The Zeppelin's Passenger
between the two men.
“Listen to me, both of you!” she cried incoherently. “Helen, you
especially! You never heard anything so wonderful in your life! They
weren't fishing excursions at all. There weren't any whiting. Henry was
laying mines all the time, and he's blown up half the German fleet! It's
all in the Times this morning. He's got a D.S.O.--Henry has--and he's a
Rear-Admiral! Oh, Helen, I want to cry!”
The two women wandered into a far corner of the room. Richard wrung his
brother-in-law's hand.
“Philippa isn't exactly coherent,” he remarked, “but it sounds all
right.”
“You see,” Sir Henry explained, “I've been mine laying ever since the
war started. I always had ideas of my own about mine fields, as you may
remember. I started with Scotland, and then they moved me down here.
The Admiralty thought they'd be mighty clever, and they insisted upon my
keeping my job secret. It led to a little trouble with Philippa, but I
think we are through with all that.--I suppose you know that those two
young women have been engaged in a regular conspiracy, Dick?”
“I know a little,” Richard replied gravely, “and I'm sure you will
believe that I wouldn't have countenanced it for a moment if I'd had any
idea what they were up to.”
“I'm sure you wouldn't,” Sir Henry agreed. “Anyway, it led to no harm.”
“Maderstrom, then,” Richard asked, with a sudden more complete
apprehension of the affair, “was over here to spy upon you?”
“That's the ticket,” Sir Henry assented.
Richard frowned.
“And he bribed Philippa and Helen with my liberty!”
“Don't you worry about that,” his brother-in-law begged. “They must have
known by instinct that a chap like Maderstrom couldn't do any harm.”
“Where is he now?” Richard asked eagerly. “Helen insisted upon keeping
me out of the way but we've heard all sorts of rumours. The Commandant
has been up here after him, hasn't he?”
“Yes, and I sent him away with a flea in his ear! I don't like the
fellow.”
“And Maderstrom?”
“The pseudo-Mr. Lessingham, eh?” Sir Henry observed. “Well, to tell you
the truth, Dick, if there is one person I am a little sorry for in the
history of the last few weeks, it's Maderstrom.”
“You, too?” Richard exclaimed. “Why, every one seems crazy about the
fellow.”
Sir Henry nodded.
“I remember him in your college days, Dick. He was a gentleman and a
good sort, only unfortunately his mother was a German. He did his bit of
soldiering with the Prussian Guards at the beginning of the war, got a
knock and volunteered for the Secret Service. They sent him over here.
The fellow must have no end of pluck, for, as I dare say you know, they
let him down from the observation car of a Zeppelin. He finds his
way here all right, makes his silly little bargain with our dear but
gullible womenkind, and sets himself to watch--to watch me, mind. The
whole affair is too ridiculously transparent. For a time he can't bring
himself even to touch my papers here, although, as it happens, they
wouldn't have done him the least bit of good. It was only the stress
and excitement of the shipwreck last week that he ventured to steal the
chart which I had so carefully prepared for him. I really think, if
he hadn't done that, I should have had to slip it into his pocket or
absolutely force it upon him somehow. He sends it off like a lamb and
behold the result! We've crippled the German Navy for the rest of the
war.”
“It was a faked chart, then, of course?” Richard demanded breathlessly.
“And quite the cleverest I ever prepared,” Sir Henry acknowledged. “I
can assure you that it would have taken in Von Tirpitz himself, if he'd
got hold of it.”
“But where is Maderstrom now, sir?” Richard asked.
Sir Henry moved his head towards the window, where Philippa, for the
last few moments, had softly taken her place. Her eyes were watching
a green light bobbing up and down in the distance. Suddenly she gave a
little exclamation.
“It's moving!” she cried. “He's off!”
“He's safe on a Dutch trawler,” Sir Henry declared. “And I think,” he
added, moving towards the sideboard, “it's time you and I had a drink
together, Dick.”
They helped themselves to whisky and soda. There were still many
explanations to be given. Half-concealed by the curtain, Philippa stood
with her eyes turned seawards. The green light was dimmer now, and the
low, black outline of the trawler crept slowly over the glittering track
of moonlight. She gave a little start as it came into sight. There was
a sob in her throat, tears burning in her eyes. Her fingers clutched the
curtains almost passionately. She stood there watching until her eyes
ached. Then she felt an arm around her waist and her husband's whisper
in her ear.
“I haven't let you wander too far, have I, Phil?”
She turned quickly towards him, eager for the comfort of his extended
arms. Her face was buried in his shoulder.
“You know,” she murmured.