"It is because we will not work if the goods are to be seized by the Germans. We are true Belgians—not like those traitors who fill the shell-shops—and we cannot work against our country."

"And you are right," cried Max warmly. "I am with you heart and soul."

"Huh! But what our men cannot understand is why the firm does not close down. Why is it left to us poor workmen to show our patriotism? Why does not the firm take the lead? We would stand by them to the death if need be."

"I believe you," cried Max, with difficulty gulping down the lump that rose in his throat. What a cur he felt—he, the owner in the sight of these men, helpless to influence in the slightest degree the affairs of the great works called by his name. "But, lads—to my shame I say it—I am helpless. I am but just come from demanding of Monsieur Schenk that the works should be closed. He will not hear of it, and it is he who has the power, not I. And behind him stand the Germans. I can do nothing, and I feel the shame of it more than I can say."

Max's voice trembled with earnestness and sincerity, and the men clearly believed him. Their cold looks vanished, and the one or two near him seized him by the hands and wrung them vigorously.

"That is good, Monsieur. We are glad to hear that you are for us. It makes our stand easier now that we know that the owners at least are on our side. As for that Schenk, we have always hated him as a tyrant, and now we doubly hate him as a traitor as well."

"Aye," broke in another of the men, "he is the cause of the mischief. And we have sworn not to work so long as the Germans hold the town. If we were ready to strike and suffer long for wages, will we not do so for the good of our country?"

The man gazed round at his comrades, who gave a half-cheer in answer to his appeal. The attention of the German guards was attracted by the sound, and the non-commissioned officer in charge instantly ordered his men to advance on the offending party.

"Disperse!" cried Max and one or two more, and the group broke up, most of the men walking out of the yard into the open road. The regular tramp of heavy-booted feet and harsh commands that followed them were a further reminder, if one were needed, of the utter change that had come over the scene of their humble daily toil.



CHAPTER VIII

Treachery!

"What is to be our next move, Max?" enquired Dale presently, after they had walked almost mechanically nearly a mile from the Durend works upwards towards the hills on the western side of the town. Twice he had to repeat his question, for Max was too immersed in thoughts bitter and rebellious to pay much heed.

"I care not where we go, Jack. For me everything seems to have come to an end."

"I know, I know, Max, just how you feel; but do not give way to it. There is Belgium to live for; and you have what I have not—a mother. Let us go home and think things out."

"I cannot rest at home, Dale—yet. Let us walk on for a while. We shall feel free on this side of the town. Thank God, the forts here are still holding out, and the Germans have not yet over-run the countryside. Presently we shall reach the Crofts, and we will sit in the cottage or the old summer-house while we talk it all over."

On the western side of the town, at a distance of some six miles or so, Madame Durend owned a little old-fashioned cottage, picturesquely planted in a large garden and wood. It was a favourite resort of the family in summer-time, and Max and Dale had had their full share of its pleasures. For one thing, there was an asphalt tennis-court there which had claimed a large part of their spare time, not to mention that of Max's sister and her friends.

Avoiding the road, in order to lessen their chance of encountering enemy patrols, Max and his friend travelled across fields and along bypaths towards the cottage. They had come to within half a mile or so of the place when they were startled beyond measure, and almost stunned, by a tremendous report like the explosion of an enormous gun. It was close at hand, too, and seemed to come from the general direction of the cottage. Almost immediately there was another similar report, followed by others at a greater distance. Max and Dale looked at one another significantly.

"Attacking either Fort Loncin or Fort Hollogne," said Max resignedly. "I wonder we have got so far unnoticed."

"Yes; but now we are here we may as well see the fun. Let us go to the Crofts, and climb the big oak as of yore. We shall see everything from there."

"And be seen too, I'm thinking. Never mind; I feel reckless enough for anything this afternoon."

"Well, reckless or no, we may as well move cautiously. Let us keep well under cover of this hedge. Whew! What a row there is!"

As the two friends drew nearer to the cottage they became convinced that not only was the firing taking place quite near the Crofts, but that it was going on in the very garden itself. Closer and closer they crept, their curiosity keenly whetted by this unexpected discovery, until they reached a little clump of thick undergrowth which overlooked the garden. Here the greatest discovery of all awaited them.

Two big 28-cm. guns were in position in the centre of the garden, and being loaded and fired without a moment's respite. The sight was fascinating—nay, awe-inspiring—enough, but to the two lads the thing that most caught and fixed their attention was the fact that both guns were planted full on their asphalted tennis-court. To Dale this was merely curious, but to Max it had a significance so terrible and nerve-shaking that it was all he could do to prevent himself crying out.

"What's the matter, Max?" cried Dale in alarm, as he caught a glimpse of his friend's pale, drawn face and staring eyes.

"Come away—quick! Let us get away and I will tell you," cried Max in a hoarse voice, and, followed by his friend, he sped swiftly from the scene towards a thick wood a short distance away. Once well within the shelter of its leafy screen, he stopped and faced Dale excitedly, his face aflame.

"That scoundrel Schenk! He is at the bottom of it all. He is a paid traitor and spy of the German Government, and, fool that I was, I never saw it before!"

"Why, what has happened to tell you this? A traitor I dare say he is, but why so suddenly sure?"

"That tennis-court. Do you know that Schenk, when he heard we were thinking of one, pressed us to have an asphalt one for use in all weathers. He saw to it himself, and dug down six feet for the foundations. I asked him why he was doing that, and he said he had a lot of material, concrete or something, over from something else—I didn't take much notice what it was—and that it would make it all the better. It was all a ruse to lay down solid concrete gun-platforms ready to blow our forts to pieces. The utter scoundrel!"

"Ah! And that was why he replaced the Walloon and Flemish workmen by naturalized Germans! I see. He wanted to have men he could be sure of and to have the works ready for running without a hitch directly the Germans entered. And the shells——"

"Yes," almost shouted Max, grasping his friend roughly by the arm, "yes, their calibre will be that of German, not Belgian, guns! They never were for Belgian guns! That was why they were kept covered up so closely in the yard."

"Phew! It was a risky game to play; but no doubt he expected the town to fall quickly—perhaps even more quickly than it did."

"And there are other things," Max went on in a quieter tone. "Why was it Schenk persuaded us to go to Germany instead of to Holland for our holiday? Why—why? Simply because he wanted to get us out of the way. Then do you remember those men who were captured after trying to assassinate General Leman in the town? I thought I had seen two or three of them somewhere before. I remember now. They were some of the workmen of the shell-shops, and one was a foreman. The plot was hatched by Schenk, not a doubt of it."

"Not a shadow of a doubt. The whole business is as plain as a pikestaff. But who would have dreamed of such devilish forethought? He must have been planning it for years!"

"Yes, he has been my father's right-hand man for nine or ten years at least. He must have come for no other purpose—and my father never knew it! How glad I am my mother is out of it all, safe and sound."

For some time the two friends discussed the great discovery in all its bearings. Matters stood out in a fresh perspective, and one of the first things to appear prominently was the peril in which both of them now stood. In peril from the Germans they had known they stood, but the peril from Schenk was new and far greater. At any moment he might come to the conclusion that their continued presence about the works or in the town was inconvenient, and denounce them as hostile to the occupation. In fact—and a bitter realization it was—they were only saved from this by the manager's contempt of them as adversaries and his calm assurance that they were really not worth considering one way or the other.

"Well, Max," said Dale at last, "what line are we now going to take? It is time we made up our minds once and for all. We are clearly outclassed by this Schenk—he holds all the cards—and the best thing we can do is to make tracks to join the Belgian army before it is too late to get away."

"Yes, Dale, that is the best thing—for you. Only I cannot come with you. You go and join the British army. My place is here more than ever, and leave it I will not."

"Come now, Max, don't be obstinate! There is nothing to be done here. You are absolutely helpless pitted against Schenk and his friends the Germans. You must recognize it. Come with me and we will see what we can do for the good cause elsewhere."

Max shook his head decidedly. His face was very downcast, and it was clear to his friend that he felt most keenly the way in which his father's name and resources had been exploited by the enemies of their country; but his lips were firmly set, and in his eyes was the steady look Dale remembered so well during the dark days of the struggle for Benson's. Benson's! The recollection brought back again to Dale the words spoken by the master at the close of the races: "Fixity of purpose ... there is almost nothing that fixity of purpose will not accomplish."

"No," Max said simply, after a moment's pause, "I am going to keep watch and ward over the Durend workshops. Cost what it may I am going, by all means in my power, to hinder the use of them for the enemy's purposes. What influence I have—little enough I fear—with the real Belgian workmen, I will exert to keep them from aiding Schenk. The works are mine—I speak for my mother—and I will not hesitate to destroy them if I find opportunity. There must be many ways in which I can make trouble, and I am going to strain every nerve to do so. Let Schenk look out; it is war to the knife!"

"Hurrah!" cried Dale excitedly. Then he went on in a sober tone: "But it is risky work, Max. Schenk will very soon suspect us—he has agents and spies everywhere, you may be sure."

"We must be as cunning as he is—more so. We must outdo him at his own game. We—I, I should say, for you must go back to England—I am going to disappear and emerge as a simple workman, with German sympathies of course. Then the fight will begin."

"Yes, and I'm in it, Max," cried Dale joyously. "I wouldn't miss it for worlds. It sounds good enough for anything. To outwit the Germans is great, but to outwit Schenk is ten times better. Come along, let's get to work."

"All right!" cried Max, smiling at his friend's enthusiasm. "We'll get back at once, and, as a start, go home and fetch away some of our things. It will have to be the last time we go there."

Quickly, and yet with caution, the two lads retraced their steps to the town. They knew every foot of the country, and, though there were numerous patrolling parties of Germans between them and the town, they were able to pass them without difficulty. At the door of his house one of the servants met Max and handed him a note.

"A young man brought it, Monsieur, an hour ago. He has come all the way from Maastricht with it. It is from Madame, your mother, and he said it was very important."

Rapidly Max tore away the cover and opened the missive. His senses were perhaps preternaturally sharpened, for he felt a sense of foreboding. After many fond messages, and repeated injunctions that he would take care of himself and not offend the Germans, the note went on:

"And now, Max, I want to tell you something that distresses me extremely, though I have hopes that it may be all a mistake. When I left, bringing only a few things and a purse with such money as I had by me at the moment, M. Schenk, on my explicit instructions, assured me that he would arrange at once for a large sum of money to be transferred to my account at the Maastricht Bank. I have been there repeatedly, asking about it, but none of the officials know anything of the matter. They say they have not been approached, and though they have enquired of other banks in the place they can learn no tidings. They have been very good to me, for, hearing who I was, they advanced me a small sum for my immediate use. Will you now please see M. Schenk and have this matter—which is so distressing—put right?"

Max clenched the paper in his hand. The blood flooded up into his head with such force that he had to put his hand against the doorpost to steady himself.

"What's the matter?" cried Dale, again in alarm at the look on his face. "Is it bad news?"

"Aye—the worst—the blackest treachery," cried Max in a voice which trembled with the intensity of his emotion. "I must see Schenk—and wring from him the money he has stolen," and, turning impetuously on his heel, Max strode rapidly away from the house in the direction of the works.

Dale darted after him and caught him up. "You must do nothing rash, Max," he cried earnestly. "Wait a while until you are calm; you are no match for Schenk like that. Let us walk slowly along while you tell me what has happened."

Max thrust at him the crumpled letter. Then in a few broken words he told him, what was scarcely needed, that the manager had tricked his mother into leaving the country, and had then left her stranded without a penny to live upon. The baseness of it all came as a shock, even on the top of their knowledge of the man's deep treachery.

"There's more behind it, I believe," said Dale, after a few minutes' cogitation in silence. "I think this may be a lever to get you out of the country. He will think you will be compelled to go to your mother and work for her support."

"He knows he can get me out of the way at any time by denouncing me to the Germans," replied Max in dissent. "No—that will not explain it. But as sure as I live I will wring the truth from him before another hour is gone."

Dale gazed in some apprehension at his friend as he strode feverishly along towards the Durend works. He feared that he might, in his anger, do some rash act that would destroy all. But presently, to his relief, he saw that he was regaining control over his feelings, and, by the time they reached the works, he seemed his usual self again. The only evidence of his past emotion was to be found in his somewhat gloomy looks and in lips tightly compressed as though to hold in check feelings that struggled for an outlet.



CHAPTER IX

The Opening of the Struggle

The manager was in his room, and stared in some alarm at Max and his friend as they strode unceremoniously in. Then he touched a bell and his secretary entered.

"Remain at the door, Erbo. I shall want you in a moment," he said coolly.

It was a declaration of distrust, if not war, and both sides knew it. It robbed Max's words of any circumlocution he might otherwise have used, and he went straight to the point.

"You have not sent my mother the money that she instructed you to send, Monsieur Schenk. Why is that?"

The manager cleared his throat. "The German commander has forbidden any moneys to be sent out of the country, Monsieur Max, and it is unfortunately now impossible for me to do so."

"I have not heard of any such order. But why did you not do it before the Germans entered? You had ample time."

"I gave instructions, but the tremendous pressure a day or two before the Germans entered—you know how I worked to cast shells for our armies and the garrisons of the forts—caused it to be overlooked. I regret this very much, but it is now too late to do anything."

The manager looked squarely and unblushingly at Max as he boasted of the way in which he had aided the Belgian troops, and the latter was hard put to it to keep back the torrent of wrathful words that rose to his lips. But other and more pressing matters claimed attention just now, and, choking down his indignation, he replied temperately:

"It is not too late, Monsieur Schenk. Hand me the necessary moneys or securities and I will convey them to Maastricht. My mother must not be left destitute."

The manager shook his head decidedly. "No, Monsieur Max, I cannot do that. You would be certain to be taken, and I should have to pay the greater share of the penalty. No, I cannot think of it; but there is a way out of the difficulty which would indeed simplify matters in another direction. You are in great danger here and are doing no good. Go to Maastricht and support your good mother. I will obtain for you a passport through the Germans and a letter to a friend of mine who will see that you secure well-paid work. Yes, that is the best way out of the difficulty, Monsieur Max, and you and your mother will live to rejoice at having taken it."

"If your friend can get me well-paid work, can he not advance money to my mother, Monsieur Schenk?"

"No, he is in a position to get you a berth, but he has no great means. Come now, Monsieur Max, be guided by me and leave Liege without delay. The works are running splendidly, and I shall have a good account to give of my stewardship after the war."

The man's cool effrontery and the tone of lofty regard for the interests of the owners of the Durend works almost stunned Max, and for a moment he could but stare at him in dumb astonishment. That his faithful stewardship of the Durend works now ran counter to the vital interests of the country seemed not to matter to him one straw. Ceasing to plead his mother's cause, Max asked with sudden directness:

"How is it, Monsieur Schenk, that the shells we are casting for the Belgian guns will not fit them, but yet do fit the German guns?"

It was a shot at a venture, but it went home. The manager was obviously taken aback, although he recovered himself almost instantly as he replied:

"You have noticed that then? Yes, there was a misunderstanding about the size with the commandant. Apparently he was speaking about the calibre of the shells thrown against the forts, when I was under the impression he was discussing the calibre of the shells most urgently required for use. It was a ridiculous mistake, but not so strange when one considers the turmoil and confusion of those early days."

At this Max could contain himself no longer. "Monsieur Schenk—Herr Schenk, I should say—you are a traitor to Belgium, and I denounce you here and now. You are a base schemer, and the biggest scoundrel in Liege, if not in Belgium. You have the upper hand at present, but I declare to you that I shall spare no pains in the distant future to bring you to justice and to see that you get your deserts. I know your plans—or some of them. The concrete tennis-court—the filling of the shops with German workmen, the plot against General Leman, and, greatest of all, the fearful shell treachery. Oh, the shame of it should tell, even upon a German!"

It certainly seemed to tell a little upon M. Schenk. He gasped, flushed up, and opened his mouth, apparently to deny the accusations. Then he apparently thought better of it, for he controlled himself by an effort and replied coldly:

"Very well, Monsieur Max; it is war between us, I see. And it will soon end—in your discomfiture!"

"We shall see. Good day, Herr Schenk!"

This mode of addressing him seemed to sting the manager more than anything else, for he burst out angrily:

"Fool of a boy! Do you think to measure your puny strength with mine? Bah! I shall crush you before ever you can raise your hand against me. As for my name, Herr Schenk suits me well enough. I am a German, and I hate these decadent peoples we call Belgians. Let Germany rule—she is strong and virile, and before her the world must—and shall—bow down. You, whether you call yourself English or Belgian, shall know what it is to have your country crushed and beaten, and to have brains—German brains—to direct and rule you. Go—and see if I'm not right."

"I am going—and going to do my best to prove you wrong," replied Max proudly as he strode quickly from the room. Dale followed him, venting his own indignation, as he turned away, by shaking his fist full in the manager's face.

* * * * *

"We must not dally here," cried Max as they left the building. "We had better make ourselves scarce at once. We have burnt our boats, and both Schenk and the Germans will be after us from now onwards."

"And a good job too," replied Dale, who did not appear at all alarmed at the prospect. "The fight now begins."

"Quick—round here," cried Max, turning a corner sharply. "Let us lose ourselves in these narrow streets for a while. We will then go to Madame Dubec's."

"Madame Dubec's?"

"Yes, we must not go home. Madame Dubec—the wife of the man whose life I saved, you remember—she will shelter us for a day or two while we look about us. We will get her or her husband to buy us rough clothes, so that we can pass as workmen. We must not go about like this any longer."

"Aye, we must act the part of honest sons of toil. Always have a spanner sticking out of a pocket, and a hunk of bread and cheese tied up in a coloured handkerchief in our hands. Hurrah!"

Madame Dubec gave them a quiet but sincere welcome, and for the remainder of the day and the following night they sheltered beneath her roof. She was anxious that they should stay permanently with her, when she learned that they were in danger, but neither Max nor Dale would hear of it. Should Schenk or the Germans learn that she had sheltered them it might go hard with her, and neither cared to contemplate such a thing. As soon, therefore, as they had been provided with workmen's clothes, they took a room in a poor quarter of the town well away from the Durend works and made active preparations for their campaign. Although Max had not dared to go to his home to fetch any of his belongings, he had managed to get a few of the more necessary things by sending one of Madame Dubec's daughters with a note to one of the domestics whom he knew he could trust.

To Max, the great campaign he had in mind against Schenk and the Germans was momentarily eclipsed by the urgent need for doing something to relieve the distress of his mother and sister. He tried at first to think of friends, who, knowing the value of their property, might be disposed to advance a sufficient sum of money upon its security. It was in the midst of these reflections, and the angry thoughts of Schenk that naturally coloured them, that a wild and desperate idea occurred to him. He dismissed it at first as an absurdity, but the thought kept coming back again, until, weary of resisting it, he allowed his mind to dwell upon it at will. It was while heedlessly immersed in these rambling thoughts that a sudden recollection came which considerably altered the aspect of affairs. From a wild and desperate dream it changed into a project, difficult and perilous indeed, but one by no means hopeless of achievement. In the end it took such firm hold upon him that he thought it out seriously and at last unfolded it to Dale.

That worthy welcomed it with such unbounded admiration and delight that the question as to whether it should or should not be attempted was settled out of hand, and the preparations for carrying it into effect promptly begun.

The project was, briefly, to go and take by a coup de main the moneys belonging to his mother that Schenk had wrongfully and treacherously refused to hand over. It seemed a most risky venture, but Max had a recollection that his father long ago had entrusted to his mother the duplicate key of his safe in case anything should at any time happen to him. It had never been used, and his mother, likely enough, had almost forgotten she possessed it. Nevertheless, Max believed it was still in her possession, and he resolved to settle the point by sending a messenger to fetch it. More important still, he believed that Schenk was quite unaware of its existence. If the key could be secured it would simplify matters immensely, and, as Max was naturally familiar with the building in which the manager's office was situated, the enterprise was one which seemed likely to succeed if resolutely attempted. The safe, he knew, ought to contain all the money and securities of the firm, unless, indeed, Schenk had already handed them over to the Germans. This did not seem likely, however, and Max would not allow so disappointing a thought to interfere with his calculations.

Monsieur Dubec's eldest daughter was promptly dispatched to Madame Durend with a letter asking for the key. Max entered into no details, and his mother may possibly have supposed that M. Schenk's failure to send her the money he had promised was due to the loss of the original key. At any rate, to the delight both of Max and Dale, the key duly arrived the following day.

Tools were needed, and these were of course easily obtained. Max, as we have seen, had been through most of the shops in the Durend concern, and knew how to use almost any tool as well as the best of the firm's mechanics. No difficulties, therefore, were to be anticipated on that score. In fact, the more the details of the scheme were discussed the more feasible it seemed and the more the spirits of the two plotters rose.

The third night after the break with Schenk, Max and Dale set out from their lodging at midnight and made their way to the Durend workshops. Dale was carrying a good-sized bag, in which was a lantern and an assortment of tools and other articles, one or two of them of such a nature that to be stopped and the bag examined would have been fatal to their liberty of movement for many a long day. It was, therefore, necessary for them to move with caution, and Max accordingly went on a hundred yards ahead, ready to give the agreed signal—a stumble forward on the pavement—whenever it was advisable for Dale to disappear.

The offices of the Durend Company were situated in a separate building just inside the main entrance gates. The latter were ordinarily guarded by a watchman, but since the Germans had entered Liege a guard of German soldiers had been established there, and the sentinel on his beat passed within view of the front and two sides of the offices. It was pretty obvious, therefore, that the rear of the building would have to be the part attacked.

It was close on one o'clock when Max and Dale scaled the outer wall well away from the entrance, and moved cautiously up to the rear of the building which was their objective. They had had only one alarm so far, and this had been so easily disposed of that they had begun to feel quite elated.

"This window gives access to the drawing-office, Dale, and ought to suit us well. Give me a lift on to the sill, and hand up the tools."

In a surprisingly short space of time the window was forced open, and Max clambered into the room. A whispered word, and Dale handed up the bag and sprang quietly up after it.

"Heat No. 1 pulled off at a paddle," commented Dale exultingly.

"The door is open, as I expected," whispered Max, who was too intent upon the work in hand to heed his friend's playfulness. "Now I will light the lantern and we will go upstairs. The door of the manager's room is sure to be locked, but we shall make short work of that."

As Max expected, the door was locked, but they had come provided with tools for all eventualities, and in ten minutes the whole of the bottom panels right up to the framework had been neatly sawn out in one piece. Through the aperture the two lads crept, drawing the bag through after them.

"Heat No. 2 won by a dozen lengths," cried Dale joyously.

The room was a fairly large one, and contained the manager's desk, a really handsome piece of furniture which had been Max's father's, two or three tables, bookcases, a screen, and a large and massive safe.

Max lost no time. Setting Dale to keep watch and ward at the window which commanded a view of the entrance-gates, he placed the lantern on the desk, so that its light fell upon the safe, and then advanced upon it, key in hand. This was the crucial moment. Had Schenk appropriated the money and securities committed to his charge, or were they still there, awaiting the strange midnight visit from their rightful owner? It was, indeed, a strong indictment of the methods of the invaders that the legitimate owner should have to come by stealth at dead of night, while the unfaithful steward could do as he listed in the broad glare of day.

Max's hand trembled, and the lock seemed to stick. Then the lever seemed to jamb, until he feared that, after all, something had happened that would balk him at the last moment. But it was only his momentary nervousness, and the door swung ponderously open at last.

"Well, Max, how goes it?" enquired Dale excitedly, turning to watch his friend as he explored the open safe.

"All's well, I think. It seems full enough."

"Semi-final won by a clear length—eh?" cried Dale in great glee. "Seems a regular walk-over. If we want any real excitement we shall have to go and throw stones at the German guard."

"We haven't done yet," replied Max more soberly, though his voice was confident enough. "Here, I'm not going to examine all these papers and documents now. I'm going to cram the whole lot into the bag and be off. We can see what our capture is when we get back to our room."

"Right you are. By George, though, what's that?"

Both stood stock-still and listened. The sound of voices and the tramp of feet upon the stairs was plainly audible.

Max darted an angry look at Dale. In the excitement of the opening of the safe the latter had forgotten that he was on guard at the window, and no doubt this was the result. "You see, Dale?" he cried sharply.

"I'm sorry, old man," replied Dale miserably.

"No matter. Cram these things into the bag while I lock the safe. Mind, not a sound!"

The safe locked, Max sprang noiselessly to the door, replaced the cut-out panels and secured them in position, against anything but a blow or strong pressure, by two or three sharp nails pressed in with his fingers. Flight was out of the question, but it might be possible to make good their escape later on if they could only hide themselves successfully for a little while. For a hiding-place Max had no need to look. He had played at hide-and-seek in that very room with his sister years ago, too often to forget that the best shelter was inside the well of his father's—now the manager's—desk.

The panels replaced, Max knelt down and gently blew away the tell-tale sawdust. Then he turned and eagerly scanned the room. Dale had already packed the bag, and was looking vainly round for a hiding-place.

"Under here—quick!" cried Max, indicating the desk, and in Dale scrambled, dragging the precious bag after him. There was only one thing left which needed to be disposed of, and that was the lantern. Max knew that if he blew it out and hid it under the desk the smell would inevitably betray them. Therefore he took it to the fire-place, blew it out close under the chimney, and instantly thrust it as far up as his arm would reach and lodged it there.

The noise of voices and the tramp of feet had, during the few moments that these preparations had taken, been growing stronger, and the lantern had scarcely been disposed of before the approaching persons halted at the door. The rattle of keys, as someone—no doubt the manager—drew a bunch from his pocket, could now be distinguished, and as Max crawled in under the desk, and packed himself in on top of Dale, the key turned in the lock.

Several men entered, talking together in the German tongue. One voice only Max and Dale recognized, and that, as they expected, belonged to the manager, Otto Schenk.

"... take severe measures against any workman adopting a hostile attitude. Would this meet with approval in Highest quarters?"

"Certainly. You may rest assured, Herr von Schenkendorf, that the Government of His Imperial Majesty has no intention of showing aught but the utmost sternness and rigour towards the whole Belgian population, whether workmen, property owners, or their families."

"Thank you, General."

"Serious consequences have ensued from the unexpected delay caused to our armies by the resistance of the Belgian army, and it is the Belgians who shall be made to pay for it. And to make them pay for it in a literal sense is, as you know, the reason of my presence here now."

"True, General," replied the manager as he switched on the light; "but if I am to develop these works to the utmost, and to support our armies with ample supplies of guns and shells, I must be able to pay my workmen."

"The gold and securities handed over will be replaced by notes of our Imperial Reichsbank or by Belgian paper money, which I have good reason to believe we shall shortly commence to manufacture. You will thus be as well off as before, and the Government will have securities which it can sell in neutral countries."

"Oh, I am not objecting, General! The plan is excellent, and should yield much profit to our country. As for these Belgians, they have brought it on themselves by their foolish obstinacy. Ha, ha! A large part of the securities I am about to hand to you, General, were, by the explicit instructions of the widow of Monsieur Durend, to have been sent into Holland for her use. I thought I could find a better use for them than that, however, and they will doubtless be made to render important service to the Imperial Government. Only two days ago, too, that young English cub, Monsieur Durend's son, attacked me in this room and demanded money for his mother's use. I told him to go and work for her, and sent him about his business."

There was a rumble of laughter, and the desk creaked as one of the officers—there seemed two men beside M. Schenk—sat down on the side of it.

"And what sum will it be, Herr von Schenkendorf? It must be a large one. My Government will expect much from so large and prosperous a business."

"I can give you 1,500,000 marks in money and securities," replied the manager as he drew his keys from his pocket and approached the safe. "If you wish I will hand the sum to your aide-de-camp now."

"I do wish it, Herr von Schenkendorf," replied the officer decisively.

Max and Dale held their breaths in suspense as they heard the key turn in the lock and the door of the safe swing heavily open. There was a sharp exclamation, followed by a dull sound as though the manager had flung himself down on his hands and knees, the better to peer into the inside.

"Mein Gott!" he cried in a strangled voice. "Gone—all gone!"

"No tricks, sir!" cried the general in a rasping voice, getting up suddenly from the desk on which he had been sitting. "I will not be trifled with."

The manager made no reply, but Max could hear him breathing heavily and fancied he caught a groan.

"What is the matter, von Schenkendorf? Have you been robbed?" demanded the officer.

"Yes, General," replied the manager after a pause in which he vainly endeavoured to find his voice. "Mein Gott—yes—robbed! How—I know not. Last evening I left all——"

"Bah! You are trifling with me!" cried the officer in a stern voice. "This is altogether too opportune to be the result of accident. I come to you demanding a contribution to His Imperial Majesty's exchequer and you tell me you have just been robbed. I begin to have grave doubts of your faithfulness to our cause."

"General," cried Schenk in a voice which positively trembled with vexation, "General, I assure you that it is a pure coincidence. Never before has the firm been robbed, and how or why it should happen now I do not know. But it shall be fully investigated and I will leave no stone unturned to recover possession of the valuables—be assured of that."

"So! Well, well, you have had a good reputation with our Government in the past and I will let matters rest for the moment," replied the officer in a voice which contained more than a suspicion of a threat. "By the way," he went on suddenly, his voice again taking on a rasping tone, "I am no doubt right in assuming that those siege-gun plans which I handed to you yesterday are in safe custody?"

"I will look after them, General, have no fear," responded Schenk in a voice which made Max, who knew its usually firm tones so well, grasp the bag on which he leaned with a sudden new affection. "I fully realize their vast importance to our common cause."

Apparently the officer also noticed something amiss. "Show me the plans," he replied curtly.

There was a few moments' suspense. Max could hardly suppress his impulse to laugh aloud, for, although he could not see, he could picture without the least difficulty the manager's utter misery and discomfiture.

"I have them not. They were with the valuables locked in the safe," replied Schenk in a stammering voice. "But, General, they shall be recovered. I have agents everywhere, and no efforts shall be spared to recover them."

The officer strode the length of the room and back. Then he sat heavily down again on the side of the manager's desk, cleared his throat, and responded slowly and impressively:

"This matter, Von Schenkendorf, is now beyond my powers. I must report the matter to my Government. Till then you must not move from Liege without my permission."

The manager made no reply.

"This room," the officer went on, "must be kept locked until it has been thoroughly investigated by officers whom I shall send. But you may make such enquiries through your own agents as you think fit. If you succeed, it will, of course, influence matters considerably to your advantage."

"General," replied the manager humbly, "General, I will do so. But let me beg you not to let this one mischance, which might have happened to anyone, wipe out the recollection of my many great services to the State."

"All shall be considered," replied the officer coldly as he strode towards the door. It was obsequiously opened for him, and the three men passed out, the manager locking the door behind them.

"Give me the key," demanded the officer. It was handed over, and the party moved with heavy tread along the passage and down the stairs.



CHAPTER X

Getting Ready for Bigger Things

"Now for it, Dale; it's now or never," cried Max in a voice of suppressed eagerness, as he emerged from under the desk the moment the party of Germans moved away along the passage. "If we do not get clear at once I rather think we never shall."

"Yes, we are what you might call 'right on the post' and rowing neck and neck. 'Twill be a near thing whoever wins," replied Dale, again breaking out into rowing jargon, as he was apt to do whenever excited.

"The prize is bigger than you imagine," responded Max, dragging out the bag and glancing quickly about the room. "Could you follow what was said well enough to understand why they rounded on Schenk, or Schenkendorf, as his name seems to be?"

"No, old man, my German isn't nearly equal to the job, especially when I'm submerged in trunks and desks."

"Well, among the papers we've stuffed into this bag are the plans of some special siege-guns the Germans seem to set no small store on. Schenk was just going to wire in making them, by the look of it. We've upset the whole business, and if he isn't under arrest he's very near it. But come along; we must get out of this."

The bottom panels of the door were quickly removed and Max and Dale crawled through, carrying the now doubly precious bag with them. The manager and the two officers had by this time reached the front entrance of the building but appeared to have halted there and to be talking earnestly together. Hastily removing their boots, Max and Dale crept quietly down the stairs to the door of the drawing-office. They paused and listened before opening it, and heard the party at the entrance descend the steps, still talking together, and the scrunch of the gravel under their feet as they strode away. Then, almost immediately, they heard a harsh command and the rapid tramp of feet as the guard turned out at the entrance to the works.

Max whipped open the door of the drawing-office and they entered and closed it behind them. The window through which they had come an hour or two before gaped before them, and they eagerly moved to it and peered out. All seemed clear for the moment, but they could hear men in motion somewhere, and in the passage they had just left they were startled to hear the voice of the manager talking in a peremptory tone to someone, one of the guard they imagined, and the tramp of their feet as they passed the door and began ascending the stairs.

"Quick; jump out," whispered Max, and he assisted his friend to drop as noiselessly as possible to the ground. Then he handed down the bag and lowered himself down after it. In silence and in great trepidation they sped towards the outer walls at the point at which they had entered. Without mishap they helped one another up and over, and fled at the top of their speed towards their lodging. At any moment they feared a general alarm might be sounded, and the truest caution seemed to be to throw caution momentarily to the winds.

They reached the door of their lodging in safety, and as they entered Dale whispered triumphantly to his friend: "We've won the final too. By George we have!"

* * * * *

Day was just beginning to break as the two friends left the town on the northward side and made their way across country towards the Dutch frontier. They carefully avoided the roads, and their progress was slow; but it was sure, and as soon as they were well away from the neighbourhood of the town they regained the roads and made more rapid progress. Before the day was out they reached Maastricht, and Max found his mother and sister safe and sound, though indeed in great distress.

The relief of Madame Durend at the return of her son from beleaguered Liege was intense. The stories told by the numerous refugees from the towns and villages of Belgium were so terrible that she could not be other than most anxious for his safety. Now he had arrived, and had brought, she soon learned, sufficient funds to enable them all to live in comfort and security for a long time.

But it was not until Max and his friend unfolded their story that she fully realized in what peril they had been, and at what cost they had been able to bring the much-needed assistance. Their story was indeed amazing. Schenk a traitor, and Schenk outwitted! Priceless German plans captured, and funds that the enemy had hoped to secure removed from beyond their grasp! Madame Durend could not but be proud of her son's exploits, but it was a pride with many a tremble at the frightful dangers run.

A fuller examination of their captures revealed to Max and Dale how valuable their prize had been, and sent them both hotfoot to the house of the nearest British consul, into whose care they confided the precious plans, with instructions that they wished them handed over to the British War Office without delay.

A statement briefly describing who the captors were, and how the coup had been brought about, was drawn up and signed, and, in high glee at the shrewd blow struck against Schenk and his Germans, they returned once more to the lodging of Madame and Mademoiselle Durend.

A few days spent there in safety, and almost in idleness, were, however, sufficient to make Max and Dale, and especially the former, restless and dissatisfied with their inactivity. The onward march of the Germans, their terrible unscrupulousness and rapacity, and the tales of the terrific fighting with the English and French vanguards reached their ears and made them long to be doing something, however small, to aid the great cause. Max, in addition, had a constant sense of irritation at the thought that his father's great works were running night and day in the interests of the Germans and to the vast injury of his own countrymen. He could not get away from the feeling that he had a responsibility towards the Durend works—a responsibility which he seemed in honour bound to discharge. This feeling grew and grew until it became so intolerable that he was impelled to announce to his mother that he must, without delay, return to his post in the stricken city.

"But surely you have done enough, Max?" cried Madame Durend, almost in consternation. "You are not yet of man's age, and ought not to think of taking upon yourself such fearful tasks. It is no fault of yours that our property is being used by the Germans. Many other factories and workshops besides ours have been seized, and who can fairly put the blame upon the owners?"

"I know, Mother," replied Max in a quiet voice, and with a far-away look in his eyes. "I know it is no fault of ours. But our workmen—the faithful and real Belgian workmen—are there bearing alone in silence the pain and misery of seeing the great business they helped to create worked to the destruction of their own liberties. They feel nothing so much as the thought that their masters have deserted them, and left them to fight the battle for their land and liberties alone. I must go back and join them, if only to let them know we are with them, hand and foot, heart and soul. I feel, Mother, that so long as one workman still holds out against tyranny and oppression, the owners of the Durend workshops must be by his side to give him both countenance and aid."

Max's voice grew stronger, and thrilled with a deeper and deeper earnestness, as he went on. It was clear to each of his hearers that the guardianship of his father's works had become the one great object and aim of his existence. With such a burning, passionate desire in his heart, it was almost impossible that he could be persuaded to abandon his project if he were not to be rendered miserable for life, and Madame Durend realized almost at once that she dare not attempt it. But the thought of the desperate character of the undertaking made her mother's heart sink with dread.

"I dare not say you nay, Max, my son," she said tremulously, after a long pause, "for I should feel that I was setting my own wishes against what is, perhaps, your duty to your country, and still more your duty to your dear father's name. Go, then—only do not—do not run unnecessary risks. Be as cautious as you can—and come back to me often."

"We will be as cautious as we honourably can, will we not, Dale?" cried Max, appealing to his friend. "It is stratagem that we shall use in making our war—not force. We have thought it all out together, and hope to give a good account of ourselves without giving the Germans a chance to pay us back with usury."

"Yes," replied Dale cheerfully, "we are not going to give the enemy a chance. Why, you have no idea how cautious and full of dodges Max is. He just bristles with 'em, and I think we shall give Schenk and his friends a warm time."

Madame Durend sighed deeply. "It seems terrible to me to think of two such boys returning to that dreadful place to do battle unaided with those men. How I pray that you may come safely back!"

"No fear of that," cried Dale confidently, and Max gazed into his mother's face and nodded reassuringly.

The next day they left the hospitable streets of Maastricht and arrived safely in Liege, still in their disguises as Walloon workmen. A visit to a clever hairdresser before they left had completed their disguise. Their fresh complexions were hidden beneath a stain that darkened the skin to the tints of the swarthiest Walloons of the Liege district.

Max, as he was by far the better known and ran the greater risk of detection, had, in addition, his brown hair dyed a much darker hue and his eyebrows thickened and made to meet in the centre. A few lines skilfully drawn here and there about his face gave him the appearance of a much older man than Dale, and enabled them to pose as brothers aged about twenty-eight and twenty respectively. Their hair was allowed to run wild and mat about their brows and ears; hands and wrists were left, much to their discomfort, to get as grubby as possible, and in the end they were ready to meet the gaze of all as Belgian workmen of the most out-and-out kind.

The necessity for the constant renewal of their various disguises was not overlooked, and the hairdresser was prevailed upon to part with a supply of his dyes and to tell them exactly how and when to apply them.

Max of course could maintain the part of workman to perfection, even if questioned at length, but Dale was under the necessity of answering only in monosyllables, as his knowledge of the language was at present not very great. With Max at his elbow, however, this was not a serious drawback, and neither anticipated any difficulty on that score.

Max was now a broad-shouldered, well-built young fellow of twenty. He was not much above medium height, but his rowing and running at Hawkesley and his hard work in the various shops of the Durend concern had given him a muscular development that most of the real workmen might have envied. His responsibilities as stroke at college, and, later, as the future head of the firm, had given him a self-reliant attitude of mind that was reflected in his bearing, and enabled him to maintain with unconscious ease his sudden increase in years over his more youthful-looking comrade.

Dale was still slim and boyish-looking. He was wiry enough, however, and was, as we have seen, extremely cool and courageous in any tight corner. He was quick, too, and the pair made an ideal couple to hunt together. Had Schenk known that they were bending all their energies to the task of hindering his use of the Durend workshops for the benefit of the Germans he would probably have bestowed more than a passing thought upon them. And had he had an inkling that they were at the bottom of the shrewd blow already dealt him within the sacred precincts of his office he would, no doubt, have spent a sleepless night or two.

The few days that had elapsed since Max and Dale left Liege had already witnessed yet another development in the rapid conversion of the Durend workshops into a first-class manufactory of war material for the German army. A large building on the outskirts of the town had been taken over and converted into a filling-shop, and the shells manufactured within the works were conveyed thither on a miniature railway, and there filled with high-explosive drawn from a factory situated about a mile and a half away, well outside the limits of the town. This new shop was being staffed with men drawn partly from Germany and partly from former workmen of the less determined sort, who were gradually returning to work under stress of hunger.

On Max and Dale applying for work they were promptly drafted to this shop. Fortunately for them, perhaps, the foreman who was now engaging fresh workmen was a man sent from Germany, a bullying, overbearing, Prussian foreman who was expected to bring the methods of the Prussian drill-sergeant to bear upon the poor half-starved wretches applying for work, and to reduce them to a proper state of submission. Max had no difficulty in satisfying the man, especially as he made no demur to working in the night shift. Few workmen cared for the night shift, and the foreman was therefore the more ready to clinch the bargain. Soon Max and Dale were being shown the way to fill the shells and finish them off, ready to be sent on their mission of destruction.

"Things couldn't have happened better, Dale," remarked Max at the first opportunity.

"Why, Max? We are safe inside; is that what you mean?"

"Not exactly. What I mean is our being sent to the filling-shops. It's no end of a piece of luck."

"Ah, I see! You are thinking of wrecking the place, eh?"

"Possibly, later on. But what I mean is that for our plans we need explosives, and plenty of them. Well, here they are, ready to hand, and all we have to do for a start is to get what we want away unseen."

"Aye; accumulate a store of our own ready for the day we want them?"

"Yes; the best place to attack we can settle later. In fact we may have to seize our opportunities as they come along."

"The best places to choose are these filling-shops, old man. Heaps of explosives about, and, although they watch everyone pretty closely, we ought to get a chance before long. If this place were blown sky-high it would damage a lot of the other shops, and probably get Schenk the sack. He seems to have got over that other affair all right."

"Yes, but I can't bring myself to blow up this great place with all the workmen in it, Germans or renegade Belgians though they are. I want to cripple the works, not kill the work-people."

"Don't see much in your scruples, Max. If we don't kill them they are left to go on sending shells out to kill our men."

"True, old man, but all the same I should like, if I can, to do the business without causing any loss of life among the workmen. There is the power-house now. If we could wreck that we should bring the whole of the works to an absolute standstill."

"Phew! Yes. Well, and why shouldn't we?"

"I've been thinking, and I believe we ought to be able to do it. Of course you know there is a soldier always posted at each entrance?"

"We must dispose of him—that's all."

"Or else we must get jobs as stokers. But enough of this—see that man coming along there eyeing the benches?"

"Yes."

"I believe he's a spy. He is really looking more at the men than at the benches. We must be very careful, or one of those fellows will get in our way."

"It will be the worse for him," muttered Dale under his breath, as he went on with his work with redoubled energy.

"And for us too," replied Max, lifting a heavy shell with an ease that many of the regular workmen, practised though they were, could not have excelled.

The man stopped when he reached the bench on which Max and Dale were working. "Where are you from?" he enquired sharply, in very indifferent Walloon.

"Yonder," replied Max, nodding towards the poorer quarter of the town. "Back of Rue Gheude."

"You're a Belgian, eh?"

"Yes," admitted Max with an appearance of reluctance.

"Why do you come here to work? Many of your countrymen refuse to work."

"One must live," replied Max sullenly. Then he went on in an angry tone: "We have been deserted and left to starve. Why shouldn't we work? They should protect us, these French and English, if they want us to remain on their side. Are we to let our little ones perish for their sakes?"

"You are right, my friend," replied the man approvingly. "These English and Frenchmen care naught so long as their country is safe. Why should Belgians fight their battles for them? No, no, my friend."

Max nodded and turned back to his work. The man watched him for a minute or two and then continued on his way along the shop, scarcely glancing at Dale, who was to all appearances too engrossed in his work to pay much attention to what was going on about him.

"End of round No. 1," whispered Max to his friend. "We've got the better of Mr. Ferret so far, but I fear we shall have trouble in getting many live shells away from under the noses of him and his tribe."

"We shall do it," replied Dale confidently. "We may get the job of loading them up on the lorries presently and find an opportunity. If the worst comes to the worst we must carry medium-sized ones away one by one in our folded coats."

"H'm!" grunted Max. "We must find a safer way than that I fancy. I doubt if our ferret friends would let us do much of that sort of thing."

Dale shrugged his shoulders in contempt of the whole of the spy crew, and the conversation dropped.

For some two weeks Max and Dale worked in the filling-shops, observing the routine and making careful note of every circumstance that seemed to offer a chance of making off with supplies of finished shells. They soon found that they had reason to congratulate themselves upon having joined the night shift. Max had accepted the foreman's offer of the night shift for two reasons: first, because he thought that their disguises were less likely to be penetrated in artificial light, and, secondly, because they might reasonably expect to be quite safe during their journeys to and fro in the dark. But he found that an even greater advantage to their projects lay in the fact that the shop was only half manned at night, the work, and especially the supervision, were less efficient, and the yards, while well lighted, contained plenty of deep shadows suited to shelter those on dubious errands.

As soon as he could, Max got into touch with his friend Dubec and the workmen who had remained faithful to their country's cause. He had brought ample funds with him from the moneys recovered from the firm, and hoped to relieve any who might be in acute distress. He soon found plenty of outlet for his funds, for the men who refused to work in the shops were drawing terribly near the edge of starvation.

As Max had expected, the knowledge that their employers were standing by them, and were ready to aid them at every opportunity, greatly heartened the men, and a small but loyal band steadily refused to work, and fought a gallant battle with starvation in the cause of their country's freedom. Between Max and these men an unbreakable, unforgettable bond of union was gradually forged; and several times, to their unbounded delight, he was able to use them in furthering his projects. He found them particularly useful in obtaining information and in keeping watch over the movements of M. Schenk and his numerous spies. Patriotism, resentment at their sufferings, and hatred of Schenk, all combined to render them zealous auxiliaries, and lightened, in some measure at least, the heavy task fate seemed to have cast upon Max's own shoulders.



CHAPTER XI

The Attack on the Power-house

Some three weeks after Max and Dale had so unobtrusively re-entered the Durend works, their plans were laid and their preparations complete. Eight large shells had been carried off one by one and secreted in a hole in the bank of the Meuse, at a spot where it was well shaded by thick bushes. The power-house had been carefully reconnoitred, and the times and habits of the men and of the sentries carefully noted. The bulk of the great engines which provided the power required to run the various workshops were underground, and all the approaches to the building were commanded by two sentries stationed at opposite corners.

The success of their enterprise was dependent upon one of these sentries being put out of action for some minutes. This was no easy matter, but by dint of much discussion and careful observation they reached the conclusion that it could be done; and, better still, done so that no alarm need be given.

A Sunday night was fixed for the attempt, because Max and Dale had never worked on Sundays, and their absence would not therefore be likely to arouse any subsequent suspicion that they had had anything to do with the matter. Moreover, all departments of the works were run on reduced staffs, and the staff of the power-house was reduced proportionately. The loss of life which both Max and Dale feared might ensue from the realization of their plans was thus brought to a minimum.

Shortly after midnight, Max, Dale, and Dubec made their way silently to the little cache of shells in the river bank, and began transporting them to a point as near the power-house as they could expect to get without attracting notice. There was a bright moon, but there were also clouds, and they patiently bided their time, and moved only when the moon was obscured. It was one o'clock before the whole of the shells had been transported within easy reach of the power-house.

The sentries were changed at two o'clock, and Max and Dale waited only until this had been completed. Then they drew near, and took a long look at the sentry upon the least-exposed corner of the building. He was a young fellow, and while not looking particularly alert, yet seemed fully alive to his duties and determined to carry them out. As has already been explained, he was posted at a corner of the building, and could command a view of two sides. One of these sides was flooded with the light of the moon, but the other was in shadow, except at intervals where it was cut by the light from the windows of the power-house, which were here on a level with the ground.

After a whispered word or two, Dale left Max and worked his way round until he was near the side of the building which was in shadow. Watching his chance, he slipped into the shadow at a moment when the sentry was gazing the other way. Max now retreated some distance, and then began boldly advancing towards the building, his feet crunching heavily into the gravel and giving the sentry every warning of his approach. The sentry watched him with lazy indifference, but, as he drew near, lifted rifle and bayonet and challenged.

"Who comes there?"

"A workman with message to the engineer," responded Max in a casual voice, slackening his pace and coming to a stop a few paces away.

"Pass," replied the sentry indifferently, letting the butt of his rifle drop again to the ground. Max slouched on again, directing his steps so that he would pass just in front of the young soldier.

The sentry idly watched the supposed workman, who slouched along gazing at the ground in front of him in the most stolid fashion. Just as he was on the point of passing the sentry, however, he shot out a hand, seized the man's rifle, and tore it from his grasp.

Simultaneously a hand appeared from behind, and a cloth was clapped over the soldier's nose and mouth and held firmly in position, while another hand and arm grasped him round the middle.



Noiselessly grounding the captured rifle, Max in his turn sprang upon the sentry and wound both his arms about him, crushing his arms to his side and preparing to subdue his wildest struggles. Almost immediately, however, the man's muscles relaxed, as the chloroform, with which the cloth had been sprinkled, took effect, and Max and Dale lowered him to the ground.

"Now, Dale, off with his tunic and helmet and put them on," cried Max rapidly. "Then take his rifle and stand on guard. All is well, and I believe we shall win through without a hitch."

Dale did as he was bidden. The soldier's tunic and helmet were removed, and his body was dragged into the shadow close to the wall of the building. Then Max walked quickly back to the spot where the shells had been deposited. Here Dubec crouched in readiness.

"Bring them along," whispered Max. "The sentry is disposed of, and we ought to meet with no interruption."

"'Twas splendidly done," replied Dubec with enthusiasm. "The man seemed to be overcome as though by magic, and I heard scarce a sound."

In three trips the shells were transported to the power-house and laid along the wall. Then Max went to one of the windows and looked in.

The power-house was largely underground, and the windows, which ran around all sides on a level with the ground at intervals of about six feet, were high above the great boilers. In fact, as Max gazed down he had a bird's-eye view of the interior, and could see workmen flitting to and fro, stoking the great furnaces in blissful ignorance of the fact that a bolt which might destroy them with their engines was on the point of being shot.

Drawing back his head, Max drew a bomb of his own manufacture from his pocket and lit the fuse. Then he leaned through the window, and, shading his mouth with his hands so that his words might carry downwards and be heard above the roar of the engines, cried in quick, urgent, warning tones:

"Fly for your lives—the engine-house is being blown up! Fly! fly! fly!"

The workmen looked up, startled, and into their midst Max flung his bomb. The men scattered to right and left, and a second or two later it burst with a splutter, sending out a great puff of white, pungent smoke. It was quite harmless, but the men did not know that, and a great cry of alarm went up and a terrific stampede began towards the nearest exit.

"Now, Dubec," cried Max energetically, "light the fuses and fling them in. It matters little where they fall so long as we cover a wide area."

In a few seconds the shells had been flung down into the power-house, right in among the boilers and machinery. Then the two men took to their heels and fled, followed by Dale, who had already divested himself of his borrowed plumes and donned his own.

The success of their enterprise was complete. Hardly had they got clear of the building before a series of heavy explosions occurred in the interior of the power-house, followed by the upward burst of great clouds of smoke and steam. Instantly all the lights in the whole of the Durend workshops and the great lights in the yard went out, and the roar of machinery slackened and gradually ceased. The entire works were at a standstill, and the whirr of lathes and clink of hammers were succeeded by shouts of alarm from the thousands of workmen as they poured excitedly out into the open air.

* * * * *

The alarm and excitement were not decreased when, almost immediately, there was a great outburst of flame in one of the large workshops devoted to the building of the bodies of railway carriages and trucks, and the chassis of motorcars. With extraordinary rapidity the flames leapt up from floor to floor, until the great yards in the vicinity, a moment before plunged in blackness by the destruction of the electric-light plant, were again as light as day.

"See that, Max?" whispered Dale in an awestruck voice as the flames leaped up. "Surely our raid on the power-house cannot have done that?"

"I expect that something was upset in the mad rush for the doors. The place is full of inflammables, and they will never get the fire out—you see."

The scene was of absorbing interest, and Max and Dale and the faithful Dubec mingled with the crowds of excited workmen and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Alarm-bells were sounding and bugle-calls ringing in all directions, and in a few minutes two or three engines dashed into the yard and began a hopeless fight against the raging fire. Max and his friends continued to gaze on at the exciting scene until the former was recalled to himself by the heavy tramp of what seemed to be detachments of soldiers outside the walls of the yard.

"Listen, Dale, I can hear a lot of troops marching outside. I don't think their presence bodes any good, and I think we had better be off. The Germans will be most awfully savage, and will be firing on the mob, or something of the sort."

"Shouldn't wonder, old man. Well, we've done enough for one night, so let us join this crowd and leave by the main entrance."

A number of workmen, who were probably of the same mind as Max and did not like the look of things, were moving towards the gates, and to these our three friends joined themselves. On reaching the gates, however, the whole party came to a standstill. The gates were closed, and a dozen soldiers with fixed bayonets stood on guard in front of them.

"We made a mistake, Dale, in not getting away at once," whispered Max. "We shall have trouble now, you may be sure."

As he spoke, the gates were opened and a motorcar drove through. It contained the manager, M. Schenk, and two officers, and came to a stand on the outskirts of the crowd collected at the gates. The manager immediately stood up in the car and addressed the crowd in such stern and peremptory tones that it would have seemed fitter, Max thought, had the words been uttered by one of the officers at his side.

"Listen, men. A dastardly outrage has just been committed in these works, and I am determined to bring the guilty ones to justice. I shall allow no one to leave until he has been thoroughly examined, however long it may take. Stand aside, therefore, and await your call quietly, or I shall have recourse to sterner measures."

The car moved on, and the workmen addressed stopped obediently where they were and began discussing the affair in low, excited tones.

"This sort of thing won't suit us, Dale," whispered Max, as he edged out of the crowd and began moving away from the gates. "Examinations are not a strong point with us at present."

"No, we require to study a little more—in strict seclusion," replied Dale in the same spirit, as they got away from the crowd into the blackness between a long workshop at a distance from the burning building and the outer walls.

"Where now, Master," asked Dubec, looking at Max enquiringly as the three came to an involuntary halt.

"Over the walls and away, I think. We have done enough for one night, and I fancy Schenk will think so too—eh, Dale?"

"Aye, and say so, if ever he gets the chance," replied the latter.

The party moved to the walls at the darkest point they could find and prepared to clamber over. The wall was here nearly ten feet high, and it was necessary for Dubec to plant himself against it and allow Max, assisted by Dale, to climb on his back. He could then help Dale up also before clambering on to the top. The rest would be easy enough. But a rude awakening was in store for them, for Max had no sooner put his head above the wall than he was greeted by a rifle-shot from the road below, and a bullet whizzed close overhead.

"Down, Max, down!" cried Dale, clutching at his friend in sudden consternation.

"I'm all right, old man," replied Max, who, needless to say, had lost no time in bobbing down below the level of the wall. "But we can't get over here," he added as he lowered himself gently to the ground. Dale followed suit, and the three men stood at the foot of the wall and anxiously debated their next move.

"It is pretty clear," Max summed up, "that the Germans have put a cordon of soldiers all about the works, and clearer still"—a little ruefully this—"that their orders are to shoot first and make enquiries afterwards."

"We must chance it and try to get over somewhere," responded Dale.

"No—too risky. The moment we top the wall we show up plainly against the light of the fire behind us. We should be noticed at once. We must try another plan."

"What's that?"

"The river."

"Ah—swim across?"

"Yes—or, better still, float down until we get beyond the roads about the works."

"But what about Dubec? Can he swim?"

"I don't suppose so. Can you, Monsieur Dubec?"

The answer was a decided negative, and Max went on: "But it doesn't matter. Dubec doesn't need to leave in the unorthodox way that Schenk has forced upon us. He is a bona fide workman, and has been working in the shops for the last three days. He is safe enough."

It was so arranged, and soon the party had gained the shelter of the bushes at the spot where their stock of shells had been hidden. Max and Dale then waded waist-deep into the Meuse, and, with a whispered farewell to M. Dubec, allowed themselves to float down with the stream. For some yards out the edge of the river was in deep shadow from the bank, and beyond a gentle movement of the hands to keep them within its shelter, the two lads let themselves drift at will. The water was warm and they felt no discomfort, and in half an hour they were beyond what they considered the danger zone. Clambering out of the river, they wrung as much of the water as possible out of their clothes and made rapid tracks for their lodging.

As was to be expected, the destruction of the power-house and the burning of one of the largest workshops at the Durend works created a great sensation among both the Germans and the Liegeois. The former looked upon it, rightly enough, as a determined attempt to interfere with their exploitation of the manufacturing resources of the city for the benefit of the invading armies; the latter, as a patriotic and successful demonstration of the hatred of the Belgians for their temporary masters and of their determination to hinder them by every means in their power. It gave the spirit of the people a fillip, and, despite the redoubled severity of the Germans, the Liegeois went about their businesses with a prouder air, as if conscious that, though temporarily overcome, they were very far from being beaten.

On attending for work on the following evening, at the usual hour, Max and Dale were curtly informed that they would not be required for another week at least. They had expected this, of course, and were only disappointed that the holiday was likely to be so short. They had hoped that the works would be out of action for at least three weeks. But the manager had set to work with his usual energy. Engines were being requisitioned from other factories in the town, not engaged in the manufacture of war supplies, and repairs to those less seriously damaged were going on with shifts of fresh workmen night and day.

It was nearly a fortnight, however, before the works were again in full swing, or would have been in full swing had not other events occurred to hinder the complete resumption of business. That fortnight Max considered as a specially favourable opportunity for paying further attention to M. Schenk and his many activities. It meant that the various workshops were empty, save for two or three watchmen, and that groups of workmen were necessarily hanging about the premises, idly watching the proceedings and waiting for the time when they could recommence work. The first meant opportunities that would not occur when the workshops were in full swing, and the second that the prowling of Max and his friends would be the less likely to attract notice.

One of the first things that caught the attention of Max and Dale was the rapid accumulation of great stocks of coal outside the yard, owing to the enforced idleness of the power-house. The Durend mines were, of course, unaffected by the stoppage of the workshops, and coal was sent up to the surface with the same regularity as before. In fact, the rate of production was accelerated, as numbers of the workmen thrown out of employment by the closing of the workshops applied for work at the collieries. Thus the stores of coal grew and grew, from stacks of the moderate dimensions (for the Durend Company) of 2000 or 3000 tons, to great piles of 10,000 and finally 24,000 tons. Then came a rumour that, as soon as trucks were available, the accumulation was to be transported into Germany and, worse still, to Krupp's.

This was enough to set Max and Dale discussing the matter with anxious care. To the former it was as intolerable that the Durend mines should produce coal for Krupp's as it was that the Durend workshops should cast shells for the German guns. And yet it was no easy matter to devise means of dealing with a great mass of coal. Obviously, it could not be carried off, and to blow it up was hardly practicable. However, after much discussion, it was decided that an attempt should be made to burn it. It certainly did not seem a very hopeful scheme, seeing the number of fire-engines that were close at hand in the city and the unlimited supply of water in the River Meuse. But to Max and Dale anything seemed better than to do nothing in such a matter, and they determined to make the attempt.

For materials all they needed was a good supply of firewood, a gallon or two of benzine, and some fuses.

The coal stacks were situated on a piece of waste land outside, but adjoining, the walled-in enclosure of the Durend works. They were accessible on all sides, but a watchman was always on guard to see that none of the coal was stolen. This man patrolled round and round the stacks, keeping a look-out for suspicious characters, especially, of course, any bearing sacks or baskets which might be used to contain coal.

It was in the middle of the night that Max and Dale, accompanied by the faithful Dubec, appeared on the scene. The last was carrying a bulky sack filled with firewood, Max bore a two-gallon tin of benzine, and Dale a dummy sack which appeared to be full, but which, as a matter of fact, contained only a light framework of wood designed to fill it out.

Dale's part of the performance began first. Waiting until the watchman had passed, he flitted across the road to the coal stack. Then he gave the stack a kick which sent a number of loose pieces of coal rattling to the ground. The watchman stopped instantly, and without more ado Dale turned and bolted down the road in full view.

As was expected, the watchman immediately gave chase, and in a couple of minutes both men had disappeared from the scene.

Max and Dubec now emerged, and lost no time in getting to work. They crossed the road to the end of the stack where, in the morning, work would be resumed. There they made four caches of wood close against the stack, covered them over with loose coal, and deluged the pile with benzine. From these caches fuses were laid upward to the top of the stack, and the whole covered over with more coal.

Long before the watchman had crawled back, grumbling and exhausted from his long chase after a thief who carried a great bag of coal with an ease that seemed extraordinary, the two other conspirators had disappeared from the scene. An hour later they rejoined Dale and spent half an hour in laughing over his recital of the way in which he had led the man farther and farther afield by pretending to be always on the point of dropping from fatigue.

The next day Dubec spent in watching the stacking of further supplies of coal. The caches of firewood, he reported, had not been noticed, and by the end of the day another 1200 tons of coal had been dumped against the stack, completely enclosing them. For one day more Max held his hand, while he worked at another scheme that was slowly maturing. Then, immediately after nightfall, he crept to the stack, and, watching his opportunity, clambered carefully to the top and lit the three fuses.

The smell presently told him that the fires had caught, and he crept away, satisfied that on the morrow there would be something of a hubbub, even if no very considerable damage resulted.

It was with the idea of watching developments that Max and Dale applied for work at the depots next day. They hoped to witness amusing and exhilarating scenes, and to get as near to the spot as possible they gladly offered to shovel coal. Their offer was accepted and they were soon at work transporting coal and shovelling it on to the stacks.

They soon experienced a sense of disappointment. Instead of finding the stacks enveloped in smoke, and all work suspended for the day, as they expected, they discovered that work was going on as usual and nothing seemed amiss.

"Seems to have been a frost, Max," grumbled Dale discontentedly. "All our trouble and brain-fag gone for nothing."

"I thought so at first, Dale, but I'm not so sure now. See that light haze yonder? It may be the fires have caught all right but are burning out for lack of draught. Let's hope they've done a bit of damage anyhow!"

"H'm!" grunted Dale in a tone of discouragement.

"Besides," Max went on, "this is only a small affair. The next real attack will come in a day or two, and I hope there will be no failure there."

"No," replied Dale, brightening up, "if that comes off we shall have done something worth doing. Schenk will be ready to tear his hair, and we shall have to look out for ourselves."

"Well, so we will. We shall deserve a rest, and we will retire into obscurity for a season and recuperate. Another ramble in the Ardennes would suit us well."

"Especially with a little shooting thrown in—Uhlans, I mean," replied Dale facetiously.

"There will be plenty of scouting, if not shooting, if all the tales we hear of those gentlemen be true."

"Aye—but see, Max, how that smoky haze is getting thicker! The pile must be alight all right after all."

The light fleecy smoke which hovered over the great stack certainly seemed denser than it was, and a slight smell of burning was in the air. The other workmen had also noticed it, and hazarded conjectures as to whence it came, but none of them got very near the mark. All day the smoke increased, until, by the time the men ceased work, it lay like a thick fog all about the neighbourhood.

Max and Dale returned to their lodging in high glee, and their joy was not diminished when they noticed that the wind was beginning to freshen up.

"This ought to finish the business, Dale," remarked Max. "With a high wind all night, if the fire doesn't get into its stride it never will."

Soon after daybreak the shrill notes of a bugle in several quarters of the town and the ringing of fire-bells told our heroes that something unusual was afoot. They guessed, or rather hoped, that it might be on their account, and dressed and sallied out as quickly as they could. Sure enough, an enormous pall of smoke, that a volcano in full eruption need not have disowned, lay in the air in the direction of the Durend coal-yards. Fire engines were hurrying to the scene from all parts of the town, and the hoped-for hubbub seemed to have arrived.

"This is worth a little trouble," remarked Dale with intense relish as they drew near the burning stack and saw hundreds of soldiers and firemen hovering actively about the spot.

"Yes, but we may as well take a little more trouble and do the thing in style," responded Max coolly. "Let us follow these hoses to the river bank and see whether there is anything doing."

They did so, and, finding that the hoses entered the water at a point where a patch or two of short scrubby bushes gave cover against chance watchers, they passed on and struck the bank again a hundred yards farther on. Then they disappeared from view, and, crawling along under cover of the bushes, they reached the hoses, and with a dozen rapid slashes of their clasp-knives effectually put them out of action.

An extraordinary hubbub ensued. Soldiers and firemen rushed about in all directions, chasing away every unfortunate civilian who had had the temerity to approach the scene of the fire. In the confusion Max and Dale had no difficulty in escaping, and retired to the hills, there to gloat over the further efforts made to fight the fire, which seemed only to grow fiercer as hundreds of gallons of water were pumped upon it. It was two days before the fire was completely subdued, and the net result from a material point of view was that at least 10,000 tons of coal had been destroyed and the project of transporting coal to Krupp's effectually quashed. From the point of view of moral, the Germans were the laughing-stock of the town; they were deeply enraged and the townsfolk proportionately delighted.



CHAPTER XII

The Attack on the Munition-shops And Its Sequel

To Max Durend the successful raid on the coal-yards was only the prelude to the main performance. His mind was bent wholly towards one great object, and that was to prevent, by every means in his power, the exploitation of his father's great works by the enemies of his country. The coal-yard incident, as he termed it, was satisfactory so far as it went, but gave his mind no real relief such as had resulted from the recovery of part of the firm's monetary resources and the destruction of the power-house. The next affair, which, as has been hinted, was already well in hand, was more important and was an attempt to damage, if not destroy, some of the great machines installed for the production of rifles and machine-guns.

The largest workshop in the yard was devoted to this and a few other of the more delicate kinds of work, and it seemed to Max that the greatest amount of injury might be inflicted upon the Germans by an attempt on this shop. The works were still at a standstill, though it was fairly evident that they would not be so for much longer. The attempt ought, therefore, to be made within the few following days.

The plan was simplicity itself. It merely provided for Max and Dale to enter the workshop during the night and to work as much mischief among the machines as they could, consistently with the need for silence and the avoidance or silencing of the watchmen. For some days they had kept the place under close observation, and noted the hours and habits of the watchmen and the sentinels at either end of the building until they knew them as well as the men themselves.

Dubec they would not bring with them. He was eager to come, but the work required alertness and lightness of hand and foot rather than strength, and for this he would have been of no use. Besides, the two lads, keen as they were on their self-imposed tasks, were not unmindful of the fact that he had a wife and children to mourn him should the venture come to grief.

All, however, seemed to go well. Max and Dale succeeded in effecting an entrance into the ground floor of the workshop after they had seen the watchman, by the glint of his lamp, make his midnight round. The two soldiers—one at each end of the building—saw nothing and heard nothing, of that they were assured. Without delay, therefore, for in a little over an hour the watchman would be back from his rounds upon the upper floors, they proceeded to put out of action the more valuable and more complicated machines in the building. It was necessary, of course, that they should be almost silent; so their mode of procedure was to muffle up in an old blanket the most delicate and fragile parts of the machines before smashing them with a heavy hammer well swathed in flannel wrappings.

The machines dealt with first were those farthest from the route that would be taken by the watchman on his next round. Consequently, when he came, he passed along swinging his lantern in utter ignorance that anything was amiss, or that two men lay in ambush close at hand, ready to spring upon him should he suspect anything wrong and pause to investigate. As soon as he had passed out of ear-shot the two recommenced their work with redoubled energy, and some two and a half hours were thus consumed in work that utterly spoiled a large proportion of the valuable machines which filled the great workshop.