Then suddenly the room seemed full of people. The thongs binding his hands and feet fell to the ground. "Buzzer" Barling stood at his side.



CHAPTER XXX. HOHENLINDEN TRENCH

A man broke quickly away from the throng of people pressing into the room. It was Francis. The Chief and Mr. Marigold were close at his heels.

"Des," cried Francis, "ah! thank God! you are all right!"

Desmond looked in a dazed fashion from one to the other. The rapid transition from the hush of the room to the scene of confusion going on around him had left him bewildered. His glance traveled from the faces of the men gathered round his chair to the floor. The sight of Bellward, very still, hunched up with his face immersed in the thick black carpet, seemed to recall something to his mind.

"Barbara!" he murmured in a strained voice.

"She's all right!" replied his brother, "we found her on the bed in a room on the floor below sleeping the sleep of the just. The woman's vanished, though. I'm afraid she got away! But who's this?"

He pointed to "Buzzer" Barling who stood stiffly at attention beside Desmond's chair.

"Ay, who are you, young fellow" repeated Mr. Marigold coming up close to the soldier. "Ask him!" said Desmond, raising his arm, "he knows!"

The group around the door had broken up. Strangwise, his wrists handcuffed together, his hair dishevelled and his collar torn, stood there between two plain clothes men. And at him Desmond pointed.

Strangwise was staring at the straight, square figure of the gunner, awkwardly attired in one of Desmond's old suits. Berling's frank, honest eyes returned the other's gaze unflinchingly. But Strangwise was obviously taken aback, though only for the moment. The flush that mounted to his cheek quickly died down, leaving him as cool and impassive as ever.

"Do you know this man!" the Chief, asked sternly, addressing Strangwise.

"Certainly," retorted Strangwise, "it's Gunner Barling, one of the Brigade signallers!"

Mr. Marigold gave a keen glance at the soldier.

"So you're Barling, eh?" he muttered as though talking to himself, "ah! this is getting interesting!"

"Yes," said Desmond, "this is Gunner Barling. Have a good look at him, Strangwise. It is he who summoned these gentlemen to my assistance. It is he who's going to tell them who and what you are!"

Turning to the Chief he added with a touch of formality: "May Gunner Barling tell his story, sir?"

"By all means," replied the Chief. "I am all attention. But first let this fellow be removed."

And beckoning to two of his men; he pointed to the body of Bellward.

"Is he dead" asked Desmond.

The Chief shook his head.

"He drew a bead on one of my men as we came in," he answered, "and got a bullet through the chest for his pains. We'll have to cure him of this gunshot wound so as to get him ready to receive another!"

He laughed a grim dry laugh at his little joke.

"Now, Barling," said Desmond, when Bellward had been borne away, "I want you to tell these gentlemen the story of the raid on the Hohenlinden trench."

Barling glanced rather self-consciously about him. But the look of intense, almost nervous watchfulness on the face of Maurice Strangwise seemed to reassure him. And when he spoke, he spoke straight at Strangwise.

"Well," he said, "Major Okewood here, what I used to know along of my brother being his servant, says as how you gentlemen'll make it all right about my stoppin' absent if I tells you what I know about this orficer. Tell it I will and gladly; for it was all along of him that I spoiled a clean sheet of eighteen years' service, gentlemen.

"When we was down Arras way a few months ago the infantry was a-goin' to do a raid, see? And the Captain here was sent along of the infantry party to jine up a lineback to the 'tillery brigade headquarters. Well, he took me and another chap, name o' Macdonald—Bombardier he was—along with him as signallers.

"This was a daylight raid, d'ye see, gentlemen? Our chaps went over at four o'clock in the afternoon. They was to enter a sort o' bulge in the German front line wot they called Hohenlinden Trench, bomb the Gers. out o' that, push on to the support line and clear out that and then come back. The rocket to fetch 'em home was to go up forty minutes after they started.

"Well, me and Mac—that's the Bombardier—went over with th' officer here just behind the raiding party. O' course Fritz knew we was comin' for it was broad daylight, and that clear you could see for miles over the flats. First thing we knew Fritz had put down a roarin', tearin' barrage, and we hadn't gone not twenty yards before ole Mac. cops one right on the nut; about took his head off, it did. So me and the captain we goes on alone and drops all nice and comfortable in the trench, and I starts getting my line jined up.

"It was a longish job but I got the brigade line goin' at last. Our chaps had cleared out the front line and was off down the communication trenches to the support. What with machine-guns rattlin' and bombs a-goin' off down the trench and Fritz's barrage all over the shop the row was that awful we had to buzz every single word.

"There was a bit of a house like, a goodish way in front, X farm, they called it, and presently the Brigade tells the Captain, who was buzzin' to them, to register B battery on to the farm.

"'I can't see the farm nohow from here,' sez the Captain. I could see it as plain as plain, and I pointed it out to him. But no! he couldn't see it.

"'I'll crawl out of the trench a bit, gunner,' sez he to me, 'you sit tight,' he sez, 'I'll let you know when to follow!"

"With that he up and out o' the trench leavin' me and the instruments behind all among the dead Gers., and our lads had killed a tidy few. It was pretty lonely round about were I was; for our chaps had all gone on and was bombin' the Gers., like they was a lot o' rabbits, up and down the support line.

"I followed the Captain with me eye, gentlemen, and I'm blessed if he didn't walk straight across the open and over the support trench. Then he drops into a bit of a shell-hole and I lost sight of him. Well, I waited and waited and no sign of th' orficer. The rocket goes up and our lads begin to come back with half a dozen Huns runnin' in front of them with their hands up. Some of the chaps as they passed me wanted to know if I was a-goin' to stay there all night! And the Brigade buzzin' like mad to talk to the Captain.

"I sat in that blessed trench till everybody had cleared out. Then, seeing as how not even the docket had brought th' orficer back, I sez to myself as how he must ha' stopped one. So I gets out of the trench and starts crawling across the top towards the place where I see the Captain disappear. As I got near the support line the ground went up a little and then dropped, so I got a bit of a view on to the ground ahead. And then I sees the Captain here!"

Buzzer Barling stopped. All had listened to his story with the deepest interest, especially Strangwise, who never took his eyes off the gunner's brown face. Some men are born story-tellers and there was a rugged picturesqueness about Barling's simple narrative which conjured up in the minds of his hearers the picture of the lonely signaller cowering in the abandoned trench among the freshly slain, waiting for the officer who never came back.

"It's not a nice thing to have to say about an orficer," the gunner presently continued, "and so help me God, gentlemen, I kep' my mouth shut about it until... until..."

He broke off and looked quickly at Desmond.

"Keep that until the end, Barling," said Desmond, "finish about the raid now!"

"Well, as I was sayin', gentlemen, I was up on a bit of hillock near Fritz's support line when I sees the Captain here. He was settin' all comfortable in a shell-hole, his glasses in his hand, chattin' quite friendly like with two of the Gers. orficers, I reckoned they was, along o' the silver lace on their collars. One was wearin' one o' them coal-scuttle helmets, t'other a little flat cap with a shiny peak. And the Captain here was a-pointin' at our lines and a-wavin' his hand about like he was a-tellin' the two Fritzes all about it, and the chap in the coal-scuttle hat was a-writin' it all down in a book."

Barling paused. He was rather flushed and his eyes burned brightly in his weather-beaten face.

"Eighteen year I done in the Royal Regiment," he went on, and his voice trembled a little, "and me father a battery sergeant-major before me, and I never thought to see one of our orficers go over to the enemy. Fritz was beginnin' to come back to his front line: I could see their coal-scuttle hats a-bobbin' up and down the communication trenches, so I crawled back the way I come and made a bolt for our lines.

"I meant to go straight to the B.C. post and report wot I seen to the Major. But I hadn't the heart to, gentlemen, when I was up against it. It was an awful charge to bring against an orficer, d'you see? I told myself I didn't know but what the Captain hadn't been taken prisoner and was makin' the best of it, w'en I see him, stuffin' the Fritzes up with a lot o' lies. And so I jes' reported as how th' orficer 'ad crawled out of the trench and never come back. And then this here murder happened..."

Mr. Marigold turned to the Chief.

"If you remember, sir," he said, "I found this man's leave paper in the front garden of the Mackwayte's house at Laleham Villas, Seven Kings, the day after the murder. There are one or two questions I should like to put..."

"No need to arsk any questions," said Barling. "I'll tell you the whole story meself, mister. I was on leave at the time, due to go back to France the next afternoon. I'd been out spending the evenin' at my niece's wot's married and livin' out Seven Kings way. Me and her man wot works on the line kept it up a bit late what with yarnin' about the front an' that and it must a' been nigh on three o'clock w'en I left him to walk back to the Union Jack Club where I had a bed.

"There's a corfee-stall near their road and the night bein' crool damp I thought as how a nice cup o' corfee'd warm me up afore I went back to the Waterloo Bridge Road. I had me cup o' corfee and was jes' a-payin' the chap what has the pitch w'en a fellow passes by right in the light o' the lamp on the stall. It was th' orficer here, in plain clothes—shabby-like he was dressed—but I knew him at once.

"'Our orficers don't walk about these parts after midnight dressed like tramps,' I sez to meself, and rememberin' what I seen at the Hohenlinden Trench I follows him..."

"Just a minute!"

The Chief's voice broke in upon the narrative.

"Didn't you know, Barling, hadn't you heard, about Captain Strangwise's escape from a German prisoners of war camp?"

"No, sir!" replied the gunner.

"There was a good deal about it in the papers."

"I've not got much eddication, sir," said Barling, "that's w'y I never took the stripe and I don't take much account of the newspapers an' that's a fact!"

"Well, go on!" the Chief bade him.

"It was pretty dark in the streets and I follered him along without his seeing me into the main-road and then down a turnin'..."

"Laleham Villas," prompted Mr. Marigold.

"I wasn't payin' much attention to were he was leadin' me," said Barling, "what I wanted to find out was what he was up to! Presently he turned in at a gate. I was closer up than I meant to be, and he swung in so sudden that I had to drop quick and crouch behind the masonry of the front garden wall. My leave pass must a' dropped out o' my pocket and through the railin's into the garden.

"Well, the front door must a' been on the jar for th' orficer here just pushes it open and walks in, goin' very soft like. I crep' in the front gate and got as far as the door w'ich was a-standin' half open. I could 'ear the stair creakin' under 'im and I was just wonderin' whether I should go into the house w'en I hears a bang and wi' that someone comes aflyin' down the stairs, dodges through the front hall and out at the back. I see him come scramblin' over the back gate and was a-goin' to stop him thinkin' it was th' orficer here w'en I sees it is a tubby little chap, not big like the Captain. And then it come over me quite sudden-like that burglary and murder had been done in the house and wot would I say if a p'liceman come along? So I slipped off and went as hard as I could go back to the old Union Jack Club.

"The next mornin' I found I'd lost me leave paper. I was afraid to go and report it in case it had been picked up, and they'd run me in for this murder job. That's how I come to desert, gentlemen, and spoilt a eighteen years' conduct sheet without a entry over this murderin' spy here!"

Gunner Barling broke off abruptly as though he had committed himself to a stronger opinion than discipline would allow. It was the Chief who broke the silence following the termination of the gunner's story.

"Strangwise," he said, "hadn't you better tell us who you are?"

"He's an officer of the Prussian Guard," Desmond said, "and he was sent over here by the German secret service organization in the United States to get a commission in the British Army. When a good man was wanted to recover the Star of Poland for the Crown Prince, the secret service people in Berlin sent word to Strangwise (who was then serving with the gunners in France) to get himself captured. The German military authorities duly reported him a prisoner of war and then let him 'escape' as' the easiest and least suspicious means of getting him back to London!"

The Chief smiled genially.

"That's a dashed clever idea," he observed shrewdly, "'pon my word, that's bright! That's very bright! I should like to compliment the man who thought of that!"

"Then you may address your compliments to me, Chief," said Strangwise.

The Chief turned and looked at him.

"I've met many of your people in my time, Strangwise," he said, "but I don't know you! Who are you?"

Strangwise laughed.

"Ask Nur-el-Din," he said, "that is to say, if you haven't shot her yet!"

"And if we have?" asked the Chief.

Desmond sprang tip.

"It isn't possible!" he cried. "Why, the woman's a victim, not a principal! Chief..."

"What if we have?" asked the Chief again.

A curious change had come over the prisoner. His jaunty air had left him and there was an apprehensive look in his eyes.

"I would have saved her if I could have," Strangwise said, "but she played me false over the jewel. She imperiled the success of my mission. You English have no idea of discipline. To us Prussian officers an order stands above everything else. There is nothing we would not sacrifice to obey our orders. And my order was to recover the Star of Poland for His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince, Lieutenant Colonel in the Regiment to which I have the honor to belong, the First Regiment of Prussian Foot Guards. But Nur-el-Din plotted with our friend here and with that little fool upstairs to upset my plans, and I had no mercy on her. I planted those documents in her dress—or rather Bellward did—to draw suspicion away from me. I thought you English would be too flabby to execute a woman; but I reckoned on you putting the girl away for some years to come. I would have shot her as I shot Rass if..." His voice trembled and he was silent.

"If what?" asked the Chief.

"If she hadn't been my wife," said Strangwise.



CHAPTER XXXI. THE 100,000 KIT

It was a clear, crisp morning with a sparkle of frost on jetty and breakwater. The English Channel stretched flashing like a living sheet of glass to the filmy line marking the coast of France, as serene and beautiful in its calm as it is savage and cruel in its anger. It was high tide; but only a gentle murmur came from the little waves that idly beat upon the shore in front of the bungalow.

A girl lay in a deck chair on the verandah, well wrapped up against the eager air. But the fresh breeze would not be denied and, foiled by the nurse's vigilance of its intents against the patient, it revenged itself by blowing havoc among the soft brown curls which peeped out from under the girl's hat.

She turned to the man at her side.

"Look!" she said, and pointed seawards with her finger.

A convoy of vessels was standing out to sea framed in the smoke-blurs of the escorting destroyers. Ugly, weatherbeaten craft were the steamers with trails of smoke blown out in the breeze behind them. They rode the sea's highway with confidence, putting their trust in the unseen power that swept the road clear for them.

"Transports, aren't they?" asked the man.

But he scarcely looked at the transports. He was watching the gleam of the sun on the girl's brown hair and contrasting the deep gray of her eyes with the ever-changing hues of the sea.

"Yes," replied the girl. "It's the third day they've gone across! By this time next week there'll be ten fresh divisions in France. How secure they look steaming along! And to think they owe it all to you!"

The man laughed and flushed up.

"From the strictly professional standpoint the less said about me the better," he said.

"What nonsense you talk!" cried the girl. "When the Chief was down to see me yesterday, he spoke of nothing but you. 'They beat him, but he won out!' he said, 'they shook him off but he went back and found 'em!' He told me it was a case of grit versus violence—and grit won. In all the time I've known the Chief, I've never heard him talk so much about one man before. Do you know," Barbara went on, looking up at Desmond, "I think you've made the Chief feel a little bit ashamed of himself. And that I may tell you is a most extraordinary achievement!"

"Do you think you're strong enough to hear some news?" asked Desmond after a pause.

"Of course," replied the girl. "But I think I can guess it. It's about Strangwise, isn't it?"

Desmond nodded.

"He was shot yesterday morning," he replied. "I'm glad they did it in France. I was terrified lest they should want me to go to it."

"Why?" asked the girl with a suspicion of indignation in her voice, "he deserved no mercy."

"No," replied Desmond slowly, "he was a bad fellow—a Prussian through and through. He murdered your poor father, he shot Rass, he instigated the killing of the maid, Marie, he was prepared to sacrifice his own wife even, to this Prussian God of militarism which takes the very soul out of a man's body and puts it into the hands of his superior officer. And yet, and yet, when one has soldiered with a man, Barbara, and roughed it with him and been shelled and shot at with him, there seems to be a bond of sympathy between you and him for ever after. And he was a brave man, Barbara, cruel and unscrupulous, I admit, but there was no fear in him, and I can't help admiring courage. I seem to think of him as two men—the man I soldiered with and the heartless brute who watched while that beast Bellward..."

He broke off as a spasm of pain crossed the girl's face. "I shall remember the one and forget the other," he concluded simply.

"Tell me," said the girl suddenly, "who was Strangwise?"

"After he was arrested and just before they were going to take him off," Desmond said, "he asked to be allowed to say a word privately to the Chief. We were all sent away and he told the Chief his real name. He thought he was going to be hanged, you see, and while he never shrank from any crime in the fulfilment of his mission, he was terrified of a shameful death. He begged the Chief to see that his real name was not revealed for the disgrace that his execution would bring upon his family. Curiously Prussian attitude of mind, isn't it?"

"And what did the Chief say?"

"I don't know; but he was mighty short with him, I expect."

"And what was Strangwise's real name?"

"When he told us that Nur-el-Din was his wife, I knew at once who he was. His name is Hans von Schornbeek. He was in the Prussian Foot Guards, was turned out for some reason or other and went to America where, after a pretty rough time, he was taken on by the German secret service organization. He was working for them when he met Nur-el-Din. They were married out there and, realizing the possibilities of using her as a decoy in the secret service, he sent her to Brussels where the Huns were very busy getting ready for war. He treated her abominably; but the girl was fond of him in her way and even when she was in fear of her life from this man she never revealed to me the fact that he was Hans von Schornbeek and her husband."

Barbara sat musing for a while, her eyes on the restless sea.

"How strange it is," she said, "to think that they are all dispersed now... and the transports are sailing securely to France. Two were killed at the Mill House, Behrend committed suicide in prison, Bellward died in hospital, Mrs. Malplaquet has disappeared, and now Strangwise has gone. There only remains..."

She cast a quick glance at Desmond but he was gazing seaward at the smoke of the transports smudging the horizon.

"What are they going to do with Nur-el-Din?" she asked rather abruptly.

"Didn't the Chief tell you?" said Desmond.

"He only asked me what I had to say in the matter as I had had to suffer at her hands. But I told him I left the matter entirely to him. I said I took your point of view that Nur-el-Din was the victim of her husband..."

"That was generous of you, Barbara," Desmond said gently.

She sighed.

"Daddy knew her as a little girl," she answered, "and he was so pleased to see her again that night. She never had a chance. I hope she'll get one now!"

"They're going to intern her, I believe," said Desmond, "until the end of the war; they could do nothing else, you know. But she will be well looked after, and I think she will be safer in our charge than if she were allowed to remain at liberty. The German Secret Service has had a bad knock, you know. Somebody has got to pay for it!"

"I know," the girl whispered, "and it frightens me."

"You poor child!" said Desmond, "you've had a rough time. But it's all over now. And that reminds me, Barney is coming up for sentence to-day; they charged him with murder originally; but Marigold kept on getting him remanded until they were able to alter the charge to one of burglary. He'll probably get two years' hard labor, Marigold says."

"Poor Barney!" said Barbara, "I wish they would let him go free. All these weeks the mystery of poor Daddy's death has so weighed upon my mind that now it has been cleared up I feel as though one day I might be happy again. And I want everybody to be happy, too!"

"Barbara," said Desmond and took her hand.

Barbara calmly withdrew it from his grasp and brushed an imaginary curl out of her eye.

"Any news of your hundred thousand pound kit?" she asked, by way of turning the conversation.

"By Jove," said Desmond, "there was a letter from Cox's at the club this morning but I was so rushed to catch my train that I shoved it in my pocket and forgot all about it. I wrote and asked them weeks ago to get my kit back from France. Here we are!"

He pulled a letter out of his pocket, slit open the envelope and took out a printed form. Barbara, propping herself up with one hand on his shoulder, leaned over him to read the communication. This is what she read.

"We are advised," the form ran, "that a Wolseley valise forwarded to you on the 16th inst. from France has been lost by enemy action. We are enclosing a compensation form which..."

But neither troubled to read further.

"Gone to the bottom, by Jove!" cried Desmond. "But isn't it strange," he went on, "to think of the Star of Poland lying out there on the bed of the Channel? Well, I'm not so sure that it isn't the best place for it. It won't create any further trouble in this world at least!"

"Poor Nur-el-Din!" sighed the girl.

They sat awhile in silence together and watched the gulls circling unceasingly above the receding tide.

"You're leaving here to-morrow then?" said Desmond presently.

Barbara nodded

"And going back to your work with the Chief?"

Barbara nodded again.

"It's not good enough," cried Desmond. "This is no job for a girl like you, Barbara. The strain is too much; the risks are too great. Besides, there's something I wanted to say..."

Barbara stopped him.

"Don't say it!" she bade him.

"But you don't know what I was going to say!" he protested.

Barbara smiled a little happy smile.

"Barbara..." Desmond began.

Her hand still rested on his shoulder and he put his hand over hers. For a brief moment she let him have his way.

Then she withdrew her hand.

"Desmond," she said, looking at him with kindly eyes, "we both have work to do..."

"We have," replied the man somberly, "and mine's at the front!"

The girl shook her head.

"No!" she said. "Henceforward it's where the Chief sends you!"

Desmond set his jaw obstinately.

"I may have been a Secret Service agent by accident," he answered, "but I'm a soldier by trade. My place is in the fighting-line!"

"The Secret Service has its fighting-line, too," Barbara replied, "though the war correspondents don't write about it. It never gets a mention in despatches, and Victoria Crosses don't come its way. The newspapers don't publish its casualty list, though you and I know that it's a long one. A man slips quietly away and never comes back, and after a certain lapse of time we just mark him off the books and there's an end of it. But it's a great service; and you've made your mark in it. The Chief wants men like you. You'll have to stay!"

Desmond was about to speak; but the girl stopped him. "What do you and I matter," she asked, "when the whole future of England is at stake! If you are to give of your best to this silent game of ours, you must be free with no responsibilities and no ties, with nothing that will ever make you hesitate to take a supreme risk. And I never met a man that dared more freely than you!"

"Oh, please..." said Desmond and got up.

He stood gazing seawards for a while.

Then he glanced at his watch.

"I must be going back to London," he said. "I have to see the Chief at four this afternoon. And you know why!"

The girl nodded.

"What will you tell him?" she asked. "Will you accept his offer to remain on in the Secret Service?"

Desmond looked at her ruefully.

"You're so eloquent about it," he said slowly, "that I think I must!"

Smiling, she gave him her hand. Desmond held it for an instant in his.

Then, without another word, he turned and strode off towards the winding white road that led to the station.

Barbara watched him until a turn in the road hid him from her sight. Then she pulled out her handkerchief.

"Good Heavens, girl!" she said to herself, "I believe you're crying!"

THE END