The adventures of Heine
described Major Haynes’s terrible lack of true gentlemanliness in
speaking of our August Sovereign Lord. Possibly, I thought, this joke
is British or Scottish idea of humour. What pawkity!
He did not make any further reference to the discussion we had that
afternoon. We finished our meal with coffee and liqueurs and cigars,
and he paid his bill and we strolled out into the Strand.
I offered him my hand when we got outside, and thanked him for his
hospitality.
“You are not going, Heine,” said the Major, “oh, dear no! You don’t
suppose I have spent quite a lot of money in entertaining you for the
pleasure of your society, though I admit you are infinitely amusing.”
“But I don’t understand you, Major Haynes,” said I in surprise; “if
there is anything you want me to do I shall be most happy to do it, as
I have told you before.”
“It is now three o’clock,” he said, “and we have just twenty minutes
to get to the station.”
“To the station?” I repeated flabberfounded, so to speak.
He made a beckoning gesture, and a car which was at the other side of
the Strand drew across.
“Hop in, Heine,” he said; and I hopped.
He took his place by my side and we were whirled away to Paddington
Station. He did not take a ticket. We simply strolled through the
first-class booking-hall on to the platform, and a train was waiting,
also another officer who, saluting Major Haynes, led us to a carriage
which had been reserved.
“Get in, Heine,” said the Major, and again I obeyed, still dazed and
bewildered by the mysterious proceedings.
The second officer got in with us.
“I have telephoned to the factory, sir,” he said, “and I have brought
the things you wanted.”
He put his hands into his overcoat and took out three pairs of
handcuffs.
“Thank you,” said Major Haynes.
“The other thing, sir, I couldn’t get, but I think a gas-mask would do
as well, one of the old type. They are not so cumbersome.”
From another pocket he drew forth a mask, with mica eyepieces. It had
evidently been adapted for a special purpose, for it had been cut off
at the bottom.
“Try that on, Heine,” said the Major.
I took it from his hands and fixed the loops over my ears.
“Look at yourself in the glass,” said Major Haynes.
One of the panels above the seats was a long slip of mirror.
“Your own mother wouldn’t recognize you,” he said.
A hideous sight I presented. The mask did not cover my face. It left
my mouth free. I could not imagine a more horrible spectacle than I
presented.
“Fine,” said the Major, “put it in your pocket. I think that is all,
isn’t it, Mr. Samson?”
“That’s all, sir,” said the officer, saluting.
He looked at me with a smile, shook hands with the Major, and left us
together. Soon after this the train began to move and, leaning
forward, I spoke:
“I am sure you will not consider me unnecessarily inquisitive,” I said
with gentle sarcasm, “but may I ask why we are taking this journey,
why you are carrying manacles, and why you have presented me with this
curious mask?”
“You may ask,” said the Major, “but I shall not tell you for some
time. Here is a copy of _Punch_. Improve your mind and morals.”
The train was an express. It did not stop until we reached a junction
called Wellsbury, and here we alighted. It was now half-past five. A
closed car was waiting for us and into this we got and proceeded at a
rapid pace through the open country.
We had been travelling for half an hour, and had reached the top of a
hill and were passing over the crest, when the Major tapped the window
behind the chauffeur.
“Get out here for a moment, Heine,” he said, and obediently I
followed.
We were on the top of a hill looking down on to a little village, the
principal feature of which was a large factory. On the tops of the
hills were a number of hutments, and it was clear to me that this was
a factory erected for war work.
“This is the Chamborn Shell-Filling Factory,” said Major Haynes. “That
large building is the mixing house. That smaller building behind,
which you can just see in spite of its being camouflaged is the T.N.T.
store. That long building is the magazine, and that to its right is
the live-shell store. There is at this moment in that factory about
two hundred tons of T.N.T., and when I tell you that at the Rivertown
explosion, which shook up half of England, only fifty tons were tonked
off, you will understand the nature of the disaster which would follow
the blowing up of that establishment.”
“But, Major Haynes,” I said in desperation, “why do you tell me all
this and why do you bring me such a long journey to give me this
information?”
“Get into the car,” said Major Haynes, “and I will tell you.”
We got into the car, but he did not speak, and when I suggested he
should keep his promise he merely said:
“Wait awhile.”
We passed through the stone-pillaried gates of the factory, along a
broad roadway, and came to a set of offices where the car stopped and
we alighted. Again the Major looked at his watch.
“Six o’clock,” he said, “we have an hour. I want to introduce you to
the manager of the works.”
He led me into an office which was comfortably furnished, and here I
met Mr. Perkins, a well-fed typical Englishman who hoped I had had a
pleasant journey down. A servant brought tea on a silver tray and we
chatted generally about various topics, though for my part I had very
little to say.
After about half an hour the Major again looked at his watch.
“Well, I wish you good-bye, Mr. Perkins,” he said, “I hope everything
is all right.”
A shrill hooter sounded outside.
“I am stopping the women working,” said Mr. Perkins, and Major Haynes
nodded.
“I think you are wise. You are getting them out of the factory on some
excuse, I suppose?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Perkins, “I told them we were having a test in the
mixing-room and they quite understand.”
I stood with Major Haynes at the entrance of the offices watching the
ceaseless stream of women passing through the gates. My blood boiled
as I thought these women were preparing explosives to destroy my
countrymen. How unfeminine, I thought! How degraded! Woman, lovely
woman, who should create life, who should be all tenderness and
kindness to man, was now engaged in the low occupation of making
shells to blow off the heads of the world’s chosen people. It sickened
me.
“Aha! My fine girls,” I said between my teeth, “you are not the only
flies in the ointment, for every son of the Fatherland you kill, loyal
and death-defying German women are preparing explosives to blow off
the heads of your husbands and sweethearts! Beware! Nemesis is on your
track!”
I hated this place with its smoke and busy air. Such places should be
blown from the face of the earth. I hoped it would not be blown while
I was near by, but I looked forward one day to reading in the paper
that Chamborn had gone up to the sky in smoke and fury.
“Now, Heine,” said Major Haynes.
We walked across the road, down another road, then between two long
stone buildings, past a big power-house with two smoking chimneys, and
at last we came to a great brick shed painted in fantastic colours.
“This is the T.N.T. store,” explained Major Haynes. “Now where are
those chairs that Perkins said? Oh, here they are.”
Two arm-chairs had been placed against the wall. There was a small
iron-topped table with a bottle of whisky, a big syphon of soda and
two glasses.
“Sit down and make your miserable life happy, Heine,” said the Major,
sinking down into one of the chairs and reaching out for the whisky
bottle. “Say when.”
When he had filled the glass with sizzling soda, he said:
“Heine, it is an awful thing to realize that within thirty minutes you
and I may be blotted out of life--be dissolved in thin air, leaving no
trace of ourselves and never knowing what struck us.”
My glass trembled against my teeth and I put down the whisky untasted.
“Explain yourself, Major Haynes,” I said hoarsely.
“I will explain to you, Heine,” he replied gravely, “I feel it is due
to you. You are probably aware that Chamborn is the most important
shell-filling factory in England. If you are not so aware I will tell
you that it is. If this place went up in smoke the British Army would
be seriously inconvenienced, though not crippled. Your friends in
Berlin imagine that its destruction would have decisive consequences,
and in this, of course, they are wrong, for there are other factories,
quite a large number of them. They have sent two or three agents from
Germany,” he went on slowly, “and they are clever men.”
I did not answer. I looked at the clock above the offices and noted
that the gold hands upon the black face stood at twenty minutes to
seven. The major followed my eyes and smiled.
“We have twenty minutes,” he said.
“What do you mean by all this?” I asked in an agitated voice, my
agitation being of course due to the presence in England of three
gentlemen who were probably well-born and my superiors. “What do you
mean by three agents?”
“Two or three,” corrected Major Haynes, “my information is that there
are two; my further information is that they are employed in these
works; that they speak English so perfectly that it is impossible to
detect them, that they are armed with all sorts of credentials;
and----” he paused, “that they intend blowing up this factory at seven
o’clock.”
I half rose from my seat, but he laid his hand upon my arm and pushed
me back.
“We have taken the most elaborate precautions--when I say we,” he
apologized, “I mean the Government. We have weeded out suspicious
workmen, but we are still certain that these men have in some way
connected up a means of detonation which they will touch off at seven
o’clock to-night.”
The place swam round. I could feel my knees trembling against the
supports of the iron table. My throat and mouth went dry and I could
only look round helplessly. Major Haynes was quite cool.
“The only way to save this place from destruction,” he said, “is to
bring the men who are engaged in this work to our presence before the
mischief is done, and you, Heine, are the syren who will call them.”
He put his hands in his breast-pocket and took out my little gold
whistle and laid it on the table.
“You may not know the code of the danger whistle, but you may guess
it,” he said. “If you are telling the truth and you don’t know the
code, then it is very unfortunate for you and most unfortunate for me,
because in a little over a quarter of an hour, you and I, my dear
Heine, will be continuing our debate in heaven.”
“But--but----” I gasped.
“It is no use butting, my dear lad,” said the Major, “you will be
butting your head into that wall in less than sixteen minutes unless
you can bring your loyal but startled fellow-countrymen to this spot.”
I picked up the whistle in my shaking fingers.
“But it would be death to me,” I said, “and besides, Major Haynes, I
am a loyal man. I cannot betray my friends to their death.”
“Spoken like a patriot,” said the Major. “It seems to me that you are
almost as good a patriot as I am. In which case we shall both die
without remorse.”
I thought and I thought. Twice I picked up the whistle and twice I put
it down. The hands of the clock moved round inexorably. It wanted four
minutes to the hour when I turned my perspirationed face towards him.
“They’ll know I betrayed them,” I said; “they will see me.”
“You have a mask in your pocket, which I have thoughtfully provided,”
said the Major. “Put it on, my dear Heine, there are three minutes
between you and glory.”
With trembling hands I fixed the hideous mask. Better, I thought, that
these unfortunate men should be detected and that a great and hideous
crime should be prevented than that one whose life was of such service