The Zeppelin's Passenger
eager signs to Lessingham, pointing to the French windows. Lessingham,
however, shook his head.
“I prefer,” he said gently, “to finish my conversation with your
husband.”'
There was another and more insistent summons from outside. This time it
was Captain Griffiths' raucous voice.
“Sir Henry Cranston,” he called out, “I am here with authority. I beg to
be admitted.”
“Where is your escort?”
“In the hall.”
“If I let you come in,” Sir Henry continued, “will you come alone?”
“I should prefer it,” was the eager reply. “I wish to make this business
as little unpleasant to--to everybody as possible.”
Sir Henry softly turned the key, opened the door, and admitted
Griffiths. The man seemed to see no one else but Lessingham. He would
have hastened at once towards him, but Sir Henry laid his hand upon his
arm.
“You must kindly restrain your impatience for a few moments,” he
insisted. “This is a private conference. Your business with the Baron
Maderstrom can be adjusted later.”
“It is my duty,” Griffiths proclaimed impatiently, “to arrest that man
as a spy. I have authority, granted me this morning in London.”
“Quite so,” Sir Henry observed, “but we are in the midst of a very
interesting little discussion which I intend to conclude. Your turn will
come later, Captain Griffiths.”
“I can countenance no discussion with such men as that,” Griffiths
declared scornfully. “I am here in the execution of my duty, and I
resent any interference with it.”
“No one wishes to interfere with you,” Sir Henry assured him, “but until
I say the word you will obey my orders.”
“So far as I am concerned,” Lessingham intervened, “I wish it to be
understood that I offer no defence.”
“You have no defence,” Sir Henry reminded him suavely. “I gather that
not only had you the effrontery to steal a chart from my pocket in the
midst of a life struggle upon the trawler, but you have capped this
exploit with a deliberate attempt to abduct my wife.”
Griffiths seemed for a moment almost beside himself. His eyes glowed.
His long fingers twitched. He kept edging a little nearer to Lessingham.
“Both charges,” the latter confessed, looking Sir Henry in the eyes,
“are true.”
Then Philippa found herself. She saw the sudden flash in her husband's
eyes, the grim fury in Griffiths' face. She stepped once more forward.
“Henry,” she insisted, “you must listen to what I have to say.”
“We have had enough words,” Griffiths interposed savagely.
Sir Henry ignored the interruption.
“I am listening, Philippa,” he said calmly.
“It was my intention an hour ago to leave this place with Mr. Lessingham
to-night,” she told him deliberately.
“The devil it was!” Sir Henry muttered.
“As for the reason, you know it,” she continued, her tone full of
courage. “I am willing to throw myself at your feet now, but all the
same I was hardly treated. I was made the scapegoat of your stupid
promise. You kept me in ignorance of things a wife should know. You even
encouraged me to believe you a coward, when a single word from you
would have changed everything. Therefore, I say that it is you who are
responsible for what I nearly did, and what I should have done but for
him--listen, Henry--but for him!”
“But for him,” her husband repeated curiously.
“It was Mr. Lessingham,” she declared, “who opened my eyes concerning
you. It was he who refused to let me yield to that impulse of anger.
Look at my coat there. My bag is on that table. I was ready to leave
with him to-night. Before we went, he insisted on telling me everything
about you. He could have escaped, and I was willing to go with him.
Instead, he spent those precious minutes telling me the truth about you.
That was the end.”
“Lady Cranston omits to add,” Lessingham put in, “that before I did
so she told me frankly that her feelings for me were of warm
friendliness--that her love was given to her husband, and her husband
only.”
“How long is this to go on?” Griffiths asked harshly. “I have
the authority here and the power to take that man. These domestic
explanations have nothing to do with the case.”
“Excuse me,” Sir Henry retorted, with quiet emphasis, “they have a great
deal to do with it.”
“I am Commandant of this place--” Griffiths commenced.
“And I possess an authority here which you had better not dispute,” Sir
Henry reminded him sternly.
There was a moment's tense silence. Griffiths set his teeth hard, but
his hand wandered towards the back of his belt.
“I am now,” Sir Henry continued, “going to announce to you a piece
of news, over which we shall all be gloating when to-morrow morning's
newspapers are issued, but which is not as yet generally known. During
last night, a considerable squadron of German cruisers managed to cross
the North Sea and found their way to a certain port of considerable
importance to us.”
Lessingham started, His face was drawn as though with pain. He had the
air of one who shrinks from the news he is about to hear.
“Incidentally,” Sir Henry continued, “three-quarters of the squadron
also found their way to the bottom of the sea, and the other quarter met
our own squadron, lying in wait for their retreat, and will not return.”
Lessingham swayed for a moment upon his feet. One could almost fancy
that Sir Henry's tone was tinged with pity as he turned towards him.
“The chart of the mine field of which you possessed yourself,” he said,
“which it was the object of your visit here to secure, was a chart
specially prepared for you. You see, our own Secret Service is not
altogether asleep. Those very safe and inviting-looking channels for
British and Allied traffic--I marked them very clearly, didn't I?--were
where I'd laid my mines. The channels which your cruisers so carefully
avoided were the only safe avenues. So you see why it is, Maderstrom,
that I have no grudge against you.”
Lessingham's face for a moment was the face of a stricken man. There was
a look of dull horror in his eyes.
“Is this the truth?” he gasped.
“It is the truth,” Sir Henry assured him gravely.
“Does this conclude the explanations?” Captain Griffiths demanded
impatiently. “Your news is magnificent, Sir Henry. As regards this
felon--”
Sir Henry held up his hand.
“Maderstrom's fate,” he said, “is mine to deal with and not yours,
Captain Griffiths.”
Philippa was the first to grasp the intentions of the man who was
standing only a few feet from her. She threw herself upon his arm and
dragged down the revolver which he had raised. Sir Henry, with a shout
of fury, was upon them at once. He took Griffiths by the throat and
threw him upon the sofa. The revolver clattered harmlessly on to the
carpet.
“His Majesty's Service has no use for madmen,” he thundered. “You know
that I possess superior authority here.”
“That man shall not escape!” Griffiths shouted.
He struggled for his whistle. Sir Henry snatched it from him and picked
up the revolver from the carpet.
“Look here, Griffiths,” he remonstrated severely, “one single move
in opposition to my wishes will cost you your career. Let there be
no misunderstanding about it. That man will not be arrested by you
to-night.”
Griffiths staggered to his feet. He was half cowed, half furious.
“You take the responsibility for this, Sir Henry?” he demanded thickly.
“The man is a proved traitor. If you assist him to escape, you are
subject to penalties--”
Sir Henry threw open the door.
“Captain Griffiths,” he interrupted, “I am not ignorant of my position
in this matter. Believe me, your last chance of retaining your position
here is to remember that you have had specific orders to yield to my
authority in all matters. Kindly leave this room and take your soldiers
back to their quarters.”
Griffiths hesitated for a single moment. He had the appearance of a man
half demented by a passion which could find no outlet. Then he left the
room, without salute, without a glance to the right or to the left. Out
in the hall, a moment later, they heard a harsh voice of command.
The hall door was opened and closed behind the sound of retreating
footsteps.
“Sir Henry,” Lessingham reminded him, “I have not asked for your
intervention.”
“My dear fellow, you wouldn't,” was the prompt reply. “As for the little
trouble that has happened in the North Sea, don't take it too much to
heart, it was entirely the fault of the people who sent you here.”
“The fault of the people who sent me here,” Lessingham repeated. “I
scarcely understand.”
“It's simple enough,” Sir Henry continued. “You see, you are about as
fit to be a spy as Philippa, my wife here, is to be a detective. You
possess the one insuperable obstacle of having the instincts of a
gentleman.--Come, come,” he went on, “we have nothing more to say to one
another. Open that window and take the narrow path down to the beach.
Jimmy Dumble is waiting for you at the gate. He will row you out to a
Dutch trawler which is lying even now off the point.”
“You mean me to get away?” Lessingham exclaimed, bewildered.
“Believe me, it will cost nothing,” Sir Henry assured him. “I was not
bluffing when I told Captain Griffiths that I had supreme authority
here. He knows perfectly well that I am within my rights in aiding your
escape.”
Philippa moved swiftly to where Lessingham was standing. She gave him
her hands.
“Dear friend,” she begged, “so wonderful a friend as you have been,
don't refuse this last thing.”
“Be a sensible fellow, Maderstrom,” Sir Henry said. “Remember that you
can't do yourself or your adopted country a ha'porth of good by playing
the Quixote.”
“Besides,” Philippa continued, holding his hands tightly, “it is, after
all, only an exchange. You have saved Henry's life, set Richard free,
and brought us happiness. Why should you hesitate to accept your own
liberty?”
Sir Henry threw open the window and looked towards a green light out at
sea.
“There's your trawler,” he pointed out, “and remember the tide will turn
in half an hour. I don't wish to hurry you.”
Lessingham raised Philippa's fingers to his lips.
“I shall think of you both always,” he said simply. “You are very
wonderful people.”
He turned towards the window. Sir Henry took up the Homburg hat from the
table by his side.
“Better take your hat,” he suggested.
Lessingham paused, accepted it, and looked steadfastly at the donor.
“You knew from the first?” he asked.
“From the very first,” Sir Henry assured him. “Don't look so
confounded,” he went on consolingly. “Remember that espionage is the
only profession in which it is an honour to fail.”
Philippa came a little shyly into her husband's arms, as he turned back
into the room. The tenderness in his own face, however, and a little
catch in his voice, broke down at once the wall of reserve which had
grown up between them.
“My dear little woman!” he murmured. “My little sweetheart! You don't
know how I've ached to explain everything to you--including the Russian
ladies.”
“Explain them at once, sir!” Philippa insisted, pretending to draw her
face away for a moment.
“They were the wife and sister-in-law of the Russian Admiral, Draskieff,
who was sent over to report upon our method of mine laying,” he told
her.
“You and I have to go up to a little dinner they are giving to-morrow or
the next day.”
“Oh, dear, what an idiot I was!” Philippa exclaimed ruefully. “I
imagined--all sorts of things. But, Henry dear,” she went on, “do you
know that we have a great surprise for you--here in the house?”
“No surprise, dear,” he assured her, shaking his head. “I knew the very
hour that Richard left Wittenberg. And here he is, by Jove!”
Richard and Helen entered together. Philippa could not even wait for the
conclusion of the hearty but exceedingly British greeting which passed