man accustomed to worrying about his own safety when the well-being of Great Britain was at stake.
Without hesitation, Sexton Blake leapt to the side of the airship and
balanced himself on the rail. The two Germans rushed him. Too late!
Sexton Blake dived, and went flashing down towards the water.
Almost without a splash he struck the water, and a few seconds later was on the surface. That the airship carried a searchlight he had no doubt; but he also knew that they dared not use it for fear of attracting attention. A bullet might bring them down, then it would mean the discovery of the Kaiser aboard.
A cause for war almost, and that before Germany had built the Navy that she was planning.
As Sexton Blake merely kept himself afloat, he looked upwards, and saw the airship coming down towards the surface; also he could hear excited orders being given in the Kaiser's voice, and he knew that he was not to be allowed to get away so easily.
Within a couple of feet of the water the car of the airship descended, and with the screw going slowly she began to make a search of the waves. Twice she passed close to the detective, but each time he dived, and kept below the water as long as his lungs would permit him.
Round and round went the airship in narrowing circles, and it seemed to Sexton Blake that his recapture could only be a matter of time. The diving below the water was tiring him, too, and he knew that he could not do it many times more.
Again the airship swung her blunt nose round towards him, and in the darkness he saw her coming. Below the surface he dived, and stopped there until his chest felt like bursting.
With a spring he came to the surface, and caught his breath hard as he shook the water from his eyes, and found the car of the airship right above him. Then his hand shot out, and he gripped the aluminium rods.
"Throw out ballast; she dips too low!" he heard a voice cry as his weight bore the car down lower towards the waves, until his head went beneath them, in fact, and then the car shot higher, dragging him with it.
Gently, inch by inch, Sexton Blake dragged himself up and wriggled his body between the lower supports of the car, which were about a foot below the ones on which the car actually rested, and lay there at full length.
Then he smiled, for he reckoned that he was going to learn many things. First he would discover where the airship had been hiding inland; secondly, he would know for what purpose the airship was visiting the shipments, but of the extent of that knowledge there was no guessing.
The airship still continued to hover round, sweeping the sea in search of the man who had leapt overboard; and little did the men aboard of her imagine that he was lying more or less comfortably under the car itself.
"Must be drowned, the dog!" a guttural voice said from above. "We must get inland before the dawn."
"No brave man is a dog!" the voice of the Kaiser answered, a touch of anger in it. "I tell you, I would have given much, Harmann, for a few men like Sexton Blake in Germany."
Ballast splashed into the water, and the airship rose rapidly and shot away towards the land, her propeller doing well over a thousand revolutions a minute.
There was certainly not much time to lose if the airship had to go far inland before the dawn. Sexton Blake endeavoured to turn round to see where they were going, but found it impossible, the space in which he lay being too small to move in.
Soon, however, he knew that the land had been reached, for the sound of the waves no longer came from below.
"Stop! We are there!"
As the order rang out, Sexton Blake wriggled his legs down from his perch, and his feet grated along a rough surface. Without hesitation he let go, and fell flat onto his face. Glancing upwards, he saw the great airship looming up only a few yards away, and heard the clank of a grapnel as it struck the ground.
Noiselessly he crawled along the rocky ground, round behind a boulder, and lay still. There would soon be something startling to report to the men who had feared, after reading the Kaiser's speech, for the safety of the Shetlands.
A Change of Identity—The Cave by the Shore—
What Is inside?—The Truth.
LYING behind the boulder, Sexton Blake heard the Germans embark, while Colonel von Harmann gave orders in his deep, decisive voice. He appeared to be in supreme command of the great ship and the detective remembered the many rumours he had heard with regard to the control this officer exercised over his Royal master.
At present the detective could not make the slightest guess at where he was, and even by daylight it would be difficult for him to place the spot where the airship lay, for he knew little or nothing of the Shetlands.
It seemed to him, however, that probably they were on one of the smaller islands, which are nothing more than masses of rocks, and which year in and year out are only visited by sea-birds, save when some good ship, driven there by the storm, flings onto the merciless rocks the bodies of brave men. A few of these survive—very few.
By now the grey in the sky had spread, and over to the eastward it held the look of morning. A faint pink hue had joined the grey, and for a time Sexton Blake wondered why the bottom of the sheet of colour was cut off so abruptly. Later he learnt the truth.
An hour passed, and during that time the Germans had worked on without pause. Then all movement ceased, and the men seemed to have retired. A smell of gas reached the detective's nose, and he wondered where it came from, unless the balloon was being emptied. Later, by the aid of chemicals, it would not be difficult to refill it.
So day dawned, and as Sexton Blake's eyes grew accustomed to the dim light he saw much to marvel at, and also much that he had already surmised.
All around him rose high rocks, and he saw that the spot where the airship had landed was entirely surrounded by these, so that she lay in a kind of pit. Not that she would have been noticed much by anyone passing, for the great gasbag had been emptied and stowed somewhere, though the detective could not see where.
The car, with all its complicated machinery, had been pushed on a trolley into a long wooden barn, the sides and walls of which were literally covered by boulders. Beside this building was a smaller one.
All these things Sexton Blake saw, and wondered at the laxity of a Government that had allowed a rival nation to explore these wild islands, and to leave them so unguarded that they had practically already taken possession of one of them.
He smiled as he thought of the surprise that his report would cause, and he meant to take steps to nullify these preparations that must have been going on for years.
While these thoughts were in Sexton Blake's head, the Germans came out of the shed in which they had packed the car. First came the Kaiser, more unmistakable than ever in the light of day, talking eagerly to Colonel von Harmann. Behind him followed the rest of the men, and Sexton Blake started and peered forward eagerly as he caught sight of one of them.
The man was his own height, the rather pale, clean-shaven face, adorned only by a small moustache, was not unlike his own.
"If he is here till the night, I fancy we shall change places," the detective muttered.
The sight of this man had put an idea into his head. It was a daring one, but he was used to such things. Capture might mean anything, even death, if the Kaiser were not there to interfere.
As soon as the Germans had entered the building, which was obviously a kind of living place, Sexton Blake drew a small tin box from his pocket, produced a mirror from it, and propped it up against a stone. Then, by the aid of an eyebrow pencil, he altered his eyes the veriest trifle, and cut a small but beautifully made false moustache into the shape worn by the German officer. This he fastened, then looked closely at himself in the glass.
"As far as I can see, there is no difference," he mused, "and to-night I may have a chance of comparing it with the original."
That the Kaiser would not attempt to leave save by night Sexton Blake had no fear, for there would be too much chance of him being recognised, especially as a keen but quiet watch was being kept in all the towns for foreigners while the secret manoeuvres were on.
During the next hour Sexton Blake lay behind the boulder, fervently hoping that no one would come in that direction and discover him, and at the end of that time a stroke of luck came his way that helped him considerably.
The German he had marked out emerged from the smaller of the buildings, stood uncertainly with a pair of heavy field-glasses in his hands, then started off briskly across the rocks. Within six yards of Sexton Blake he passed, but the boulder held its secret.
The detective had thought to have to wait for the night before putting his daring plan into execution, but his chance had come much earlier.
He glanced at the building where the officers were, and saw that the door was tight closed. True, someone might be watching from a loophole, but he risked that. Turning, he crawled along in the direction that the German had taken, moving from boulder to boulder, only raising his head from time to time to make sure of the direction his quarry had taken. This was not difficult, for the man was making for one of the highest points of the rock, and so was easy to keep in sight.
Higher and higher the detective climbed, glancing back to make sure that he could not be seen from the hut, and at last stopped, lying flat on the rocks, with the sea stretching out in front of him. Nowhere could he see the German, and he had time to glance round and take his bearings.
Where he lay he could command practically the whole of the little island—for that it was—and he saw that it lacked absolutely any sign of life or vegetation. It was just a clump of rocks that looked as if they had been piled unceremoniously upon each other; and not three miles away lay Lerwick, the roofs plainly discernible in the sunshine.
Now came the most dangerous part of Sexton Blake's mission—the finding of the German whom he meant to impersonate.
He looked round searchingly, without daring to raise himself from the ground, and his keen eyes soon caught sight of a boot sticking out from behind a rock that lay a matter of thirty yards distant.
More cautiously than ever, and with all the cunning of an Indian, the detective crawled in that direction, and reached the rock. Within a yard of him the boot stuck out, and from the way it occasionally moved the detective could see that the German was shifting his position, so as to get a better view of the sea.
Sexton Blake shifted a few inches nearer, and hesitated. A new plan had suggested itself to him, and though it was risky, it promised well of success. He stretched out his hand until the fingers hovered over the boot, then they clutched it, and he heaved at it with all his strength.
A smothered oath came from behind the boulder, but before it could be repeated in a louder tone Sexton Blake had darted round the rock, and was kneeling on the German. The latter, taken by surprise, made no effort to keep the detective's grip from his throat, but once the fingers had closed on it, he struggled wildly.
Right on the edge of the rocks, with a drop of fully a hundred feet to the jagged stones below in front of them, the two men fought; but Sexton Blake had started with an advantage, and he kept it. Gradually he wore his enemy's strength down, half-choking him, until he lay still. Then, using only his left hand, keeping the other on the German's throat, he released the belt from his waist, and managed to jerk it tight round the other's wrists.
The rest was easy, and within five minutes the German lay bound and gagged, his own belt fastening his ankles.
Sexton Blake stood looking down at the helpless man, and a little smile played around his lips.
"I fancy you will be safe," he said in German. "I must apologise for treating you in this manner, but must point out to you that trespassers are always liable to little troubles like this."
The German, who was rapidly recovering, turned purple with his efforts to free himself or speak, both of which were in vain.
Looking round, Sexton Blake discovered a nook between two boulders, and into this he carried the man. Then he rolled other boulders up—heavy ones that he was only just able to move—so that the man lay in a pit from which, in his helpless state, it would be quite impossible for him to escape.
By the aid of his pocket-mirror Sexton Blake compared his make-up with the face of the German, and slightly altered his moustache. Next, he turned his attention to the clothes, and saw that the man was wearing a blue lounge-suit, which might have been a brother of his own. Only the collar and tie were different, and these he quickly appropriated and donned.
"Again I must ask you to pardon a liberty," he said pleasantly; and thrust a hand into the man's pocket, and pulled out some letters.
All of them were addressed to Lieutenant Bergern, and the detective returned them after noting that fact. Then, with the man's field-glasses swinging from his hand, he calmly turned and strode down the rocks.
His heart was beating a trifle faster than usual. Perhaps it was because of the struggle that he had just had. Perhaps because he was about to walk calmly into the hands of the Kaiser and his officers, trusting to pass as Lieutenant Bergern.
Down over the rocks he went, and there was not even the slightest sign of hesitation in his manner when he caught sight of the Germans gathered outside the hut.
"Hurry!" Colonel von Harmann cried sharply.
Sexton Blake quickened his pace, and saluted in true German fashion as he joined the group.
Not one of the party looked at him suspiciously.
"There is nothing in sight, Lieutenant?" the Kaiser demanded. "No boats coming towards here?"
"Nothing, your Majesty," the detective answered.
"Himmel!" the Kaiser said, ejaculating angrily. "Please to remember that I am now Colonel Kelner!"
"Nothing, Colonel!" Sexton Blake said, thankful that his slip had aroused no suspicion. Of his German he had no fear, for he spoke the language like a native.
The Kaiser turned to Colonel von Harmann a trifle impatiently.
"We will see this cave!" he ordered.
"I am ready!" Colonel von Harmann answered; and turned and gave instructions to six of the others, stationing them at various points along the rocks.
As each one started off to his allotted place, Sexton Blake's heart seemed to stand still for a second, for if one was sent to where the real Lieutenant Bergern lay a prisoner, all would be over. But the six left, not one going to that spot, and the detective breathed freely again.
"Surely there is no need for all this?" the Kaiser said a trifle irritably.
"There is every need," Colonel von Harmann answered respectfully. "It matters nothing to me if I be captured, all my comrades in arms; but think what it would mean if those Britishers laid hands on you. You would be the laughing-stock of the world—"
"They would not dare!" the Kaiser muttered fiercely.
"Or Britain might take your actions as a cause for war," the colonel continued impressively.
The anger died out of the Kaiser's eyes, and he looked round uneasily.
"Yes, yes!" he agreed. "We must not give them excuse. So far there need be no war or rumour of war. I am not here to force trouble and expense of fighting on my country, but to make sure of victory should such an occasion arise."
"Let us go to the cave."
Sexton Blake knew now practically all that he desired to know, and he had information enough to startle even the Prime Minister. Nevertheless, he had no intention of getting back to London yet, even if he could escape, for there was more for him to learn. He already knew that the Germans had made their preparations for turning the Shetlands into a naval base should the time for war with Great Britain ever arise, and he meant to discover just what those preparations were, so that they could be made valueless.
Colonel von Harmann turned and led the way from the spot, Sexton Blake and the Germans not on guard going with him. The detective was more than a little relieved to find that no one suspected him in the slightest. In fact he had only one fear now, and that was that Spearing and Tinker would roam around the islands in search of him, strike this one, and be captured.
For three or four hundred yards the little party walked briskly over the rocky ground, and entered a narrow defile. Down this they went, stopping eventually right on the edge of the water, the waves breaking ten or fifteen feet below them. From here Lerwick, and much of the surrounding sea, could be plainly seen.
"A good spot to watch from," the Kaiser said thoughtfully. "It is well chosen."
Colonel von Harmann smiled, and tugged at a boulder that lay on his right. It came away with surprising ease, revealing an opening four feet high and three broad. To some extent this was obviously natural, but chisel-marks showed where it had been enlarged.
"You will go in?" the colonel queried.
For answer the Kaiser stooped, and entered the cave, the colonel close behind him.
Sexton Blake calmly made a move to follow, but a German gripped him by the arm and held him back.
"You forget that it is not permitted, comrade!" he said sharply. "The secret of the cave is for the colonel only—and the Kaiser!"
Sexton Blake muttered something unintelligible, and drew back, realising that he had very nearly made a fatal mistake.
Twenty minutes passed, and when the Kaiser emerged there was a smile of satisfaction on his face.
"It is good—very good!" Sexton Blake heard him say to Colonel von Harmann.
"What lay within the cave?" the detective asked himself.
THE rain came down steadily, and save for the noise of the heavy drops splashing on the rocks, and the faint rumble of the sea, there was no sound on the little island of which the Germans had taken such complete possession, yet Sexton Blake paused every few feet as he moved along in the darkness. An hour back he had taken his turn at watching from the rocks, and that had given him his opportunity of coming down to the cave that held the German's secret.
There was little risk that he would be discovered, but, nevertheless, he was taking the most minute precautions. When possible, he hid in the shadow of rocks, and every time he moved a foot he took care not to displace so much as a pebble. He was bound upon the accomplishment of a task that would probably mean much to Great Britain, and at such a time it was wise to avoid the smallest risk.
Down into the cutting between the rocks he made his way, peering along it to make sure that the cave was not guarded. There was no one there, and he moved cautiously forward.
Outside the cave at last. With quick fingers Sexton Blake gripped the boulder as he had seen Colonel von Harmann do it, and it came away in his hands, evidently fixed on some cunningly concealed swivel, and before him lay the narrow, black entrance.
He stooped, his back bent nearly double, and passed in. Inch by inch he moved forward in the darkness, feeling his way with his hands, and before he had gone ten yards he found that the passage broadened out, and that the rock roof was high enough for him to stand upright. Then he drew from his pocket an electric-lamp, and switched it on.
For a moment the bright rays dazzled him, but as his eyes became accustomed to it he looked eagerly around.
Certainly there was not much to be seen.
The cave was fully forty feet square, and was fitted all around with shelves, on which stood dozens upon dozens of electric-accumulators. At the far end of the place stood a petrol-driven engine, obviously meant to generate the electricity with which the batteries were stored. In the centre of the cave was a table, and it was to this that Sexton Blake crossed.
Then the detective caught his breath sharply, for at the edge of the table a row of electric buttons protruded, each one bearing a number. The rest of the table was covered by a chart each part of which was marked by a number corresponding with one of the buttons.
What did it mean? Had the Germans laid mines all around the Shetlands? Could they, if they so willed it, blow the great fleet that was manoeuvring to pieces? What other explanation was there?
Carefully avoiding contact with the buttons, Sexton Blake seated himself in the chair that stood before the table, and examined the chart more closely. He looked for Lerwick Harbour, to see how that was marked, and saw to his amazement that there was no mark at all. He sought for other well-known channels and moorings, but in each case there were no numbers there. Then he turned to the parts that were numbered, and saw that they were places in the Shetlands which had certainly never been regarded as landing places or harbours.
Puzzled, unable to understand the meaning of it, Sexton Blake rose from the chair and commenced to make a closer examination of the cave. At first he could discover nothing more; but at last, right in the darkest corner, he found an opening concealed by some planks. Pulling these aside, he stepped boldly through, and found himself in a smaller cave, which had evidently been used as a store-house.
Lengths of rope, coils of cable, lay everywhere, but it was a pile of stuff in a corner that attracted Sexton Blake's attention, and he crossed to it. As he examined it a smile curled his lips, for at last he understood the use that the Germans had put the island to.
The thing that he examined was a length of cable, but the curious part was that at every twenty feet along it a powerful electric-bulb was fixed, this being shaded so that the light could only shine upwards.
It was a piece of cable such as had been designed by a certain Leon Dion for lighting ships into port. Instead of the old buoys, this cable with lights attached was sunk to the bottom, and laid along the navigable channel, then, when the lights were switched on from the shore, the lamps threw a bright glow up onto the surface of the water, and by following this, a ship was able to make port without the slightest trouble.
So far as Sexton Blake knew, this system had as yet not been adopted by any country, but it was obvious that the Germans had seen the advantage of it, and put it to a practical use.
How long they had been at work in the Shetlands the detective had no idea, but he did know that they had discovered fresh landing places, each of which had been marked on the chart fastened to the table, the entrance to them being marked by the sunken lights.
Yes; Germany had made her preparations well. She had ignored the regular ports, knowing how closely they would be guarded once there was a rumour of war in the air, and had found and marked fresh ports for herself.
Sexton Blake hesitated. Should he destroy these preparations? For five minutes he stood undecided, then a solution came to him. He would leave things as they were, and prove at the first opportunity, by a practical demonstration, the danger in which the Shetlands lay.
From his pocket Sexton Blake drew a sheet of paper and a pencil, and for the next hour he sat at the table and worked. When he at last rose and left the cabin, his pocket held a complete copy of the chart of the Germans.
Away From the Island—Pursued—
Spearing Arrives in Time.
CONFIDENT now in his disguise, which at present no one had suspected, Sexton Blake calmly made his way back to the centre of the island, the faint light that came from the living-hut being guide enough. He entered the place without hesitation, and stood in the presence of the Kaiser and Colonel von Harmann who were poring over papers. Both looked up as the detective entered.
"You are back early, lieutenant," the Kaiser said shortly.
"The night is dark," Sexton Blake answered, "and to look out to sea is to fix the eyes on a blank wall."
The detective crossed to the further end of the room, where a number of sleeping-bunks had been fixed up, and threw himself into one. Never in his life had he been in such an extraordinary position, and he meant to make the most of it. True, he had already learnt many things, but there were still others to learn.
Above all, did the Germans contemplate an attack on Great Britain, or were all these preparations merely—
"Five years, not a day less," the Kaiser said irritably, with the air of a man who has finally come to a conclusion that he did not wish to reach.
"I should say four—not a day more," Colonel von Harmann corrected. "You say, wait for these battleships that are building; but I say that there is no need. Has not our fleet been here before, so why should it not come again?"
The Kaiser rose from his seat and paced up and down the floor. When he stopped at the table again the moody expression had left his face, and he laughed.
"Why, so, Harmann," he said, "we speak as if we meant to attack Great Britain, while in reality all this is merely a precaution, a way of making our power felt should the occasion ever arise. I hope to heaven it never may!"
Sexton Blake's face was towards the wall, or the men must have seen the expression of relief that crossed it. At last he had heard what he had been so anxious to hear—that there was no real danger from Germany—for the present, at least.
Over by the table the Kaiser and Colonel von Harmann were examining their papers, and Sexton Blake, tired with all that he had been through, dropped off into a doze.
He awoke with angry cries in his ears, and he sat up sharply in his bunk, his hand dropping to the pocket in which his revolver lay. He looked out into the room, but for the present only the colonel and the Kaiser were there, and they had sprung to their feet, their eyes towards the door, from the other side of which the sounds came.
"We can't have been discovered?" the Kaiser asked, in an agitated voice. "I was a fool ever to come here."
"It is our own men—there is something wrong!" the colonel growled in answer. "They make noise enough to be heard in Lerwick."
Before more could be said the door was flung open, and two of the Germans, a third man between them, whom they were supporting by the arms, came into the room. This third man, who appeared to be suffering from exhaustion and excitement, was the real Lieutenant Bergern.
Looks of amazement were on the faces of the Kaiser and Harmann.
"What is this?" the latter gasped. "Who is this man?"
"I am Lieutenant Bergern," the rescued man answered, in a weak voice, throwing himself free of the others, and standing upright, though he swayed slightly on his feet.
"This morning some man leapt upon me, half stunned me, then bound me, and left me a prisoner. Only now have my comrades found and liberated me."
With a cry, the colonel swung round and faced Sexton Blake, who, seated on the edge of his bunk, was smiling blandly. But behind his smile his brain was working rapidly. At all costs he had to get away. He knew that, and he meant to do it.
"There is the traitor!" Bergern screamed, pointing a shaking hand at the detective.
The latter slid down from his bunk, and stood with his hands in his pockets. The likeness between him and the real man was simply remarkable. They were alike as two peas.
"I think this man must be mad," he said quietly to the staring Germans.
Lieutenant Bergern made a fierce rush forward, but Sexton Blake gripped him by the arms and flung him back. At the same time he moved nearer to the door, though no one seemed to notice it.
With a half mad gesture, as if he wished to convince even himself of his identity, Lieutenant Bergern snatched papers from his pocket and flung them onto the table.
"Does that prove who I am?" he cried.
The Kaiser glanced down at the letters, Colonel Van Harmann looking over his shoulder; then both swung round upon Sexton Blake, who stood within ten feet of the door.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
Quite calmly Sexton Blake peeled the moustache from his upper lip, his expression changed, and he stood revealed.
"I am really sorry that you do not remember me, sire," he said, in a tone of regret, "even if not as a friend, as a worthy foe."
"Sexton Blake!" the Kaiser gasped, and his face went white.
Cries of rage broke from the other Germans, and one snatched at a revolver that lay on a shelf.
"Stop!" Sexton Blake thundered, and there was something in the tone that sent the man's hand dropping hastily to his side.
Sexton Blake still stood smiling against the wall, but now there was a revolver in his hand, and its barrel covered the Kaiser.
As the Germans saw this, and realised that their ruler was in danger of his life, they stood spellbound and speechless. Any one of them would have willingly given up his life for the Kaiser, but how—
"You see, it would be foolish to get excited," Sexton Blake remarked in an even tone. "Excitement makes the hand unsteady, and this is a hair-pull trigger."
The Kaiser straightened himself, and there was no fear in his eyes.
"You forget who I am!" he said fiercely. "I am the Kaiser!"
Sexton Blake bowed, but his eyes never left the other's face, and his hand did not remove the fraction of an inch.
"I think you are forgetting that you have already told me that you are Colonel Kelner," he said, very slowly and distinctly. "I must also add, Colonel, that where I should hesitate to shoot the Kaiser, I shall have no such qualms with regard to you."
The German who had tried to snatch the revolver from the shelf was eyeing the weapon again.
"One more thing!" the detective said sharply. "You are the leader here, so if one of your men makes a move against me, I shoot!"
There was a dead silence. From the expression of the Kaiser's face, it could plainly be seen that unpleasant thoughts were passing through his brain. Not that he feared death—he was too much of a man for that—but he was wondering what would happen when it was discovered that he was no longer in Germany. How would his death be explained?
"And to come down to my own position—which, I admit, is awkward," Sexton Blake continued calmly, "I must ask you to obey my orders."
"Never!" Colonel von Harmann growled.
"It must be!" the Kaiser said bitterly. "I am thinking of my country, not of myself!"
"It is a wise man who knows when he is defeated," Sexton Blake remarked. "All move over to the bunks."
At first the Germans hesitated, but a word from the Kaiser, who had already moved, sent them to the position ordered by Sexton Blake. There they stood glaring, and the detective quietly backed to the door.
He opened it, and stood in the doorway, a little smile on his lips—a smile that spoke of quiet determination rather than mirth.
"Gentlemen," he said coolly, "I have been through some exciting experiences in my time, but I really think that this one caps all. Good night!"
With a sudden jerk the detective had swung round and raced away across the uneven ground. His only chance was to get clear of the island by swimming, and that was what he intended to do.
From behind came wild cries of rage, and before Sexton Blake had run a hundred yards, making for the cleft in the rocks where the secret cave lay, two rifle bullets whizzed unpleasantly close to him. One struck the rock, splintering a small piece against his face.
"Whew!" he ejaculated. "I did not think they would dare to fire!"
There was no mistake about them daring to do so, for a perfect volley of shots pursued the running man; but now boulders lay in between him and his pursuers, so that there was little danger of being hit.
The firing ceased, the Germans evidently realising the uselessness of it, but the sound of men scrambling along behind him told Sexton Blake that he was not to be let off so easily. Down the cutting he ran, pulling up where it dropped sheer down to the rocks.
In the darkness he peered over, and just made out the rocks some fifteen feet below him; then a bullet hummed by, and he dropped down. His feet slipped on the slimy rocks, and he fell forward, missed his grip of the stone, and plunged into the sea.
Luckily the waves were slight, or they must have dashed him back against the rocks, and so beaten the life out of him. As it was, he was well able to fight against them, and a few strong strokes took him out into practically clear water.
Would he still be followed, that was the question?
Twenty yards from the shore Sexton Blake turned and looked back. He saw the dark outline of the rocks of the little island, and as he scanned them closely a figure showed darkly on the summit, paused there a second, and came hurtling down into the sea, diving straight past the rocks.
The diving man was an enemy, yet Sexton Blake could not help catching his breath as he realised the risk that he was taking of hitting the rocks, and a sigh of relief escaped as he saw the man rise to the surface and strike out towards him.
No longer could Sexton Blake hesitate, and he swirled around in the water and swam straight for the open sea. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of another man diving from the rocks, while at the same moment a rifle cracked, the bullet splashing into the water close to his head.
The Kaiser and his men knew what would happen if he escaped, that the plans that had taken them years to formulate and carry out would all be knocked on the head, and they were doing their best to prevent him getting clear.
With a steady over-arm stroke Sexton Blake swam through the smooth water, meaning to get well out from the land, then turn and make for Lerwick. This would mean a three-mile swim; but he had accomplished that distance many a time before, and had no fear of failure now.
A hundred yards, two hundred, he covered, and turned to see where his pursuers were. To his amazement, he saw that the nearest was within ten yards of him, and swimming with a powerful over-arm stroke that was sending him through the water like a fish. Sexton Blake was no mean swimmer, but he realised that this man was quite as good as himself, and that a hard race lay before him, with for a prize—his life. Not that he thought of the latter. His one idea was to get away, so that the plans of the Germans, their years of subtle scheming and working, should be made useless.
Sexton Blake swam hard now, altering his stroke to a racing one, but when he looked back, after going a quarter of a mile, he saw that he had gained scarcely a foot on his pursuer. Probably the man had thrown most of his clothes off, so as to swim better, but the detective did not pause long enough to follow his example.
Low in the water, striking out straight ahead, Sexton Blake swum for dear life. A current caught him and whirled him in the direction of Lerwick, but that gave him no hope, for it would help his pursuer just as much. More than once he thought of stopping and fighting it out with the man, but each time put the idea from him. He knew what a fight in the water meant—probably the death of both. Life was precious to him just now—Great Britain had to be warned of its danger.
A splash behind Sexton Blake caused him to turn. The German was so close behind that he could almost have reached out a hand and touched him, and between his teeth was an ugly-looking knife.
The man took the knife from between his teeth, and sprinted with it ready in his hand. Sexton Blake tried to do the same, but his sodden clothes held him back, and he could not increase his pace.
Something ripped down the back of his coat, and he knew that it was the knife, which had just missed cutting into his flesh. Desperately he swung round to face the attack.
Then a strange thing happened. The German let go his knife, which sunk in the water, and turned and raced for the shore.
What did it mean? Why had he given up his task when it seemed so easy of accomplishment? Sexton Blake watched the man racing away, and was filled with amazement.
Chug, chug, chug!
The sound of a propeller reached the detective's ears, and as he turned in that direction he could faintly make out the outline of a small craft coming towards him.
"Help!" he shouted, and swam slowly in its direction, his strength failing him now that the worst of his task was over. That the boat was an English one he had no doubt, for he was certain that the Germans dared not approach with the Fleet so near.
A few minutes later a warship's steam pinnace swirled alongside the detective, and he was hauled into it.
"What been doing?" the voice of Spearing jerked. "Couldn't find you anywhere. Got permission to search islands. Beast of a job. Admiral so high and mighty."
"Leave him alone," the voice of Tinker put in. "Can't you see that he's done right up?"
"I'm all right." Sexton Blake managed to sit up, gasping for breath, and turned to the young officer in charge of the pinnace. "Kindly make for the flagship at once," he said.
The officer looked doubtful, though he knew who the rescued man was.
"Sorry, sir," he answered, "but I have orders to return to my own ship if you are found."
"As you will." Sexton Blake was quickly recovering, and his voice was quite steady. "I can only tell you that if you do not obey me now you may have no ship to return to to-morrow."
The officer bent forward from the tiller, a questioning expression on his face.
"What do you mean?" he demanded.
"Possibly the admiral will tell you when I have explained to him," Sexton Blake answered coldly.
The officer hesitated, annoyed at the way he was being treated, yet impressed by the detective's voice and manner.
He put the tiller over until the pinnace headed for Lerwick and the flagship.
The Admiral surprised—A Night Landing—
The Airship Pursued—The Kaiser in Trouble.
THE little pinnace ploughed its way through the smooth sea at a good pace, Sexton Blake sitting in the stern, entirely recovered from his exertions. But even now he was not out of his difficulties. He had decided to see Sir Henry Farrar, the admiral in command, and to show him all that was on the little island.
But the Kaiser? That was the trouble. Sexton Blake knew the type of man that the admiral was, and that he would make the Kaiser a prisoner as readily as he would punish one of his own men, and that was just what the detective did not want. He wanted to get the Kaiser away, to make terms with him.
Well, there was no time to think about it now, for the pinnace grated against the gangway of the flagship. The young officer led the way up onto the deck.
"How is that?" a gruff voice demanded angrily. "Lieutenant Anderson, I thought you knew that no one was to be allowed aboard a ship of the Fleet during the manoeuvres?"
Lieutenant Anderson saluted a trifle nervously. It was the admiral who was speaking, and most of the officers went more or less in dread of him, though he was a kind enough man at heart.
"I know, sir," he answered; "but this is Mr. Sexton Blake, the man who was missing. His friends are with him."
"But, hang it all, why bring 'em here?" the Admiral snorted. "Think I run this ship as a home for lost civilians, or what?"
Sexton Blake stepped forward and bowed stiffly.
"I am pleased to meet you, Sir Henry," he said.
The admiral glared, especially when he saw that the young lieutenant evidently wanted to laugh.
"Sorry can't return the compliment, sir," he said shortly. "I must ask you to leave at once. No one allowed aboard now. There are important manoeuvres to be carried out to-night. Good evening!"
But Sexton Blake held his ground, though he would have liked to have turned and taken the man at his word. But he remembered what his discovery meant to Great Britain, and he thought of the country, not of the man before him.
"You know why I am here?" he asked shortly.
"Heard something about it," the admiral admitted grudgingly. "Lords of the Admiralty!"
"Precisely, Sir Henry," Sexton Blake agreed. "They sent me up here to find out things, and I have succeeded."
"What are they?" the admiral growled suspiciously.
Sexton Blake shrugged his shoulders.
"Surely there is some better place than this to discuss important affairs," he answered.
The admiral frowned; he was not used to being dictated to at any time, and especially on his own ship. But something in the detective's quiet bearing, a certain dignity which even his sodden clothes could not rob him of, impressed him.
"Come to my cabin," he said shortly.
Along the deck the men went, and into the admiral's state-room. It was a plainly furnished apartment, with none of the fancy articles that many an officer ashore regards as essential to his comfort. It was the room of a man.
"Sit down!" Sir Henry said; and Sexton Blake took a chair by the table. "Now tell me what all this mystery means," the admiral continued. He glanced at the clock on the wall, and frowned impatiently. "In ten minutes I must sail."
"As you will," the detective answered boldly, "but I should advise you to postpone the manoeuvre, however important it may be."
The admiral's face went positively blank with amazement, and an angry flush showed under the tan.
"Don't fool!" he snapped. "Not used to it."
"Neither am I," Sexton Blake assured him. "I have come here to avert one of the biggest dangers that ever threatened Great Britain."
"Go on!" the admiral ordered, and again the quiet force of the detective was dominating him.
"You know that on more than one occasion the Germans have explored these islands," Sexton Blake commenced, "also that they have taken soundings all around them."
"Yes."
"But you do not know," the detective continued, speaking slowly and impressively, "that they have made charts showing a clear dozen landing places of which we have no knowledge, and that, what is more, they could steam up to them without danger."
"Impossible!" the admiral said shortly, though it was obvious that he was impressed. "It would mean taking soundings all the way."
Sexton Blake shrugged his shoulders, as a man weary of trying to convince another against his will.
"You have heard of the Dion system of undersea lights showing the way down a channel?" he queried.
The admiral started badly, and leant forward eagerly over the table.
"Yes," he said sharply.
"The Germans have laid such a system in each of the harbours they have discovered," Sexton Blake said calmly. "Should they at any time wish to attack Great Britain, making the Shetlands their naval base, they have made every preparation to do so."
The admiral sprang to his feet, all his calm leaving him. Then he stopped before the detective.
"You can prove that?"
Sexton Blake drew the chart that he had made, sodden with sea-water, from his pocket, and laid it on the table.
"That is a copy of their chart," he said.
For several minutes the admiral pored over it, and his face was set grimly.
"How and where did you come by this?" he demanded; and there was no longer doubt in his eyes.
In as few words as possible Sexton Blake described all that happened, omitting only one fact—the presence of the Kaiser. He knew that the Admiral would not hesitate to make that august person a prisoner, and he was perfectly certain that that was about the last thing that the Government would want.
At the end of the recital Sir Henry paced up and down the cabin, but quickly came to a decision. He touched a bell, and an officer entered.
"Signal that the ships will remain at anchor tonight," he ordered. "Then get thirteen men and man the largest steam-pinnace. I will take command."
The officer looked astounded, but touched his cap and hurried out to obey.
"We will teach these Germans whether they can play games like that with us," the admiral said, as the door closed.
"And what will you do with the Germans if you capture them?" Sexton Blake queried.
"Hold 'em as prisoners until I get instructions to let them go."
"And the airship and the cave?" Sexton Blake continued.
"Blow 'em up!" the admiral growled.
In an almost incredibly short space of time the officer returned to say that all was ready, and the admiral, followed by Sexton Blake, went up onto the deck. As they reached it, Spearing and Tinker stepped forward.
"They will remain aboard here until we return," Sir Henry ordered.
"I think not, sir," Sexton Blake answered. "They are in this game with me, and they see it through, or I abandon it."
Once more the admiral's temper nearly got the better of him, but he remembered in time that the detective was the only man who could guide him to the little island without delay, so he nodded his assent, and they all clambered down into the pinnace. Thirty sailors were there already, their rifles between their knees, looks of excitement on their faces. That they were engaged on some expedition out of the ordinary, they could guess, and were fairly dying to know what it was.
"Cast off!" the admiral ordered, and Sexton Blake quietly took his place at the tiller. The night was dark as pitch, and as the vessels of the Fleet lay without lights, it was going to be no easy task to steer among them.
Away went the pinnace, a keen look-out being kept in the bows, Sexton Blake heading her away for the little island where he had so nearly lost his life. Beside him sat the admiral, who was fidgeting with the hilt of his sword.
"It is not possible for them to have filled their balloon and got away?" he whispered.
"There is no telling," Sexton Blake answered, "as I do not know what apparatus they have got there. Probably it is good, for they must have known that at any time they might have to make a bolt for it.
"Half speed!"
Right ahead loomed the little island, as the detective steered with the greatest caution. In the great darkness it was impossible for him to make out the cutting where he intended to land, and there was nothing for it but to steer close to the shore until they reached it. He, too, thought it possible that the Germans might be able to get their airship ready in time to escape, and he sincerely hoped that that would prove to be the case.
Chug, chug, chug!
The sound of a motor reached the ears of the men in the boat, and as they peered forward, they saw the great bulk of an airship come slowly from the little island. She was low down, so much so, in fact, that her car only just cleared the rocks.
The admiral levelled his glasses, and now that the time for action had come, his hands were steady as steel.
"She's only half filled," he said, in a low voice, "and they don't seem to be able to lift her."
Over went the helm, and the pinnace steamed straight towards the airship, which was only moving very slowly out to sea.
"Full speed ahead!" Sexton Blake shouted.
Hand over hand the pinnace overhauled the airship, the screws of which only turned slowly, as if there had been no proper time to adjust them.
"Unless she can lift out of our reach, we've got her!" the admiral growled.
The sailors were gripping their rifles hard, every one of them staring towards the airship, and they were whispering excitedly together.
A petty officer came aft and saluted the admiral.
"We could put some shots through her from here, sir," he said.
"Then do it; but tell the men to shoot at the balloon, not at the car," the admiral ordered.
A series of sharp clicks told that the sailors were getting ready.
"Aim high, at the balloon two hundred yards!" rang out the order of the officer.
"Fire!"
A sharp, cracking volley broke the stillness of the night.
"Fire!" rang out again, and a second volley whistled through the air.
Through his glasses the admiral watched the airship, and a smile curled his firm lips.
"They've gone home!" he ejaculated. "See, they're running for the shore!"
He was right enough; the airship, which seemed to be sinking lower towards the waves, was swinging round.
"Push those engines!" the admiral shouted. "We've got to get there first!"
The screw revolved faster, and, taking the risk of going ashore, the pinnace raced for the spot for which the airship was making. It would be a near thing—a very near thing—which won.
Straight at the shore the airship drove, and two dark figures dropped from her cage. A couple of men had leapt overboard to lighten her weight, and she rose perceptibly. But the pinnace was close on her, and it was plain that she would reach the shore almost at the same time.
Over the edge of the rocks the airship swayed slowly and sluggishly, and at the same moment Sexton Blake put the helm hard over, and the pinnace grounded against the rocks just below the cutting where the cave lay.
There was no need for the admiral to give an order. Out of the pinnace the sailors swarmed, and, clambering on to each other's backs, swarmed up the wall of rock. The admiral was helped up, swiftly and roughly as any of the ordinary seaman, and so were Sexton Blake, Spearing, and Tinker.
Right above them, only a few feet away, the cage of the airship swung.
"Here's a rope!" a man yelled, and a dozen of his comrades leapt to it and bore the airship down.
A German leant over the car to cut the rope free, but he was too late. Already the car had grounded, and men were slashing at the ropes that held it to the balloon.
Out of the car the Germans came tumbling, and revolvers began to spit viciously.
In the darkness it was hard to tell friend from foe.
It had been no idle wish that had made Sexton Blake insist on coming to the island with the sailors, no desire even to be in at the death of the Germans' plans. He had come there because, if possible, he meant to get the Kaiser away. He realised fully what trouble his capture would mean—possibly it would even lead to war. Besides, he had already formed a plan that would secure Great Britain against a possible war with Germany, and which would also save the building of the warships that were to be laid down to keep pace with the rival Fleet.
Out of the car the Germans tumbled, firing wildly, and Sexton Blake was in the midst of it. A glance showed him where the Kaiser was, at present unattacked, and the detective leapt straight at him.
The Kaiser threw up his right hand, a revolver gripped in it, but before he could use it, Sexton Blake had wrested it from him and thrown him to the ground.
"Keep still," he panted, "and I will get you away!"
In the confusion of the fight, each man was for himself, and no one took note of Sexton Blake as he lifted the Kaiser and carried him bodily away to behind a ridge of rocks, where he put him down.
"Stay there!" he commanded sternly. "I will see you safe, and do my best to avert a great scandal!"
The Kaiser folded his arms, and on his strong face was the expression of a man who knows himself to be absolutely beaten.
"I am in your hands," he said, in a voice that shook ever so slightly. "I was a fool to come. I bow to Fate."
"You are safe, I tell you, sire," Sexton Blake answered sternly, "if you obey me. Stay here, and I will get the sailors away with their prisoners. I will return later. In the meantime"—he drew a small pair of scissors from his pocket—"I am afraid that your moustache will have to come off. I shall have to take you to Lerwick, and the loss of it will be disguise enough."
The Kaiser started back, his fingers touching the moustache which had always been such a distinguishing mark on his face.
"I refuse!" he said sharply.
"As you will," Sexton Blake agreed. "If a little personal vanity is to stand in the way of your safety, sire, I will say no more."
The Kaiser's face worked, then he shrugged his shoulders resignedly.
"Very well," he agreed.
A few snips of the scissors, and the moustache was gone. That the disguise was good, there could be no doubt, and few people would have recognised in this clean-shaven man the fiercely-moustached Emperor of Germany.
"Stay here," the detective ordered, "and I will return as soon as possible. It may be hours, even a day; but you can trust me."
"So," the Kaiser answered simply, realising how much he must put his trust in this man.
Back to the fight went Sexton Blake, to find it all over, nine prisoners lying on the ground.
"Wondered where you had got to," the admiral said sharply.
"I went in pursuit of another of the men, sir," the detective answered quietly; "but he took to the sea. The tides are strong here—he is probably drowned."
In the darkness the admiral held out his hand to Sexton Blake, who took it at once.
"Britain owes you a great debt, Mr. Blake," he said earnestly.
"As a Britisher, I am proud to be of service to my country," the detective answered simply. He could have added that he expected to be of even greater service before this case came to an end.
"What next, sir?"
The admiral pointed to the wreck of the airship.
"All this must be blown up," he said, with determination. "The rest will lie with the Government. If I had my way"—he glared fiercely at the prisoners who lay bound on the ground—"Germany would hear of this underhand work with a vengeance."
Quick orders were given, and the wreck was piled into a heap. Then Sexton Blake piloted the admiral and an engineer officer, who carried dynamite cartridges and a coil of wire, to the cave in which the chart and the electric apparatus lay. For five minutes they were in it, and when they emerged, the engineer unwound, as he walked, a coil of wire.
Two hundred yards from the shore the little pinnace lay, and a thin line of wire, invisible in the darkness, ran from her to the rocks. On the deck it was connected with a button.
"Mr. Blake," Sir Henry said quietly, "you have so far been the leader in this great work. Will you finish it?"
Sexton Blake nodded, stepped forward, and knelt beside the bottom.
"Now," the admiral ordered.
The detective's finger pressed the button. A second passed, then on the little island two sheets of flame leapt upwards.
Germany's plans and her great airship had been scattered by dynamite cartridges.
With a smile, the admiral seated himself in the bows, and glanced at the prisoners who lay on the deck.
"Back to the ship," he ordered, adding, in a lower voice to the detective, "I think that finishes your work, and finishes it well."
The detective bowed in acknowledgement, but inwardly he knew that his work had scarcely started, and that much more had to be accomplished before he would be satisfied.
The Kaiser Brought to Lerwick—Sexton
Blake Springs a Surprise—
Bound for England.
"I OWE you a debt that I shall never be able to repay, Mr. Blake," the Kaiser said gratefully, holding out his hand to the detective. Strangely enough, however, the latter did not seem to notice it.
"There is time enough for that when you are safely back in your own country, sire," he answered.
The Kaiser turned sharply and looked at his companion, but could read nothing in the expression of the calm face.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Many things may happen before then," Sexton Blake answered.
The Kaiser shrugged his shoulders sharply, and felt for the moustache that was no longer there.
"What can happen?" he demanded. "I am disguised, and I can soon get a vessel back. Once I am across the frontier I can keep all this dark, and can feign illness until—" he paused, feeling at his bare upper lip again, thus explaining the unfinished sentence.
The two men were seated in a small sailing vessel, which was now creeping into Lerwick Harbour. There was nothing suspicious in this, for no order to exclude all vessels while the Fleet was manoeuvring had been given, and this craft might well be one of those filled with curious sightseers who kept on going out to the Fleet.
Without hindrance the men landed, none of the loafers on the quay imagining that the man who walked with such martial tread was none other than the Emperor of Germany.
"We will go to my hotel," Sexton Blake said.
"As you will," the Kaiser agreed. "I can trust you to make all arrangements."
"You can, sire," the detective agreed; and there was a curious little smile on his lips.
Straight to his private room in the hotel Sexton Blake led the way. Spearing and Tinker were both there, and they rose respectfully as the Kaiser entered.
"Be seated, my friends," the detective said quietly. "For the time being his Majesty is plain Mr. Smith. It is wiser, I think."
"So," the Kaiser agreed, with a smile. "And I can assure you that Mr. Smith is hungry. It is late for dinner, but we can have something to eat. After that we will discuss the best plan for getting me back to Germany."
Sexton Blake had been lighting a cigar, but now he turned to the Kaiser with uplifted eyebrows.
"I beg your pardon?" he queried, as if in surprise.
"We can then make plans to get me back to my own country," the Kaiser repeated.
"But there is plenty of time for that." Sexton Blake flung the used match into the grate, and smiled. "Our more pressing need is a plan to get you to London."
"London!" the Kaiser gasped.
"Precisely, Mr. Smith." Sexton Blake examined his cigar to make sure that it was burning to his satisfaction, and dropped into a chair.
The Kaiser dropped his fist angrily onto the table.
"Enough of this fooling, my friend!" he said fiercely. "You know that I must return to Germany at once if suspicions are not to be aroused."
"My dear Mr. Smith," Sexton Blake protested amiably, "you are surely not going to be so ungrateful as to tear yourself away so soon?"
"I tell you I must get back!" the Kaiser thundered.
Sexton Blake flicked the ash from his cigar, and his smile was that of a man whose mind is made up, and whom nothing will turn from his purpose.
"Do you imagine," he said slowly, "that this escapade of yours is to pass so lightly? Can you, as a sane man, think that Britain is going to demand nothing of you in return?"
"What can they demand?" the Kaiser asked, in a shaking voice.
"That is not for me to say," the detective answered; "but there are those in London who will decide."
"You dare not take me there!"
Sexton Blake rang the bell, and a servant entered.
"Bring anything you have to eat," he ordered; "then find out how soon there is a boat sailing round the coast to Liverpool."
As the door closed behind the man the Kaiser turned angrily upon the detective.
"This is too much!" he cried angrily. "I have only to announce who I am to be treated with proper respect."
"Or disbelieved and be treated as a spy!" Sexton Blake answered.
The meal was served quickly, Sexton Blake whispering a few instructions to Tinker before it arrived, and the boy at once left. It was eaten practically in silence, and at the finish the Kaiser stood staring out into the street. Presently he started, and dragged a handkerchief from his pocket.
"Recognise friends, sire?" the detective queried pleasantly.
"Why?" the Kaiser snapped.
"I fancied you were waving to them."
"What friends should I have in this place?" the Kaiser answered hastily. "I am tired. Show me my room, and I will get to sleep."
Sexton Blake led the way to a room at the back, which overlooked the gardens of the hotel.
"Pleasant dreams, sire," he said, as he retired. "You will, of course, have no objection to a watch being kept outside your door? I am very anxious about your safety, as you know."
"As you will," the Kaiser answered shortly; and there was a little smile on his lips.
OUT in the garden Sexton Blake crouched behind a clump of bushes, and beside him were Spearing and Tinker.
"You are sure of what you have said, my lad?" the detective whispered.
"Yes," the boy answered confidently. "Two Germans passed the hotel, and that was when I saw the Kaiser raise his handkerchief."
"How know he is here, though?" Spearing jerked doubtfully, nodding towards the window of the Kaiser's bed-room, which was quite dark.
"Riddles are not in my line, my friend," Sexton Blake answered, his eyes in the same direction; "but I should say that—Ah! Look!"
A light had appeared in the window, evidently that of a candle, and three times it moved from side to side before disappearing.
"Looks uncommonly like a signal," Sexton Blake remarked.
"Sorry for the men who obey it—very!" Spearing jerked, feeling the great muscles of his arms.
Half an hour passed, and there was not a sound in the garden, and the light appeared no more in the window. From the harbour came the occasional hooting of sirens.
What was that?
Something very like a soft thud reached the ears of the waiting men, then they caught sight of two dark figures, bearing something between them, coming across the grounds.
"Ladder!" Tinker whispered.
Spearing moved, ready to get into the fight at once, but Sexton Blake held him back with a touch on the arm.
Cautiously the two men moved across the grounds, reached the wall of the hotel, and raised the ladder beneath the window.
"Now!" Sexton Blake whispered, and moved forward. Only a dozen yards or so separated them from the window.
One man was already climbing the ladder, the other holding it at the foot, when the detectives made their leap. There was the click of handcuffs, and the man at the bottom was as neatly manacled as Spearing had ever done a job of the same kind in his life. The one above looked down quickly, and reached for his pocket, but before he could draw weapon Sexton Blake had snatched the ladder from under him, and he fell sprawling to the ground.
Click! The second man was handcuffed.
"What does this mean?" he blustered, in German.
Sexton Blake drew a cigar from his pocket, and lit it.
"That is just what you will shortly have to explain to the police, my friend," he answered.
"Tinker." He turned to the boy, and handed him a whistle. "Just go and call the police. You will guard these men, Spearing, and charge them as a suspected characters. Remember that we were taking a stroll in the grounds when we discovered them."
"Right!" The worthy official jerked. "What about you?"
Sexton Blake reared the ladder against the window again.
"Oh, I have a little call to make!" he answered, with a smile.
Up the ladder he went, and tapped at the window. It was instantly opened.
"It is you, Fritz?" the agitated voice of the Kaiser asked.
Sexton Blake clambered into the room, dropped the window, and switched on the electric light. A cry of anger broke from the Kaiser as he saw who it was in the room with him.
"What—what are you doing here?" he asked, in a shaking voice.
"I am guarding you, sire," Sexton Blake answered coolly. "There are a terrible lot of suspicious characters about, you know; in fact, we have just arrested two in the garden of the hotel."
"Who—who were they?" the Kaiser asked, trying to speak indifferently, but with poor success.
"I really did not have time to question them," Sexton Blake replied lightly; "but I certainly fancy that they were Germans."
The Terms That Were Not Accepted—Spearing in Error—
Where is the Kaiser?—On the Roof—Arrested.
THE train whirled along from Liverpool, carrying its usual load of passengers to London. The majority of the compartments were well filled, but a first class one, right in the centre of the train, on the window of which had been stuck a "reserved" label, held only three men and a boy—the Kaiser, Sexton Blake, Mr. Spearing, and Tinker. Pedro was back in the guard's van.
The detective smoked away placidly, and on his face was the expression of a man who is quite satisfied with life. Spearing, sleeping in a corner, also looked as if there was nothing much to trouble him just now, while Tinker busied himself with writing a chronicle of the events of the past few days.
Only the Kaiser, sitting moodily in a corner, his fine eyes staring out through the window into the night, looked discontented. His face was pale, unnaturally so, and the fingers that felt his upper lip trembled suggestively. No difficulty had been experienced in getting him away from Lerwick, and now they were speeding on towards London. That was what probably worried the Kaiser. He knew that he was in no personal danger, also that it would be possible for him to explain his absence from his own country, but he did not know the exact reason why his captors insisted upon taking him to London.
Maybe it was to exact a price from him. But why could they not have arranged that already, and let him go? Surely his word was enough to ensure payment of any sum, however large?
"It is permitted that a prisoner smoke, Mr. Blake?" he asked.
"I apologise, sire," Sexton Blake answered, pulling out his case and offering the Kaiser a cigar. "I think you will like these."
The Kaiser bit off the end with his strong teeth, and lit up. For a minute he smoked steadily, but it was obvious from the way that he continually glanced at the detective that he had something to say.
"What do you gain by all this?" he asked abruptly, when he did break the silence.
"Why, little enough," Sexton Blake answered. "A little honour, perhaps, and that is not a very substantial thing."
"It would be secret, too," the Kaiser continued. "Whatever you are taking me to London for it will be impossible to hold me there."
Sexton Blake flicked the ash of his cigar through the open window.
"As to that, sire," he answered, "the length of your stay will depend upon yourself."
"Then it will not be long!" the Kaiser growled.
"The moment our terms are accepted, and your word given to keep them, I shall see that you reach your own country in safety," Sexton Blake assured him.
The Kaiser gnawed at his upper lip. There was an angry look in his eyes, and it was plain that he only controlled his temper by an effort of will.
"What will the terms be?" he demanded.
Sexton Blake shook his head protestingly.
"Perhaps I can guess," he said, "but guessing is an unsatisfactory thing."
The Kaiser chewed at the end of his cigar until it was of no further use as a smoke, and flung it impatiently away. Sexton Blake offered him a fresh one, but he refused.
"Mr. Blake," he said in a low tone, after glancing across at Spearing to make certain that he was really asleep, "let me suggest the terms. I have been beaten over the Shetlands, and I admit it. Your report will permit the authorities to take precautions to prevent such a thing happening again, and that is all you want. It would be easy for me to escape if this train slackens; my English is good, and I would find my way back to my own country."
"You will not find it easy to escape, sire," Sexton Blake corrected.
"But why not?" The Kaiser was bending forward eagerly, and his strong face was working. "You have but to fall asleep—in an instant I have thrown open that door and dropped out onto the line. You awake and rush after me with your companions—but you go the wrong way. It is all so simple! I return to Germany, and you receive—what is your price?"
"It is all so simple, as you say, sire," the detective agreed; "but one thing you have erred."
"So?" the Kaiser queried.
"I should rush after you the right way," Sexton Blake explained. "It is a habit of mine that I have often found useful."
The Kaiser's hands clenched as if he would have loved to strike the smiling detective in the face.
"You are a hard man!" he said bitterly. "But the price must be fixed soon, if I am to escape before London is reached! A hundred thousand marks—what of that?"
Sexton Blake shook his head, and his eyelids drooped as if the conversation bored him.
"You shall be head of my secret police," the Kaiser went on eagerly. "I would give much to have such a man as you in my service!"
"A man who has sold his own country?" Sexton Blake asked meaningly. "You must have strange tastes, sire!"
"Then, Himmel, name your own price!" the Kaiser growled.
Sexton Blake lit a fresh cigar, and through the blue smoke he looked his distinguished prisoner full in the face.
"My price is beyond your compassing," he said sternly, "for your escape will only be purchased by my death." His face set hard, and there was an angry light in his eyes. "Had any other man asked me to sell my honour—my country—I would have thrashed him as one beats a faithless dog! In your country such things may be easy—the buying and dealing in men's consciences—but here a man puts his conscience before his fortune; his country before everything!"
"All men?" the Kaiser sneered.
"There is no country that has not got its black sheep," Sexton Blake answered, with a shrug of his shoulders; "but thank Heaven ours is a small flock!"
The Kaiser opened his lips to speak again, but the detective held a hand up sharply to silence him.
"I have given you my answer," he said quietly.
The brakes grated on the wheels, the lights of a station showed ahead, and the train drew up in it.
"My chance!" the Kaiser said sharply. "Two hundred thousand marks!"
For answer, Sexton Blake leant forward and roused Spearing.
"Got there?" the latter jerked, reaching for his hat.
"No," Sexton Blake answered. "I am going to the bar to get fresh cigars. You will guard our—er—guest until I return."
"May I come with you, sir?" Tinker asked eagerly. "I'm as stiff as a board."
Sexton Blake nodded, and he and his young assistant stepped out onto the platform, leaving only Spearing and the Kaiser in the compartment. The detective did not hurry, for the train waited ten minutes, and he and Tinker lingered in the bar drinking coffee.
"Time to go, my lad," Sexton Blake said, putting his cup down.
As he turned towards the door Spearing, his usually ruddy face pale, came rushing through the crowd. Sexton Blake caught his breath sharply, knowing that the worst had happened.
"Gone!" Spearing gasped.
But before he could say any more, for his wild look was already attracting attention, Sexton Blake gripped him by the arm and led him outside, where there were fewer people.
"Quick!" he ordered. And even his usually steady voice shook a trifle. "Tell me what has happened!"
"Someone came to window!" Spearing jerked. "Looked like German! Got up to tell him compartment was reserved! A door banged behind me—looked round—Kaiser gone!"
Sexton Blake had expected this the moment he caught sight of the Scotland Yard official, but now that the truth was put into words it nevertheless staggered him. After all the trouble—after all the danger that he had gone through—that the Kaiser should escape in this simple manner!
Then his jaw set hard. He was not beaten yet; he would prevent the Kaiser leaving the country.
At a run, he went down the platform, followed by Spearing and Tinker; for the guards were already bustling people into the train. He seized an official by the arm.
"Could anyone have left the down side without a ticket—someone who had arrived by this train?" he asked sharply.
"No fear, sir!" the man answered, with a confident grin. "We've got used to people trying to bilk us in that way, and that there is no earthly chance of anyone getting through on either side without a ticket!"
Sexton Blake slipped a sovereign into the man's hand, and the latter at once became all attention.
"Try the gates," the detective ordered. "Find out if anyone without a ticket has paid to go through."
"Right you are, sir!" the man answered, and hurried away at a trot. He wondered what all the excitement could be about, but the sovereign was in his pocket, and that was good enough for him.
That the Kaiser had no money on him Sexton Blake knew, but the man who had tapped at the window might have joined him and paid.
The official came hurrying back.
"No, sir," he announced. Then a brilliant idea struck him. "Detectives?" he queried. "Prisoner got away?"
"Yes," Sexton Blake admitted, not seeing what else he could do.
"Then I'll tell you what the man has done, sir," the official continued. "He's slipped into another carriage, and means to try and get away when the train slackens down somewhere."
A whistle blew, and there was no time for the detectives to hesitate.
"He may be right," he said sharply. "We must take the train and watch." In a lower voice he added: "if he has escaped I'll follow him to Germany if necessary—the matter shall not rest here!"
Sexton Blake was not the type of man to give in easily, and he had no intention of being beaten now.
As the train was on the move, the detectives and the boy scrambled into their reserved compartment and dropped into their seats. The door on the opposite side still swung open, showing how their prisoner had escaped, and Spearing, growling with anger, closed it. Just then he would have fought an army singlehanded, if it would have given him the chance of getting the Kaiser back. Never before had he made such a bloomer; though, like every other man, including Sexton Blake, he had made mistakes in his time.
"Being a fool!" he jerked disgustedly. "If I were you, never let me work with you again!"
A wry smile crossed Sexton Blake's lips, but he held out his hand to the crestfallen official.
"It was not your fault," he said simply. "I never ought to have left you alone. I should have remembered that he was no ordinary prisoner, and that some steps were bound to be taken to free him."
"But all the men who were with him on the airship were captured, sir," Tinker put in.
"Yes, but you can be sure that there were others in Lerwick," Sexton Blake answered bitterly; "men who had been working at the cables showing the new harbours. It is one of them who has got him away."
"And do you think that he is on the train, sir?"
Sexton Blake shrugged his shoulders, with the manner of a man who admits himself baffled.
"We shall know soon, lad," he replied.
But he was to know sooner than he expected—very much sooner. From above, on the roof of the carriage, sounded a sharp blow, such as might have been made by a man's boot, and Sexton Blake, his eyes sparkling, leapt to his feet.
"That's it!" he cried. "Why didn't I think of it? In the dark station, no one would have noticed him crouching on the roof!"
To the door Sexton Blake sprang, and flung it open. He saw that his compartment was the last one of the coach, so that it would be easy enough for a man to slip to the back of it and mount the iron steps that led to the roof.
Sexton Blake went in this direction now, moving confidently despite the speed of the train, and reached the back of the compartment; Spearing and Tinker behind him. Up the steps he went, and peered over the roof.
On it lay a man at full length, his fingers gripping the electric light fitting, and at a glance it was possible to see that it was the Kaiser.
"Hardly a comfortable way of travelling, sire!" Sexton Blake called out; having to raise his voice to make himself heard above the wind.
With a jerk that nearly threw him from the roof the Kaiser swung round, and a revolver gleamed in his hand.
"Go back!" he cried fiercely. "I have the means of protecting myself now, and I shall use it!"
With a sharp jerk Sexton Blake drew himself on to the roof, and a bullet whistled by his head. The next second he was on the Kaiser, gripping his revolver-wrist and holding him down. But even then the Kaiser was not giving in easily. His blood was up. Freedom had been so near to him, and he was going to struggle to retain it.
Now Spearing and Tinker were on the roof, too, crawling along to help their chief.
With a mighty show of strength, for which few would have given his slender physique credit, the Kaiser raised himself to his knees, his arms locked round the detective, and the two swayed backwards and forwards, the revolver going off again in the scuffle, the bullet cutting through Spearing's felt hat.
It looked as if the Kaiser was never destined to return to Germany, but was to be picked up—a corpse—from the line. A fall from the train, at the pace at which she was travelling, would mean certain death.
Sexton Blake was struggling to get his man in a grip that could not be shaken, and the others were unable to help him on the sloping roof.
"The train's stopping!" Spearing shouted.
It was right enough. Evidently someone had heard the struggle on the roof—possibly the revolver-shot—and had pulled the alarm-bell.
Sexton Blake redoubled his efforts, hoping to be able to get the Kaiser back into the compartment before the train actually stopped; but the latter struggled like a madman, and twice nearly flung himself and Sexton Blake from the roof. With a jerk the train stopped, and excited voices shouted out, directing the guards to the scene of the struggle; but still the Kaiser fought on, not reckoning what the consequences might be.
A guard came clambering on to the roof, another following him.
"Here, what does this mean?" The first shouted.
At last, realising his position, the Kaiser stopped struggling, and a guard seized him and dragged him down to the line. Sexton Blake and Spearing followed, and were instantly surrounded by excited passengers; but Tinker managed to slip down in the darkness and clamber into an empty compartment. Not that he minded being captured with his master, but he felt that his freedom might mean much later on.
"What does this mean?" one of the guards demanded, addressing Sexton Blake.
"This man was our prisoner," the detective answered promptly, "and he tried to escape."
The guard eyed Sexton Blake up and down suspiciously.
"I reckon you'll have to prove that," he said. "Will some of you gentlemen help me to take these men to the van, and stop there until we reach the next station?"
Very crestfallen, his face working with emotion, the Kaiser allowed himself to be bundled into the guard's van with the others. A good dozen of the passengers—all young men—followed, so that there was no chance of escape.
"This is terrible!" the Kaiser whispered, in a shaking voice.
"It is your own fault," Sexton Blake answered bitterly. "You will now learn what the inside of a police cell is like."
A mile further on the train pulled up at a station where it was not marked to stop, and a few words to the stationmaster explained the state of affairs. Five minutes later the train moved on, engine-driver and stoker working hard to make up the time they had lost.
The Kaiser, Sexton Blake, and Spearing were being marched under strong escort to the police station of Atborough.
This did not particularly worry Sexton Blake. On the morrow he knew that Spearing would be able to clear up matters without revealing the Kaiser's identity.
Little did he know the developments matters were to take, or he would not have been so easy in his mind.
Bad News—Tinker Knows Something—What Next?
AT the police-station no time was wasted, and the three men were formally charged before the inspector. The Kaiser boldly gave his name as Smith, and related how the others had attacked him, evidently meaning to rob him, and to prevent this he had escaped from the compartment and clambered onto the roof. They had followed him, that was all.
"What is your name, my man?" the inspector demanded haughtily, addressing Spearing.
"William Spearing!" that worthy snapped.
"Occupation?" the inspector asked mechanically.
"Detective, Scotland Yard!" the famous official growled.
The inspector dropped his pen and stared; then he laughed.
"I suppose you'll be telling me next that this man"—he indicated the Kaiser—"was your prisoner?"
"Should if I liked talking to fools!" Spearing snapped, his temper getting the better of him.
The inspector in charge kept perfectly cool. He was sure that this man was an impostor, and was only too glad to make him commit himself. It would be all the hotter for him when he went before the magistrate on the morrow.
"You have your warrant?" he suggested cunningly.
Spearing started, and ran his fingers savagely through his bristling hair.
"No," he admitted lamely. And the inspector turned to Sexton Blake.
"You?" he said.
"Sexton Blake, sometimes called a detective."
"What, another!" The inspector threw up his hands in mock awe. "You can, of course, prove that?"
"Certainly!" Sexton Blake answered. "Mr. Hardy, the mayor, will do that."
The inspector looked doubtful, and lost some of his bullying manner. Perhaps, after all, these men were genuine, and should that prove to be the case things might be very awkward.
"Very well," he said shortly, "if you wish it I will send for Mr. Hardy in the morning."
Without further commitment, the three men were marched away to separate cells. This did not worry Sexton Blake, as he was so tired that he would be glad to sleep even in a cell, and Spearing was almost pleased at having a chance of making the officious inspector look cheap the next morning. Only the Kaiser, his shoulders very square, looked savagely at the policeman who conducted him to the cell where he was to spend the night.
Early the next morning Sexton Blake requested his gaoler to send for Mr. Hardy, the mayor, but it was not until nearly eleven that he arrived at the police-station. He was a little, fussy man, whom Sexton Blake had once helped out of a trifling difficulty.
"Why, Mr. Blake!" he cried, seizing both the detective's hands. "What are you in here for?"
"You had better ask the inspector," Sexton Blake answered, nodding at the man, who was standing rather sheepishly by the door. "I told him who I was, and that Mr. Spearing and myself were merely endeavouring to prevent a prisoner, an important one, escaping."
"But he was brought here, too—the prisoner?" the mayor asked eagerly.
"Yes," Sexton Blake admitted.
"Ah, then not so much harm is done, after all!" the mayor said, in tones of evident relief. "On behalf of the authorities, I apologise for the mistake that has been made. Your prisoner is safe, and—"
"But he isn't," the inspector put in, in a shaking voice.
A dead silence fell over the men in the cell; then Sexton Blake darted forward, and gripped the inspector by the arm.
"What do you mean?" he cried, shaking the man backwards and forwards.
The inspector wriggled free, and made a frantic effort to look dignified.
"Why—why, an hour ago a Mr. Leiberbaum came here"—the inspector licked his lips as if they had gone very dry—"and offered to go bail for Mr. Smith, saying that he had known him well in Germany."
"And you let him go?" Sexton Blake cried.
"What else could I do?" the inspector asked angrily, recovering his nerve. "Mr. Leiberbaum is one of our oldest and richest inhabitants."
"A naturalised Englishman?"
"Why, I don't know," the inspector admitted. And again there was a silence. It was Mr. Hardy, the mayor, who spoke first.
"He could really do nothing else, Mr. Blake," he said apologetically. "This Leiberbaum is a substantial house-holder and therefore a fit and proper bail."
Sexton Blake seemed to rouse himself from a reverie, and his thin lips were set hard.
"May I go now?" he asked shortly. "Mr. Spearing, too, of course?"
"Certainly, sir," the inspector said eagerly, positively anxious to see the last of his prisoners. "I can only say again, sir, that I am sorry that—"
"And where does this Leiberbaum live?" Sexton Blake interrupted sharply.
"The Oaks, Merivale Road, sir," the inspector answered.
Without another word, the mayor trotting excitedly after him, Sexton Blake stepped from the cell into the office, and a few seconds later Spearing, looking very angry indeed, joined him.
"Hear of this!" he snapped at the inspector. "Have you at Yard and teach you your business!"
How much more Spearing would have poured out it is hard to say, but he had no chance to say more, Sexton Blake gripping him by the arm and leading him from the police-station. A cab was passing, and he hailed it, and bundled the surprised official in.
"The Oaks, Merivale Road!" he ordered.
The cab drove away, and Spearing turned in amazement to his companion.
"What meaning of this?" he demanded.
Sexton Blake related what had happened, and Spearing's face fell as he learnt of the Kaiser's escape.
"What doing now?" he jerked.
"I am going to bluff this Leiberbaum," Sexton Blake answered.
Through the town the cab drove, and turned into a road which was evidently occupied by people of means. The houses were large, standing in their own grounds, and most of them boasted stables. The Oaks, before which the cab stopped, was perhaps the biggest and most imposing-looking of them all.
Sexton Blake and Spearing stepped out, and as they did so a boy, who had been lounging on the other side of the road, strolled up. His clothes were muddy, but not particularly old, and, though his face was grimed over, Sexton Blake had no difficulty in recognising his young assistant.
"Spare a copper, guv'nor!" the boy whined.
Sexton Blake made a pretence of feeling in his pockets, and that gave Tinker time to speak.
"Hung about outside the police-station, sir," he whispered; "saw a big, fat man—didn't look like English—go in. When he came out the Kaiser was with him. I followed them here."
"Good lad!" his master answered, in a low tone. "Go round to the back; make sure that he does not leave that way."
Tinker darted off, and Sexton Blake moved towards the gate. There he stopped thoughtfully.
"You had better wait here, my friend," he said, "in case they are bold enough to try and get him away openly."
"Right!" Spearing grunted. And his fingers jingled the handcuffs in his pocket. He was not likely to make a mistake again.
Quite in the manner of a casual visitor, Sexton Blake strolled up the well-kept drive, even stopping once or twice to admire the roses that bloomed in profusion on either side of it. But not once did he really remove his eyes from the windows of the large house. He expected to see people watching, but if they were doing so they managed to hide themselves very successfully. He knocked boldly at the door, and a maidservant answered it.
"Mr. Leiberbaum at home is?" Sexton Blake asked, with a strong German accent.
"I think so, sir," the girl answered. "What name shall I say?"
"Colonel von Harmann," Sexton Blake told her, speaking very distinctly so that no mistake should be made.
The girl departed, leaving the detective standing in the hall, but she quickly returned.
"You are to come in, sir," she announced.
Down the broad hall she led the way, and flung open the door on the left.
"Colonel one Hyman!" she announced, remembering the name as nearly as she could. And Sexton Blake walked quietly in.
A tall, very fat German, aged about sixty, rose eagerly as the detective entered, but as he caught sight of his visitor his heavy jaw dropped.
"There some mistake is," he said, in a guttural tone. "I was a friend expecting."
"I am afraid you will expect him a long time, Herr Leiberbaum!" Sexton Blake remarked, suddenly flinging open the door to make certain the servant was not listening outside.
"And for why?" the German asked, his great round face curiously pasty and flabby-looking.
"Because he is a prisoner onboard one of our battleships," the detective informed him. "You see, the colonel came to see the manoeuvres, and what more could he want than to be actually aboard one of the battleships?"
Herr Leiberbaum sank heavily into a chair, and his fat, white fingers beat nervously on the desk before him.
"But for why have you come here?" he asked slowly. "And who are you?"
"I am Sexton Blake," the detective answered quietly.
"The man who—" The German broke off abruptly, and added, in a shaking voice: "Of you I have heard."
"And I am here," Sexton Blake continued, taking a chair, "to assure myself that his Majesty suffered no harm last night."
The German's chair went back sharply, the legs grating on the polished floor, and he glanced sharply over his shoulder at a closed door.
"What do you mean?" he growled.
The lids had been lowered languidly over the detective's eyes, now they were raised, showing how keen and searching the grey eyes were.
"Don't fool!" he said shortly. "It was you who bailed the man Smith out, the man whom you knew to be the Kaiser—my prisoner. You were followed here, and entered with him."
A curious look of dignity had come into Herr Leiberbaum's manner, and the colour was creeping back to his flabby cheeks.
"So," he admitted calmly.
"And where is he now?" Sexton Blake snapped out the words, hoping to bustle the man into an admission, but for once he was not successful.
The fat German shook his head slowly, and there was a grin on his lips.
"As a detective, it is that you are good, perhaps," he answered, "but as a diplomatist—nein."
Sexton Blake thought rapidly, turning over in his mind, and quickly came to a decision.
"Listen to me, Herr Leiberbaum!" he said earnestly.
"My ears are at your service—so," the German answered placidly.
"I know that it is you who have helped the Kaiser," he continued sternly, "meaning to help him to get back to his own country. Well, suppose you succeed?"
The German shrugged his shoulders. He evidently did not intend to commit himself.
"Do you think that that will end this matter?" Sexton Blake went on. "No; I tell you it will make it worse. Then there will be no treating first hand with the Kaiser, and there will be only one answer to his movements—war."
"Germany has an army!" Herr Leiberbaum sneered.
"Great Britain has a navy!" Sexton Blake rejoined. "Your country is endeavouring to make hers as powerful, but at present she has not succeeded. A great army is no use unless you can land it."
Herr Leiberbaum rose impatiently, and paced up and down the room. He stopped before Sexton Blake, and there was a fighting look in his eyes.
"It is that I have admitted what I have done," he said firmly. "I am a German, even if to England I have come, and the Kaiser is my ruler. He has been here, and I am proud to make owning of it. What can you do? You can search this place—to find him gone."
Sexton Blake looked keenly into the German's face, knowing that he lied, but it told him nothing.
"What can you do?" the German continued. "You can have me arrested—so. And with what would you charge me? You could not the accusation make that I had saved the Kaiser, for that would mean war, and your country is no readier for that than mine."
Sexton Blake rose and took up his hat.
"I admire your pluck," he said.
"I am a German—the Kaiser is my ruler," Herr Leiberbaum answered quietly.
Without further words, the detective left the house, admitting inwardly that he had entirely failed to bluff the stolid German. But of one thing he was certain, and that was that the Kaiser was still in the house. But how to get him out? Herr Leiberbaum had spoken the truth when he had told Sexton Blake that he dared not act openly, but, on the other hand, the detective had not the slightest intention of being beaten. What could he do?
Outside he found Spearing pacing up and down like a sentry.
"What news?" the worthy official jerked eagerly.
"The Kaiser is there right enough," Sexton Blake answered shortly.
"Good!" Spearing started towards the house, his fingers on the handcuffs in his pocket, but Sexton Blake gripped him by the arm and held him back.
"No, not that!" he said sternly. "We have got to get him away, but there must be no publicity."
The Kaiser Leaves—The Carriage Accident—The Cab That Was Not Empty.
HERR LEIBERBAUM strolled down the drive before his house, a fat cigar between his teeth, a perfectly placid look on his heavy-featured face. Apparently, he had not a care in the world, and, as he stopped and examined his roses, blowing a little cigar-smoke over the ones that showed signs of blight, there was nothing about him to suggest that his mind was in the least perturbed. He was just the prosperous merchant taking an interest in his garden during his spare time.
In this manner Herr Leiberbaum strolled down to the front gate, and stood leaning with his elbows on the top of it. It was early evening, dusk was just commencing to fall, and in this aristocratic part people were mostly dining. Anyway, the broad road was empty save for a tradesman's cart that stood right at the further end.
A smile of satisfaction broke through the German's stolid expression, and he turned and walked briskly up the drive. As he reached the front door it opened, and the Kaiser's white face looked out.
"All is well?" he asked eagerly.
"Your Majesty need have no fear," Herr Leiberbaum answered reassuringly.
"Fear?" The Kaiser's eyebrows contracted angrily, and his fingers fidgeted with his bare upper lip. "It is not that I have fear, but I am thinking of what may happen if I do not return to Germany soon."
"There is nothing to stop you now, sire!" Herr Leiberbaum said hopefully. "It is plain that they believe that you have already left here, and by now the boats for the Continent are being watched. But you have nothing to do but go north. I have given you the names of a dozen men who will help you in coast towns, for they are all loyal Germans, even if they do live in England. Your yacht is cruising in the north, so what will be easier than to send a code message to her. She will come to any part of the coast, and a boat will fetch you off.
"What could be easier?"
The Kaiser gnawed his upper lip doubtfully.
"Just because it all sounds too easy do I doubt its success," he answered. "I know this Sexton Blake, and twice has he thwarted even me. It is not like him to give up a case so easily, especially when such great issues are at stake."
Herr Leiberbaum shrugged his shoulders a trifle impatiently. He had risked a lot to help the ruler of his native land, and this hesitation annoyed him.
"Very well, sire," he said; "we will think of another plan!"
"No, no!" the Kaiser cried hastily. "Order the carriage round at once!"
Leiberbaum touched a bell, and less than a minute later a closed carriage drove round to the front door.
"This man could not possibly have been bribed?" the Kaiser whispered anxiously, peering out at the solid face of the coachman.
"He, too, is of our country, sire," Leiberbaum answered. "There is no time to lose. I have already told the man to drive to Bellborough, ten miles from here. That place will not be watched. He will time his arrival so that you only just have time to catch your train. Here is your ticket."
Just for a moment more the Kaiser hesitated, then he stepped into the carriage. He held out his hand to Herr Leiberbaum.
"I shall not forget," he said gratefully.
"Nor I, sire," Leiberbaum answered, bending ponderously over the outstretched hand.
The carriage drove away, and the Kaiser, leaning back in a corner, felt that his troubles were over at last. Once he was clear of the town he would make for someplace right up in the north, after sending instructions to the commander of the Hohenzollern to proceed there. Possibly, Blake was keeping an eye on the Royal yacht, but the Kaiser knew that he dared not do anything once he was on board.
The carriage proceeded rapidly, the broad roads of the residential part were left behind, and the busier thoroughfares entered. The Kaiser leant back further in his corner, fearing that he might be recognised, forgetting that the loss of his moustache was about the finest disguise that he could possibly have had. And with each yard that he covered, he began to feel more and more relieved, and to believe that Sexton Blake had at last been baffled.
"Illness o' the German Hemperor!" a newsboy yelled, and the Kaiser, glancing out of the carriage, saw those words on the poster. He bit his lip savagely, realising that his absence from public life had already been noticed, and that some excuse had had to be made to account for it.
A little further on another boy was displaying a placard, and the words on it brought a growl of anger from the Kaiser.
"Where is the German Emperor?" the bill ran.
The Kaiser pulled the check-cord, and the coachman pulled up. Out of the carriage the Emperor leant, forgetting all about secrecy now, and bought a paper. Little did the grimy-faced urchin who sold it imagine that the scare-line on the placard that he held in front of him referred to this angry-looking man to whom he sold the paper, and who gave him a piece of silver, and drove on without waiting for the change. It was only when the carriage had gone a couple of hundred yards that he discovered that the silver coin was not a shilling, but a piece of foreign money.
"No wonder 'e was in sich a 'urry!" he growled. "S'pose I'll be able ter pass it somewhere!"
Leaning back in the carriage, the Kaiser unfolded the paper with fingers that trembled rather badly, and he had no difficulty in finding the part of the contents that referred to himself. The headings were heavily leaded, and ran as follows:
WHERE IS THE KAISER?
IS HE WATCHING THE MANOEUVRES?
Our Berlin correspondent telegraphs us that for more than a week the Kaiser has been invisible, and that several state functions at which he was to have been present have been postponed. The reason given for this is illness, but it is hard to believe that that is true, for not one of the court physicians have been to the palace. Naturally, there arises the question as to where the Kaiser really is. To answer it is impossible, but, perhaps, it is easy to guess.
WHERE IS THE HOHENZOLLERN?
The Imperial yacht is somewhere in the North Sea, and we need scarcely remind our readers that that is where the great secret manoeuvres are taking place. Already the yacht has been close to the war vessels, and it is reported that the Kaiser has been seen on board. This seems to be probable, yet, if it is the case, it is surely remarkable that his Majesty paid no visit to the admiral in charge, despite the fact that a salute of guns was fired as soon as the Royal yacht approached.
Surely, considering that even British vessels are forbidden to follow the manoeuvres with sightseers on board, something should be done to check this German spying. True, the spying is being done by no less a man than the Kaiser, but that only makes it more significant.
Is it not quite time that this kind of thing was put a stop to?
The Kaiser crumpled the paper up and threw it away.
"The fools!" he muttered.
The carriage was passing along a busy thoroughfare now, and the traffic was at times congested.
Suddenly, a heavy cart swung out of a side turning, tried to cut in front of the Kaiser's brougham, swung round to avoid a collision, but was too late. The heavy wheel of the cart caught the rear wheel of the brougham and fairly ripped it off.
In an instant all was excitement. The shock of the impact had thrown the brougham horse, which was now doing its best to kick the carriage to pieces, and the coachman hastily jerked the door open.
"Afraid you were hurt, sir," he whispered, as he helped the Kaiser out.
Already a crowd had sprung up, apparently from nowhere, and a policeman was forcing his way through. The Kaiser went white, fearing recognition.
"Now then, what's all this?" the constable demanded importantly.
The Kaiser looked round quickly, his one idea being to get away from the crowd.
"Cab, sir?" a man shouted, drawing his cab up beside the crowd.
Without hesitation, the Kaiser pushed his way through the crowd.
"Bellborough station!" he ordered, and stepped into the cab.
With a cry he started back, but a hand gripped his wrist. The cab was already occupied—by Sexton Blake!
"What does this mean?" the Kaiser demanded in a shaking voice.
"Merely that I am not beaten so easily as you imagine, sire," the detective answered blandly.
"Then you—"
"Precisely," Sexton Blake explained. "The accident was arranged by me. Of course, I could have followed you to Bellborough, but I was not anxious to make a scene there—for your sake—and it is so much easier to explain in this cab."
The Kaiser moved nearer to the window.
"I shall order the man to stop!" he said fiercely.
"I should not, if I were you, sire," Sexton Blake protested. "You see, the man happens to be Mr. Spearing, and I doubt whether he would take orders from you."
The Kaiser leant back in his seat, the look of a man who knows that he is beaten in his eyes.
"Where are we going!?" he asked at last.
"We are carrying out my original intention, sire," Sexton Blake answered. "We are going to London."
"I refuse!" the Kaiser snapped.
Sexton Blake shook his head playfully, and called to Spearing to drive faster.
"You really should not joke, sire!" he protested.
In London—By Way of the Embankment—
The Call for Help—The Kaiser Captured.
SEXTON BLAKE helped the Kaiser to alight from a cab, and dismissed it.
"Where are we?" the latter asked sharply, looking round at the practically deserted streets.
"Why, by St. Paul's Station, close to the Embankment, sire," the detective answered readily.
On the other side of the road a cab pulled up, and four men clambered out. They walked briskly across to the station and entered the booking-office. If anyone had followed them, however, he would have seen that they did not take tickets, but stood close to the door, one of them peering out, as if waiting for someone.
"But why here?" The Kaiser protested. "Were you not taking me to this Prime Minister of yours?"
"Precisely," Sexton Blake agreed. "It is quite time that you made the terms that will purchase your liberty, and I mean that you shall do so to-night."
"Bah, you mean great things!" the Kaiser sneered, but there was an uneasy look in his eyes. "Others know that I am here, and I tell you that if I do not go free soon it will mean war."
Sexton Blake bowed coolly, and lit a cigar.
"I am aware of that," he admitted—"quite aware that men of your own country know that you are here. You think it possible that I can have passed all the years that I have at detective work without knowing that there is quite a small army of Germans in England? Ay, I know that, and that practically every town, every defence in Great Britain is as well known to your officers as to ours—more shame to us! Your spies have worked well for years, unhampered by our authorities, though the truth has been pointed out to them!"
"They have laughed—saying they were too strong for us," the Kaiser sneered.
"And at present we are," Sexton Blake said quietly; "for your plans are not mature, especially now that you have had that little upset in the Shetlands."
The Kaiser glared as he thought of the work of years being done by a few dynamite cartridges.
"Let us go to this minister of yours!" he snapped. "Perhaps he will see reason."
Sexton Blake nodded, and slipped his arm through the Kaiser's. The latter tried to free himself, but found it impossible.
"Am I to be treated as a criminal?" he demanded haughtily.
"Why, no, sire," Sexton Blake answered, "but as a precious possession that must on no account be lost. Besides, it has been raining, and the pavements are slippery. What more natural than I should try and prevent you falling?"
The two crossed the road, and entered the Embankment. It was ten o'clock, an hour at which there is very little traffic about, for it is too early for the theatre traffic to be swarming down onto the Embankment. Here and there a couple of ragged men lounged on the seats, but a penetrating drizzle was falling, and that had driven most of the outcasts to the shelter of arches and doorways, where they would crouch until the police should turn them out.
On the river the lights of an occasional barge or tug glimmered, but even they were made dim by the rain.
If Sexton Blake had looked behind him he would have seen that the four men who had entered St. Paul's Station were following. True, if he had looked back, he still would have thought nothing of it, for what was there remarkable in four men walking westwards along the Embankment at that hour of the night?
Past the Temple Sexton Blake and the Kaiser walked, stepping out briskly, and it was then that the four men following separated, and one hurried on ahead of the rest, and passed the detective and his companion. He was a ragged-looking fellow, and he walked with the shuffle peculiar to the outcast, vagrant class. His companions had quickened their pace, too, but slackened it again when within twenty yards of the detective.
Something about the furtive manner of the man who had shuffled past attracted Sexton Blake's attention, and he followed him with his eyes. He saw him hesitate, glance round once or twice, then turn towards the steps leading from Cleopatra's Needle to the river.
A queer feeling gripped at the detective's heart. No man in London knew better than he what a favourite place for suicides this was, and he quickened his footsteps.
"Help!" The cry rang out shrilly from the direction of the steps, breaking off as if choked back by the water.
Jerking the Kaiser with him, Sexton Blake started forward at a run. He guessed that the outcast had flung himself in, meaning to take his life, but had learnt to fear death as soon as he had struck the water. There are many would-be suicides like that, men who do not realise really what they are doing until the bony hand of Death is really at their throats.
In the ordinary way, Sexton Blake would not have hesitated to dive in after the man, but things were different now. He was linked to the Kaiser, and not for so much as a second dared to release him.
Straight to the steps he ran, still dragging the Kaiser with him, and stood peering down at the swiftly-running river. He could see no trace of the vagrant, and decided that the tide must have already—
Someone leapt from the shadow of the wall, and Sexton Blake, seeing him coming, tried to dodge aside. In this manner he half avoided the blow aimed at him with a heavy cudgel, but even then it struck him down the side of the head and glanced off on to his shoulder, causing him to stagger back.
Before he could recover himself a pair of powerful hands had gripped him, and he was being forced down the steps towards the water. The danger of his position roused him, and in the darkness he stared into his assailant's face.
It was a face to remember, too. Livid white, adorned—if the word may be used—by a straggling, red beard. But the one thing that the detective noted more than all else was a scar that had severed the upper lip at some time or another, healing so that it was all puckered and drawn up.
All this Sexton Blake saw, but the blow on the side of the head had temporarily weakened him, and he struggled but feebly as he felt himself being forced down the steps.
Then he was heaved backwards, the evil face with the red beard was no longer near to his own, and he struck the cold waters of the Thames and sank beneath the surface.
The shock of the cold water revived him, taking away the dazing effects of the blow that he had received, and he struck out strongly to get his head above the surface. Then he shook the water from his eyes, and found that the tide was fast carrying him past the steps, with a strength that there would be no fighting against.
He cursed himself for a fool, telling himself that he ought to have known that another attempt would be made to rescue the Kaiser. He looked to where he had left his distinguished prisoner, and a gasp of amazement broke from him.
By the light of a lamp on the Embankment Sexton Blake saw four men struggling, and the man in the midst of them was the Kaiser. Then the tide carried him on, and he could see no more.
By the light of a lamp on the Embankment Sexton Blake saw four
men struggling, and the man in the midst of them was the Kaiser.
Then the tide carried him on, and he could see no more.
Sexton Blake's brain fairly swam, partly with the blow that he had received, partly with what he had just seen. Why was the struggle going on if these men were rescuing the Kaiser? For what other reason could they have thrown the detective into the Thames?
A sharp splash caused Sexton Blake to turn, and he caught a glimpse of a man struggling in the river. In a glance he saw that he could not swim, and, without hesitation, he turned and swam back towards him. The tide prevented him making much progress, but it also bought the struggling man towards him.
Just as the man was about to sink, Sexton Blake contrived to grip him.
"Keep still," he panted, "and I will save you!"
The man made no answer, he had fainted, and Sexton Blake, swimming on his back, the man's head supported on his chest, struck out down stream, working close to the wall so that he might strike the next lot of steps.
The tide was running with a vengeance, and it was less than five minutes when he was able to scramble on to the steps and drag the unconscious man after him. Up the steps he went with him, and laid him down, thankful to see that there was no one about, for he was not anxious to have to answer a lot of questions just then.
He looked keenly along to where he had seen the struggle going on, but the place was deserted.
A cab came crawling by, and the detective hailed it. The man at once drew up to the kerb, but made a move to go away again as soon as he caught sight of the condition of the detective's companion.
"No inquests fer me," he growled.
Sexton Blake seized the reins, and the horse stopped.
"Here, leggo!" the cabby cried angrily, flourishing his whip.
"A sovereign to take us to Baker Street," the detective said shortly.
"He ain't corpsed?" the cabby asked, nodding at the insensible man.
"No."
"Then I'll do it for two quid," the cabby said. "It's worth that fer messin' the cushions up."
Without comment Sexton Blake carried the man into the cab, and it drove away. Then he turned his attention to the man, starting as he recognised in him Herr Leiberbaum's coachman. He tried to bring him to, and had just succeeded when Baker Street was reached. Tinker opened the door, and his face was blank with amazement when he saw that it was not the Kaiser who was with his master.
"What's wrong, sir?" he asked quickly.
"Get brandy at once, my lad," Sexton Blake answered shortly, "then 'phone Spearing to come here; I think there will be work for him."
A stiff dose of brandy quickly brought the young German to his senses, and he staggered from the couch on which the detective had laid him.
"Where is he?" he cried, in a shaking voice.
"The Kaiser?" Sexton Blake queried.
"Yes, yes," the German agreed, a terrible look of fright in his eyes. "What have they done with him?"
Sexton Blake gripped the man by the shoulders and forced him back onto the couch.
"That is just what I want you to tell me," he said sternly.
For a moment the man lay staring up at the detective, then he dragged himself to a sitting position, and gripped him by the arm.
"You are Sexton Blake," he asked hoarsely—"the man who captured the Kaiser?"
"Yes."
The young German looked quickly round the room, as if to make sure that no one else was there.
"Then you must save him!" he cried. "Within an hour he may be dead!"
Cool man though Sexton Blake was he staggered back, and his face went pale. The man on the couch was not bluffing, for his eyes were wild with fear. He spoke the truth.
"What do you mean?" Sexton Blake held more brandy to the man's lips and made him drink it.
By an effort the German controlled himself, and began to speak hurriedly.
"After the smash I guessed something was wrong," he said, "for I knew who did it and I was driving. I have served his Majesty, and I did not hesitate. I slipped from the crowd, leaving the carriage to take its chance, and followed you to the station. I heard you take tickets for London, and I took one, too, but not before I had telegraphed a friend of mine to meet me and bring others, men to be relied upon, with him. I used a code that he and I had made for fun years before, and so I could tell him what he had to do—to rescue the Kaiser."
The man groaned, and buried his face in his hands.
"Little did I think that he had turned Anarchist, that such a chance as this—"
"Ah!" the detective ejaculated. "Quick, go on; there is no time to be lost."
"He met me," the German continued, in a shaking voice; "and three friends were with him. I did not like the look of them, but he told me that they were to be trusted. There was no time to doubt him, for we had to follow you. When you went along the Embankment we made our plans, and one of them then hurried on and gave the cry that took you to the steps. You were flung over, and then—I saw something was wrong.
"My companions flung themselves at the Kaiser. I rushed to his rescue, but was thrown into the river."
The man stopped, and hid his face in his hands again, but Sexton Blake gripped him by the shoulders and dragged him to his feet.
"Where did this friend of yours come from?" he demanded.
"Great Adam Street, Soho," the man answered.
Sexton Blake's brows contracted sharply, for the man had named one of the most notorious Anarchist roads in that district. What should he do? Little had he thought that his endeavours to help his country would end by placing the Kaiser's life in imminent peril.
If he were killed by these men, what would follow? Sexton Blake dared not think. He must act at once, without a second's delay.
There was a thundering knock on the door, and Spearing entered.
"Came at once!" he jerked. "What's wrong?"
"Everything," Sexton Blake answered huskily.
"Kaiser escaped!" Spearing grasped.
"Worse," Sexton Blake replied, and his voice was shaking. "He has been rescued from me by Anarchists!"
Spearing's red face went pale, for he needed no further explanation. He knew that the Kaiser was a doomed man unless he could be rescued at once.
"Any clue?" he jerked. "Make the raid at once—only chance! What mean if never goes back to Germany?"
"Don't talk of it," Sexton Blake said, in a low voice. "I dare not think."
"Then what do?"
"You must get a dozen men at once," Sexton Blake answered, "and we must raid the house in Great Adam Street. They may not have taken him there, but they probably have, believing this man"—he nodded to the German—"to be dead."
Spearing hurried to the 'phone, and for five minutes he spoke rapidly into it.
"Take cab," he said. "They'll be there soon as we shall."
Tinker hurried off to fetch a taxi-cab, and while he was away Sexton Blake hurriedly changed his clothes.
"Help yourself to fresh things while we are gone," he said to the German, who had quite recovered by now.
"I am coming with you," the man said quietly. "My emperor is in danger. I can do no less."
Sexton Blake paced up and down the room, his face deadly pale. When he had started for the Shetlands, at the request of the Government, he had little thought that his investigations would end like this. Now his brain was filled with one thought only; everything else was banished from it. The Kaiser was in danger, and must be rescued. Nothing else mattered.
"The cab, sir!" Tinker announced.
Out into the street went the three men and Tinker, and clambered into the cab.
"Great Adam Street, Soho!" Sexton Blake ordered huskily; "and drive—drive like blazes!"
"Can't exceed the limit, sir," the man said civilly. "If I get my licence endorsed there'll be trouble."
Sexton Blake drew a couple of sovereigns from his pocket, and thrust them into the man's hand.
"Get on!" he said sternly.
With a bound the motor started forward, and whirled at top speed down the street, the driver getting every ounce out of her. But that was not fast enough for the men in her, for they knew that the life of a great emperor was at stake.
Terrible News—The Burning House in Soho—A Daring Rescue.
THE drive to Soho was not a long one, but it was all too far for the men in the cab. Their faces were deadly white, and they did not speak a word. They were men facing a desperate hope—men who knew how desperate a chance it was—and they could not speak.
Only Sexton Blake broke the silence by thrusting his head out of the window, and shouting to the driver to go faster. Twice policemen had tried to stop them, but the man had contrived to escape by dodging down side turnings. All this meant a loss of time, and every second was precious.
Sexton Blake was sure that if the Kaiser really was in the hands of Anarchists that they would not hesitate for long. They would know the dangers they were running—that the whole country would be turned upside-down to find their prisoner—and so they would settle with him promptly, and clear out of the way. The detective could fancy them chuckling at the chance that had fairly been thrust upon them, and he ground his teeth.
Yet, if the worst happened, who could be blamed but the Kaiser himself? What other ruler would have risked what he had risked; have come across the sea in—
With a jerk the cab stopped in Shaftesbury Avenue, and the men in the cab saw that a cordon of police was stretched across the road. A fire engine—the horses at full stretch—swayed by, the police moving aside to admit it.
"Can't get through here, sir," a policeman said civilly to Sexton Blake.
The detective and the others clambered out.
"Where is this fire?" the young German cried hoarsely.
"Great Adam Street," the constable answered. "Seems to have started all of a sudden, and was fairly roaring when the engines arrived."
"Adam Street?" the German gasped. "Ach Himmel! If they have—"
Sexton Blake gripped the man by the shoulder.
"Be quiet!" he whispered fiercely. "There is no reason it should be the house."
But in his heart he thought it likely. What easier and safer way could the Anarchists have found of disposing of their noble prisoner than to bind him and fire the house? From what the policeman had said, the fire had been well started.
Spearing touched the constable on the arm.
"Must get through with my friends," he said sharply.
"Impossible,"—the constable answered, thrusting the worthy official back—"unless you are the owner of the house!"
"I'm Spearing—Scotland Yard!" the official jerked.
The constable hastily peered forward, recognised his chief, and drew aside.
"Very sorry, sir!" he said apologetically.
But Spearing heard nothing of it, for he had hurried on with the others towards the scene of the blaze.
Guided by the steady thud of the engines and the glare in the sky, the detectives went up a road on the left. Instantly the whole scene burst upon them.
The fourth house on the right was burning furiously, flames issuing from all the lower windows, despite the streams of water that a dozen engines were pouring onto them. Firemen were working strenuously to save the adjoining property, but it seemed more than probable that half the street would be involved.
"It is the house!" the German gasped.
The firemen were too busy to take any notice of the newcomers, and they forced their way forward until a policeman barred their way.
"Not safe!" he said sternly.
"Are all the inmates saved?" Sexton Blake asked quickly.
The policeman nodded to a group of five men, obviously foreigners, who stood on the pavement a score of yards away.
"Yes, sir," he answered. "There they are. Take it cool, don't they?"
The men certainly did appear to do so. They stood there, their hands in the pockets of their ragged trousers, staring at the fire, as if it fascinated them. One had a cigarette between his teeth.
The young German coachman stared hard at the group for a second, then a fierce cry broke from him.
"It is the men—the murderers!" he whispered hoarsely.
Sexton Blake needed no further bidding, but crossed the road in the direction of the little group. They saw him coming, started back when they recognised him, and looked for a way of escape. There was none, for in one direction was the flames, in the other the detectives.
The young German coachman darted forward, and flung his arms round one of the men; and at the same instant Sexton Blake recognised him as the man with the red beard and the scarred lip who had thrown him into the river.
"Where is he?" the German demanded, in a hissing whisper.
The red-bearded man tried to shake himself free, but the other held on with grim strength.
"What is it that you mean?" the bearded man asked, with a great show of surprise.
His companions were stealthily edging away, and the detectives made no effort to stop them. Already the house was burning so furiously that it seemed impossible that anyone could be alive in it; and all that they wanted to know was whether the Kaiser really was there.
"You know!" the young German snarled, and bent his lips close to the man's ear. "I mean the Kaiser!"
The bearded man flung himself free, and laughed harshly.
"Look!" he cried, a kind of madness taking possession of him. "Look how the flames lick up towards him!"
A gasp of anguish broke from the young German as he realised that the Kaiser was in the burning building, and he turned and ran towards the flames. But, quick though he was, Sexton Blake was quicker, and he had already rushed up to the men in charge of the escape.
"To the top window!" he ordered hoarsely.
The escape officer turned towards the flames, and shook his head at them.
"The house is empty!" he said gruffly. "Anyway, it is impossible to enter."
"The house is not empty!" The words broke from Sexton Blake like shots. "On the top floor there is a man who cannot get away, because—"
The sentence broke off short in the detective's mouth. He realised that, even now, he dared not give away the real state of affairs.
"Sure?" the officer asked shortly, his square jaw becoming more prominent.
"Yes."
A quick order was given, and willing hands seized the escape, and ran it towards the flames. The crowd, which had been noisy hitherto, suddenly dropped into a strange silence. They knew, as they saw the escape moved, that the burning building was still occupied; and they fairly held their breath as they thought of the nerve that a man would have to attempt a rescue.
The flames were darting out from the lower windows in something like a sheet now, and the moment the escape was placed against the wall the fire was licking at the paint of it.
The heat was so great that the men who had placed it in position rushed back hurriedly.
"Impossible!" one of them gasped, putting out with his fingers his smouldering beard.
Sexton Blake looked at the darting flames, at the red-bearded Anarchist, whose scarred lips were distorted by a fiendish grin, and he did not hesitate. It was indirectly through him that the Kaiser was in danger, and it was, therefore, his duty to get him to a place of safety—if it was not already too late.
Too late! As that terrible thought flashed into the detective's brain, he buttoned his coat tightly, and darted for the escape. A policeman threw out his arms to stop him, but he dodged him, and reached the foot of the ladder.
The heat and glare of the fire was so great that he was compelled to close his eyes, and so he felt blindly for the first rung of the ladder.
"Come back!" a hoarse voice yelled, in a frantic command.
But Sexton Blake took no heed of the order. He knew, as the others did not, that the man who lay in the doomed building was Wilhelm the Second, Emperor of Germany. The papers were full of rumours concerning him, his health, his doings, his interest in the manoeuvres; but none of them could say that he was in London, and just now in grave peril of his life.
Up the escape went Sexton Blake, and a jet of water, striking him in the back and playing over him, refreshed him, so that he mounted quickly. He managed to open his eyes, and so was able to fairly jump past the rungs of the ladder, round which the flames were licking. He reached the window-sill, and it was so hot that he could scarcely put his fingers on it.
From below came a hoarse cheer, and as Sexton Blake glanced down for the briefest second he saw the young German close behind him.
"Go on!" the man gasped, in a voice choking and cracked by the heat. "They need help—my duty!"
Already the smoke and heat were making Sexton Blake's head swim, and he realised that he had got to be quick if he was to come out of the building alive. The hose was still playing on him, and he drew a handkerchief from his pocket, held it in the water, then tied it hastily round his mouth and nose.
The smoke was coming out of the window in volumes, but Sexton Blake plunged through it, the German close behind him, and they found themselves in a small room. Through the cracks of the boards smoke was rising steadily, evil, pungent smoke that meant death to those who breathed it. Round the room the two men went, dropping on their knees, searching the hot floor with their hands, but there was no one there. Then they sought for a fresh room, and it was the German who found the door.
A cry, like a gasp, broke from him, and he summoned up all his strength, and flung himself against the woodwork. It gave under the blow, and he was flung through into the room beyond, closely followed by Sexton Blake.
Here there was not so much smoke. The window of the room was open, and through it came the glare of the fire below. It revealed a body, still and inert, lying just beneath it.
Staggering, half-choked, Sexton Blake reached it, and his shaking fingers felt the rope that bound the man's lips, and the scarf that gagged his mouth. From his pocket he dragged out a knife, and slashed through the cords.
"Quick!" he panted. "Help me with him! The window!"
But no answer came, and when Sexton Blake turned he saw that the young German lay insensible on the floor, overcome by the smoke and heat.
There was nothing for it but for Sexton Blake to make the rescue single-handed. He lifted the still body of the Kaiser in his arms, wondering as he did so whether there was life still in it, and half dragged, half carried it to the window in the next room.
A great cheer rose from below as Sexton Blake appeared at the window.
"Jump!" Came faintly from below, and the detective saw that the escape had been moved, and that down in the street stood men, apparently right in the flames, holding a tarpaulin.
He raised the still form of the Kaiser, balanced it, and let it drop. He saw it land fairly in the tarpaulin, then turned and staggered back into the room to fetch the young German. He could see nothing now, for the smoke had made him quite blind, and a great red pillow seemed to be forcing itself down on the top of his brain. But even then he remembered the man lying still on the floor, and groped his way to him. His knees gave way, and he continued on all-fours until he touched the body.
Now came the greatest struggle of all, and it was only the detective's marvellous nerve that pulled him through. He gripped the man by the collar, and inch by inch dragged him to the window. There he tried to raise him, but four times his strength failed him. Again he made the effort, and this time got the body to the sill.
With his arms around the young German, seeing and knowing practically nothing, Sexton Blake toppled from the window, and went whirling down towards the street. In a state of semi-consciousness, he felt himself strike the tarpaulin; then a great explosion shook the air, and he lapsed into unconsciousness.
The Anarchists had laid their plans well, and had made sure of the house and its contents being destroyed by placing bombs there. But Sexton Blake's pluck had made their efforts futile.
SEXTON BLAKE opened his eyes, and dimly saw that he was in his own bed-room in Baker Street. His head still ached terribly, but even then he remembered all that had happened. The kidnapping of the Kaiser, the fire, the rescue.
"The Kaiser," he asked, in a weak voice. "What of him? Is he alive?"
"Very much, thanks to you," a quiet voice said; and the Kaiser himself moved from a chair by the window and bent over the detective.
"You owe me no thanks, sire," Sexton Blake said, with a wry smile. "It was my fault that your life was put in danger."
The Kaiser shrugged his shoulders, and a moody expression crossed his face. He could not help thinking of the defeat of all his plans for forming a naval base in the North Sea.
"No, the fault was mine," he said slowly. "I have been too ambitious, and I have paid the price."
Sexton Blake dimly wondered why the Kaiser had not escaped, and he glanced towards the door, instinctively looking to see if it were guarded. The Kaiser saw the look, and smiled.
"I have never taken advantage of a disabled enemy," he said quietly. Then added, with a rueful smile: "Besides, I rather fancy that your large and muscular friend, Mr. Spearing, is in the passage."
Downing Street—The Ministers Have a Surprise—Terms Arranged.
THE study of the Prime Minister's house in Downing Street looked exactly as it had done when Sexton Blake was first summoned to it, to be sent from there to the Shetlands. The map of Great Britain still hung on the wall, a number of little flags, evidently indicating the position of the vessels of the manoeuvring fleet, being stuck in it. That was the only change.
And the Prime Minister himself, his clever face wearing a worried look, was again pacing up and down the room. Also, as before, he stopped from time to time and studied the map, his finger tracing the way from the Shetlands to the western coast.
Then, just as before, the door opened, and a manservant announced:
"Mr. Kennard."
The young-looking Lord of the Admiralty came in briskly, and shut the door behind him. He was older-looking, and the dark marks under his eyes suggested that he was suffering from want of sleep. In his right hand he carried a bundle of papers.
"Still studying roads for enemies," he remarked, with a laugh that was distinctly forced.
"Precisely," the Prime Minister agreed. "You know what Mr. Sexton Blake said: 'if you do not hear from me you will know that I have learnt things that I dare not trust to the wires.' Now I am worrying my brain as to what he has discovered. Can you guess, Kennard?"
Mr. Kennard seated himself with an air of carelessness, but the twitching of his mouth showed that he was not so much at his ease as he wished to appear.
"Will you give me a cigar?" he asked. "It steadies my nerves."
The Prime Minister pushed a box over, and Mr. Kennard lit up. It might have been noticed that his strong, capable fingers were shaking a trifle. The Prime Minister did notice it, and wondered what was the matter.
"Can you guess what Sexton Blake has discovered?" he repeated.
Mr. Kennard flung the used match into the grate, and twisted his cigar nervously between his fingers.
"I know," he answered, with a quick glance towards the door.
"You have heard from him?" the Prime Minister asked eagerly.
"No, from Ferrar," Mr. Kennard corrected. "I have the message here—sent by wireless via Dover. Obviously he is afraid of saying too much."
"The message!" the Prime Minister cried eagerly. "In the half an hour I must be in the House, and it may be something to speak about."
"I fancy not," Mr. Kennard answered; and there was a savage note in his voice. "Listen! This is the message:
"'Germans have marked special harbours. Shetlands to have been base for operations. Nine prisoners. Sexton Blake will explain.'"
Mr. Kennard looked up, the paper shaking between his fingers.
"Nine prisoners!" the Prime Minister echoed in amazement. "What does he mean?"
Mr. Kennard flung his half-smoked cigar into the grate, and his brow was furrowed across and across.
"They can't have got as far as that," he muttered.
"Don't talk in riddles! As what?" the Prime Minister demanded.
"Of garrisoning the place!" Mr. Kennard explained desperately. "Yet how otherwise could there be prisoners?"
There was silence for fully a minute; then the Prime Minister spoke.
"You have seen Sexton Blake?"
"No," Mr. Kennard admitted. "I sent to his house yesterday evening, but he had not returned. I then left a message that he was to come here as soon as he was back in London."
The Prime Minister shrugged his shoulders wearily, and suddenly looked like a man who wondered whether the weight of the office he had voluntarily taken upon himself was worth supporting.
"I have always known that Germany was making preparations in case of war with us," he muttered, evidently speaking his thoughts aloud, "but to have gone so far as this—no."
"This mimic naval war may turn into grim earnest," Mr. Kennard said; and his jaw bent forward, and his eyes sparkled.
He was a peaceable man, some said too much so for his post; but now that danger loomed so close ahead the fighting blood of the Britisher was showing. Even his slim body seemed to expand, and he squared the shoulders made rounded by much study.
"Hardly that—" the Prime Minister began, but stopped as a knock came at the door.
"Mr. Sexton Blake, sir," the servant announced.
The two Ministers looked at each other, their eyes sparkling.
"Show him in at once!" the Prime Minister ordered sharply.
The man departed, but a few seconds later the door re-opened, and Sexton Blake entered. He came in slowly and heavily, like a man who is tired. His face was pale, and he carried his right hand in a sling.
"You are hurt!" the Prime Minister ejaculated, pushing a chair forward for the detective.
"Why, yes," the latter admitted, in a voice not quite so strong as usual. "Our profession is like that, you know; there are dangers."
He seated himself, and leant back wearily, but there was a sparkle in his eyes, and a faint smile came to his lips as he thought of what he had come to tell.
"We have had a message from Admiral Ferrar," Mr. Kennard said sharply, impatient to come to the point, "but it tells little."
"I may see it?" Sexton Blake held out his uninjured hand, and the message was handed to him without hesitation. He smiled as he read it, and tossed it on to the table.
"It certainly tells little," he admitted.
"But why?" Mr. Kennard demanded.
"Because the admiral only knew a little," the detective explained. "There were certain things that it was well not to tell even him. The existence of the German airship he was bound to know, and—"
"Airship at the Shetlands?" the Prime Minister gasped.
"Precisely," Sexton Blake assured him. "An airship carrying twelve men—Germans."
The Prime Minister rose excitedly from his chair, unable to keep still.
"What were they doing there?" he cried.
Sexton Blake shrugged his shoulders, and his eyes glittered.
"What have the men been doing there for months past?" he answered.
Mr. Kennard held up a hand as the Prime Minister was about to speak.
"Let us get the matter straight," he said, in a voice made hard by his efforts to keep it under iron control. "Kindly tell us all that has happened, Mr. Blake—all."
Then Sexton Blake told everything, leaving out the identity of the Kaiser, and the two Ministers sat and stared at him in astonishment. They were drinking to the dregs a very bitter cup, for they knew that long since the North should have been guarded.
The Prime Minister crossed the room, and traced his fingers along the great map. Unconsciously he drew out the flags, and jabbed him them into places right inland. Certainly he was very upset by the news that he had just received, and not without reason.
"Who was the man behind all this?" he asked suddenly, facing the detective.
"The Kaiser," the latter answered.
"No, no; I mean the man at the Shetlands," the Prime Minister explained.
"The Kaiser," Sexton Blake said again.
There was a dead silence, during which the two Ministers stared at the detective with startled eyes.
"You don't mean," Mr. Kennard said at last, in a low voice, "that the Kaiser was on the airship, that he himself was directing operations?"
"You have seen the reports in the papers," Sexton Blake answered, "the rumours as to where the Kaiser really was? Well, I could clear them up. The Kaiser was in the Shetlands, and is now in London."
"In London?" Mr. Kennard repeated the words like a man in a dream.
"As a matter of fact"—a faint smile played round the detective's lips—"he is waiting in the next room."
The Prime Minister stared at the detective.
"He must be mad!" he muttered.
"No; I can fetch him in," Sexton Blake assured. "If you think, you will understand that I could do nothing else. I dared not let him fall into the admiral's hands. It would have meant war."
"But what does it mean now?" the Prime Minister asked, like a man in a dream.
"Why, just what you like to make it," the detective answered; "but one thing I will tell you. The Kaiser realises the awkward position that he is in, and that at all costs he must get back to his own country without delay. He is ready to make practically any terms to accomplish that."
The Ministers looked keenly at each other. At last they saw how the detective had placed the game in their hands.
"You have done more than well, Mr. Blake," the Prime Minister said earnestly, "so well that I am going to ask you to do one thing more."
The detective bowed, his eyebrows raised inquiringly.
"Suggest our terms," the Minister explained.
"That is simple," Sexton Blake answered. "It is rumoured, not without good foundation, I believe, that five millions must be spent on warships at once."
Mr. Kennard nodded, and looked eager.
"This is necessitated almost entirely by the action of Germany," the detective continued. "If we can induce them to swear not to increase their naval strength, not to go on with this mad competition in naval expenditure, the five millions need not be spent."
The Prime Minister rose to his feet, and held out his hand.
"Mr. Blake," he said, "you and I ought to change places."
Sexton Blake rose, and moved towards the door.
"I will bring his Majesty in," he said quietly.
The two Ministers stood staring at the open doorway, and they stared even harder when Sexton Blake returned with a clean-shaven man. Then an angry laugh broke from the Prime Minister.
"This is no time to joke, Mr. Blake," he protested. "This is not the Kaiser."
The clean-shaven man drew his heels together, bowed, and stared at the Ministers haughtily.
"Unfortunately it is, gentlemen," he said quietly, "though the last few days I have almost doubted my identity."
Then the Ministers realised that Sexton Blake had spoken the truth, and they bowed respectfully.
"Let us get to work, gentlemen," the Kaiser said abruptly. "I admit myself in your hands. Your terms are bound to be mine."
"You will not find them so very hard, your Majesty," the Prime Minister murmured.
"In five years things would have been different," the Kaiser continued, with a burst of anger. "There would have been no talk of terms then."
"I am glad that it is not five years hence, then, your Majesty," the Prime Minister said, "just as I hope that trouble between our two nations may always be five years ahead."
For half an hour the Ministers and the Kaiser spoke in low tones.
"I have your permission to announce this in the House?" the Prime Minister said at the end of that time.
"So!" the Kaiser admitted. "In fact, with your permission—" he lowered his voice, as if someone outside the room might hear.
"Why, certainly, sire," the Prime Minister agreed; and there was a little smile on his lips.
ALL through the afternoon the House had been engaged in a debate on Irish Small Holdings, and, despite a few heated speeches by the Labour members, it had developed into such a heavy business that the benches had practically emptied. But with the evening they began to fill, and by eight o'clock a strong muster of the members had assembled.
A rumour had gone round the House that the Prime Minister had an important announcement to make, and it had been added, apparently on good authority, that it was with regard to the naval manoeuvres now in progress. That was enough to bring the usually lagging members to their places, especially when they heard that it was the attitude of Germany towards Great Britain that was to be discussed.
Every member knew that the proposed expenditure of at least five millions of increasing the Navy was entirely due to the fact that Germany was laying down huge ships as fast as possible, and they wondered whether it could be possible that even a larger sum would have to be voted if Great Britain was to still command the ocean. Labour members sat and blandly smiled, thinking that here was a chance to pour out heated words in favour of the scheme, for new ships would mean work for hundreds of men.
At five minutes to nine the Prime Minister entered, Mr. Kennard with him. The former looked a trifle pale, but his eyes were those of a man who has gained a great triumph, and who sees the realisation of one of his fondest dreams within reach. Mr. Kennard held his head high, but his thin face showed no sign of anything.
As the Ministers entered, two visitors were ushered into the Distinguished Strangers' Gallery. The pale man, whose right hand was in a sling, a few of the Members might have recognised as Sexton Blake, the famous detective, but it is safe to say that in the clean-shaven man with the haughty expression not a single one of them recognised the fiercely-moustached Emperor of Germany.
A few more remarks concerning the Irish Small Holdings were made, then Mr. Kennard rose to his feet. Instantly a great hush fell over the House.
"Gentlemen," he said, and in his voice there was just the suggestion of a tremor, "I have a statement to make to-night which I believe will meet with general satisfaction—even from the Opposition. For some time past the action of certain foreign nations has led us to consider whether we ought not to considerably add to the numerical strength of our fleet."
"Germany!" a Labour member cried.
"As my honourable friend has remarked," Mr. Kennard continued, "Germany is the nation to which I chiefly refer. For years she has been endeavouring to make our supremacy on the sea a thing of the past, until we have been driven into a corner, forced to spend millions of money. Well, we have thought over the situation, diplomacy has not been idle, and at last I am able to announce that an arrangement with Germany is about to be entered into which will render the expenditure of this vast sum on ships of war unnecessary. In short, Germany will not increase its navy, and so we, too, may call a halt."
As the Chief Lord of the Admiralty paused, Mr. Alexander Brown, Labour member for North Buswell, rose excitedly to his feet.
"And may I ask whose word we have for that?" he demanded.
"The word of the Kaiser himself!" Mr. Kennard answered, with dignity; and for a moment his eyes were turned towards the Strangers' Gallery, to where a clean-shaven man of haughty aspect sat nervously feeling at his upper lip. "I may also add"—Mr. Kennard spoke slowly and impressively—"that it is quite likely that, as a mark of confidence, his Majesty will be permitted to witness the end of the present naval manoeuvres."
The excitable member for North Buswell was on his feet in an instant.
"May I ask whether his Majesty will witness them under an oath of secrecy?" he demanded.
But Mr. Kennard sat down without answering, and up in the gallery the Kaiser laughed softly.
"After all, my friend," he whispered to Sexton Blake, "there are more boring entertainments than this Parliament of yours. So?"
The Attack on the Thames—Repelled—
The Kaiser Leaves for Germany—
The Imperial Explanation—The End.
IN the broad mouth of the river all was dark as pitch, and the wind that blew in sharply from the sea raised waves that would not have discredited an ocean. Here and there sailing barges beat their way out, the water washing over their scuppers, but most of the smaller vessels were content to lie in safety further up the river. A day or two made no real difference, and a fair wind and sea is worth waiting for.
Through the choppy waves a vessel came ploughing its way, its white hulk looking ghostly in the darkness, and swung round right beside a huge battleship which was steaming just strongly enough to hold her own against the tide.
The white boat was the Hohenzollern, the Kaiser's yacht, and the German Emperor himself stood on the bridge. Once more a fiercely-upturned moustache adorned his lip, and only the man who stood beside him, who was none other than Sexton Blake, could have said that it was one of the finest imitations that had ever been worn.
By an act of diplomacy the famous detective had got the Kaiser aboard his yacht at Dover without attracting attention, and now, as had been extensively published in the papers, he was to watch the final stages of the manoeuvres—the attack on the Thames and attempted capture of London.
Away to right and left of the Hohenzollern great battleships, not a light aboard of them, loomed up, and it was only the occasional rattle of a chain, or the snap of an order, that made one sure that they were real, and not things of the imagination. Other craft; cruisers, destroyers, torpedo-boats, lay rocking in the waves, but their low-lying hulks were invisible in the darkness.
Now and again there was a sharp swish of water, a quick panting of machinery, and one of the torpedo-boats would dash by, the water coming back in a sheet over her bows, her crew in oilskins, bound on a scouting expedition.
All this seemed to fascinate the Kaiser, for he stood on the bridge of his yacht and watched every movement with his eyes in absolute silence.
"They are well handled, these boats," he said at last, a trifle grudgingly.
"Their officers come of a seafaring race, sire," the detective answered quietly.
The Kaiser lapsed into silence again, and pulled carefully at his moustache. And all the time warships were creeping up, stealthily and surely, taking up their positions for resisting an attack.
Then, right ahead, at a distance it was difficult to judge, a light flashed sharply—once, twice.
From all sides came the ringing of bells in engine-rooms, and the air was filled by the great white arms of the Fleet's searchlights. From side to side they swept, circling, making sudden plunges, hunting out the enemy. For the moment the night had vanished, and a day of dazzling brightness had taken its place.
Right ahead lay the attacking fleet, which one of the torpedo-boats had discovered creeping up, and now she lay—battleships, cruisers, and seemingly numberless smaller craft—exposed to the defending fleet. Technically she was beaten, but the discovery did not complete the manoeuvres that the Kaiser was to witness.
Again engine-bells rang, and with surprising swiftness the great war vessels of the defending force darted forward in pursuit of the attacking force. First went the torpedo-boats, fairly leaping into their strides like whippets, and the destroyers and the cruisers were not far behind them. Last came the mighty battleships, gathering way until behind them rolled out a swell heavy enough to sink a barge.
"Very pretty, my friend," the Kaiser sneered, "but it is not war."
"No, thank Heaven!" Sexton Blake answered fervently, watching one of the sinister-looking cruisers pass.
The Kaiser paced restlessly up and down the bridge as his yacht followed in the wake of the battleships.
"But why?" he demanded. "War is a good thing for a nation. It makes her men self-reliant, it keeps her on her guard, so that she does not get slack, it gives the ambitious—"
"In the first two things you are right, sire," Sexton Blake interrupted coolly, "but you spoilt yourself when you spoke of the good that war does to the ambitious. It is those men who make war, confident in the strength of arms behind them, really not needing more land and possessions, but only wresting them from their neighbours because of—ambition. They forget the men who have got to die to gratify that ambition, the mothers and sweethearts who must weep, the toilers who go more heavily to their tasks because they are so taxed—to pay for this same ambition—that they scarce seem to touch the money that they earn so hardly. Ambition is a terrible thing when it leads a man to throw a nation into bloody strife."
"A ruler—" the Kaiser began; but again Sexton Blake interrupted him.
"I know what you would say, sire," he said, "that a ruler is not as other men, and you are right, for his actions can do much for his people. A word from him means happiness or pain, not to his own family, but to millions. Yet, through it all, he should remember that it is only accident of birth that has made him the ruler of a nation, should not forget that but for that he might not be the man with the ambition for conquest, but the struggling man forced to pay the price for it."
The Kaiser was silent for a minute, a moody look on his face, then he turned to the officer on the bridge and gave him an order that made Sexton Blake eyebrows go up in surprise.
"Then you will follow the manoeuvres no further, sire?" he asked.
"No," the Kaiser answered, with determination. "I am tired of all this playing at battle, and I am going straight home."
"You will have good news for your people?" Sexton Blake suggested.
The Kaiser shook his head, and a rueful expression crossed his face.
"Ah, but you do not know my people!" he said quickly. "They would coin their very blood into money to pay for arms—if I told them to."
"But you have lost ambition in that direction, sire," Sexton Blake said.
"Why, yes, my friend," the Kaiser answered slowly. "I fancy that I have only two ambitions left."
"I may ask what they are?"
"An ambition to go home," the Kaiser answered, a dreamy look in his eyes, "and to have you at the head of my secret service." He swung round upon the detective, and his face was very eager, but Sexton Blake spoke before he could say more.
"Remember, sire," he said earnestly, "that Britishers are patriotic, too, and that I am one of them."
"No offer would tempt you?" the Kaiser persisted.
"None while Great Britain belongs to the Britishers," Sexton Blake assured him.
The Hohenzollern, gathering way with every yard she covered, swept out of the Thames, taking the Kaiser back to his people.
TINKER came hurrying into the breakfast-room at Baker Street, a broad grin on his face, a newspaper in his hand.
"Anything about the Kaiser's plans yet?" Sexton Blake asked, looking up from his breakfast.
"I should jolly well think so, sir!" the boy answered. "Oh, he's got out of it beautifully! Just read it, sir!"
The boy thrust the paper excitedly under his master's nose, pointing to a column that was headed:
NO DANGER FROM GERMANY.
FIVE MILLIONS SAVED.
THE KAISER'S REASON.
The Kaiser has reappeared again, and it is now known that his disappearance was owing to his presence at the British naval manoeuvres, and not, as it was feared, to illness. It is quite evident that his Majesty is much impressed by what he has witnessed, although his statements are evidently intended to give quite an opposite impression.
Last night, in a semi-official speech, he announced that Germany would not continue building ships of war, that, in fact, no more would be laid down for years, as
Germany Is Already the Superior of Great Britain.
Sexton Blake dropped the paper, and laughed. Certainly the Kaiser had wriggled out of his difficulty very neatly. But what did that matter?
"There is another piece you ought to read, sir," Tinker said, pointing to another paragraph, which was headed:
RUMOURED NEW PEER
It is rumoured on good authority that Mr. Sexton Blake, the famous detective, whose name has been before the public for so many years, is to be offered a peerage in return for his services to the State. It appears that for some time he has been the government's principal secret agent, and that even during these manoeuvres he was not idle."
Sexton Blake crumpled the paper up in his hands.
"Get the car round after breakfast, my lad," he answered shortly.
"Anything important, sir?" Tinker asked eagerly.
"Yes," Sexton Blake answered. "I've got to stop this nonsense by telling the Prime Minister that the name of Sexton Blake is all that I want."
Roy Glashan's Library
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