In the Kaiser's Service

Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
Go to Home Page
This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.

ANONYMOUS
(NORMAN GODDARD - 1881-1917)

IN THE KAISER'S SERVICE

RGL e-Book Cover^©

First published in
The Penny Popular, London, No. 30, 03/05/1913

An abridged reprint of
"The German Detective," Union Jack 154, 1906

This e-book edition: Roy Glashan's Library, 2025
Version Date: 2025-04-11

Produced by John Haubrich and Roy Glashan

All original content added by RGL is protected by copyright.

Click here for more Sexton Blake stories

THE FIRST CHAPTER.

Followed — The Kaiser's Cable — A Curt Answer —
Spearing Perplexed — Sexton Blake Arranges a Journey.

RIGHT ahead of Sexton Blake the street stretched away in a straight line for a distance of close upon a mile, until the street lamps on the pavements lost their individuality and blurred themselves into one long line of light. The houses flanking the pavements were mostly dark and sleepy-looking, for it was past midnight, an hour at which the inhabitants of this particular suburb, lying due north of London, had retired to rest, to sleep away the breathing-space between the working days.

Late it was, yet not so late that Sexton Blake, out on a solitary ramble, was alone in the street. Behind him, at a distance of forty yards or so, he could distinctly hear the steady tramp of a man's feet. Without turning, that this man was tall, heavy of build, and that he walked with a singularly even and mechanical strides. His ears, highly trained as every other nerve centre that he possessed, told him that—and more.

Sexton Blake paused beneath a lamp, took his cigar-case from his pocket, and struck a match. He did not look back along the street, but he heard the footfalls of the other man slacken, and smiled. Even then he did not look round.

With his cigar satisfactorily alight, Sexton Blake moved on once more, walking at a brisker pace, as if he had suddenly decided to go home, and meant to lose no time about it. He walked in the roadway now, which was soft from recent fall of rain, so that his footfalls were very faint. Those of the other man, however, the one who followed so persistently behind, were distinct enough to the great detective.

Sexton Blake turned a corner, stopped, and stepped quietly on to the pavement. There was a curious little smile on his lips as he buttoned up his-coat, and, generally, he looked pleased with himself.

The other man's footfalls drew rapidly nearer, and Sexton Blake threw his cigar away. Nearer still the sounds came, until it was plain that this other man, whoever he might be, was close upon the corner. Then the detective swung back round the corner, right into the arms of a tall, powerfully-built man.

"I beg your pardon!" Sexton Blake said hastily, at the same time glancing upwards. Just at the right stood a street-lamp, and by its aid he was able to see the features of the man with whom he had collided. They were broad and heavy, certainly not British, and the upper lip was adorned by a fiercely curled moustache. "I beg your pardon!" the detective said again, as the man made a movement to pass him.

"Ja-so!" the man muttered hurriedly; and, dodging Sexton Blake, he strode away down the side street, his feet falling as regularly as the parts of a machine, his back stiff as a ramrod.

Sexton Blake, lighting a fresh cigar, looked after the man, who made no attempt to turn or look back.

"Hum! German police!" he mused. "I wonder what the deuce the man wanted to follow me for? If the man had been a Russian I could have understood, but—"

With a shrug of his shoulders, Sexton Blake walked briskly on, turning presently into a broader thorough-fare. Here he discovered a hansom, both driver and horse apparently sleeping peacefully, and, after a little persuasion and the offer of an exceptionally liberal fare, induced the man to drive him back to Baker Street, which was reached at something after one in the morning.

This was nothing unusual for the detective; for he was much addicted to roaming the streets at night. It was at such times that he managed to unravel many of the knotty mysteries submitted to him for elucidation.

To Sexton Blake's surprise, he saw that a brilliant light was burning in his consulting room. Then he remembered the German swith the military step who had followed him.

"I hope to goodness it is nothing fresh," he muttered. "I'm busy enough as it is."

Entering the house the detective went straight to his consulting-room, to find it occupied by Tinker and Mr. Spearing, of the Yard. The boy, looking rather sleepy, was reading a paper to keep himself awake, while the official, his little hat thrust on to the back of his head, his Hands clasped behind his back, was pacing up and down the room.

Mr. Spearing stopped his pacing abruptly, snatched off the little hat, and banged it down savagely on the table.

"Germany," Sexton Blake suggested, as he removed his hat and settled himself comfortably in a chair.

"Metz been here?" the official snapped, dropping into a chair, but getting out of it again as sharply as if someone had stuck a pin into him.

"Never heard of the gentleman," Sexton Blake assured him. "Are you talking of the battle, or merely of a man?"

Mr. Spearing thrust his stubbly hair up on end with a gesture which proved plainly that he was not in the best of tempers, but before he could say anything Tinker came forward, with an envelope in his hand.

Sexton Blake tore the envelope open, and smiled as he read the message it contained.

The detective handed the cable over to the official, whose eyebrows went up sharply as he read the message.

Sexton Blake glanced at the message. It was plain and very much to the point. Just:

There was no mistaking who this arbitrary message was from, for the cable was from Potsdam, on the outskirts of Berlin. It was Kaiser Wilhelm II. who had despatched the cable to the great British detective.

"Tinker," the latter said quietly, "just fetch a form, and write this message on it:

"It's—it's a Royal command!" Spearing jerked, in amazement. "Scotland Yard received cable—two hours back—watch for man stolen official document—man named Metz called—wanted to know—"

The bell went sharply, and, at a nod from Sexton Blake, Tinker hurried off to answer it. He was not long gone.

"Man called on me!" Spearing snapped excitedly. "Great German detective—or thinks he is."

"Show him in, Tinker," Sexton Blake ordered quietly, settling himself more comfortable in his chair, and turning to Spearing. "May I ask you to go?"

"Concerned in the case!" he jerked. "This man called—missing document—asked valuable assistance—"

"And you came to me, Sexton Blake interrupted quietly. "I will let you know all that happens. Good-night!"

Just for a moment Mr. Spearing hesitated, then he realised that he could not stay, jammed the little hat on to his head, and strode out of the room.

Scarcely had Mr. Spearing departed before Herr Gustav Metz entered the room. He came in quickly, with the kind of step which ought to be accompanies by the click of spurs, and halted, very upright and stiff, before Sexton Blake.

"Sit down, Herr Metz!" the latter said quietly, waving his visitor to a seat. "Would you prefer to converse in English or German?"

Herr Metz bent himself in the middle, very much as if he were hinged in that portion of his anatomy, and seated himself on the edge of the chair indicated.

"The hour is late very, Herr Blake," he answered, in a guttural voice, "und I must my excuses gemachen. Let us in English speak; I would in England as der native mistaken be."

"A kind of disguise," Sexton Blake suggested, without so much as the flicker of an eyelid, though it amused him immensely that this man should deem it possible that he could be mistaken for anyone but a German under any circumstances.

"So! Herr Metz agreed, eyeing Sexton Blake keenly. "May we to business gekommen?"

"Certainly; unless you would rather wait until after breakfast," Sexton Blake answered; with a significant glance at his watch.

"You need not trouble to be so careful," Sexton Blake answered, a trifle impatiently. "I already know the object of your visit—the lost or stolen document. The Kaiser has wired me to go to Germany, and I have refused."

"Himmel!" Herr Gustav Metz gasped, springing to his feet, his broad face blank with amazement. "Kaiser Wilhelm refused, is it?"

"I did not know that he to you had sent," he said, in a dazed kind of way. "It is no good for me help to eggspect."

Metz rose again to his feet, and took up his hat. There was a weary expression on his face.

It seemed probable that Herr Gustav Metz was accustomed to receiving orders, for he dropped back into the chair without hesitation. Officialdom in Germany, not to mention militarism, is very strict, and that was apparent now.

Sexton Blake lit a cigar carefully, and glanced through the smoke at the German, who was sitting stiffly upright in his chair.

Herr Metz started, but recovered himself quickly, even to the extent of twirling his fierce-looking moustaches.

"So—it is good," Metz said, and sat back in his chair, a look of hesitation in his eyes.

He was beginning to think that an important case lay before him. The Kaiser had sent for him, Herr Gustav Metz had called upon him, he had been followed by a spy through the streets, and even Scotland Yard had been asked to help.

Herr Metz twirled his moustaches nervously, and once more became bolt upright in his chair.

"It is of the gross—greatest importance!" he answered sharply. "It to the War Department must be returned unread—der seals must not broken be!"

"I think I understand," he said quietly. "I shall be ready to go with you to Germany in the morning, Herr Metz."

With his shoulders squared and his boots. clattering loudly, the German marched out, saluting the detective as he passed him. Sexton Blake returned to his consulting-room, and, seating himself in his favourite armchair, lit a fresh cigar.

I wonder what the nature of the document is," he mused, "and why they should think that it would come to England?"

THE SECOND CHAPTER.

Potsdam — The Kaiser's Orders — Metz Obeys, but
not Sexton Blake — The Arrest — Under Escort.

"LOT of policemen about, aren't there, sir?" Tinker queried, as, in company with his master and Herr Gustav Metz, he left the station at Potsdam.

"What's that chap over there? Is he a fireman, a soldier, or a bootblack without his box?"

Herr Gustav Metz, twirling his upturned moustaches, turned and glared down at the boy, but Sexton Blake quite understanding his young assistant's surprise, merely smiled.

"You'll find that in almost every part of this country," he explained. "About every other man is a soldier; the very porters are all under the Government, and give themselves airs on the strength of it, and—

"It is of the truth! Herr Metz interrupted sharply. "The serving of der Vaderland is of the best intent to us!"

Sexton Blake smiled; the man's pompous manner amused him. Later, perhaps, he would be able to rob him of some of it; meanwhile—

A particularly pompous-looking man, wearing the uniform of an officer of Uhlans, came marching up. His face was adorned by a heavy moustache and a forked beard, the former twirled up like the Kaiser's. His eyes, rather close together, and overhung by heavy brows, were remarkably keen.

Saluting slightly as he halted in front of Sexton Blake and his companions, this officer ran them quickly over with his eyes. Herr Gustav Metz saluted, and it was evident that he knew the man.

"And may I inquire who you are, Herr?" Sexton Blake inquired, speaking in German, and addressing the officer.

The latter, who had evidently not considered the possibility of the Britisher being able to speak German, half turned on his heels, so as to bring himself face to face with Sexton Blake, and glared at him angrily.

"I am Colonel von Wortz," he answered importantly, commander of the first regiment of Uhlans, and attached to the staff of Kaiser Wilhelm."

"Most interesting," Sexton Blake murmured. "you can't tell me a good place at which to dine, I suppose? It is a long time since I have been in these parts."

"Dine!" Colonel von Wortz snapped. "It was you, Herr Blake, who insulted the Kaiser"—the officer's hand dropped threateningly to the hilt of his sword, and the detective, knowing, the methods of the German officers, quietly thrust his hand into the pocket where his revolver lay—"it was you who dared to refuse his command!"

"May I ask what all this has to do with me, Herr Colonel?" Sexton Blake asked, though he had already guessed the truth.

Gustav Metz nudged him sharply with his elbow, and whispered something under his breath about obeying, but Sexton Blake paid no attention to him.

"It has this to do with you!" Colonel von Wortz cried angrily. "I am here to command you to come to the Kaiser at once!"

"Silence, dog!" Colonel von Wortz fairly shouted, overhearing the whisper; and Gustav Metz saluted once more, hastily and apologetically.

The officer faced Sexton Blake, and tried to wither him with a glance, while Tinker, though he could not understand a word of the conversation, grinned with glee. One or two civilians, seeing that something was the matter, had halted a few yards away. Further back still stood a group of soldiers. They dared not draw nearer, knowing what their punishment would be if the colonel of Uhlans chose to take offence at their proximity.

It was Sexton Blake who spoke next, and there was that quiet tone and absolute steadiness of voice which marked his words when his mind was fully made up.

"My dear colonel," he said, "I shall be obliged if you will tell the Kaiser how honoured I am at his command, and that I shall be pleased to call at the palace in about two hours' time."

Colonel von Wortz went perfectly purple with rage, and, turning on his heels, he glanced away towards the group of soldiers, who chanced to be men of his own regiment. Sexton Blake noticed the look, and smiled.

"I shouldn't call them if I were you, colonel," he said coolly; "it might bring about international complications and Germany isn't ready to invade England just yet, you know."

"Ach Himmel, but we could—" the colonel began, but pulled himself up abruptly. "I shall take your message to the Kaiser, Herr Blake!" he snarled. " Let me advise you to dine quickly!"

"I never do that, Herr Colonel," the detective answered coolly; "Bad for the digestion, you know."

Without another word, Colonel von Wortz strode away, the little group of soldiers, seeing that there was going to be no trouble after all, swaggered down the street, forcing mere civilians from the pavement into the road, and Sexton Blake, Herr Metz, and Tinker were left alone outside the station. The detective carried the solitary bag which he had brought with him. He never burdened himself with a lot of luggage, preferring to buy anything that he might require.

"You will come and dine with us, Herr Metz," Sexton Blake suggested, "now that your noisy friend has gone?"

Herr Gustav Metz looked round sharply to make sure that Colonel von Wortz was safely out of hearing.

"He is of mine no friend!" he answered sharply. "But he has the power, Herr Blake, und it would be for the better if you to the Kaiser went now."

"Chose der Hasselstein Prison, if the choice mit you lies," he whispered, saluted stiffly, and hurried away.

"Cheery sort of chap that, sir, " Tinker remarked, as his master, carrying the portmanteau, moved away down the cleanly-kept street. "What the dickens do we want to get to the something-stink prison for?"

"We don't want to, my lad." Sexton Blake answered, with a slight smile; "but force of circumstances—"

Over on the left of the street, a few hundred yards away, the detective had sighted a large hotel, and it was towards this place that he was making. He looked in that direction now, just as the officer towards whom he had nodded drew near. This man wore the uniform of an infantry officer, and as he drew nearer, keeping right to the centre of the pavement, it was pretty obvious that he expected both Sexton Blake and his young companion to step out into the roadway.

Although he did not appear to be looking towards. the officer, Sexton Blake saw this, and moved towards one side as if to give the swaggering man his way. Then, when the officer was close upon him, he stepped back to the pavement, with the consequence that he collided violently with the man, nearly knocking his squat helmet off.

"Donner wetter! the officer, who was a young, red-faced man, ejaculated fiercely. "It is an insult!"

"I know," Sexton Blake answered, speaking in German; but I really sha'n't ask you to apologise for it."

"Apologise?" the officer gasped; then his face went more crimson than ever; and he shook a clenched fist in the Britisher's face.

Sexton Blake made a quick movement, and gripped the officer's wrist. His jaw had set curiously, and the knuckles of his hand showed white and hard. A yell of pain broke from the officer, and the detective, relaxing his grip, walked past the officer, who, holding his bruised wrist, was too surprised to do anything but glare.

"Seems we're going to have a jolly time over here, sir," Tinker remarked, with a grin.

"I don't know, my lad." Sexton Blake answered, "I shall have got used to this kind of thing before long, and shall not think anything of it. Here's the hotel."

Five minutes later Sexton Blake had engaged rooms, his solitary bag had been taken up to them, and in company with Tinker he entered the dining-room, where some forty or fifty men, all obviously natives of the country, were dining. To be really accurate, the word "feeding" should be used, for most of the eaters had a peculiarly comprehensive way of disposing of their dinners. Having got a large plate with a collection of food upon it; they mixed and minced it thoroughly, laid the knife aside, took up a spoon in its place, and from that point onwards did not rest until the plate was quite empty.

Taking a table in the corner, from which a view of the street now getting dark, might be obtained. Sexton Blake and Tinker were soon enjoying a well-cooked meal. They took care not to glance in the direction of the other diners, both knowing that a sight of the curious methods of their neighbours would have ruined their appetites at once. In this way they contrived to make a good dinner.

Sexton Blake, lighting a rather evilly-smelling cigar that the waiter had brought him, settled himself in his chair, and looked out into the street.

"Wait for other people to act, my lad," the detective answered. "It seems to me that I have got to learn the exact nature of this mysterious document, either from Metz or the Kaiser, before we can really start doing anything."

"I have given up thinking about it," Sexton Blake answered calmly. "Thought without foundation only leads to dangerous theories. Hallo, what does the little fat man want with us, I wonder?"

The little fat man in question, who was now bustling along towards the table at which the detective sat, was Herr Rosenbaum, the owner of the hotel. He was a typical little German—short, and as fat as if he ate everything left by his guests. There were some who said that he did feed his extensive family in that economical manner. As he approached now, his fat face looked rather pallid, and he was undoubtedly excited.

"A gentleman wishes to see you, Herr Blake," he announced, with a glance round at the other diners.

"Kindly show him in here," the detective answered, flicking the ash from his cigar.

Herr Rosenbaum gasped more than ever, and spread out his fat hands in a gesture of horrified protest.

"Quite right," Sexton Blake agreed. "I for one, have no intention of disturbing myself, therefore I shall be obliged if you will ask the colonel to come in."

"Show Colonel von Wortz in here!" Sexton Blake ordered, and this time there was that in his voice which commanded obedience: and Herr Rosenbaum, shaking his grizzled head protestingly, hastened off to obey.

Colonel von Wortz, a look of triumph on his harsh-featured face, came striding down the centre of the room. Most of the diners dropped their knives and forks and looked at the officer rather apprehensively. Guilty consciences seemed to be rather cheap in Potsdam.

"Pleasant evening, Herr Colonel!" Sexton Blake observed, as the officer halted, stiff and erect, by the table.

"I am here, Herr Blake," Colonel von Wortz answered sharply, "with a command from the Kaiser! You are to attend him at once. If necessary, I am to use force to make you obey. The boy will also come with you."

"My dear colonel," Sexton Blake protested, as he rose to his feat, "why talk about such unpleasant things? I told you I would attend the Kaiser when I had dined. I have dined, and I am ready."

Sexton Blake, Colonel von Wortz, and Tinker passed up the centre of the room. In the hall they encountered Herr Rosenbaum, who at once started bowing obsequiously to the officer.

No flicker of surprise crossed the detective's face as he heard this cool statement, but he just touched Herr Rosenbaum on the arm.

"My dear colonel,' he murmured, "I never argue—especially with German cavalry officers."

THE THIRD CHAPTER.

By Command — The Kaiser is Surprised — Sexton Blake Gives a Lesson
in Fencing — Ordered to Prison — Sexton Blake Makes a Statement —
The Kaiser Apologises.

SEXTON BLAKE was not surprised to discover that Colonel von Wortz had not come alone, and that he had prepared for emergencies. This was proved by the sight of the half-dozen troopers who were waiting outside the hotel under the charge of a corporal. This man stepped forward and saluted as his officer emerged in company with the detective and the boy, but he was quickly waved back. Colonel von Wortz was not foolish enough to insult Sexton Blake more than was necessary in public.

The walk through the streets of Potsdam caused very little excitement. A few of the civilians turned their heads as the party passed, but the rest took no notice whatever of the incident. Such sights were common enough to them.

In due course the Kaiser's palace—one of the best that he owns—was reached, the numerous sentries were passed, the escort of six soldiers was left behind, and Sexton Blake and Tinker entered an ante-room with Colonel von Wortz. The latter touched a bell, and a man in livery answered the summons.

"Tell his Majesty that Colonel von Wortz has executed his mission!" the colonel ordered shortly.

The next few minutes Sexton Blake spent coolly enough examining the ante-room. It was very plainly furnished in the florid German style, and the walls, kind of wood, were bare of all ornament. In short, if was a distinctly depressing kind of apartment.

"Looks like a high-class kind of prison, sir," Tinker observed, evidently impressed in the same manner.

"His Majesty would see you, Herr Colonel," the man-servant announced, coming back into the room. "The others will go with you."

Without more ado, evidently expecting the others to follow like sheep, Colonel von Wortz led the way from the ante-room, along a broad passage with a polished floor, and knocked at a door at the end.

And the colonel, pushing open the door, entered the room beyond, Sexton Blake and Tinker following without hesitation. Really, the great detective had no need to hesitate or be nervous, for he had met Kaiser Wilhelm before.

This room was not a large one, and its furniture was plain, though of the best. On the panelled walls were many hunting trophies, the only picture being a full-length portrait of the Emperor himself in the act of shooting a tiger, while a group of officers in the background looked on in admiration. Beneath this picture was a large desk, and at that desk sat the man who has probably been talked about more than any living monarch—Kaiser Wilhelm II.

Apparently he was not in the best of tempers; his hand-some face was marred by a scowl, and he beat sharply on the desk with the nervous fingers of his right hand.

"After refusing his command!" the Kaiser continued, with a quick uplifting of his brows.

There was something in the great ruler's tone which annoyed Sexton Blake. In the course of his extraordinarily successful career he had worked for many kings and rulers, and perhaps that had taught him that they were very much the same as other men—men in less exalted positions.

The Kaiser struck a bell with an angry gesture, and Herr Gustav Metz, looking more than a little nervous, entered the room, and saluted his ruler.

"Herr Blake consented to help you as soon as you asked him to, Metz?" the Kaiser demanded sharply.

The eyes of the Kaiser lit up more angrily than ever, and he motioned to the man to be gone. When the door had closed, he turned once more to Sexton Blake.

"You will explain why you dared to refuse my command," he said slowly, "and yet consented to assist Metz, who is merely one of the servants of the Empire—of my Empire?"

Sexton Blake shrugged his shoulders, and appeared to examine the picture hanging above the head of the Kaiser.

"Does your Majesty allow this insolence?" he cried. "Shall I not fight the dog?"

That the offer was merely made for the sake of show any onlooker would have seen, but the Kaiser did not appear to notice it, though he glanced sharply at the officer.

"You will finds a pair of foils on the wall behind you, Von Wortz," he said quietly.

Colonel von Wortz looked surprised. Not for a moment had he expected his offer to be accepted, and now—

"Take down the foils!" the Kaiser ordered, and his voice had grown suddenly harsh, "If it were not for my rank, I would teach Herr Blake a lesson!"

Even Sexton Blake, cool man though he was a trifle staggered at the extraordinary turn events had taken, but he did not hesitate to accept it. He pushed past Colonel von Wortz, who still appeared to be undecided how to act, and took the foils from the wall. He saw that one had a button and that the other had a sharpened point. Tinker looked on with his eyes sparkling. He knew his master's skill, and had no fear for him.

Just for a moment the detective faced the Kaiser, holding the weapons so that he could see the difference between them; then he handed the sharpened one to his opponent.

Now that the soldier had the weapon in his hand, and had seen that it was no plaything with a button at the end, his nerve returned to him. He was a pretty good swordsman, possessed of a very long reach, and he did not think it likely that any civilian would be able to get the better of him. He stripped off his tight uniform coat and turned back his sleeves, but Sexton Blake made no attempt to follow his example. He stepped out, just as he was; into the centre of the polished floor.

Sexton Blake shrugged his shoulders, and bent the blade of his weapon nearly double to test the quality of the steel.

"I have never found time to apologise to a man like you, Herr Colonel!" he answered quietly.

Stung by the taunt, his temper fairly aroused now, Colonel von Wortz had thrown himself into position, and the detective did not keep him waiting long. The two blades, the one deadly, the other blunted by a button, met lightly, measuring the length, darted apart, then flashed forward again in real earnest.

Colonel von Wortz meant to lose no time. He was quite certain that a mere civilian would be an easy prey, and he therefore attacked with the utmost confidence. He lunged sharply, then, with a sharp cry of dismay and anger, stepped hastily back.

The foil had been ripped from his hand, and he stood weaponless before Sexton Blake, who, with a quiet smile on his lips, lowered the point of his weapon to the ground.

Tinker, who had watched the whole business with the confidence, applauded softly.

And once more he faced the detective; this time more warily, for he had learnt his lesson, and he knew that he was fighting with a man who had no reason to be ashamed of his swordsmanship.

For the second time the slender blades met with a sharp grating of metal, the blades running up and down each other like snakes, Colonel von Wortz retreating as if afraid of being bitten. He was certainly acting on the defensive now, just as Sexton Blake was acting on the offensive, and the latter's vigorous, skilful attack kept him retreating towards the wall in a way which he had never found necessary before.

Twice Sexton Blake lunged, then he feinted, his blade went up, and von Wortz's head jerked back as the button of the foil struck him truly on the throat.

He knew his own skill as a swordsman, and so it was that his success caused him no undue elation.

It was easy enough to see that at no time was Colonel von Wortz a particularly amiable man, and now, with the touch of the button making his neck tingle, attacked like a madman. If Sexton Blake had been wielding the sharpened weapon of his opponent, Von Wortz would soon have been a dead-man, but, as matters were, he was forced to retreat a trifle by the sheer ferocity of the attack. Even then he watched for his opening, until—

A clatter of steel, a sharp oath from Von Wortz and for the second time the latter stood disarmed. He stooped to recover his weapon, his face black with anger, as if he would have continued the fight, but Sexton Blake flung his foil into a corner, and once more faced the Kaiser. He was breathing a trifle quickly, but otherwise he showed no sign of the exertion which he had just undergone.

"Your Majesty was saying?" he queried quietly, conversation had never been interrupted, and ignoring Colonel von Wortz, who; breathless and wild-looking with anger, leant against, the wall and glared at him.

"You are a man after my own heart, Herr Blake," he said. "I had thought that such men as you had little need for the sword, and that—"

"Your powers as a detective I know, too," the Kaiser continued, "and that is why I called for you. True, I might have myself taken up the case, but just now my time is fully occupied."

"You already have the main facts of the case," the Kaiser proceeded, "What do you intend to do next?"

Sexton Blake smiled. He had every intention to find the missing document, now that he had promised Gustav Metz that he would do so; but, on the other hand, he had no intention of allowing even the Kaiser to take that help, as a matter of course, as a right.

"I shall wait your Majesty's apology for the manner in which I was brought here," Sexton Blake replied boldly. "When I have received that I shall be ready to help you. Herr Gustav Metz already has my promise, so that it will make little difference."

"You shall answer for that insult! he cried. Colonel von Wortz, bring in your men!"

"I would have gone without escort, your Majesty," Sexton Blake observed coolly, as the soldiers, a dozen in number, filed into the room. "It is going to make a difference to you too."

Despite the temper that he was in, the Kaiser could not fail to notice the other's tone.

"Simply this, your Majesty," Sexton Blake answered. I would have accepted your apology if it had been merely sent to me, but I all not accept it now unless you yourself bring it. I will then find this missing document for you."

"Rotten sort of hole this, sir," Tinker remarked, after he had examined the cell into which he had been thrust with his master. That had happened more than three hours back, but the darkness had not allowed him to make the inspection before. During the last few minutes, however, a lamp had been lit in the passage outside, and a certain amount of the light had found its way in through the grating in the door of the cell.

"It certainly isn't the Royal suite at the Metropole, my lad," the detective agreed. "Still, I don't think that we shall have to stop here for long."

Tinker whistled, and squatted down on the bench, the sole furniture of the cell, beside his master.

"You don't mean to say that you really think that the Kaiser will come here and apologise?" Tinker said in amazement.

Sexton Blake smiled, felt for a cigar, sighed as he re-collected more fully where he was, and answered confidently:

"At present, Tinker," he said, "we don't know the nature of the missing document. But we do know that Kaiser Wilhelm would give a great deal to get it back, and therefore I expect—"

"From the direction of the passage came the clatter of boots and the jingle of spurs. These sounds ceased before the door of the cell.

The door of the cell opened, a solitary figure entered, and stood with his back to the door. Even in the dim light the inmates of the cell were able to recognise the upright form of the Kaiser.

The door of the cell opened, a solitary figure entered, and stood
with his back to the door. Even in the dim light the inmates of
the cell were able to recognise the upright form of the Kaiser.

"Herr Blake," the latter said, in a rather forced voice, and speaking hurriedly, "I ask your pardon."

"May I suggest to your Majesty," he said, "that we go somewhere where we can discuss the affair of this missing document. I have known worse cells than this, but—"

"My car is waiting," the Kaiser interrupted, a slight smile crossing his lips. "We will go to the palace."

THE FOURTH CHAPTER.

The Story of the Document — Sexton Blake Hesitates —
He Consents to Help — Spearing in Trouble — Released.

OUTSIDE the prison a large motor-car, with only the chauffeur in charge, was waiting. Into this clambered the Kaiser, followed by Sexton Blake and Tinker, and, just as midnight was about to strike, the palace was reached. The last time the detective had entered it he was as the reader knows, a prisoner, and he smiled now as he thought how everything had changed during the past few minutes.

"Kind of own it now. sir, don't we?" Tinker observed, very much the same thoughts in his active brain.

The Kaiser led the way to the room in which Sexton Blake had already seen him, and as he entered, Herr Gustav Metz, looking rather worried, rose to his feet.

"I received your message, your Majesty," he said humbly. "What are your commands?"

"That you regard Herr Blake as your chief," the Kaiser answered readily, "and take all instructions from him in the future."

The German detective flushed hotly, and seemed to have some slight difficulty in swallowing.

"I shall be honoured if Herr Metz will work with me," Sexton Blake said quietly.

"As you will," the Kaiser continued, a trifle impatiently, seating himself at the table and motioning the others to be seated. Then he glanced questioningly at Sexton Blake, as if expecting him to say something. If that was the case, he was not disappointed.

"From what I can gather, your Majesty," Sexton Blake said, speaking in German, much to the annoyance of Tinker, who hated being unable to follow everything which was going on, "an important document has been stolen, and it is your wish that it be recovered without delay. That is all that I have learnt from Herr Metz, and it was to learn more, and to commence at the very beginning, that I came here."

"You are right, my friend," the Kaiser agreed, and his brows lowered moodily. "An important document has been stolen, and every day that passes may mean"-he pulled himself up rather abruptly and attempted to speak in a lighter tone—"might prove to be awkward."

Sexton Blake noticed the change; saw, too, the suppressed excitement under which the Kaiser was labouring, and knew that this missing document was no ordinary one.

With a start, Kaiser Wilhelm looked up, met the eyes of the detective, and looked down again. His nervous fingers played with a pen, and he drew imaginary lines along the leather-covered top of the desk.

"The exact nature of the document?" Sexton Blake repeated, apparently, however, without much insistence. He saw, nevertheless, that the Kaiser glanced sharply at Metz, and that the two exchanged a meaning look.

"It is connected with the War Department, Herr Blake," the Kaiser explained slowly. "It is of no value to any one save ourselves."

"Those in high places must always have enemies, Herr Blake," the German detective explained.

"But would those enemies steal something of no value to them?" Sexton Blake persisted.

"Then I must put it plainer, your Majesty," Sexton Blake said quietly. "You have had something stolen. Well, unless you tell me the exact nature of that document I must refuse to continue with the case."

"Refuse, your Majesty," Sexton Blake agreed, meeting the other's eyes without flinching.

Just for a moment it looked very much as if the Kaiser would have ordered Sexton Blake and Tinker back to prison; then the angry look left his face, and a sigh escaped him.

"I am ready, your Majesty," the detective answered, a slight smile curling his lips.

Kaiser Wilhelm fidgeted again with the pen before looking up, a rather dogged expression on his face, and meeting the detective's eyes.

"The document stolen," he said, slowly and very distinctly, as if he wished every word to be fully heard and understood, "is a plan for the invasion of England."

A dead silence fell upon the three men. The Kaiser, his eyebrows slightly uplifted, stared at Sexton Blake. Herr Gustav Metz, anxious-looking, nervously twisting up the ends of his moustache, also looked at the detective. As for the latter, he stood quite still, his face a blank, his fingers gently smoothing his chin.

"You heard?" the Kaiser said at last, with the accent of a man who says something merely because he can keep silent no longer.

"I heard!" Sexton Blake echoed mechanically; but his eyes were still upon the ground.

Sexton Blake looked up, but his eyes were turned towards the Kaiser and not towards the German detective. Tinker, noticing his master's expression, knew that matters of moment were under discussion, and inwardly registered a vow that he would start to learn German as soon as possible. He hated being out of a case.

An angry expression leapt into the Kaiser's eyes, and he banged his clenched right hand down heavily upon the desk. Some of the papers, official-looking documents, fluttered unheeded to the ground. Then his expression cleared, and he laughed sarcastically.

"I am," Sexton Blake answered calmly, knowing that it was of no use being modest with such a man as the Kaiser.

The latter laughed again, and turned to Metz; but before he could speak Sexton Blake had spoken.

"I could find the missing plan, your Majesty." he remarked calmly; "but as a Britisher you can hardly expect me to do so. It is unlikely that the plan is of any practical use; but there is always the chance—"

"But your promise to me," he said eagerly, in English, "is it that it you vill not keep?"

Just for a moment Sexton Blake's lips parted, and it was plain that he intended to answer in the affirmative; then his lips closed into a hard line, a curious look came into his eyes, and he was silent. But not for long.

"I will keep my promise, Herr Metz," he answered; and turned to the Kaiser. "I am yours to command, your Majesty," he said quietly.

Quickly as it had clouded, the Kaiser's face cleared and he impulsively held out his hand to Sexton Blake, who took it, just a trifle reluctantly, Tinker thought.

"It is good!" the Kaiser said. "I put the police the army, my very self, under your control. I-"

"Can your Majesty give me anything which will prove that to others?" the detective asked quietly.

"Anyone who sees that will obey,' he said, "It is the ring lent by me only to my most trusted agents. Every official in Germany knows that it is to be respected."

"I shall expect you at my hotel first thing in the morning, Herr Metz," he said; and after a formal bow to the Kaiser he left the room, followed by Tinker, and so reached the quiet streets of Potsdam.

Once out in the streets, Sexton Blake hesitated, flicked the ash from his cigar, glanced down at the bright-faced boy; and decided to trust him, as he had done very many times before.

"Tinker," he said quietly, "I am going to restore to the Kaiser a plan for the invasion of England."

"What, sir?" the boy gasped in amazement, for he knew his master to be loyal and patriotic to the backbone.

Sexton Blake glanced quickly round to make sure that there was no one near enough to overhear him. True, he was speaking in English, but there a great many Germans who understand that language pretty well. He saw that the street was deserted, save for a party of four men, noisy and quarrelsome, who had probably been spending the evening in one of the "Biergartens." Here and there lights shone from the windows of the houses, but for the most part the inhabitants of Potsdam, rather sluggish in temperament, had long since retired to rest.

"I am going to restore that plan-to the Kaiser," Sexton Blake repeated; "but what is there to prevent my supplying a copy of it to our Government?"

"But why not save trouble by not finding the plan, sir?" Tinker asked, rather surprised.

"For two reasons, my lad," Sexton Blake answered "Firstly, I must keep my promise to Herr Gustav Metz. Secondly, this plan would be sure to find its way back to Germany at a big price, and if by chance it is of any practical good-" The detective shrugged his shoulders meaningly.

"Your approval settles it," the detective murmured, with a smile. "I can now proceed with the case with the knowledge that it is-"

Before the boy could finish his protest the noise of a dispute, followed by a scuffle, came from a side turning close at hand. Sexton Blake at once swung round, followed by Tinker. They turned the corner; then the detective drew back sharply into the shadow. Tinker, his training never forsaking him, quickly copied his master.

A score or so of yards away, three stalwart men in the uniform of the German police, which is very military, were grouped round a very broad man, whose little felt hat, in which a feather was stuck, was cocked aggressively over one eye. He was standing with his back to the wall; has hands half raised, evidently prepared to put up a fight if necessary. The rest of this man's costume was as extraordinary as his hat.

His legs, encased in a pair of very short check trousers, looked as if they might at any moment burst the seams; his feet were adorned by a pair of Blucher boots, brand new and very large, while his coat was a short blue frock, adorned by gilt buttons. His waistcoat, the pockets of which were flapped, was yellow, and worked all over with sprays of flowers, until it looked like a rather cheap wall paper. From his lips dangled a large-bowled German pipe, also new. In short, the man was dressed in the kind of costume favoured by English comedians when playing comic Germans.

Sexton Blake smiled, too; as he saw that the boy was right, and flung away the end of his cigar.

"Stay where you are, my lad," he said quietly; and, moving out of the shadow, moved towards the little group of obviously excited men.

"I tell you I'm Spearing-official-Scotland Yard!" the man in the weird costume jerked angrily, then caught sight of Sexton Blake. Strangely enough, he did not recognise the detective, who, with that extraordinary power of facial contortion which probably no other living man possessed, had so altered his expression that, at night, few of his friends would have known him.

"What is all this?" Sexton Blake demanded in German. He meant to get Spearing out of the scrape, whatever it might be, but he also intended to have a little amusement first.

"Look here-you a fool, too!" Spearing growled. "Told 'em plainly-official of Scotland Yard—arrested me! See a policeman-give 'em in charge!"

"Is it that you into trouble haf got?" he demanded, speaking English with a strong German accent.

"No!" Spearing fairly yelled glaring at the new-comer. "Doing it for amusement—like it!"

"Gut!" Sexton Blake grunted. "Then it is not for me to make interferences." And he turned away.

Breaking through the police, Spearing gripped Sexton Blake frantically by the arm.

Sexton Blake allowed his face to resume its normal expression, and Spearing, falling back a step, stood staring open-mouthed.

"Just you leave this to me, the detective said quietly. "I'll get you clear of these men."

"Thank Heaven!" Spearing murmured, mopping his brows with a gaudy silk handkerchief.

Sexton Blake turned to the police, the chief of whom was advancing to capture Spearing again. The detective placed himself in the man's path.

"Why have you arrested this man?" he demanded shortly, for he knew the kind of tone that it was necessary to use to these men. In Germany every man who wears a uniform has great powers, and presumes upon them; it is therefore only possible to deal with them in an abrupt tone of authority. Civility they do not understand.

At sight of the ring a great change came over the police-officer. His back stiffened, his feet came together with a clicking of heels, and he saluted hastily.

"We are yours to command, mein Herr," he answered hurriedly. "We did not know—"

"He is a spy, mein Herr," the officer explained readily and humbly. "His costume is that of no—"

Just for a moment the officer hesitated, then his eyes sought the Kaiser's ring; he saluted again, and swung round on his heels. With his companions in tow, he disappeared round the nearest corner.

"Spearing," Blake observed, turning to the official, a slight smile on his lips, "you had better come to my hotel. "I want to know why you are here in that extraordinary costume and—"

"And then you can tell me exactly what has brought you here," Sexton Blake concluded.

THE FIFTH CHAPTER.

Spearing's Explanation — Useful News — Tinker Watches —
A Surprise Visit — Colonel von Wortz Makes a Lame Explanation.

LUCKILY for Spearing-for his costume must have drawn comment from anyone meeting him—Sexton Blake's hotel was not far distant, and though the porter on night duty gasped with wonder at sight of the worthy official of Scotland Yard, he allowed him to go with Tinker and Sexton Blake to the latter's rooms.

"Now then, Spearing," the detective said quietly, opening a fresh box of cigars, "just tell me what has happened?"

"That can wait, my friend," Sexton Blake answered, "Tinker and I are both getting used to it."

"Never trust an actor again!" Spearing snapped savagely. "Thought knew better! Never know what—"

"And why are you here in Potsdam?" Sexton Blake interrupted. "He guessed that Spearing had not come without good reason, and he was anxious to know what a that reason was. He had promised the Kaiser now that he would help him; he realised that by recovering the document he would be helping the British Government too, and therefore he meant to lose no time in getting to work.

Spearing accepted the cigar offered to him, bit off. the end, lit it unevenly, and stared through the smoke at Sexton Blake. There was something in his little eyes which did not speak of peace of mind.

The official from Scotland Yard smoked more furiously than ever, then smiled knowingly.

"Reward offered by German Government!" he explained. "Missing document-very valuable—to be delivered seals unbroken—know the man concerned."

Sexton Blake started, and an exclamation broke from Tinker. That Spearing knew the identity of the man whom they had just intended to commence looking for startled them not a little. It was only for a second, however, that Sexton Blake's face betrayed emotion of any kind.

"Who is the man?" he asked quietly, as if taking an answer as a matter of course.

Mr. Spearing, despite his weird costume, contrived to look quite impressive. He winked knowingly, then fixed his eyes in a stony stare upon the ceiling.

"And suppose you fail?" Sexton Blake suggested, flicking the ash from his cigar. "Suppose, aided by my influence over the Kaiser, I have you sent away from here-what then?"

With ah angry expression Spearing sprang to his feet and glared at the man who had helped him out of difficulties so often.

Sexton Blake seemed to grow suddenly interested in the end of his cigar. When he looked up there was a furious expression in his eyes.

"You will tell me the man's name, also where he is staying," he announced coolly, "or I shall have you re-arrested. You understand?"

"As for the reward," Sexton Blake continued quietly, "anything like that you are perfectly welcome to."

Mr. Spearing's face relaxed, and a grin twisted the corners of his mouth. He shrugged his shoulders, as if the matter concerned. him no longer, and was really of very little importance.

"Name of James Setton!" he jerked. "Followed him from England—staying at Central Hotel—five minutes here."

"Good!" Sexton Blake murmured; and turned, to Tinker. "Go to the Central," he ordered quietly, "and watch. Should this James Setton—Spearing will give you a description—leave, you will follow him."

"Yes, sir," Tinker answered promptly. A few minutes ago he had been feeling distinctly sleepy, but the call to duty had dispelled all that.

"Tall," the official answered readily, and as precisely as any printed description could have given the facts; "clean-shaven—sallow complexion—walks with a sight limp of right foot. Speaks German fluently, though believed to be an American."

"Very good, sir!" Tinker said quietly, and without waiting for more hurried away on his mission. The moment the lad had gone Sexton Blake turned to Spearing.

"What makes you connect this Setton with the stolen document?" he asked, though, knowing the methods of the Yard, he thought that he guessed the truth. "Same game before?"

"Yes," Spearing answered jerkily. "Connected Government leakage in '95. Had him shadowed soon as heard from Metz. He received cable—don't know who from—at once left for here. I followed."

"You might have been wrong, but now that the man has come here there can't be much doubt that he is mixed up in this business. It looks, too, as if the stolen document has not yet left the country.

"Yes," Spearing agreed shortly, and began to pace up and down the room. "What next?"

Sexton Blake was twisting the Kaiser's ring round his finger, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. "There was a curious little smile on his lips, which seamed to suggest that he was fairly satisfied with the way matters were shaping.

"Back of here," Spearing answered promptly. He had been to Potsdam before, and therefore knew things about the place.

Sexton Blake pulled on his hat and moved towards the door. Spearing rose as if to follow, but Sexton Blake waved him back.

"My dear Spearing," he protested. "I should have thought that you had had experience enough of going about in those clothes."

"No need, my friend," Sexton. Blake assured. "I am just going to get you a new rig-out."

Before Spearing could protest Sexton Blake had taken his departure, left the hotel, and was hurrying round the corner in the direction where he believed the police-barracks lay. He proved to be correct, and, without hesitation, he approached the gate of the yard, over which a sentry stood guard. In the yard stood the barracks, washed white, but ugly and forbidding appearance.

The chief officer is within?" Sexton Blake demanded in German; speaking with the tone of authority which alone makes an impression upon any German official.

"Have him aroused," Sexton Blake ordered. "I wish to see him on important business."

This was really too much for the sentry. The idea of waking his commanding officer at nearly two in the morning roused his sense of humour, feeble though it was, and he laughed gutturally.

Sexton Blake had expected some trouble of this kind, and he did not hesitate. He raised his right hand and struck the man across the face.

The blow was no soft one. Sexton Blake had not meant it to be, and an English soldier would have answered it with another, even if it had been his officer who had struck him; but this German, trained to the belief that there was nothing higher or finer in the world than an officer, became cowed at once, swung round on his heels, and, followed by the detective, entered the courtyard.

Now that he had fairly decided in his own mind that this quiet-looking man was someone in authority, the sentry did not hesitate to knock loudly on the door of his officer's apartment, which lay just to the right of those occupied by the men. So loudly did he knock, indeed, that a window only a few feet from the ground was thrown angrily upwards, and a man's head, adorned by a pair of fierce moustaches, and crowned by a very good imitation of a doormat—the hair stood perfectly straight up on end—was thrust out.

The officer gasped, disappeared from the window, then reappeared with ugly looking sabre in his hand.

From behind the infuriated officer shone the light burning in the room, and it was into these rays that Sexton Blake thrust his hand, so that the light fell upon the Kaiser's ring.

Mad with anger, the officer whirled the sabre round to strike at the hand of the man who had dared to disturb his rest; then his eyes caught sight of the ring, the sabre slipped from his fingers, and clattered noisily on the cobbles of the yard.

"Good!" Sexton Blake answered shortly, assuming a tone of command. "Open the door. I wish to speak with you!"

The head disappeared, and a few seconds later the door was opened by the commanding officer of the barracks, who had hastily slipped a uniform coat over his nightshirt, and the detective stepped into the building.

After another humble apology the officer led the way into a well but simply furnished room, and motioned Sexton Blake to a chair.

"There is no time for that," the detective said quietly. "or is it likely that I should have called you up at this hour of the night?"

"You will give me one of your own uniforms," he answered, "as I fancy that it will fit me. I also need one for a short, very broad man. Can you supply that, too?"

"No," Sexton Blake snapped, at the same time suggestively twisting the Kaiser's ring round his finger. "It is your business to obey without question."

Apparently the officer was quite aware of this fact, for he hurried from the room, to return a little later with two uniforms, complete even to the swords and helmets, and a large bag big enough to hold them.

Sexton Blake made a brief examination of the articles, and pitched them into the bag.

"Perfectly," he answered, more amiably now that he had succeeded in his quest. "The Kaiser shall hear of this."

Leaving the officer bowing his gratitude, the detective hurried away with the bag, and was soon back in his hotel.

He found Spearing, still in his weird and awful disguise, pacing restlessly up and down.

"Just as you like," Sexton Blake answered, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I can work alone if you like."

This was enough for the official, and without further loss of time he proceeded to get into the uniform. There are plenty of short, abnormally broad men among the German police, and the consequence was that this uniform, belonging to an officer who would rank about as high as an English inspector, fitted Spearing remarkably well. Sexton Blake's uniform was also a good fit, and he looked imposing enough in it for anything.

Spearing eyed himself in a mirror, and looked particularly pleased with himself.

"Be all right if speak their beastly language," he jerked. "Clarkson's couldn't beat this."

No time was lost, and the two detectives, much to the amazement of the hall porter, quietly left the hotel, and, the example being set by Sexton Blake, swaggered through the streets. They were deserted at this early hour of the morning, save for an occasional policeman, who saluted promptly at sight of the familiar uniforms.

The Central Hotel was reached, and Tinker, moving out of the shadow of a wall, passed close by Sexton Blake, but without stopping.

"Good! Go home," the detective answered, in the same tone, and walked straight to the entrance to the hotel, in the lobby of which the night-porter was sleeping peacefully.

The man blinked his eyes sleepily, caught sight of the police uniforms, awoke entirely and with surprising suddenness, and rose to his feet, saluting mechanically.

"The number of Herr Setton's room?" Sexton Blake demanded, in a tone of authority.

"Number Thirteen, your Excellency," the porter answered promptly; "but there is with him—"

"Silence!" the detective commanded sternly. "And remain here; I shall know how to deal with you should you move!"

"Pleasant way oh speaking!" Spearing jerked, in an undertone, as his companion led the way through the fine lobby.

There was no trouble in finding room No. 13, which proved to be on the first floor, and Sexton Blake and Spearing paused before the door, from underneath which crept a band of light. From within came the sound of voices, one guttural and commanding in tone, the other rather high and drawling.

Sexton Blake knocked on the door, and, without waiting for an answer, opened it. He stepped into the room beyond, followed by Spearing, who, with his best official manner in evidence, looked his part to perfection.

The room was occupied by two men. By the fireplace, his back to it, in fact, stood a tall man in a tweed suit, one leg shorter than the other, resting on the toe. His face was pallid, and the keen eyes and hard mouth spoke of cunning and determination. Seated at the table, a cigar between his lips, was a man in uniform, who was staring angrily at the intruders. At present he did not recognise them though Sexton Blake had already recognised him:

A slight change of expression had taken possession of his face, and his right hand had dropped to his hip.

"I must ask pardon, Herr," Sexton Blake answered coolly; "but I have business with Colonel von Wortz. I heard that he had come here, so took the liberty of following."

Then, recognising the taller of his two visitors, Colonel von Wortz, a startled expression on his face, leapt to his feet.

"There is no need to mention names, Herr Colonel," the detective interrupted shortly, for he was by no means anxious for Setton to learn his identity. "May I ask you to speak to me outside?"

As it clicked, Setton drew a revolver from his hip, examined the cartridges quickly, and slipped it back into his pocket. He was evidently a man who believed in being prepared for emergencies.

Outside in the dimly-lighted passage Colonel von Wortz looked more serious than ever, and Sexton Blake noticed that the beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.

"I merely wanted to ask you one thing, Herr Colonel?" Sexton Blake said quietly. "Can you put half a dozen of your men at my disposal to-morrow, should I want them?"

"As many as you wish, Herr Blake!" the colonel agreed hastily, and glanced back at the door of the room which he had just left. "I wished to explain how it was that—"

"Is there any reason why you should not call upon your friends, even at this hour?"

Colonel von Wortz looked savage, realising what a fool he had made of himself, and recovered himself by an effort.

"I wished to explain," he said slowly, "that I and my men are entirely at your service."

After bidding the colonel good-night, Sexton Blake, followed by Spearing, who had been unable to do more than look important all through the interview, left the hotel.

"Don't understand!" he jerked. "Thought meant to arrest—search—try and get paper from Setton by bluff!"

And Spearing knew from experience that it was no use arguing when the detective spoke in that tone.

If the truth were known, Sexton Blake had intended to try and frighten information out of Setton, but the discovery of Colonel von Wortz in the man's room had altered the aspect of things entirely.

Sexton Blake knew now, as surely as if the men concerned had told him, that the plan had not yet left Germany, and that it was more than likely that Colonel von Wortz himself held it.

THE SIXTH CHAPTER.

Fresh Plans — Metz Gets to Work — The Faked Row —
Sexton Blake Searches in Vain — An Awkward Visitor.

SEXTON BLAKE finished, his breakfast leisurely and glanced up in rather amused fashion at Spearing, who was pacing excitedly up and down the room. Both men were dressed in their ordinary clothes again, and Tinker was busy neatly folding up and putting away the uniforms, in case they should be needed again.

"What's the plan, Mr. Blake?" Spearing jerked, an air of desperation, halting in front of the detective.

"Haven't got the faintest idea yet, my friend," the latter answered calmly, feeling for his cigar-case.

The coolness of his answer rather disconcerted Spearing and he banged his hat down again.

"If you had asked me that I would have told you before," Sexton Blake answered. "We are awaiting the arrival of Herr Gustav Metz—I sent a note to him a short time since by Tinker—before going into our plans. Kindly remember that I really came out here to help him."

"Exactly where you allow yourself to," Sexton Blake answered quietly. "In the meantime, try a cigar; you will find it very good for the—"

There was a knock at the door, and in answer to the detective's "Come in!" Herr Gustav Metz, looking worried, despite his usually stolid expression, entered.

"Received your note, Herr Blake," he said, very much in the crisp tone of a soldier reporting to his officer, "so came round."

"Good! We will speak in English, Sexton Blake answered. "Mr. Spearing is not quite—er—sure of your language."

"So," the German detective agreed, taking a seat; it to me no difference will make."

Sexton Blake lit a fresh cigar before answering and settled himself comfortably in his chair.

"I know who has the stolen document," he answered calmly, "and also the man who is to negotiate for its sale."

"Never joke—unofficial!" Mr. Spearing jerked, for he had the real stolid British contempt for all foreigners, and for once he was quite prepared to support Sexton Blake.

"Really," he said, "I wish to assist you, Herr Metz; but if you would prefer to work alone—"

Herr Gustav Metz's hands went up quickly in an expressive gesture. He was absolutely at sea with regard to the case, and though he had laughed at the other's statement, there was something in his manner which was very convincing.

"Mein Gott!" Metz exclaimed; starting to his feet. "He is of the Kaiser Wilhelm's advisers, und he—"

Quietly, in that tone which always carried conviction with it, the detective related all that had happened, while Metz, twirling his fierce moustaches nervously, listened, nodding in understanding from time to time, he rose to his feet, his chest out, an air of authority fairly radiating from him. He moved towards the door.

"Plans!" Herr Metz ejaculated. "What is there vor to make plans? Colonel von Wortz has the document stolen, also this Setton in it implicated is—so? Should ve not them arrest?"

Then Sexton Blake disclosed his plan. He had mapped it out some hours since, though he had never even mentioned it to Mr. Spearing, and Metz nodded approval.

"But there one big objection to make is." he said at the finish. Can you like this Setton look that Von Wortz will not you know?"

Ten minutes passed, most of which time Herr Gustav Metz spent in twirling his moustaches until they were positively ferocious, while Spearing, trying to look quite unconcerned and as important as possible, leant back in his chair and ruined an expensive cigar.

"Setton!" Spearing ejaculated, springing to his feet and feeling mechanically in his tail-pocket for a pair of handcuffs.

There he stood, pallid and smiling, the one leg shorter than the other, dark and sinister.

"Say," he said, in the high, drawling voice Spearing had heard once before, "I don't reckon to have to introduce myself. I'm Sexton Blake."

Spearing started as if someone had pinched him, then laughed in a rather forced manner.

As for Herr Gustav Metz, he just stared in amazement. True, he had never seen Setton, but it was enough for him that the British detective had entirely altered his appearance; and yet there was nothing to point to a disguise-no lines of paint, no joins of a wig, absolutely nothing that looked artificial.

Sexton Blake allowed his face to resume its normal expression, and when he spoke his voice was hard and concise in tone.

"You had best go, then," Sexton Blake continued. "In ten minutes I shall send Tinker with the message to Setton."

Herr Gustav Metz, in order to carry out the plan suggested by Sexton Blake, the details of which the reader will shortly know, left the hotel. Ten minutes later Sexton Blake wrote a brief note, and despatched Tinker with it; following at once in company with Spearing. The detective wore a scarf round the lower part of his face, and no longer adopted Setton's limp.

Round the corner, in the street where the Central Hotel stood, nothing «uncommon, apparently, was taking place. Busy citizens were hurrying here and there, a few guests lounged in the entrance to the hotel, before which a large motor-car buzzed irritably, as if anxious to speed away. Just past the hotel a little group of four stalwart soldiers stood talking, and with them was Herr Metz. Another three were strolling on the other side of the road. In this there was nothing unusual, for the population of Germany seems to the traveller to be composed very largely of uniformed men of all descriptions.

This was how matters stood when Sexton Blake, his disguise hidden by the scarf, and Spearing entered the street. But scarcely had they turned the corner, when Tinker came hurrying down the steps of the hotel, and after him limped Setton, looking perfectly cool and collected, but little thinking what was in store for him.

As Setton turned to the right, the little group of soldiers broke up and came swaggering down the street. Setton moved aside to pass them, but one of the soldiers, stepping deliberately into his path fairly pushed him into the roadway.

Angered by this Setton said something sharply in German. Instantly the whole four soldiers wheeled round upon him, and struck him between the eyes, knocking him to the ground. The soldiers from the other side of the street came running across to join their comrades, yelling as they came. Herr Metz made a dash for the group, too; but he was scarcely there before Sexton Blake, while Spearing panted up a second or so later. One of the two men in the lobby of the hotel hurried towards the scene of the row, but before they arrived there everything appeared to be over, the struggling ceased, and the soldiers stood grouped around a man lying on the ground.

Any casual observer would have said that he had been stunned in the fight, but anyone who had been able to push his way through would have found Setton, handcuffed securely, staring up savagely at his captors, and more especially at Metz.

Off went Metz, reaching the motor-car before the hotel just as a gentleman was about to step into it. He touched him on the arm, and saluted him respectfully.

"A thousand pardons, mein Herr," he said, "but could you lend me your car for ten minutes? A civilian has been hurt in a quarrel with the soldiers, and he must be taken to the hospital without delay."

For a moment the owner of the car looked none too pleased at the suggestion; then he turned his back, and went up the steps of the hotel.

"Take your orders from the officer!" he cried over his shoulder to the chauffeur. "But be quick!"

The motor-car drove to the spot where the man lay on the ground, and two of the soldiers, picking Setton up, bundled the man none too softly into the car, so quickly that the driver caught no glimpse of him. Metz mounted to the front seat.

"To the barracks!" Gustav Metz thundered; and the chauffeur hesitated no longer. He knew only too well the powers of the German police.

Quickly as the crowd had been formed it dispersed. The soldiers went on their way grinning, and elbowing civilians from the pavement. Spearing and Tinker, both looking rather dejected at having nothing to do, walked away towards their hotel, and Sexton Blake, the scarf drawn down from his face now, limped calmly towards the lobby of the hotel. To all appearances he was Setton, the man who had been driven away in the car.

He had already proved that his disguise was good, and the squabble, faked by Gustave Metz had ended in the manner desired-the capture of Setton without having to make a public arrest.

THE SEVENTH CHAPTER.

A Blank Search — Colonel von Wortz Calls —
The Document at Last — Another Interview with the Kaiser.

EVERYWHERE in the room there was evidence that Setton had left the moment he had received Sexton Blake's note, which the latter had taken the liberty of signing with the name of Von Wortz. On the table lay the remains of a late breakfast, and a cup of coffee still smoked feebly. Certainly Setton had left in a hurry.

Sexton Blake halted with his hand on the door. He turned the key in the lock, but clicked it back again, moved by some impulse which he could not have explained, and the door remained unlocked, though shut. From there he crossed to the table, where the remains of the breakfast still lay.

Setton might have received something by post that morning, and the handwriting on the torn envelope might prove useful. There was no sign, however, that the man had received any communications in that way. If he had—well, he had destroyed all trace of them.

From the table Sexton Blake crossed to a chest of drawers, only to find that the drawers were quite empty. He even removed the sheets of brown paper lying at the bottom of them, but was not rewarded by finding anything hidden beneath.

And so Sexton Blake searched every inch of the room with a skill and thoroughness gained by long practice, only to find nothing. He passed into the inner room, the bed-room. Here matters looked more hopeful, and the. detective at once turned his attention to the portmanteau lying half-open on the floor, some clothes bulging out of it. These he pulled out, and was about to search for a secret receptacle in the leather when the door behind him clicked. The impulse to spring to his feet seized him, but he held himself under control.

He rose slowly, without turning, his eyes staring straight before him. Apparently, to all intents and purposes, he had not heard the door go.

In the mirror before him, which was fastened over a wash-stand, he could plainly see the doorway. In it stood Colonel von Wortz, his face pale, his eyes full of an anxious expression.

"Setton!" the colonel ejaculated hoarsely. And Sexton Blake turned his face the face of Setton, as if startled by hearing his name called so suddenly and unexpectedly.

Colonel von Wortz still stood in the doorway, staring at the man before him as if he were looking at a ghost.

"What, colonel?" Sexton Blake demanded in German. wondering at the soldier's strange manner.

"I heard you had been arrested, Herr Setton," Von Wortz explained huskily, "and I came here to see—"

He realised now that his disguise was good enough to fool even this man before him, and the knowledge gave him confidence.

Colonel von Wortz dropped on to the edge of the bed and mopped his brow with a handkerchief. It was apparent that he had received a pretty good shock of some kind.

"I thought that you might have left letters about, letters that would have incriminated me," he said slowly.

"Yet, thinking me such a fool as that, colonel, " he said, making a bold bid for the truth, "you employed me to carry out this—er—delicate matter."

With an oath Von Wortz sprang to his feet and slammed the door to, locking it on the inside.

By an effort the colonel pulled himself together, and sat down on the edge of the bed again.

"Bah! Why go into all that again, Herr Setton?" the German answered. "You receive twenty thousand."

Sexton Blake was really getting on very well, but he meant to learn more while he had the opportunity. He knelt over the portmanteau, forcing the garments into it, so that the other might not see his face.

"I care not who has it if I get the price, Herr Setton," Colonel von Wortz answered irritably.

Sexton Blake finished the packing, and looked up. He limped across the room, and stationed himself before Von Wortz.

It was a bold stroke, and as Von Wortz eyed the bogus Setton steadily up and down for a moment before replying, Sexton Blake felt that the success of his plan hung in the balance. It said much for the detective's wonderful disguise that the German was evidently satisfied with his close scrutiny of his supposed confederate.

Von Wortz slowly drew a long envelope from an inner pocket, while Blake suppressed the triumph that he felt.

"Here is the plan, my friend," said the German officer at last. "You see, I trust you fully. Are your arrangements for the disposal of it nearly complete?"

"I guess they are," replied Sexton Blake, as his fingers closed over the precious document at last. "You'll hear from me within an hour or two, I hope. For the present—"

"For the present I had better be going," interrupted Von Wortz hurriedly. "It is best that I am seen with you as little as possible."

"I shall be awaiting you in my rooms in the palace. Auf Wiedersehen, my friend, and may you bring me good news!"

Sexton Blake smiled as he listened to the heavy footsteps of the German retreating down the passage.

"I am afraid I shall not bring you quite such good news as you anticipate, my dear colonel," he murmured.

Little more remains to be told. Having once got the precious document, which indeed proved to be a most complete and detailed plan for the invasion of England, Sexton Blake carefully photographed it, and sent a complete copy to the British War Department, with his compliments. Then he placed the original in the hands of Gustav Metz, telling him what he had done. All the photographic plates he destroyed.

The unlucky traitor, Von Wortz, received a visit in his rooms at Potsdam Palace from Gustav Metz and a file of police, and his subsequent interview with his royal master was, doubtless, one that will live in his memory for the rest of his miserable life, long term of imprisonment in a German fortress was certain to be his portion. Gustav Metz and Spearing shared the reward for the recovery of the plan between them, Sexton Blake declining to appear officially in the matter at all.

It was two days after the arrest of the traitors that Sexton Blake and Tinker, who had been staying quietly at their hotel, received once more a summons to the palace. The detective had been expecting this, and the two obeyed the summons at once.

Immediately on arrival at the palace, they were shown into presence of his Imperial Majesty the Kaiser.

Sexton Blake bowed as he entered, and then stood before the Emperor unflinchingly, looking him fearlessly in the face.

"So that I could make a photographic copy of the plan and send it to England, your Majesty."

There was a moment's tense silence, and Tinker shivered. Then the Kaiser, gnawing at his upturned moustache, rapped out another query.

This time there was a longer silence, and Tinker gasped with relief when the Kaiser at length broke it again.

"Herr Blake, I perceive that you are a man as well as a great detective. You have kept your word to me and to Metz, and at the same time you have served your own country as a true patriot should. I both thank and respect you. Is there any reward I can offer you-a title, honours, money—anything!"

"Your Majesty is too gracious!" murmured Sexton Blake, touched by the impulsive sovereign's generous speech. But I can accept no reward for what I have done."

"At least, you will not refuse to accept this," said the Kaiser, with a smile, drawing from his finger a magnificent diamond-ring, "in place of the one I loaned you, you know!"

"I shall be honoured to do so," replied Blake, with another bow, taking the diamond-ring and at the same time handing back to the Emperor the one that had proved so useful in

"Then we part friends!" said the Kaiser, with a smile, rising, and shaking hands first with Sexton Blake and then with Tinker. "Good bye! Auf Wiedersehen, meine Herren!"

Sexton Blake and Tinker retired from the presence and returned straight to their hotel.

"Well it's been a queer experience, Tinker, which I should have been very sorry to miss," remarked the famous detective. "but there is no object in our stopping in Berlin any longer now. We'll leave by the night train, and, get back to the old rooms at Baker Street and to dear old Pedro."

"Good!" exclaimed Tinker. "Germany's not such a bad place when you get to know it a bit, but give me Old England!"

THE END

ANONYMOUS (NORMAN GODDARD - 1881-1917)