CHAPTER XXIt was six o'clock when John stepped out into Dacent Smith's bachelor room. His Chief was seated at his desk, deep in work. John closed the door and crossed the room."Well?" asked Dacent Smith, raising his head and still sitting with poised pen at his desk."I was right, sir, in regard to Lady Rachel Marvin. The information that sunk theMaltawas conveyed by her to Mrs. Beecher Monmouth two days ago.""You don't mean she intentionally conveyed it?" exclaimed Dacent Smith, rising and looking at John in amazement."Oh no, sir, not at all; she conveyed it with no intention to do harm, and only out of an inveterate habit of gossip."Dacent Smith drew his brows together. His expression was more stern in that moment than John had ever seen it."A damnable habit of gossiping," he observed forcibly. "Well, what have you done, Treves?""I have brought the lady with me, sir, thinking you would wish to act at once in regard to her."Dacent Smith nodded in approbation."Send her in to me, Treves, and wait outside."John went out of the room, and Dacent Smith moved to the mantelshelf and looked for a moment at the photograph of a girl of eighteen, a girl who looked scarcely more than a child. He was still at the hearth when Lady Rachel was ushered into the room by John, who closed the door and left the two together. What took place between Dacent Smith and the woman whose foolish vanity had sunk theMaltaJohn did not know, but he was able to guess pretty well, for twenty minutes later Dacent Smith opened the door and summoned him into the room."Come in, Treves."John entered and found Lady Rachel standing near his Chief's desk. Her face was white, her nose unromantically red; she had been crying. On Dacent Smith's desk lay a letter in Lady Rachel's handwriting.DEAR BOB, it ran,I have had a sudden breakdown in health. The doctors inform me I am to go to Pitt Lunan Hydro for at least four months. I may not even be well enough to return to town even then. Forgive me, Bob, for not being able to say good-bye, but I am obliged to hurry away at once.Your devoted wife,RACHEL.As John entered the room Lady Rachel Marvin folded this letter, placed it in an envelope, and, still standing, addressed it to her husband, "Lieutenant-Commander Marvin, H.M.S. ——, Southampton." She closed the envelope and accepted a stamp from Dacent Smith.Dacent Smith broke the long silence that followed."Treves," said he, "Lady Rachel leaves Euston for Scotland to-night by the seven o'clock train.""I don't want to go to Scotland!" intervened Lady Rachel petulantly. "I dislike hydros intensely; I think them absolutely detestable places!"Dacent Smith watched her for a moment with unrelenting eyes, then spoke in a tone there was no mistaking."Lady Rachel, you will take the train for Scotland to-night. You will then stay there the full period my department has prescribed for you." Lady Rachel flashed a rebellious look at him, but Dacent Smith continued in his unyielding tones: "Failing this, you will find yourself, I can assure you, in a place far more 'detestable' to you than even the most uncomfortable of hydros!"He turned to his desk. For a moment Lady Rachel wavered, then, seeing from his attitude that resistance was hopeless, she lifted her head and went haughtily out of the room. John escorted her to the street, helped her into a taxi, and saw her drive away after a flash of her big eyes that was meant either to consume him with fire or to freeze him to death; he did not know which. When John returned his Chief was standing at the mantelshelf. The expression of sternness had entirely left his face. In his fingers he held the photograph of a charming girl, scarcely more than a child. For a minute he was silent, his eyes upon the figure in the silver frame; then he held up the picture and showed it to John."This is my niece, Treves," he said quietly.John took the photograph and inspected it critically."An extremely pretty girl, sir."Dacent Smith nodded."She is just eighteen, Treves. She became engaged to young Rashleigh, gunnery lieutenant on theMalta." His tones deepened in intensity. "That was four days ago—and to-day Rashleigh is dead. He was one of the finest fellows who ever stepped. And, in my opinion, he and two hundred others lost their lives solely because Lady Rachel Marvin could not keep her mouth shut. My niece, who is still only a child—you can see for yourself what she is like, Treves"—for the first time his voice shook with emotion—"my niece is at home lying in a semi-conscious condition. The doctors tell us that her reason is threatened—and all this because a silly woman babbled about things that didn't concern her!"The man who was one of the greatest powers in the country was still holding the photograph in his fingers, his eyes fixed pitifully upon the delicate girlish beauty of his niece. He replaced it slowly on the mantelshelf, then, turning, stood looking before him, his hands clenched at his side. The sternness of his lips at that moment revealed to John all the hidden strength behind his kindly exterior; he was stirred to the depths. And suddenly he flashed a look at John and struck his open palm with a clenched fist."If I had my way, Treves," he said between tense lips, "if the powers that be would make me autocrat for a week, I'd treat these fool women as traitors. An unguarded word," he went on, "is, in my opinion, just as much an act of disloyalty in time of war as an insult to the flag or the army. If the public only knew it, we have lost ship after ship, and possibly thousands of men, as a result of vain gossip in clubs, trains, shops and smart drawing-rooms. On Saturday we lost a cruiser worth a million. Young Rashleigh died, and two hundred splendid sailors, because Lady Rachel Marvin must have her afternoon's social success! What do you think of it, Treves?"John was thinking of the tragedy of it all—of the desolated homes—the two hundred homes where sorrow stalked that day. He was thinking of the sweet-faced, broken-hearted girl, hovering on the verge of sanity."I'd like to wring Lady Rachel's neck!" said John, swept out of himself."I could tell you a score of such cases," said Dacent Smith. "In one case a present of a hundred cigarettes and a silly woman's curiosity meant one of the greatest disasters that has occurred to us since the war began." He suddenly stopped, pulled himself up, and became normal in tone. He was fully himself again, the keen, resourceful man of action. "Now, Treves," he said, "we must get back to business. Lady Rachel Marvin has been a valuable 'feeder' to the enemy. She is now out of action, however. I regard," he went on, "Beecher Monmouth, M.P., as also dangerous. Is that your opinion?""My opinion," said John, "is that Beecher Monmouth is not disloyal, but, as he is wax in his wife's hands, his political position makes him dangerous.""You don't believe he could keep a secret from her?""From what I've seen of them both, sir, I should doubt it."Dacent Smith went to his desk and made a note on his writing pad. "I will write a note to the Home Secretary. I think we can get rid of Beecher Monmouth without arousing suspicion. Now, Treves, in regard to the sinking of theMalta—we are a little bit at sea in this matter. Mrs. Beecher Monmouth and her accomplices have out-manoeuvred us. In some manner or other she managed to get her information to Germany, or to a German submarine commander, eight hours after picking up the facts from Lady Rachel Marvin. We want to know how she managed to do this, Treves."He crossed the room as he spoke, and took a sheaf of papers from his cabinet of drawers against the wall. He handed the documents to John. John observed that the sheets were thin and almost transparent, and that each sheet had been written over in indelible pencil."You have in your hand," explained Dacent Smith, "intercepted copies of all Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's letters since the fifteenth of last month. That is," he added, "all the letters she has sent through the post. You will notice among them three advertisements—all jewellery for sale."John glanced at the pile of letters in his hand. There were among them orders to tradesmen, half a dozen letters to a dressmaker, showing the great care with which Mrs. Beecher Monmouth apparelled herself; and two letters written and posted to her husband. These last were interlarded with extravagant expressions of affection and love. But it was the third advertisement, addressed to a famous daily paper, that held John's interest. This ran:"Lady wishes to sell privately a pearl and platinum pendant, perfectly-matched pearls, surrounding Orient pearl of splendid lustre.—Apply Box A3656."John closely examined this advertisement, and the other two, which were similar."Do you think she is in debt, sir?""Beecher Monmouth's a rich man," answered Dacent Smith, "with big interest in the timber business. However, one never knows what an extravagant woman may succeed in spending. I think it may be worth your while, Treves, to follow up the trail of this advertisement. I want you to apply yourself assiduously to the cultivation of this lady for the present. And keep well in mind the fact that, though her letters show nothing, she is yet conveying news regularly to the enemy."CHAPTER XXITwo evenings later Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's Spanish maid came to the door of her mistress's boudoir, knocked, and entered quietly."Doctor Voules is here, madam.""I told you, Cecily, I was not at home!" said Mrs. Beecher Monmouth. "I don't want to see Doctor Voules—I don't want to see anybody!""But, madam," protested the maid, "it would be impossible to refuse to see Doctor Voules!"Something took place between mistress and maid—an exchange of glances—which seemed somewhat to alter Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's mood of irritation."Very well, Cecily, let him come up." And when Cecily had departed to summon Doctor Voules, Mrs. Beecher Monmouth went to her low Turkish table, lit a buff-coloured cigarette, and stood with her back to the hearth, smoking somewhat more rapidly than usual. A knock came at the door, and Doctor Voules entered. He strolled into the apartment with his shoulders well back, his heavy chin thrust forward, the smile that sat so ill upon his harsh face was well in evidence."My dear Mrs. Monmouth, my felicitations!"Mrs. Beecher Monmouth took the gloved hand languidly and turned away."Don't felicitate me on anything, Doctor!""But theMalta!" protested the Doctor. "That was a superb stroke for the Fatherland! It is not often I am lavish of praise.""You are certainly not a woman's man!" retorted Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, flashing a look at him."Your beauty is apparent to me, as it would be to a much younger man, I can assure you of that, my deargnädige Frau," said Voules."I am not talking of beauty—I am talking of moods," replied she. "You observe nothing of my disturbance!"Doctor Voules, who did not believe in moods, who never permitted such weakness in his subordinates, pressed his lips tightly together."You will be good enough,gnädige Frau," he commanded, "to be a little more precise and explicit. Something has occurred, no doubt, to ruffle your temper." He went to a chair at the hearth, seated himself, asked permission to smoke, and lit one of his big, black cigars.Mrs. Beecher Monmouth looked at him squarely for a moment."Of course, my personal sufferings are nothing to you! It is nothing to you, for instance, that my friend, Lady Rachel Marvin, has vanished!"Doctor Voules lifted his eyebrows."In what manner has she vanished?""She is one of the most useful friends I have ever had," returned Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "and has suddenly disappeared without leaving me a note or a line."Doctor Voules drew his brows together."Refresh my memory, please, in regard to this lady.""She is the foolish little chatterbox who provided me with all the information I needed in regard to theMalta," retorted Mrs. Beecher Monmouth curtly.Doctor Voules suddenly became all attention."And you mean,gnädige Frau, that this lady has vanished?"Mrs. Beecher Monmouth assured him of the fact."No one knows," she went on, "where she is. She was my most intimate friend. I had put all my hopes in her, Excellenz! Then, to add to my vexation, my husband has been suddenly and unexpectedly appointed to a Government commission of inquiry in Ireland. He is delighted, of course; it is an honour for him. Then, again," went on Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "Mrs. Pomfret Bond, who was in the habit of telling me everything she knew, who was always scraping up bits of gossip that were of use, is——""Has she vanished also?" inquired Voules, suddenly rising."No," returned Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "but she has become mute as a fish. My opinion is that she has been warned not to talk, and that I have at last become a suspected person!"Voules looked at her and shook his ponderous head."No, no! Your position,gnädige Frau, is too secure for that; also you are too clever.""I am not a fool," answered Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "but these things disturb me!""Your love of the Fatherland, your belief in final victory, will sustain you. You lose your friend, Lady Rachel Marvin, but to a woman of your beauty and position nothing is impossible. You shall get other fools—is it not so? England,gnädige Frau, is full of fools!"He moved across to her and took her hand firmly in his."Soon you shall have your reward. I will promise you my very best efforts. You will wait yet a little while longer. My plans," he added quietly, "are shaping themselves with the perfection of clockwork. Enormous things have been done, my deargnädige Frau, in the last few weeks, and disaffection now, even from you, would destroy the harmony.... Remember your sentiments towards these people!""I remember them well enough!" answered Mrs. Beecher Monmouth. She was still standing at the hearth, and looked steadily before her as she spoke."Good!" exclaimed Voules in his throat. "We will now come to the purpose of my visit. You shall have your part in the big work afoot. I assure you there are bigger things than the sinking of theMalta! For instance, on the twenty-eighth we shall strike a blow that will not rapidly be forgotten by these English!"He suddenly snapped his teeth together and drew tight his lips; a gleam of ferocity lit in his hard eyes."These English!" he exclaimed between his teeth. "Their arrogance maddens me! It is a torture to me to live among them, concealed thus as a civilian! I am maddened by their complacency!" he went on, "their calm! Nevertheless, we shall strike deep this time! Your work,gnädige Frau," he said, speaking in the tone of masterful authority that was his real habit, "your work is not difficult. On the twenty-fourth I request you to go to Heatherpoint Fort. It is fortunate that your husband is away. You can thus go to the Isle of Wight ostensibly for a holiday. While there you will make the acquaintance of the adjutant of Heatherpoint, who visits regularly the —— Hotel in Newport. My report is that this young Lieutenant Parkson is susceptible to beauty. You,gnädige Frau," he smiled his hard smile, "are, indeed, beautiful enough to engage the attention of one far less susceptible!""What do you wish me to do with this particular susceptible man?" inquired Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, with slight sarcasm."You are to engage the young man's attention, and his affections.""You appear to forget, Excellenz, that I am a married woman of social position!""I do not forget,gnädige Frau; but your complaisance on that account will be more than ever flattering. The young man in question will not be able to resist the charms of the beautiful and wealthy society woman who is—to fall in love with him!"Mrs. Beecher Monmouth smiled, and spoke with a touch of irony."I am your servant, Excellenz!""You are the servant of the Fatherland," answered Voules gravely, "and all I require is that this young man, Lieutenant Parkson, shall not be at his post in the fort on the night of the twenty-eighth. How you will succeed in keeping him away from duty is a matter for your own discretion—I have the fullest confidence in you. Captain Cherriton undertook the work, but the young man in question neither drinks nor gambles. Cherriton's efforts ended in complete failure. Moreover, our agent inside the fort has been strangely silent of late. We have received neither signal nor message from him for some days. If you play your cards neatly with Parkson, you will possibly secure an invitation to tea at the fort mess."He went on and gave her a rapid sketch of Steinbaum, otherwise known as "Crumbs." The silence of "Crumbs" during the past few days had puzzled and disturbed him."We have made a number of arrangements in regard to Heatherpoint Fort," he concluded, "and it is absolutely essential to our purpose that no guns should be fired from that spot."His eyes suddenly lit up. He was thinking of his great scheme, which was hourly drawing nearer fruition, and, on parting, he gripped Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's hand in his."Gnädige Frau," he announced, "glorious things are shortly to occur!"When he had gone Mrs. Beecher Monmouth seated herself in a chair and stared thoughtfully into the fire. She was conscious of a sense of doubt and uneasiness. General von Kuhne was a soldier of long training, masterful and aggressive. His gift of organisation, his theory of attack was always excellent—nevertheless, he was not subtle, he was not sensitive to the importance of little incidents. The sudden disappearance of Lady Rachel meant nothing to him, aroused no suspicion in him, and yet...CHAPTER XXIIIn pursuance of Dacent Smith's instructions, John presented himself at the massive doors of 289, Grosvenor Place, two nights later. He had pondered much upon those three advertisements, and the more he considered the matter, the more Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's desire privately to sell her jewels struck him as unusual. It was not usual, he told himself, for a woman of Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's position to dispossess herself of jewellery through the medium of advertisements in a newspaper. There are half a dozen firms in Bond Street alone, of proved honesty, any one of which is willing to make purchases of this kind.John rang the bell, and the butler presently drew open the door."I am very sorry, sir," the man began, "but madame is not at home."John expressed his complete surprise. He was, however, not in the least surprised, and had planned his visit with the sole object of finding Mrs. Beecher Monmouth away from home. For a minute he hesitated, looking doubtfully at the butler."Can you," he inquired, "tell me if Mrs. Monmouth's maid is in. I have a message to give her for her mistress.""I can take any message you wish, sir.""Thank you, no," said John, smiling at him; "what I have to say is—is rather personal to Mrs. Beecher Monmouth.""Very good, sir," answered the sedate servant, and bowed. "Will you kindly step into the morning-room."John went into the morning-room, moved to the window and looked into Grosvenor Place, out over the broad smooth road to the high brick wall surrounding the royal gardens. A few minutes elapsed, and then Cecily, Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's maid, came quietly in."You wish to see me, sir?"John turned."Yes, Cecily." He looked into her face, noted her bead-black eyes, her olive skin, and the slight tendency to a moustache at the corner of each lip. "Cecily," he said, "I have really come to ask your advice on a little personal matter." Cecily looked at him with an unreadable expression on her sullen countenance. "I want to give Mrs. Beecher Monmouth a present," went on John. "A little matter of a pair of pearl ear-rings. Can you tell me if she is fond of pearls?""Pearls, monsieur; oh, no!" Cecily shook her head. "Rubies or emeralds, yes, monsieur, but pearls, no.""Oh," resumed John, "she doesn't care for pearls then?"Cecily shook her head."She says they are insipid, monsieur.""Perhaps she is right, Cecily, but in that case," he said, "I shall have to think of something else. Thank you, I am much obliged to you." He slipped a pound note into the woman's hand."Thank you, monsieur.""Perhaps," John probed delicately, "madame is not fond of pearls because she has so many?"Cecily was folding her pound note."Pearls do not suit madame; she never wears them. She has none at all, monsieur, only one pearl necklace, a wedding gift from her husband. She, however, never wears it."John appeared to think."Surely, Cecily, I have seen her wearing a pearl pendant?"Cecily shook her head again."No, monsieur, never. Madame has no pearls."John laughed."Well, in that case, it must be emeralds or rubies.""Emeralds or rubies," responded Cecily, "madame is most fond of them."Three minutes later John was out of the house and hailing a taxi. As he relapsed back into the cushions, he fell into thought. "There is certainly," thought he, "more in these advertisements than meets the casual eye. Mrs. Beecher Monmouth detests pearls, she has none, never had any—and yet advertises them for sale!"A quarter of an hour later, when John stepped into Dacent Smith's room, the elder man glanced quickly up from his desk."Well?""In regard to those three advertisements of jewellery," answered John, "inserted in the newspaper by Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, I should be glad, sir, if you would have them decoded."Dacent Smith raised his eyebrows slightly.John narrated what had occurred at his private interview with Cecily, and Dacent Smith was instantly of the opinion that Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's harmless advertisements were a matter for closer scrutiny. In the first place, he telephoned to his department and ordered that inquiry should be instituted at the newspaper office as to any earlier advertisements which may have been inserted in the paper by Mrs. Monmouth. If the three advertisements were a code message the intelligence decoding department would find its task vastly more easy if a considerable batch of advertisements in the same code were submitted. A brief code message, as John was now well aware, is always difficult to read. The longer the message, the easier is it to decipher.The department's search at the newspaper office resulted in the finding of no less than sixteen earlier advertisements inserted by Mrs. Beecher Monmouth. In each case, only a box number was given, therefore the lady's identity never became public."It looks as if you are on the right track, Treves," said Dacent Smith, when this information was conveyed to him on the telephone.Half an hour later Dacent Smith, again at the telephone, took down the decoded first advertisement, the one wherein Mrs. Beecher Monmouth had advertised a pearl pendant for sale. John's chief wrote it out carefully, and handed the slip across to the younger man."There is your advertisement, Treves," he exclaimed. There was a grave ring in his voice. John took the slip of paper and read:"Note of Warning.—New standard eight thousand ton ship purposely advertised by shipping authorities here as fitting out at —— is a 'Q' ship, armed with six-inch guns, torpedo tubes are being fitted. Further news in next message."John looked up from the pencilled lines. He saw in a flash the exact purport of the message. Mrs. Beecher Monmouth in pretending to advertise a pearl pendant was in reality sending a message to Germany to the effect that a certain vessel then building was a decoy ship, one of the famous vessels which had done so much to break the back of the submarine peril. John could easily realise how swiftly that news would reach Germany. Automatically the paper would reach Holland within two days. Any neutral ship might carry copies, and Berlin's Naval Department would possess the information a few minutes after the daily paper containing Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's advertisement reached Dutch soil. Every German spy in England who read the newspaper would receive the news on the morning of its insertion."I think for cunning that beats everything," said John, handing back the paper to Dacent Smith."They have been preparing this sort of thing for years," answered Dacent Smith. "But I am willing to admit that Mrs. Monmouth has this time stolen something of a march on us."Every one of her advertisements is being decoded, however, and every one, I have no doubt, will convey information of this nature. On the other hand," he said, "we have not yet learnt in what manner she communicated with the submarine that sunk theMalta, That must have been a much quicker communication. I shall leave it to you, Treves," he said quietly, "to find out what that method is. You will have to learn much more of Mrs. Beecher Monmouth than we know already. The fight is quickening between us. And the big fight which von Kuhne is planning in the Isle of Wight is not quite so indefinite to us as it was. The date at least is in our possession. And by then," he went on, "all the carrion will have wended their way there, even our friend, Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, will be there by then." John looked at him in sudden surprise."I thought she was seldom out of London, sir.""That is the fact," answered Dacent Smith; "it is also the fact, however, that from the twenty-fourth of this month she has engaged rooms at a select boarding house in Freshwater. She is going to Freshwater," he added ironically, "to recuperate after an arduous London season!" He looked meaningly at John. John understood the significance of that look. The carrion were gathering. By the twenty-eighth all von Kuhne's active forces would be drawn to the Isle of Wight. Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, in taking rooms at Freshwater, was acquiring a residence in close proximity to Heatherpoint Fort. John wondered what her particular manoeuvre was to be. He put that question to Dacent Smith."We shall know all in good time, Treves," answered his chief. "You yourself will be in the Isle of Wight by then."A few minutes later John bade good night to Dacent Smith. Being free for that evening, he took the tube to Camden Town. Here, at Bowles Avenue, in the quiet little street, he knocked once again at the door of Elaine's residence. He had not visited Elaine for nearly a week, and he knew that for some days to come he would be deeply occupied with Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, so he wished to make the most of the present opportunity. Twice during the past week Elaine had written him short notes asking him when he could come to visit her. There had been nothing in the notes to convey the idea that she wished him urgently to come. He was surprised, therefore, when Elaine, in answer to his knock, drew open the door and recognised him with an expression of infinite relief in her grey eyes. She was dressed prettily, quietly and inexpensively as usual. John, comparing her appearance with the brilliant beauty of Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, realised that Elaine's attraction lay just as much in her fine and upright character, in her intense feminine gentleness and loyalty, as in her beauty itself.She took John's hand in hers, drew him into the little passage, and quickly shut the door."Bernard," she whispered, resting her hand on his shoulder, and looking up into his face, "I am so very glad you have come!"She drew his face down to hers and kissed him as she had never kissed him before. There was something that was almost passionately fervent in her embrace."I have been so afraid for you, Bernard," she murmured.John released himself. He felt the extreme awkwardness of the situation."What made you afraid, Elaine?" He thought at first that an over-vivid imagination had been running away with her, that some feminine mood had made her fear for him. Then he remembered her beliefs as to his character. The man she believed him to be was a weakling with will undermined by drugs, a nervous, overstrung neurasthenic; capable of drifting into all sorts of trouble and embarrassments.Elaine led him into the little parlour, lit the gas and drew down the blind. John noticed again that something troubled her mind. She appeared to look at him strangely and thoughtfully. And, for an instant, for a fleeting space of time, he feared that she had penetrated the secret of his identity. If this was the case, all his castles in the air would in a minute come toppling about his ears."Why are you looking at me so anxiously, Elaine?" he asked, assuming a casual tone of voice."It is because of Captain Cherriton, Bernard; he has been here to-day, and has been asking questions about you.""What sort of questions?" John asked quickly."He asked me if you had been at Heatherpoint Fort lately. He himself has been down at the Isle of Wight and he appears to have found out something about you that disturbs him terribly."John made the best effort he could to play his difficult part."Well, Elaine?" he questioned, "did Captain Cherriton tell you the particular cause of his disturbance?" He was smiling slightly as he spoke, treating the matter airily. Nevertheless, inwardly he was deeply perturbed. If Cherriton suspected him, and communicated his suspicions to Voules and his confederates, John knew that the position for himself would be one of infinite peril. He had experienced one fortuitous escape from discovery owing to the interception of "Crumbs's" letter to Voules, but he could hardly hope that fortune would again favour him.He questioned Elaine closely, and learned that Cherriton had definitely heard of his presence at Heatherpoint Fort at a time when he was supposed to be working in the interest of Voules. This knowledge, John knew, would confirm all Cherriton's suspicions the minute it was discovered that "Crumbs" had been trapped and had vanished from the fort.However, it was not in John's nature to meet trouble half-way, and for the present he was happy to be in Elaine's radiant company. Elaine, for her part, had much to say to him; in the first place, she detailed all that had occurred in an interview she had had with Dacent Smith. The great man had treated her with marked courtesy, and had, without revealing John's true identity, enlisted her services in much the same manner as Mrs. Beecher Monmouth acted for his adversaries, Voules, Cherriton, Manwitz, and company. Elaine had undertaken the work in the idea that she could thus protect from danger the man she loved, whose name she believed she bore.John listened to her narrative with the deepest interest, and gradually the wonderful subtlety of Dacent Smith made itself manifest. The great man had promised to relieve him of his awkward predicament in regard to Elaine, and the manner in which he had accomplished his promise was simplicity itself. Elaine was to permit—within limits—the advances of Cherriton, and was to pretend to keep her "husband" at a distance! The neatness of this plan filled John with admiration. He felt instantly much freer with Elaine. The delicate moment when she had offered to resume marital relations with him would not immediately occur again.For some minutes after Elaine had ceased speaking John held silence—a doubt had come to him."Elaine," he said, earnestly, "Captain Cherriton is far more dangerous, perhaps, than you know." He rose, and, pacing back and fore, with an anxious face, warned her that the man was one who would stop at nothing to attain his ends. Elaine listened patiently; then, on a sudden, quick impulse, flung her arms about his neck."Bernard," she whispered, "don't you know I love you, my darling? All those minutes that you have been pacing up and down there in raging jealousy——""Jealousy!" echoed John."It was jealousy, Bernard," she smiled, happy in the possession of his love. "All the time I have been adoring you and loving you more and more. Bernard," she whispered, "I am to pretend not to care. But you will know in your heart, won't you, that I am yours always?" She drew her face away from his and looked deep into his eyes. "You know that, dearest?""I know it," said John, looking back at her."And you love me as I love you?" questioned she.He had never seen her so beautiful as in that moment, with her face upturned to his, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes offering him her love. He was standing in another man's shoes, and at that moment those shoes pinched him to the point of anguish. For a fleeting moment he was tempted to fling all prudence to the winds and confess everything. Then the recollection that she was a married woman smote him like a blow. Whatever happened, she could never be his. Very gently and tenderly he held her from him."You can't doubt me, Elaine," he said, in a low voice. "Nevertheless, I think Dacent Smith is right; you ought to pretend not to care for me, for just a little while—anyway, until the great contest that is now beginning between our department and Cherriton and his confederates is at an end."He led her back to her chair, lit a cigarette, and made an effort to give a humorous description of his life during the past few weeks. He told her of Sinclair, of "Crumbs," of his adventure and his visit to Voules; everything, in fact, except his real identity and his arrest in mistake for Bernard Treves.As his narrative unfolded, Elaine's eyes widened in amazement and admiration."I had no idea you were so splendid, Bernard.""But I am not splendid. I am not telling you that I am splendid.""Of course you are not, you silly boy; you are trying to make out you are nothing at all. But I shouldn't love you as I do if I couldn't read between the lines. Oh, Bernard, what an idiot I have been about you. I used to think——" she paused and looked away."You used to think awful things of me," continued John, "that I took drugs, that I consumed whisky by the half-bottle, that I was a brute both to you and to my old father.""Yes," said Elaine slowly. "I used to think I——" Then suddenly, and with the inconsequence of woman, she broke off and covered her face with her hands. She was crying softly and steadily. It was not John's business to comfort her. The only man who had the right to do that was the drink-sodden neurotic, who was still a prisoner in the nursing home. Nevertheless, in less than a minute John was kneeling before her."What is it, Elaine?" he asked in passionate anxiety. She looked at him with eyes bright with tears."It is the past, Bernard; I can't understand it. Those days, long ago, lie like a pain in my heart, always. You have grown so different. It is cowardly and mean of me to think of it, but I love you, Bernard, and I cannot bear to think there was a time when you were not as now." She paused for a moment, and a shadow, a twinge of agony crossed her face. She looked at John with affrighted eyes, then spoke in a low voice. "That night when you struck me, Bernard!"John felt the blood quicken in his pulses. Some time in the past Bernard Treves had struck her. How and under what circumstances he could not guess. He turned away his head, so that the sudden rage which blazed in his eyes should not be visible to her. For a moment he was silent, then collecting his senses, he said quietly, and still without looking at her:"Elaine, I swear that if in the past I ever raised my hand to you, ever was cur enough to strike you, then I know nothing of it. I have no memory of such a thing," he went on, speaking the truth."I tell myself that, in those early days, you were not yourself," conceded Elaine."I want never to recall those days," said John. "If I ever acted as you say, I must have been mad." He suddenly turned towards her. And all his passionate desire to protect her, the deep love he had grown to feel for her seemed in that moment to animate his face. "Elaine," he said, "promise me you'll forget it, and never think of it again?""Never again," answered she. She slid her arms about his neck and drew him towards her. For a minute he forgot his compact with himself. But presently his self-possession returned to him. He fell back a pace, and, lifting her hand, kissed her fingers, and once again assumed the light conversational tone."We are comrades now, Elaine," said he, "both working against Voules and his myrmidons." He turned and looked at the little clock on Elaine's mantelshelf. "Hallo!" he exclaimed, "I must be off; I am on duty to-night."He felt that it was safer to go, and five minutes later he was at the door of the house."Remember, Elaine," he said, looking down at her in the dim little passage, "any time you want me, if Cherriton offends you in any way, ring me up at the Golden Pavilion Hotel."
CHAPTER XX
It was six o'clock when John stepped out into Dacent Smith's bachelor room. His Chief was seated at his desk, deep in work. John closed the door and crossed the room.
"Well?" asked Dacent Smith, raising his head and still sitting with poised pen at his desk.
"I was right, sir, in regard to Lady Rachel Marvin. The information that sunk theMaltawas conveyed by her to Mrs. Beecher Monmouth two days ago."
"You don't mean she intentionally conveyed it?" exclaimed Dacent Smith, rising and looking at John in amazement.
"Oh no, sir, not at all; she conveyed it with no intention to do harm, and only out of an inveterate habit of gossip."
Dacent Smith drew his brows together. His expression was more stern in that moment than John had ever seen it.
"A damnable habit of gossiping," he observed forcibly. "Well, what have you done, Treves?"
"I have brought the lady with me, sir, thinking you would wish to act at once in regard to her."
Dacent Smith nodded in approbation.
"Send her in to me, Treves, and wait outside."
John went out of the room, and Dacent Smith moved to the mantelshelf and looked for a moment at the photograph of a girl of eighteen, a girl who looked scarcely more than a child. He was still at the hearth when Lady Rachel was ushered into the room by John, who closed the door and left the two together. What took place between Dacent Smith and the woman whose foolish vanity had sunk theMaltaJohn did not know, but he was able to guess pretty well, for twenty minutes later Dacent Smith opened the door and summoned him into the room.
"Come in, Treves."
John entered and found Lady Rachel standing near his Chief's desk. Her face was white, her nose unromantically red; she had been crying. On Dacent Smith's desk lay a letter in Lady Rachel's handwriting.
DEAR BOB, it ran,I have had a sudden breakdown in health. The doctors inform me I am to go to Pitt Lunan Hydro for at least four months. I may not even be well enough to return to town even then. Forgive me, Bob, for not being able to say good-bye, but I am obliged to hurry away at once.
RACHEL.
As John entered the room Lady Rachel Marvin folded this letter, placed it in an envelope, and, still standing, addressed it to her husband, "Lieutenant-Commander Marvin, H.M.S. ——, Southampton." She closed the envelope and accepted a stamp from Dacent Smith.
Dacent Smith broke the long silence that followed.
"Treves," said he, "Lady Rachel leaves Euston for Scotland to-night by the seven o'clock train."
"I don't want to go to Scotland!" intervened Lady Rachel petulantly. "I dislike hydros intensely; I think them absolutely detestable places!"
Dacent Smith watched her for a moment with unrelenting eyes, then spoke in a tone there was no mistaking.
"Lady Rachel, you will take the train for Scotland to-night. You will then stay there the full period my department has prescribed for you." Lady Rachel flashed a rebellious look at him, but Dacent Smith continued in his unyielding tones: "Failing this, you will find yourself, I can assure you, in a place far more 'detestable' to you than even the most uncomfortable of hydros!"
He turned to his desk. For a moment Lady Rachel wavered, then, seeing from his attitude that resistance was hopeless, she lifted her head and went haughtily out of the room. John escorted her to the street, helped her into a taxi, and saw her drive away after a flash of her big eyes that was meant either to consume him with fire or to freeze him to death; he did not know which. When John returned his Chief was standing at the mantelshelf. The expression of sternness had entirely left his face. In his fingers he held the photograph of a charming girl, scarcely more than a child. For a minute he was silent, his eyes upon the figure in the silver frame; then he held up the picture and showed it to John.
"This is my niece, Treves," he said quietly.
John took the photograph and inspected it critically.
"An extremely pretty girl, sir."
Dacent Smith nodded.
"She is just eighteen, Treves. She became engaged to young Rashleigh, gunnery lieutenant on theMalta." His tones deepened in intensity. "That was four days ago—and to-day Rashleigh is dead. He was one of the finest fellows who ever stepped. And, in my opinion, he and two hundred others lost their lives solely because Lady Rachel Marvin could not keep her mouth shut. My niece, who is still only a child—you can see for yourself what she is like, Treves"—for the first time his voice shook with emotion—"my niece is at home lying in a semi-conscious condition. The doctors tell us that her reason is threatened—and all this because a silly woman babbled about things that didn't concern her!"
The man who was one of the greatest powers in the country was still holding the photograph in his fingers, his eyes fixed pitifully upon the delicate girlish beauty of his niece. He replaced it slowly on the mantelshelf, then, turning, stood looking before him, his hands clenched at his side. The sternness of his lips at that moment revealed to John all the hidden strength behind his kindly exterior; he was stirred to the depths. And suddenly he flashed a look at John and struck his open palm with a clenched fist.
"If I had my way, Treves," he said between tense lips, "if the powers that be would make me autocrat for a week, I'd treat these fool women as traitors. An unguarded word," he went on, "is, in my opinion, just as much an act of disloyalty in time of war as an insult to the flag or the army. If the public only knew it, we have lost ship after ship, and possibly thousands of men, as a result of vain gossip in clubs, trains, shops and smart drawing-rooms. On Saturday we lost a cruiser worth a million. Young Rashleigh died, and two hundred splendid sailors, because Lady Rachel Marvin must have her afternoon's social success! What do you think of it, Treves?"
John was thinking of the tragedy of it all—of the desolated homes—the two hundred homes where sorrow stalked that day. He was thinking of the sweet-faced, broken-hearted girl, hovering on the verge of sanity.
"I'd like to wring Lady Rachel's neck!" said John, swept out of himself.
"I could tell you a score of such cases," said Dacent Smith. "In one case a present of a hundred cigarettes and a silly woman's curiosity meant one of the greatest disasters that has occurred to us since the war began." He suddenly stopped, pulled himself up, and became normal in tone. He was fully himself again, the keen, resourceful man of action. "Now, Treves," he said, "we must get back to business. Lady Rachel Marvin has been a valuable 'feeder' to the enemy. She is now out of action, however. I regard," he went on, "Beecher Monmouth, M.P., as also dangerous. Is that your opinion?"
"My opinion," said John, "is that Beecher Monmouth is not disloyal, but, as he is wax in his wife's hands, his political position makes him dangerous."
"You don't believe he could keep a secret from her?"
"From what I've seen of them both, sir, I should doubt it."
Dacent Smith went to his desk and made a note on his writing pad. "I will write a note to the Home Secretary. I think we can get rid of Beecher Monmouth without arousing suspicion. Now, Treves, in regard to the sinking of theMalta—we are a little bit at sea in this matter. Mrs. Beecher Monmouth and her accomplices have out-manoeuvred us. In some manner or other she managed to get her information to Germany, or to a German submarine commander, eight hours after picking up the facts from Lady Rachel Marvin. We want to know how she managed to do this, Treves."
He crossed the room as he spoke, and took a sheaf of papers from his cabinet of drawers against the wall. He handed the documents to John. John observed that the sheets were thin and almost transparent, and that each sheet had been written over in indelible pencil.
"You have in your hand," explained Dacent Smith, "intercepted copies of all Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's letters since the fifteenth of last month. That is," he added, "all the letters she has sent through the post. You will notice among them three advertisements—all jewellery for sale."
John glanced at the pile of letters in his hand. There were among them orders to tradesmen, half a dozen letters to a dressmaker, showing the great care with which Mrs. Beecher Monmouth apparelled herself; and two letters written and posted to her husband. These last were interlarded with extravagant expressions of affection and love. But it was the third advertisement, addressed to a famous daily paper, that held John's interest. This ran:
"Lady wishes to sell privately a pearl and platinum pendant, perfectly-matched pearls, surrounding Orient pearl of splendid lustre.—Apply Box A3656."
John closely examined this advertisement, and the other two, which were similar.
"Do you think she is in debt, sir?"
"Beecher Monmouth's a rich man," answered Dacent Smith, "with big interest in the timber business. However, one never knows what an extravagant woman may succeed in spending. I think it may be worth your while, Treves, to follow up the trail of this advertisement. I want you to apply yourself assiduously to the cultivation of this lady for the present. And keep well in mind the fact that, though her letters show nothing, she is yet conveying news regularly to the enemy."
CHAPTER XXI
Two evenings later Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's Spanish maid came to the door of her mistress's boudoir, knocked, and entered quietly.
"Doctor Voules is here, madam."
"I told you, Cecily, I was not at home!" said Mrs. Beecher Monmouth. "I don't want to see Doctor Voules—I don't want to see anybody!"
"But, madam," protested the maid, "it would be impossible to refuse to see Doctor Voules!"
Something took place between mistress and maid—an exchange of glances—which seemed somewhat to alter Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's mood of irritation.
"Very well, Cecily, let him come up." And when Cecily had departed to summon Doctor Voules, Mrs. Beecher Monmouth went to her low Turkish table, lit a buff-coloured cigarette, and stood with her back to the hearth, smoking somewhat more rapidly than usual. A knock came at the door, and Doctor Voules entered. He strolled into the apartment with his shoulders well back, his heavy chin thrust forward, the smile that sat so ill upon his harsh face was well in evidence.
"My dear Mrs. Monmouth, my felicitations!"
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth took the gloved hand languidly and turned away.
"Don't felicitate me on anything, Doctor!"
"But theMalta!" protested the Doctor. "That was a superb stroke for the Fatherland! It is not often I am lavish of praise."
"You are certainly not a woman's man!" retorted Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, flashing a look at him.
"Your beauty is apparent to me, as it would be to a much younger man, I can assure you of that, my deargnädige Frau," said Voules.
"I am not talking of beauty—I am talking of moods," replied she. "You observe nothing of my disturbance!"
Doctor Voules, who did not believe in moods, who never permitted such weakness in his subordinates, pressed his lips tightly together.
"You will be good enough,gnädige Frau," he commanded, "to be a little more precise and explicit. Something has occurred, no doubt, to ruffle your temper." He went to a chair at the hearth, seated himself, asked permission to smoke, and lit one of his big, black cigars.
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth looked at him squarely for a moment.
"Of course, my personal sufferings are nothing to you! It is nothing to you, for instance, that my friend, Lady Rachel Marvin, has vanished!"
Doctor Voules lifted his eyebrows.
"In what manner has she vanished?"
"She is one of the most useful friends I have ever had," returned Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "and has suddenly disappeared without leaving me a note or a line."
Doctor Voules drew his brows together.
"Refresh my memory, please, in regard to this lady."
"She is the foolish little chatterbox who provided me with all the information I needed in regard to theMalta," retorted Mrs. Beecher Monmouth curtly.
Doctor Voules suddenly became all attention.
"And you mean,gnädige Frau, that this lady has vanished?"
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth assured him of the fact.
"No one knows," she went on, "where she is. She was my most intimate friend. I had put all my hopes in her, Excellenz! Then, to add to my vexation, my husband has been suddenly and unexpectedly appointed to a Government commission of inquiry in Ireland. He is delighted, of course; it is an honour for him. Then, again," went on Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "Mrs. Pomfret Bond, who was in the habit of telling me everything she knew, who was always scraping up bits of gossip that were of use, is——"
"Has she vanished also?" inquired Voules, suddenly rising.
"No," returned Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "but she has become mute as a fish. My opinion is that she has been warned not to talk, and that I have at last become a suspected person!"
Voules looked at her and shook his ponderous head.
"No, no! Your position,gnädige Frau, is too secure for that; also you are too clever."
"I am not a fool," answered Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "but these things disturb me!"
"Your love of the Fatherland, your belief in final victory, will sustain you. You lose your friend, Lady Rachel Marvin, but to a woman of your beauty and position nothing is impossible. You shall get other fools—is it not so? England,gnädige Frau, is full of fools!"
He moved across to her and took her hand firmly in his.
"Soon you shall have your reward. I will promise you my very best efforts. You will wait yet a little while longer. My plans," he added quietly, "are shaping themselves with the perfection of clockwork. Enormous things have been done, my deargnädige Frau, in the last few weeks, and disaffection now, even from you, would destroy the harmony.... Remember your sentiments towards these people!"
"I remember them well enough!" answered Mrs. Beecher Monmouth. She was still standing at the hearth, and looked steadily before her as she spoke.
"Good!" exclaimed Voules in his throat. "We will now come to the purpose of my visit. You shall have your part in the big work afoot. I assure you there are bigger things than the sinking of theMalta! For instance, on the twenty-eighth we shall strike a blow that will not rapidly be forgotten by these English!"
He suddenly snapped his teeth together and drew tight his lips; a gleam of ferocity lit in his hard eyes.
"These English!" he exclaimed between his teeth. "Their arrogance maddens me! It is a torture to me to live among them, concealed thus as a civilian! I am maddened by their complacency!" he went on, "their calm! Nevertheless, we shall strike deep this time! Your work,gnädige Frau," he said, speaking in the tone of masterful authority that was his real habit, "your work is not difficult. On the twenty-fourth I request you to go to Heatherpoint Fort. It is fortunate that your husband is away. You can thus go to the Isle of Wight ostensibly for a holiday. While there you will make the acquaintance of the adjutant of Heatherpoint, who visits regularly the —— Hotel in Newport. My report is that this young Lieutenant Parkson is susceptible to beauty. You,gnädige Frau," he smiled his hard smile, "are, indeed, beautiful enough to engage the attention of one far less susceptible!"
"What do you wish me to do with this particular susceptible man?" inquired Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, with slight sarcasm.
"You are to engage the young man's attention, and his affections."
"You appear to forget, Excellenz, that I am a married woman of social position!"
"I do not forget,gnädige Frau; but your complaisance on that account will be more than ever flattering. The young man in question will not be able to resist the charms of the beautiful and wealthy society woman who is—to fall in love with him!"
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth smiled, and spoke with a touch of irony.
"I am your servant, Excellenz!"
"You are the servant of the Fatherland," answered Voules gravely, "and all I require is that this young man, Lieutenant Parkson, shall not be at his post in the fort on the night of the twenty-eighth. How you will succeed in keeping him away from duty is a matter for your own discretion—I have the fullest confidence in you. Captain Cherriton undertook the work, but the young man in question neither drinks nor gambles. Cherriton's efforts ended in complete failure. Moreover, our agent inside the fort has been strangely silent of late. We have received neither signal nor message from him for some days. If you play your cards neatly with Parkson, you will possibly secure an invitation to tea at the fort mess."
He went on and gave her a rapid sketch of Steinbaum, otherwise known as "Crumbs." The silence of "Crumbs" during the past few days had puzzled and disturbed him.
"We have made a number of arrangements in regard to Heatherpoint Fort," he concluded, "and it is absolutely essential to our purpose that no guns should be fired from that spot."
His eyes suddenly lit up. He was thinking of his great scheme, which was hourly drawing nearer fruition, and, on parting, he gripped Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's hand in his.
"Gnädige Frau," he announced, "glorious things are shortly to occur!"
When he had gone Mrs. Beecher Monmouth seated herself in a chair and stared thoughtfully into the fire. She was conscious of a sense of doubt and uneasiness. General von Kuhne was a soldier of long training, masterful and aggressive. His gift of organisation, his theory of attack was always excellent—nevertheless, he was not subtle, he was not sensitive to the importance of little incidents. The sudden disappearance of Lady Rachel meant nothing to him, aroused no suspicion in him, and yet...
CHAPTER XXII
In pursuance of Dacent Smith's instructions, John presented himself at the massive doors of 289, Grosvenor Place, two nights later. He had pondered much upon those three advertisements, and the more he considered the matter, the more Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's desire privately to sell her jewels struck him as unusual. It was not usual, he told himself, for a woman of Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's position to dispossess herself of jewellery through the medium of advertisements in a newspaper. There are half a dozen firms in Bond Street alone, of proved honesty, any one of which is willing to make purchases of this kind.
John rang the bell, and the butler presently drew open the door.
"I am very sorry, sir," the man began, "but madame is not at home."
John expressed his complete surprise. He was, however, not in the least surprised, and had planned his visit with the sole object of finding Mrs. Beecher Monmouth away from home. For a minute he hesitated, looking doubtfully at the butler.
"Can you," he inquired, "tell me if Mrs. Monmouth's maid is in. I have a message to give her for her mistress."
"I can take any message you wish, sir."
"Thank you, no," said John, smiling at him; "what I have to say is—is rather personal to Mrs. Beecher Monmouth."
"Very good, sir," answered the sedate servant, and bowed. "Will you kindly step into the morning-room."
John went into the morning-room, moved to the window and looked into Grosvenor Place, out over the broad smooth road to the high brick wall surrounding the royal gardens. A few minutes elapsed, and then Cecily, Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's maid, came quietly in.
"You wish to see me, sir?"
John turned.
"Yes, Cecily." He looked into her face, noted her bead-black eyes, her olive skin, and the slight tendency to a moustache at the corner of each lip. "Cecily," he said, "I have really come to ask your advice on a little personal matter." Cecily looked at him with an unreadable expression on her sullen countenance. "I want to give Mrs. Beecher Monmouth a present," went on John. "A little matter of a pair of pearl ear-rings. Can you tell me if she is fond of pearls?"
"Pearls, monsieur; oh, no!" Cecily shook her head. "Rubies or emeralds, yes, monsieur, but pearls, no."
"Oh," resumed John, "she doesn't care for pearls then?"
Cecily shook her head.
"She says they are insipid, monsieur."
"Perhaps she is right, Cecily, but in that case," he said, "I shall have to think of something else. Thank you, I am much obliged to you." He slipped a pound note into the woman's hand.
"Thank you, monsieur."
"Perhaps," John probed delicately, "madame is not fond of pearls because she has so many?"
Cecily was folding her pound note.
"Pearls do not suit madame; she never wears them. She has none at all, monsieur, only one pearl necklace, a wedding gift from her husband. She, however, never wears it."
John appeared to think.
"Surely, Cecily, I have seen her wearing a pearl pendant?"
Cecily shook her head again.
"No, monsieur, never. Madame has no pearls."
John laughed.
"Well, in that case, it must be emeralds or rubies."
"Emeralds or rubies," responded Cecily, "madame is most fond of them."
Three minutes later John was out of the house and hailing a taxi. As he relapsed back into the cushions, he fell into thought. "There is certainly," thought he, "more in these advertisements than meets the casual eye. Mrs. Beecher Monmouth detests pearls, she has none, never had any—and yet advertises them for sale!"
A quarter of an hour later, when John stepped into Dacent Smith's room, the elder man glanced quickly up from his desk.
"Well?"
"In regard to those three advertisements of jewellery," answered John, "inserted in the newspaper by Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, I should be glad, sir, if you would have them decoded."
Dacent Smith raised his eyebrows slightly.
John narrated what had occurred at his private interview with Cecily, and Dacent Smith was instantly of the opinion that Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's harmless advertisements were a matter for closer scrutiny. In the first place, he telephoned to his department and ordered that inquiry should be instituted at the newspaper office as to any earlier advertisements which may have been inserted in the paper by Mrs. Monmouth. If the three advertisements were a code message the intelligence decoding department would find its task vastly more easy if a considerable batch of advertisements in the same code were submitted. A brief code message, as John was now well aware, is always difficult to read. The longer the message, the easier is it to decipher.
The department's search at the newspaper office resulted in the finding of no less than sixteen earlier advertisements inserted by Mrs. Beecher Monmouth. In each case, only a box number was given, therefore the lady's identity never became public.
"It looks as if you are on the right track, Treves," said Dacent Smith, when this information was conveyed to him on the telephone.
Half an hour later Dacent Smith, again at the telephone, took down the decoded first advertisement, the one wherein Mrs. Beecher Monmouth had advertised a pearl pendant for sale. John's chief wrote it out carefully, and handed the slip across to the younger man.
"There is your advertisement, Treves," he exclaimed. There was a grave ring in his voice. John took the slip of paper and read:
"Note of Warning.—New standard eight thousand ton ship purposely advertised by shipping authorities here as fitting out at —— is a 'Q' ship, armed with six-inch guns, torpedo tubes are being fitted. Further news in next message."
John looked up from the pencilled lines. He saw in a flash the exact purport of the message. Mrs. Beecher Monmouth in pretending to advertise a pearl pendant was in reality sending a message to Germany to the effect that a certain vessel then building was a decoy ship, one of the famous vessels which had done so much to break the back of the submarine peril. John could easily realise how swiftly that news would reach Germany. Automatically the paper would reach Holland within two days. Any neutral ship might carry copies, and Berlin's Naval Department would possess the information a few minutes after the daily paper containing Mrs. Beecher Monmouth's advertisement reached Dutch soil. Every German spy in England who read the newspaper would receive the news on the morning of its insertion.
"I think for cunning that beats everything," said John, handing back the paper to Dacent Smith.
"They have been preparing this sort of thing for years," answered Dacent Smith. "But I am willing to admit that Mrs. Monmouth has this time stolen something of a march on us.
"Every one of her advertisements is being decoded, however, and every one, I have no doubt, will convey information of this nature. On the other hand," he said, "we have not yet learnt in what manner she communicated with the submarine that sunk theMalta, That must have been a much quicker communication. I shall leave it to you, Treves," he said quietly, "to find out what that method is. You will have to learn much more of Mrs. Beecher Monmouth than we know already. The fight is quickening between us. And the big fight which von Kuhne is planning in the Isle of Wight is not quite so indefinite to us as it was. The date at least is in our possession. And by then," he went on, "all the carrion will have wended their way there, even our friend, Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, will be there by then." John looked at him in sudden surprise.
"I thought she was seldom out of London, sir."
"That is the fact," answered Dacent Smith; "it is also the fact, however, that from the twenty-fourth of this month she has engaged rooms at a select boarding house in Freshwater. She is going to Freshwater," he added ironically, "to recuperate after an arduous London season!" He looked meaningly at John. John understood the significance of that look. The carrion were gathering. By the twenty-eighth all von Kuhne's active forces would be drawn to the Isle of Wight. Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, in taking rooms at Freshwater, was acquiring a residence in close proximity to Heatherpoint Fort. John wondered what her particular manoeuvre was to be. He put that question to Dacent Smith.
"We shall know all in good time, Treves," answered his chief. "You yourself will be in the Isle of Wight by then."
A few minutes later John bade good night to Dacent Smith. Being free for that evening, he took the tube to Camden Town. Here, at Bowles Avenue, in the quiet little street, he knocked once again at the door of Elaine's residence. He had not visited Elaine for nearly a week, and he knew that for some days to come he would be deeply occupied with Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, so he wished to make the most of the present opportunity. Twice during the past week Elaine had written him short notes asking him when he could come to visit her. There had been nothing in the notes to convey the idea that she wished him urgently to come. He was surprised, therefore, when Elaine, in answer to his knock, drew open the door and recognised him with an expression of infinite relief in her grey eyes. She was dressed prettily, quietly and inexpensively as usual. John, comparing her appearance with the brilliant beauty of Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, realised that Elaine's attraction lay just as much in her fine and upright character, in her intense feminine gentleness and loyalty, as in her beauty itself.
She took John's hand in hers, drew him into the little passage, and quickly shut the door.
"Bernard," she whispered, resting her hand on his shoulder, and looking up into his face, "I am so very glad you have come!"
She drew his face down to hers and kissed him as she had never kissed him before. There was something that was almost passionately fervent in her embrace.
"I have been so afraid for you, Bernard," she murmured.
John released himself. He felt the extreme awkwardness of the situation.
"What made you afraid, Elaine?" He thought at first that an over-vivid imagination had been running away with her, that some feminine mood had made her fear for him. Then he remembered her beliefs as to his character. The man she believed him to be was a weakling with will undermined by drugs, a nervous, overstrung neurasthenic; capable of drifting into all sorts of trouble and embarrassments.
Elaine led him into the little parlour, lit the gas and drew down the blind. John noticed again that something troubled her mind. She appeared to look at him strangely and thoughtfully. And, for an instant, for a fleeting space of time, he feared that she had penetrated the secret of his identity. If this was the case, all his castles in the air would in a minute come toppling about his ears.
"Why are you looking at me so anxiously, Elaine?" he asked, assuming a casual tone of voice.
"It is because of Captain Cherriton, Bernard; he has been here to-day, and has been asking questions about you."
"What sort of questions?" John asked quickly.
"He asked me if you had been at Heatherpoint Fort lately. He himself has been down at the Isle of Wight and he appears to have found out something about you that disturbs him terribly."
John made the best effort he could to play his difficult part.
"Well, Elaine?" he questioned, "did Captain Cherriton tell you the particular cause of his disturbance?" He was smiling slightly as he spoke, treating the matter airily. Nevertheless, inwardly he was deeply perturbed. If Cherriton suspected him, and communicated his suspicions to Voules and his confederates, John knew that the position for himself would be one of infinite peril. He had experienced one fortuitous escape from discovery owing to the interception of "Crumbs's" letter to Voules, but he could hardly hope that fortune would again favour him.
He questioned Elaine closely, and learned that Cherriton had definitely heard of his presence at Heatherpoint Fort at a time when he was supposed to be working in the interest of Voules. This knowledge, John knew, would confirm all Cherriton's suspicions the minute it was discovered that "Crumbs" had been trapped and had vanished from the fort.
However, it was not in John's nature to meet trouble half-way, and for the present he was happy to be in Elaine's radiant company. Elaine, for her part, had much to say to him; in the first place, she detailed all that had occurred in an interview she had had with Dacent Smith. The great man had treated her with marked courtesy, and had, without revealing John's true identity, enlisted her services in much the same manner as Mrs. Beecher Monmouth acted for his adversaries, Voules, Cherriton, Manwitz, and company. Elaine had undertaken the work in the idea that she could thus protect from danger the man she loved, whose name she believed she bore.
John listened to her narrative with the deepest interest, and gradually the wonderful subtlety of Dacent Smith made itself manifest. The great man had promised to relieve him of his awkward predicament in regard to Elaine, and the manner in which he had accomplished his promise was simplicity itself. Elaine was to permit—within limits—the advances of Cherriton, and was to pretend to keep her "husband" at a distance! The neatness of this plan filled John with admiration. He felt instantly much freer with Elaine. The delicate moment when she had offered to resume marital relations with him would not immediately occur again.
For some minutes after Elaine had ceased speaking John held silence—a doubt had come to him.
"Elaine," he said, earnestly, "Captain Cherriton is far more dangerous, perhaps, than you know." He rose, and, pacing back and fore, with an anxious face, warned her that the man was one who would stop at nothing to attain his ends. Elaine listened patiently; then, on a sudden, quick impulse, flung her arms about his neck.
"Bernard," she whispered, "don't you know I love you, my darling? All those minutes that you have been pacing up and down there in raging jealousy——"
"Jealousy!" echoed John.
"It was jealousy, Bernard," she smiled, happy in the possession of his love. "All the time I have been adoring you and loving you more and more. Bernard," she whispered, "I am to pretend not to care. But you will know in your heart, won't you, that I am yours always?" She drew her face away from his and looked deep into his eyes. "You know that, dearest?"
"I know it," said John, looking back at her.
"And you love me as I love you?" questioned she.
He had never seen her so beautiful as in that moment, with her face upturned to his, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes offering him her love. He was standing in another man's shoes, and at that moment those shoes pinched him to the point of anguish. For a fleeting moment he was tempted to fling all prudence to the winds and confess everything. Then the recollection that she was a married woman smote him like a blow. Whatever happened, she could never be his. Very gently and tenderly he held her from him.
"You can't doubt me, Elaine," he said, in a low voice. "Nevertheless, I think Dacent Smith is right; you ought to pretend not to care for me, for just a little while—anyway, until the great contest that is now beginning between our department and Cherriton and his confederates is at an end."
He led her back to her chair, lit a cigarette, and made an effort to give a humorous description of his life during the past few weeks. He told her of Sinclair, of "Crumbs," of his adventure and his visit to Voules; everything, in fact, except his real identity and his arrest in mistake for Bernard Treves.
As his narrative unfolded, Elaine's eyes widened in amazement and admiration.
"I had no idea you were so splendid, Bernard."
"But I am not splendid. I am not telling you that I am splendid."
"Of course you are not, you silly boy; you are trying to make out you are nothing at all. But I shouldn't love you as I do if I couldn't read between the lines. Oh, Bernard, what an idiot I have been about you. I used to think——" she paused and looked away.
"You used to think awful things of me," continued John, "that I took drugs, that I consumed whisky by the half-bottle, that I was a brute both to you and to my old father."
"Yes," said Elaine slowly. "I used to think I——" Then suddenly, and with the inconsequence of woman, she broke off and covered her face with her hands. She was crying softly and steadily. It was not John's business to comfort her. The only man who had the right to do that was the drink-sodden neurotic, who was still a prisoner in the nursing home. Nevertheless, in less than a minute John was kneeling before her.
"What is it, Elaine?" he asked in passionate anxiety. She looked at him with eyes bright with tears.
"It is the past, Bernard; I can't understand it. Those days, long ago, lie like a pain in my heart, always. You have grown so different. It is cowardly and mean of me to think of it, but I love you, Bernard, and I cannot bear to think there was a time when you were not as now." She paused for a moment, and a shadow, a twinge of agony crossed her face. She looked at John with affrighted eyes, then spoke in a low voice. "That night when you struck me, Bernard!"
John felt the blood quicken in his pulses. Some time in the past Bernard Treves had struck her. How and under what circumstances he could not guess. He turned away his head, so that the sudden rage which blazed in his eyes should not be visible to her. For a moment he was silent, then collecting his senses, he said quietly, and still without looking at her:
"Elaine, I swear that if in the past I ever raised my hand to you, ever was cur enough to strike you, then I know nothing of it. I have no memory of such a thing," he went on, speaking the truth.
"I tell myself that, in those early days, you were not yourself," conceded Elaine.
"I want never to recall those days," said John. "If I ever acted as you say, I must have been mad." He suddenly turned towards her. And all his passionate desire to protect her, the deep love he had grown to feel for her seemed in that moment to animate his face. "Elaine," he said, "promise me you'll forget it, and never think of it again?"
"Never again," answered she. She slid her arms about his neck and drew him towards her. For a minute he forgot his compact with himself. But presently his self-possession returned to him. He fell back a pace, and, lifting her hand, kissed her fingers, and once again assumed the light conversational tone.
"We are comrades now, Elaine," said he, "both working against Voules and his myrmidons." He turned and looked at the little clock on Elaine's mantelshelf. "Hallo!" he exclaimed, "I must be off; I am on duty to-night."
He felt that it was safer to go, and five minutes later he was at the door of the house.
"Remember, Elaine," he said, looking down at her in the dim little passage, "any time you want me, if Cherriton offends you in any way, ring me up at the Golden Pavilion Hotel."