Arrived at his home, Max was astonished to find that his mother and sister had fled over the border to Maastricht, taking two of the servants with them. A letter had been left for him, however, and this he tore feverishly open. In a few words his mother explained why she, as an Englishwoman and one getting on in years, preferred to seek safety in Holland to remaining in a city which obviously would soon be the storm-centre of a terrible struggle. She then reminded Max that he had not yet reached a man's age, and could not be expected to take a man's part. Would he not leave the affairs of the firm to M. Schenk and join her in Holland? But his conscience must decide, she finally conceded, though it was clear how her own desires ran. But whether he left or stayed, she expected him to take no part in the fighting that was bound to come.
Questioning the servants, Max found that his mother's flight had been arranged at the urgent solicitation of M. Schenk, and without more ado he left the house and hastened to the works to see the manager, and gather what further particulars he could. He did not doubt the wisdom of his mother's precipitate flight, for even now scouting parties of the Germans had appeared before the eastern forts, and no one could doubt that the city was on the point of being invested and besieged.
M. Schenk was clearly surprised to see Max and his friend, and was at no pains to hide it.
"A letter was left for you, Monsieur Max," he said in his ponderous way, "telling you that your mother wished you to join her instantly. Did they not hand it to you?"
"Yes," replied Max, "I have received the letter, and I have come to learn something more about their flight. Have they taken money enough for what may be a long stay? And can we send them more before the city is invested?"
"All that is seen to, Monsieur Max. I have had a large sum of money transferred to a bank in Maastricht for their use. They will be safe and well there, and I strongly advise you to join them. You will certainly not be safe here."
"Why not? Why should I go if you can stay—if youarestaying?"
"Because, sir, you are half an Englishman, and before the day is out England will have joined in this conflict. No Englishman will be safe here if the Germans enter, and I strongly urge you and your friend to escape before the city is surrounded. I will carry on the business, and do my best in the interests of the firm and your good mother."
"Yes, yes, I know; but I am a Belgian as much as an Englishman, and I am not going to fly the country like that. If I cannot yet fight for her I can work for her, and I have made up my mind to stay, Monsieur Schenk."
"As you will," replied M. Schenk, shrugging his shoulders in indifference, "but do not blame me if things do not go as you wish."
"That's all right," replied Max quickly. "Now, as to the work of the firm. I have been thinking that we might use our great works to assist in the defence of the town. Soon the forts will be in action, and if the city is invested they can only replenish their stores from within the town itself. Why should we not begin to cast shells instead of rails, and see whether we cannot make rifles and machine-guns instead of machinery? There are many things we could do at once, and many others in a little while."
"That is true, sir, and you will find that I have not been behindhand. I have already seen the commandant, and our casting-shops are almost ready to begin casting shells. I am not letting the grass grow under my feet, I can assure you, and in a week or two we shall be able to do great things in the defence of the town. Come down to the works with Monsieur Dale, and see the preparations we are making for turning out shells for big guns. You will see that the Durend workshops are going to be well to the fore here as elsewhere, and I prophesy that they will be so until the end of the war."
As they made the tour of the works, Max was both astonished and delighted at the evidence he saw of the energy and ability displayed in turning over the vast manufacturing resources of the firm from peace to war. The rapidity with which the works had been transformed was indeed remarkable, and his opinion of M. Schenk's capacity, already great, became almost profound.
"Now, Dale, what are you going to do?" demanded Max as the two friends parted company with the manager at the door of the last shop. "I think you had better get clear while you can. This place is my home and I must stand by it, but you are not concerned and ought to get out of it, if only for your people's sake."
"My people! My uncle and aunt, you mean.Theywon't bother their heads about me," replied Dale decidedly. "No, Max, I came over here to see the sights, and I am going to see 'em, come what may. If England is in it, well and good; it will then be my quarrel as much as yours, and we will work or fight against Germany together. Hurrah!"
Max grasped his friend's hand. "I ought not to encourage you, Dale, but I can't help it, and I'm jolly glad. Let us go into this business together—it will seem like old times. D'ye remember the fight we put up for Benson's?"
"Who could forget it?" cried Dale with enthusiasm.
"And how it ended?"
"Aye—and it was fixity of purpose that did it, so said Benson. Well, let us do something of the sort again. Hark! d'ye hear that?"
"Rifle-shots. The fun has commenced. Come along, and we will see what we can of it before the day is out. To-morrow I am going to start work in the casting-shops, and I hope you will come and help me."
"I will. Come along."
The sound of rifle-shots was quickly succeeded by the distant boom of guns. Then the sound was swallowed up in the roar of the big guns of the forts, and it seemed as though a tremendous attack was in progress. The streets of the town instantly began to fill with excited people, until it appeared as though everyone had left his work to discuss the situation and listen to the noise of battle. Through the crowds pressed small bodies of soldiers dispatched as reinforcements to the ring of forts surrounding the town.
Max and Dale followed one of these parties at a respectful distance, and climbed with them from the cup-like hollow in which Liége is situated to the hills beyond. The soldiers were bound for one of the forts on the eastward side, and, as they reached the higher ground, the two lads caught their first glimpse of the fighting. Darkness was coming on, and away in the distance they could see the intensely bright flashes of high-explosive shells bursting on or around the forts, as well as the flame of the fortress guns belching forth their replies. As it grew darker the duel grew more intense, and lasted without intermission throughout the night till three or four o'clock in the morning.
By that time the forts were apparently thought to have been sufficiently damaged to permit of an assault, and the German infantry were flung against them in massed formation. Unfortunately for them, however, the guns had not been heavy enough to make any impression on the steel cupolas which sheltered the big guns of the forts, and, as the infantry pressed forward to the attack, they were literally swept away by a devastating shell-fire from the forts attacked and those flanking them.
Again and again fresh masses were sent forward to the assault, only to meet with a similar fate. In the attack on one of the forts the infantry, favoured no doubt by the formation of the ground, were able to get so close that the guns could not be depressed sufficiently to reach them. They believed the fort as good as won, and with cheers of exultation pressed on to the final assault. But at the corners of the forts quick-firing guns were stationed, and these and the infantry lining the parapets mowed them down as surely as the big guns.
In the wide spaces between the forts the Belgian field army had entrenched, and with rifle-fire and frequent bayonet attacks frustrated every attempt of the German infantry to break through.
The infantry assaults lasted until eight o'clock in the morning, when the Germans withdrew, heavily shaken. They had hoped to rush the forts with heavy masses of infantry, supported only by light artillery, and they had failed. They now waited for the heavy guns, which were already on the road, to arrive, and very soon forts Fléron and Chaudfontaine were deluged with an accurate fire of enormous shells, so powerful as to overturn the massive cupolas and to pierce concrete walls twelve feet thick as though they were made of butter. Such shells as these they had never been built to withstand, and it was not long before they succumbed, thus opening a way for the invaders towards the town itself.
Forts Evegnée and Barchon soon shared the same fate, and the Belgian field army, which had continued to maintain an heroic resistance, began to fall back on the town.
Max and Dale had not been allowed to see much of these events. Before midnight they were accosted by a patrol and ordered to return to the safety of the town.
Early the following day, before the fall of the forts and the retreat of the Belgian army, Max and Dale carried out their intention of presenting themselves at the casting-shops and lending a hand in the making of shells. To their satisfaction they found the work going forward with splendid energy and smoothness, and, with their own ardour kindled by the sights they had seen the previous night, they joined zealously in the work.
Presently it came home to Max that there had been considerable changes in the personnel of the shop since he had last worked there. The men he looked out for—those with whom he had been on most friendly terms when he was there—were gone, and their places were taken by other and, for the most part, younger men, all quite strangers to the place so far as he could see.
But, most strange of all, the language of the shop was German. The Walloon, or Flemish-speaking Belgians, were the men who had gone, and German-speaking workmen had taken their places.
On making a few cautious enquiries, Max learned that the men who had gone had been transferred to shops which were still engaged in executing peace-time orders, rails, axles, wheels, and the like, and that the whole of the shell output was being handled by the newer German-speaking workmen.
Max felt no particular resentment at this. He did not like it, but he knew the manager's preference for these men as workmen, and he could not deny that they were a hard-working, docile lot, nor that the work was well organized and being carried on with splendid spirit and energy.
It seemed hard, however, that the Belgian-born men should not have a chance of directly working for their country's benefit, and, as soon as he could, Max took an opportunity of representing the matter to M. Schenk.
"Why have you withdrawn all the older men from the shell-shops, Monsieur Schenk? They were good men, and have served the firm well. Upon my word, while working there and hearing naught but the German tongue, one might have fancied oneself in the enemy's country."
"They are loyal Belgians, Monsieur Max," replied M. Schenk reassuringly. "They are as ready as Flemings or Walloons to work to the utmost, casting shells for our gallant army. That speaks sufficiently for their sentiments. I have filled the shop with them because they work well together, and there is no jealousy. We must do our best for Belgium in this crisis, and should be swayed by no consideration save that of finding the best men for each of our great tasks."
"Well done, Monsieur Schenk!" cried Max impulsively. "I also will go where you think best. Where shall it be?"
"Thank you!" replied the manager, smiling. "I think you are doing so well where you are that I cannot improve upon it. Remain at work in the casting-shop and aid me to increase the output of shells. It is my belief that we can turn out double the number with no increase of staff, and I shall leave no stone unturned to make my opinion good."
Greatly heartened by this evidence of the manager's energy and patriotism, Max and his friend did stick to their work and fling themselves into it even more whole-heartedly than they had done before.
On the morrow, the 7th August, however, events happened that entirely changed the aspect of affairs. Forts Fléron, Chaudfontaine, Evegnée, and Barchon had fallen, and early in the morning of that day German infantry entered Liége. The forts on the north, south, and west of the town still held out for a time, but the town from that moment remained in German hands. To the people, and especially the workers of Liége, this made a vital difference. The output of the numerous factories, in so far as it was useful to the German armies, was at any moment liable to be requisitioned by them; and it was as clear as noonday that all who toiled in the manufacture of such articles were assisting the enemy in their attack upon their own kith and kin, and strengthening the grip he had already laid upon their native land.
To Max and his chum these were days charged high with excitement. Their day's toil in the shops over, they raced away to the points where the most exciting events were to be seen. They were witnesses of most that went forward, and actually lent a hand in the rounding-up, from among the civil population of the city, of the band of armed Germans who attempted to assassinate the commandant of the fortress, General Leman.
The entry of the Germans was to both of them a fearful blow. They knew little of military matters, and vaguely believed that the town and forts were strong enough to stand a regular siege. And yet on the third day after the attack the town had fallen! As they watched the young German troops marching into the town they could not help feeling deeply disappointed and discouraged.
"I wish now that you had gone home, Dale," remarked Max in a gloomy voice as they slowly made their way towards the works. "Now that the place has fallen you can do no good here. And as you are not a native you may be taken for a spy and shot off-hand."
"Shut up, Max! We've agreed to go through this business together, and there's an end of it. Liége is lost, but the war's still on, and it will be hard if we can't find some way of giving our side a shove forward."
"Aye to that, Dale. Well, if you don't mind being here in a conquered town I'm jolly glad to have you. Now, I suppose we can still go on helping to cast shells—why no, Dale! We simply can't do any more of that work; it's absolutely useless."
"Of course it is. You may be sure the Germans won't let shells be sent away from Liége except to Germany. Your works had better get on with the other work. Shells are out of the question."
"I must see Schenk about this," replied Max thoughtfully. "It needs thinking out what work—if any at all—we can do without helping the Germans. It's an awkward business, but I have no doubt Schenk can see daylight through it."
"I should think so, but—hallo! What's that?"
Dale stopped suddenly, and stood gazing down a side street, the end of which they were just about to cross. A sudden burst of screams and shouts, quite startling in its intensity, assailed their ears, and made them look and look with a feeling of foreboding new to them. At the far end of the street they could see a group of men in the grey-green uniform surging to and fro before a house from which the screams seemed to issue.
"The Germans—doing the same dirty work as they did at Visé!" gasped Max, turning away his head and clenching his fists in his pockets. "I hardly know how to keep from rushing down there, utterly useless though it is."
"It is women they are ill-treating—how can we walk away?" cried Dale in acute distress. "Let us go down, and if we cannot fight, let us beg them to desist. Perhaps if we offered them money——?"
"Useless," muttered Max, though he stopped and gazed down the road in irresolution. "And yet howcanwe pass by, Dale?" he went on with a groan. "I know I shall always call myself a coward if I do nothing. Let's walk a little closer, and see if we can do anything."
Dale eagerly agreed, and they walked quickly down the road towards the group of soldiers and their victims. As they drew nearer, and could see something of what was happening, their anger increased, until they were almost ready to throw themselves upon the soldiers and oppose their bayonets with their bare fists.
The house before which the outrage was taking place seemed, for some reason, to have been singled out from the others which lined both sides of the street, possibly because the head of the house was well known as an opponent of the Germans or because of some act of hostility committed against the soldiers. At any rate, an elderly man, evidently dragged from the house, had been tied to the front railings, and was being subjected to treatment so cruel that it almost amounted to torture.
The womenfolk of the house had apparently rushed out and endeavoured to intervene, but had been forcibly held back, and were at that moment being subjected to brutal indignities that angered Max and Dale even more than the cold-blooded cruelty to the man himself.
The two had arrived within some forty yards of the scene, and were still pressing on as though drawn by a magnet, although neither knew what he was going to do, when one of the soldiers drew the attention of his fellows to the two young men advancing towards them. At the same time he picked up his rifle, took quick aim, and discharged it directly at them.
The bullet whizzed between them, and, on the impulse, Max seized Dale by the arm and dragged him through the open doorway of the nearest house. A roar of laughter from the soldiers at their rapid exit followed them, and made the anger of one at least of them burn with a still fiercer resentment.
"Right through and out at the back," cried Max in urgent tones, and the two passed through the house, which appeared to be deserted, and found themselves in an open space intersected only by low garden fences.
Max laid his hand on his friend's arm. "I am going to move quietly along until I reach the back of the house where those curs are at work," he said in a hard, suppressed voice. "I must do something, but do not you come, Dale. There is no need for you——"
"I am already in it, I tell you," almost shouted Dale as he impatiently shook him off. "It's as much my affair as yours. Come on."
The two made their way rapidly but cautiously along until they reached the house they sought. The doors were open at the back, and the shouts and screams were almost as audible there as at the front.
"We have no weapons; let us arm ourselves with these," cried Max, pointing to some blocks of ornamental quartz bordering a little fernery. Even in the midst of his excitement it struck Max how strangely the orderliness of the tiny, well-kept garden seemed to contrast with the deeds of violence being committed outside.
Rapidly but quietly the two lads filled hands and pockets with the heavy missiles. Then they crept inside the house and up the stairs to the floor above. The house was quite empty, for all within had rushed or been dragged to the scene in front.
The bedroom windows were wide open, and the instant they entered both lads began with one impulse to hurl with all their strength the great stones upon the German soldiery below. They were both wild with rage at what they had witnessed, and utterly reckless what fate might ultimately be theirs, so long as they could inflict some punishment upon the cowardly wrongdoers.
The soldiers, completely taken aback by this sudden rain of missiles almost from the skies, immediately scattered to the opposite side of the road and took refuge in the gardens there. Not one of them had his rifle to hand, for their arms had been stacked against the wall of the house they were attacking, and even the man who had fired at Max and Dale had put down his rifle once more. Thus, for the moment, the soldiers were impotent, and Max shouted rapidly in the Walloon dialect to the women below to release the man tied to the railings and escape through the house.
With a promptitude that was wholly admirable, one of the women drew a pair of scissors from her pocket and cut the cords that bound the man to the fence. With a cry of joy the poor fellow staggered to his feet. But, stiffened by his bonds or exhausted by the cruel treatment he had received, he could barely stand, and had to be half supported and half dragged by two of the women back into the house.
"Tell them to be off, Dale," cried Max rapidly. "I will hold back these men for a minute. Take them right through into the street beyond and get them out of sight. I will follow in a moment."
Dale obeyed, and under his guidance the whole party made their way rapidly through the house, into the gardens, and through the houses opposite into the road beyond. At the disappearance of their prey the soldiers set up a howl of rage, and made a concerted rush for their weapons. But Max redoubled his efforts, and, his supply of quartz exhausted, rained down upon them jugs, mirrors, pictures, and everything movable he could lay hands upon, holding them in check for a few precious moments. Then, after one final fling, he bolted from the room into the bedroom at the back and leapt out of the window. Landing in a flower-bed unhurt, he rushed without a pause at the low garden fence in front of him, cleared it at a bound, and dashed through the house opposite in the wake of Dale and the fugitive people.
Meanwhile, out in the roadway, the soldiers had seized their weapons, and, hardly knowing what to expect, poured two or three volleys into the empty house. Then they cautiously reconnoitred, and by the time they had come to the conclusion that the house was indeed empty, the fugitives were completely beyond their reach. Characteristically enough, they vented their rage and disappointment on the inanimate objects within their reach. The crash of furniture soon rose above their shouts of fury, and in the end smoke rolled from the windows and poured upwards to the sky as a silent witness to the new spirit that had come to dominate the land.
Max and Dale hurried the people they had rescued away from the scene of the outbreak, and would not allow them to slacken speed until they had put a mile of streets between them and their savage foes. It was then, Max judged, high time to find a haven of refuge of some sort, for, with one exception, the women were half crazed with fear and the man quite exhausted with ill-usage. Any German soldiers or spies who passed them could hardly fail to remark that they were fugitives, and they would soon find themselves in as bad a case as before. Questioning a woman who still retained a show of self-possession, Max learned that they had friends in another part of the town, and towards their house he promptly directed their retreat.
Without further misadventure they reached the house they sought, and Max and Dale saw their charges safely inside the door. Then they hurried away, for it was obviously dangerous both for them and for the fugitives to be in one another's company a moment longer than necessary. Thanks were not thought of; the rescued were not ungrateful but were altogether too upset for expression, and the rescuers were only thankful to have been of use, without a thought of anything else.
"By George, Max, how I did enjoy that!" cried Dale with enthusiasm, as they turned their steps once more towards the works. "I feel an inch taller, and can face the world as an honest man."
"Aye, Jack, I feel like that too. How should we have felt had we let that business go on unchecked?"
"And it has done a bit of good, too, I imagine. Those cowardly Germans will not forget that rain of quartz in a hurry, and may leave the poor folk alone another time."
"I am not so sure. But the question is, what are we going to do now? We cannot go on casting shells which will be certain to be seized by the Germans. If we make railway material it will only be used to convey soldiers into the field against our men. No. I must see Schenk, and get him to close all branches of the works that might be of use to the enemy. That is the only thing to be done. Then I shall try to get through to join the Belgian army."
"And I too, Max. I will join with you. We have started on this business together and we will finish it together."
Arrived at the Durend works, Max went straight to M. Schenk's office. Two men, whom Max had not seen before, were coming out as he entered, but the manager was at that moment alone. He looked up as Max came in, and, when he saw who it was, smiled in a way that our hero did not altogether like. It seemed less a smile of welcome than of tolerant amusement, and instead of commencing diplomatically, as he had intended, Max burst out rather heatedly:
"Monsieur Schenk, we must close the works. We cannot go on making shells now that the Germans are in occupation of Liége. It is not loyal to Belgium, and I am certain my mother would not wish us to do such a thing."
The manager gazed at Max almost blankly for a moment, as though quite taken by surprise. Then he smiled again, almost pityingly, as he replied:
"I do not think you understand the position, Monsieur Max. The Germans are now masters here, and what they order us that we must do. The German commander only an hour ago sent word that he would hold the heads of the firm responsible for any decrease in the output of the Durend works; so what can I do? Would it help Belgium if you and I were replaced by men from Krupp's? No; it were better that we—or at any rate I—remain, so that the firm's interests are not wholly forgotten."
"But if we refuse to work, the workmen will do so too," cried Max earnestly. "If we continue at work, they may continue also. We have an example of patriotism to set, and set it we must."
"Bah! If Krupp's run these works the workmen will have to work, make no mistake on that point. Now, Monsieur Max, pray leave me, for I must to work again. You may rest assured that I am looking after the interests of the firm. Think no more about such matters, but take heed to yourself, for your end will be swift indeed if the Germans think you actively hostile to their occupation of the town."
"I care not," cried Max recklessly. "Let them take us both and let Krupp's take over the firm—at least our hands will be clean of treachery to our country. Once more, Monsieur Schenk, as my mother's representative, I appeal to you not to aid the enemy by running the works for their help and benefit."
The manager snorted indignantly. "Iam responsible here, and I am going to exercise my own judgment," he cried sharply. "And now, leave me. You are too young to discuss these matters and you weary me."
Turning round sharply on his heel, Max left the room. He had never been spoken to like that before, and it cut him to the heart. He wanted time to think out the situation and to make up his mind what action he should take. True, this man was manager and entrusted with great powers; but Max stood to some extent in the position of owner, and that he should be treated thus seemed an indignity in the highest degree. It was a relief to pour his woes into the ear of the faithful Dale, and together these two paced through the yard, conning over earnestly all the bearings of the situation. It was while they were thus engaged that a fleet of thirty or forty great military motor-lorries rattled by.
"The beginning," cried Max bitterly, nodding towards them.
"Yes, I fear so. I wonder what they are after?"
"Let us follow and see. We may as well know the worst."
The wagons came to a stand alongside one of the largest of the stacks of empty shells which now dotted the yard, and, with a promptitude that showed that everything had been arranged beforehand, the tarpaulins that covered the stacks were thrown aside and the shells passed one by one into the wagons.
"Now that seems queer to me," remarked Dale, as he watched the men with a thoughtful face. "What can the Germans want with shells that will only fit the Belgian guns! Queer, I call it."
"They may be going to use them in the captured guns," replied Max. "Let us look in again at the casting-shops and see if they have started on shells for German guns. 'Pon my word I have half a mind to appeal to the men to cease work, strange as it would be coming from the owner's son while the manager of the works made no sign. The place is running at top speed too—see, Dale?"
It was evident that there was no relaxation here. The whole of the buildings and furnaces engaged in the castings were simply humming with energy, and when they entered the nearest door they were amazed. Double the number of men that were at work the day before were now engaged and were working with an intensity that seemed inexplicable to Max.
As they entered, one of the foremen came up to them.
"Keep a still tongue, Dale," muttered Max beneath his breath.
"You are late, Monsieur," he said, addressing Max and gazing at him somewhat closely. "Are you going to work this morning?"
"I think not," replied Max, shrugging his shoulders. "I see you are pretty well full up with men."
"Yes, we have had a lot more hands placed at our disposal here. I estimate that we shall turn out at least three times as many shells as yesterday."
"The new men are German-speaking, of course?"
"Of course. This business will be profitable for the firm no doubt?" The man looked at Max as though not quite certain of the state of affairs.
"Undoubtedly. Has Monsieur Schenk given any orders for a change in the calibre of the shells?"
"No. We are still on the same gauge. But I suppose we shall be making all sizes soon. There is no help for it, of course; we must submit to the inevitable?"
Max turned away. "This trebling of output does not seem like unwilling submission to the inevitable, Dale," he whispered savagely. "Come, let us get out of this—I'm choking here. The place reeks to me of treachery. If I had the strength of Samson I would bring the roof down and bury the whole villainous crew beneath the ruins."
"There's certainly something dirty going on," agreed Dale. "But if we're not Samsons we have strength enough to put a spoke in their wheel, I fancy. Let us wait a bit and see."
In savage silence the two lads left the casting-shops and walked mechanically on towards the buildings which had been engaged on peace-time work. Here all was quiet and almost deserted. Only a machine here and there was running, and at first they thought that the whole of the workmen had been diverted to the other shops. But at the farther end of the yard they presently noticed groups of men congregated together, much as they were wont to do in the dinner interval. But it was not the dinner interval now.
"What's the matter here? This looks as though some part of Schenk's plans had gone awry. Are they dismissed, or are they refusing to work?"
"Refusing to work, by the look of the armed guards yonder," replied Max, nodding towards a body of German soldiers, a dozen or more strong, posted at a corner of one of the buildings within easy reach of the entrance. "Let us have a talk with one or two of the men and find out what's afoot."
"Aye, but don't let our German friends see us talking to them. They will think it a conspiracy."
The two lads joined themselves to one of the groups, and began questioning them as to the reason for their presence there instead of in the workshops. But somehow the men seemed to view Max and Dale with coldness and suspicion, and either refused to reply or answered in sullen monosyllables. Max was about to turn away, in disappointed perplexity, when he noticed the man Dubec. In sudden relief he appealed to him to tell him what was happening.
"It is because we will not work if the goods are to be seized by the Germans. We are true Belgians—not like those traitors who fill the shell-shops—and we cannot work against our country."
"And you are right," cried Max warmly. "I am with you heart and soul."
"Huh! But what our men cannot understand is why the firm does not close down. Why is it left to us poor workmen to show our patriotism? Why does not the firm take the lead? We would stand by them to the death if need be."
"I believe you," cried Max, with difficulty gulping down the lump that rose in his throat. What a cur he felt—he, the owner in the sight of these men, helpless to influence in the slightest degree the affairs of the great works called by his name. "But, lads—to my shame I say it—I am helpless. I am but just come from demanding of Monsieur Schenk that the works should be closed. He will not hear of it, and it is he who has the power, not I. And behind him stand the Germans. I can do nothing, and I feel the shame of it more than I can say."
Max's voice trembled with earnestness and sincerity, and the men clearly believed him. Their cold looks vanished, and the one or two near him seized him by the hands and wrung them vigorously.
"That is good, Monsieur. We are glad to hear that you are for us. It makes our stand easier now that we know that the owners at least are on our side. As for that Schenk, we have always hated him as a tyrant, and now we doubly hate him as a traitor as well."
"Aye," broke in another of the men, "he is the cause of the mischief. And we have sworn not to work so long as the Germans hold the town. If we were ready to strike and suffer long for wages, will we not do so for the good of our country?"
The man gazed round at his comrades, who gave a half-cheer in answer to his appeal. The attention of the German guards was attracted by the sound, and the non-commissioned officer in charge instantly ordered his men to advance on the offending party.
"Disperse!" cried Max and one or two more, and the group broke up, most of the men walking out of the yard into the open road. The regular tramp of heavy-booted feet and harsh commands that followed them were a further reminder, if one were needed, of the utter change that had come over the scene of their humble daily toil.
"What is to be our next move, Max?" enquired Dale presently, after they had walked almost mechanically nearly a mile from the Durend works upwards towards the hills on the western side of the town. Twice he had to repeat his question, for Max was too immersed in thoughts bitter and rebellious to pay much heed.
"I care not where we go, Jack. For me everything seems to have come to an end."
"I know, I know, Max, just how you feel; but do not give way to it. There is Belgium to live for; and you have what I have not—a mother. Let us go home and think things out."
"I cannot rest at home, Dale—yet. Let us walk on for a while. We shall feel free on this side of the town. Thank God, the forts here are still holding out, and the Germans have not yet over-run the countryside. Presently we shall reach the Crofts, and we will sit in the cottage or the old summer-house while we talk it all over."
On the western side of the town, at a distance of some six miles or so, Madame Durend owned a little old-fashioned cottage, picturesquely planted in a large garden and wood. It was a favourite resort of the family in summer-time, and Max and Dale had had their full share of its pleasures. For one thing, there was an asphalt tennis-court there which had claimed a large part of their spare time, not to mention that of Max's sister and her friends.
Avoiding the road, in order to lessen their chance of encountering enemy patrols, Max and his friend travelled across fields and along bypaths towards the cottage. They had come to within half a mile or so of the place when they were startled beyond measure, and almost stunned, by a tremendous report like the explosion of an enormous gun. It was close at hand, too, and seemed to come from the general direction of the cottage. Almost immediately there was another similar report, followed by others at a greater distance. Max and Dale looked at one another significantly.
"Attacking either Fort Loncin or Fort Hollogne," said Max resignedly. "I wonder we have got so far unnoticed."
"Yes; but now we are here we may as well see the fun. Let us go to the Crofts, and climb the big oak as of yore. We shall see everything from there."
"And be seen too, I'm thinking. Never mind; I feel reckless enough for anything this afternoon."
"Well, reckless or no, we may as well move cautiously. Let us keep well under cover of this hedge. Whew! What a row there is!"
As the two friends drew nearer to the cottage they became convinced that not only was the firing taking place quite near the Crofts, but that it was going on in the very garden itself. Closer and closer they crept, their curiosity keenly whetted by this unexpected discovery, until they reached a little clump of thick undergrowth which overlooked the garden. Here the greatest discovery of all awaited them.
Two big 28-cm. guns were in position in the centre of the garden, and being loaded and fired without a moment's respite. The sight was fascinating—nay, awe-inspiring—enough, but to the two lads the thing that most caught and fixed their attention was the fact that both guns were planted full on their asphalted tennis-court. To Dale this was merely curious, but to Max it had a significance so terrible and nerve-shaking that it was all he could do to prevent himself crying out.
"What's the matter, Max?" cried Dale in alarm, as he caught a glimpse of his friend's pale, drawn face and staring eyes.
"Come away—quick! Let us get away and I will tell you," cried Max in a hoarse voice, and, followed by his friend, he sped swiftly from the scene towards a thick wood a short distance away. Once well within the shelter of its leafy screen, he stopped and faced Dale excitedly, his face aflame.
"That scoundrel Schenk! He is at the bottom of it all. He is a paid traitor and spy of the German Government, and, fool that I was, I never saw it before!"
"Why, what has happened to tell you this? A traitor I dare say he is, but why so suddenly sure?"
"That tennis-court. Do you know that Schenk, when he heard we were thinking of one, pressed us to have an asphalt one for use in all weathers. He saw to it himself, and dug down six feet for the foundations. I asked him why he was doing that, and he said he had a lot of material, concrete or something, over from something else—I didn't take much notice what it was—and that it would make it all the better. It was all a ruse to lay down solid concrete gun-platforms ready to blow our forts to pieces. The utter scoundrel!"
"Ah! And that was why he replaced the Walloon and Flemish workmen by naturalized Germans! I see. He wanted to have men he could be sure of and to have the works ready for running without a hitch directly the Germans entered. And the shells——"
"Yes," almost shouted Max, grasping his friend roughly by the arm, "yes, their calibre will be that of German, not Belgian, guns! They never were for Belgian guns! That was why they were kept covered up so closely in the yard."
"Phew! It was a risky game to play; but no doubt he expected the town to fall quickly—perhaps even more quickly than it did."
"And there are other things," Max went on in a quieter tone. "Why was it Schenk persuaded us to go to Germany instead of to Holland for our holiday? Why—why? Simply because he wanted to get us out of the way. Then do you remember those men who were captured after trying to assassinate General Leman in the town? I thought I had seen two or three of them somewhere before. I remember now. They were some of the workmen of the shell-shops, and one was a foreman. The plot was hatched by Schenk, not a doubt of it."
"Not a shadow of a doubt. The whole business is as plain as a pikestaff. But who would have dreamed of such devilish forethought? He must have been planning it for years!"
"Yes, he has been my father's right-hand man for nine or ten years at least. He must have come for no other purpose—and my father never knew it! How glad I am my mother is out of it all, safe and sound."
For some time the two friends discussed the great discovery in all its bearings. Matters stood out in a fresh perspective, and one of the first things to appear prominently was the peril in which both of them now stood. In peril from the Germans they had known they stood, but the peril from Schenk was new and far greater. At any moment he might come to the conclusion that their continued presence about the works or in the town was inconvenient, and denounce them as hostile to the occupation. In fact—and a bitter realization it was—they were only saved from this by the manager's contempt of them as adversaries and his calm assurance that they were really not worth considering one way or the other.
"Well, Max," said Dale at last, "what line are we now going to take? It is time we made up our minds once and for all. We are clearly outclassed by this Schenk—he holds all the cards—and the best thing we can do is to make tracks to join the Belgian army before it is too late to get away."
"Yes, Dale, that is the best thing—for you. OnlyIcannot come with you. You go and join the British army. My place is here more than ever, and leave it I will not."
"Come now, Max, don't be obstinate! There is nothing to be done here. You are absolutely helpless pitted against Schenk and his friends the Germans. You must recognize it. Come with me and we will see what we can do for the good cause elsewhere."
Max shook his head decidedly. His face was very downcast, and it was clear to his friend that he felt most keenly the way in which his father's name and resources had been exploited by the enemies of their country; but his lips were firmly set, and in his eyes was the steady look Dale remembered so well during the dark days of the struggle for Benson's. Benson's! The recollection brought back again to Dale the words spoken by the master at the close of the races: "Fixity of purpose ... there is almost nothing that fixity of purpose will not accomplish."
"No," Max said simply, after a moment's pause, "I am going to keep watch and ward over the Durend workshops. Cost what it may I am going, by all means in my power, to hinder the use of them for the enemy's purposes. What influence I have—little enough I fear—with the real Belgian workmen, I will exert to keep them from aiding Schenk. The works are mine—I speak for my mother—and I will not hesitate to destroy them if I find opportunity. There must be many ways in which I can make trouble, and I am going to strain every nerve to do so. Let Schenk look out; it is war to the knife!"
"Hurrah!" cried Dale excitedly. Then he went on in a sober tone: "But it is risky work, Max. Schenk will very soon suspect us—he has agents and spies everywhere, you may be sure."
"We must be as cunning as he is—more so. We must outdo him at his own game. We—I, I should say, for you must go back to England—I am going to disappear and emerge as a simple workman, with German sympathies of course. Then the fight will begin."
"Yes, and I'm in it, Max," cried Dale joyously. "I wouldn't miss it for worlds. It sounds good enough for anything. To outwit the Germans is great, but to outwit Schenk is ten times better. Come along, let's get to work."
"All right!" cried Max, smiling at his friend's enthusiasm. "We'll get back at once, and, as a start, go home and fetch away some of our things. It will have to be the last time we go there."
Quickly, and yet with caution, the two lads retraced their steps to the town. They knew every foot of the country, and, though there were numerous patrolling parties of Germans between them and the town, they were able to pass them without difficulty. At the door of his house one of the servants met Max and handed him a note.
"A young man brought it, Monsieur, an hour ago. He has come all the way from Maastricht with it. It is from Madame, your mother, and he said it was very important."
Rapidly Max tore away the cover and opened the missive. His senses were perhaps preternaturally sharpened, for he felt a sense of foreboding. After many fond messages, and repeated injunctions that he would take care of himself and not offend the Germans, the note went on:
"And now, Max, I want to tell you something that distresses me extremely, though I have hopes that it may be all a mistake. When I left, bringing only a few things and a purse with such money as I had by me at the moment, M. Schenk, on my explicit instructions, assured me that he would arrange at once for a large sum of money to be transferred to my account at the Maastricht Bank. I have been there repeatedly, asking about it, but none of the officials know anything of the matter. They say they have not been approached, and though they have enquired of other banks in the place they can learn no tidings. They have been very good to me, for, hearing who I was, they advanced me a small sum for my immediate use. Will you now please see M. Schenk and have this matter—which is so distressing—put right?"
Max clenched the paper in his hand. The blood flooded up into his head with such force that he had to put his hand against the doorpost to steady himself.
"What's the matter?" cried Dale, again in alarm at the look on his face. "Is it bad news?"
"Aye—the worst—the blackest treachery," cried Max in a voice which trembled with the intensity of his emotion. "I must see Schenk—and wring from him the money he has stolen," and, turning impetuously on his heel, Max strode rapidly away from the house in the direction of the works.
Dale darted after him and caught him up. "You must do nothing rash, Max," he cried earnestly. "Wait a while until you are calm; you are no match for Schenk like that. Let us walk slowly along while you tell me what has happened."
Max thrust at him the crumpled letter. Then in a few broken words he told him, what was scarcely needed, that the manager had tricked his mother into leaving the country, and had then left her stranded without a penny to live upon. The baseness of it all came as a shock, even on the top of their knowledge of the man's deep treachery.
"There's more behind it, I believe," said Dale, after a few minutes' cogitation in silence. "I think this may be a lever to getyouout of the country. He will think you will be compelled to go to your mother and work for her support."
"He knows he can get me out of the way at any time by denouncing me to the Germans," replied Max in dissent. "No—that will not explain it. But as sure as I live I will wring the truth from him before another hour is gone."
Dale gazed in some apprehension at his friend as he strode feverishly along towards the Durend works. He feared that he might, in his anger, do some rash act that would destroy all. But presently, to his relief, he saw that he was regaining control over his feelings, and, by the time they reached the works, he seemed his usual self again. The only evidence of his past emotion was to be found in his somewhat gloomy looks and in lips tightly compressed as though to hold in check feelings that struggled for an outlet.
The manager was in his room, and stared in some alarm at Max and his friend as they strode unceremoniously in. Then he touched a bell and his secretary entered.
"Remain at the door, Erbo. I shall want you in a moment," he said coolly.
It was a declaration of distrust, if not war, and both sides knew it. It robbed Max's words of any circumlocution he might otherwise have used, and he went straight to the point.
"You have not sent my mother the money that she instructed you to send, Monsieur Schenk. Why is that?"
The manager cleared his throat. "The German commander has forbidden any moneys to be sent out of the country, Monsieur Max, and it is unfortunately now impossible for me to do so."
"I have not heard of any such order. But why did you not do it before the Germans entered? You had ample time."
"I gave instructions, but the tremendous pressure a day or two before the Germans entered—you know how I worked to cast shells for our armies and the garrisons of the forts—caused it to be overlooked. I regret this very much, but it is now too late to do anything."
The manager looked squarely and unblushingly at Max as he boasted of the way in which he had aided the Belgian troops, and the latter was hard put to it to keep back the torrent of wrathful words that rose to his lips. But other and more pressing matters claimed attention just now, and, choking down his indignation, he replied temperately:
"It isnottoo late, Monsieur Schenk. Hand me the necessary moneys or securities and I will convey them to Maastricht. My mother must not be left destitute."
The manager shook his head decidedly. "No, Monsieur Max, I cannot do that. You would be certain to be taken, and I should have to pay the greater share of the penalty. No, I cannot think of it; but thereisa way out of the difficulty which would indeed simplify matters in another direction. You are in great danger here and are doing no good. Go to Maastricht and support your good mother. I will obtain for you a passport through the Germans and a letter to a friend of mine who will see that you secure well-paid work. Yes, that is the best way out of the difficulty, Monsieur Max, and you and your mother will live to rejoice at having taken it."
"If your friend can get me well-paid work, can he not advance money to my mother, Monsieur Schenk?"
"No, he is in a position to get you a berth, but he has no great means. Come now, Monsieur Max, be guided by me and leave Liége without delay. The works are running splendidly, and I shall have a good account to give of my stewardship after the war."
The man's cool effrontery and the tone of lofty regard for the interests of the owners of the Durend works almost stunned Max, and for a moment he could but stare at him in dumb astonishment. That his faithful stewardship of the Durend works now ran counter to the vital interests of the country seemed not to matter to him one straw. Ceasing to plead his mother's cause, Max asked with sudden directness:
"How is it, Monsieur Schenk, that the shells we are casting for the Belgian guns will not fit them, but yet do fit the German guns?"
It was a shot at a venture, but it went home. The manager was obviously taken aback, although he recovered himself almost instantly as he replied:
"You have noticed that then? Yes, there was a misunderstanding about the size with the commandant. Apparently he was speaking about the calibre of the shells thrown against the forts, when I was under the impression he was discussing the calibre of the shells most urgently required for use. It was a ridiculous mistake, but not so strange when one considers the turmoil and confusion of those early days."
At this Max could contain himself no longer. "Monsieur Schenk—Herr Schenk, I should say—you are a traitor to Belgium, and I denounce you here and now. You are a base schemer, and the biggest scoundrel in Liége, if not in Belgium. You have the upper hand at present, but I declare to you that I shall spare no pains in the distant future to bring you to justice and to see that you get your deserts. I know your plans—or some of them. The concrete tennis-court—the filling of the shops with German workmen, the plot against General Leman, and, greatest of all, the fearful shell treachery. Oh, the shame of it should tell, even upon a German!"
It certainly seemed to tell a little upon M. Schenk. He gasped, flushed up, and opened his mouth, apparently to deny the accusations. Then he apparently thought better of it, for he controlled himself by an effort and replied coldly:
"Very well, Monsieur Max; it is war between us, I see. And it will soon end—in your discomfiture!"
"We shall see. Good day, Herr Schenk!"
This mode of addressing him seemed to sting the manager more than anything else, for he burst out angrily:
"Fool of a boy! Do you think to measure your puny strength with mine? Bah! I shall crush you before ever you can raise your hand against me. As for my name, Herr Schenk suits me well enough. I am a German, and I hate these decadent peoples we call Belgians. Let Germany rule—she is strong and virile, and before her the world must—and shall—bow down. You, whether you call yourself English or Belgian, shall know what it is to have your country crushed and beaten, and to have brains—German brains—to direct and rule you. Go—and see if I'm not right."
"I am going—and going to do my best to prove you wrong," replied Max proudly as he strode quickly from the room. Dale followed him, venting his own indignation, as he turned away, by shaking his fist full in the manager's face.
"We must not dally here," cried Max as they left the building. "We had better make ourselves scarce at once. We have burnt our boats, and both Schenk and the Germans will be after us from now onwards."
"And a good job too," replied Dale, who did not appear at all alarmed at the prospect. "The fight now begins."
"Quick—round here," cried Max, turning a corner sharply. "Let us lose ourselves in these narrow streets for a while. We will then go to Madame Dubec's."
"Madame Dubec's?"
"Yes, we must not go home. Madame Dubec—the wife of the man whose life I saved, you remember—she will shelter us for a day or two while we look about us. We will get her or her husband to buy us rough clothes, so that we can pass as workmen. We must not go about like this any longer."
"Aye, we must act the part of honest sons of toil. Always have a spanner sticking out of a pocket, and a hunk of bread and cheese tied up in a coloured handkerchief in our hands. Hurrah!"
Madame Dubec gave them a quiet but sincere welcome, and for the remainder of the day and the following night they sheltered beneath her roof. She was anxious that they should stay permanently with her, when she learned that they were in danger, but neither Max nor Dale would hear of it. Should Schenk or the Germans learn that she had sheltered them it might go hard with her, and neither cared to contemplate such a thing. As soon, therefore, as they had been provided with workmen's clothes, they took a room in a poor quarter of the town well away from the Durend works and made active preparations for their campaign. Although Max had not dared to go to his home to fetch any of his belongings, he had managed to get a few of the more necessary things by sending one of Madame Dubec's daughters with a note to one of the domestics whom he knew he could trust.
To Max, the great campaign he had in mind against Schenk and the Germans was momentarily eclipsed by the urgent need for doing something to relieve the distress of his mother and sister. He tried at first to think of friends, who, knowing the value of their property, might be disposed to advance a sufficient sum of money upon its security. It was in the midst of these reflections, and the angry thoughts of Schenk that naturally coloured them, that a wild and desperate idea occurred to him. He dismissed it at first as an absurdity, but the thought kept coming back again, until, weary of resisting it, he allowed his mind to dwell upon it at will. It was while heedlessly immersed in these rambling thoughts that a sudden recollection came which considerably altered the aspect of affairs. From a wild and desperate dream it changed into a project, difficult and perilous indeed, but one by no means hopeless of achievement. In the end it took such firm hold upon him that he thought it out seriously and at last unfolded it to Dale.
That worthy welcomed it with such unbounded admiration and delight that the question as to whether it should or should not be attempted was settled out of hand, and the preparations for carrying it into effect promptly begun.
The project was, briefly, to go and take by acoup de mainthe moneys belonging to his mother that Schenk had wrongfully and treacherously refused to hand over. It seemed a most risky venture, but Max had a recollection that his father long ago had entrusted to his mother the duplicate key of his safe in case anything should at any time happen to him. It had never been used, and his mother, likely enough, had almost forgotten she possessed it. Nevertheless, Max believed it was still in her possession, and he resolved to settle the point by sending a messenger to fetch it. More important still, he believed that Schenk was quite unaware of its existence. If the key could be secured it would simplify matters immensely, and, as Max was naturally familiar with the building in which the manager's office was situated, the enterprise was one which seemed likely to succeed if resolutely attempted. The safe, he knew, ought to contain all the money and securities of the firm, unless, indeed, Schenk had already handed them over to the Germans. This did not seem likely, however, and Max would not allow so disappointing a thought to interfere with his calculations.
Monsieur Dubec's eldest daughter was promptly dispatched to Madame Durend with a letter asking for the key. Max entered into no details, and his mother may possibly have supposed that M. Schenk's failure to send her the money he had promised was due to the loss of the original key. At any rate, to the delight both of Max and Dale, the key duly arrived the following day.
Tools were needed, and these were of course easily obtained. Max, as we have seen, had been through most of the shops in the Durend concern, and knew how to use almost any tool as well as the best of the firm's mechanics. No difficulties, therefore, were to be anticipated on that score. In fact, the more the details of the scheme were discussed the more feasible it seemed and the more the spirits of the two plotters rose.
The third night after the break with Schenk, Max and Dale set out from their lodging at midnight and made their way to the Durend workshops. Dale was carrying a good-sized bag, in which was a lantern and an assortment of tools and other articles, one or two of them of such a nature that to be stopped and the bag examined would have been fatal to their liberty of movement for many a long day. It was, therefore, necessary for them to move with caution, and Max accordingly went on a hundred yards ahead, ready to give the agreed signal—a stumble forward on the pavement—whenever it was advisable for Dale to disappear.
The offices of the Durend Company were situated in a separate building just inside the main entrance gates. The latter were ordinarily guarded by a watchman, but since the Germans had entered Liége a guard of German soldiers had been established there, and the sentinel on his beat passed within view of the front and two sides of the offices. It was pretty obvious, therefore, that the rear of the building would have to be the part attacked.
It was close on one o'clock when Max and Dale scaled the outer wall well away from the entrance, and moved cautiously up to the rear of the building which was their objective. They had had only one alarm so far, and this had been so easily disposed of that they had begun to feel quite elated.
"This window gives access to the drawing-office, Dale, and ought to suit us well. Give me a lift on to the sill, and hand up the tools."
In a surprisingly short space of time the window was forced open, and Max clambered into the room. A whispered word, and Dale handed up the bag and sprang quietly up after it.
"Heat No. 1 pulled off at a paddle," commented Dale exultingly.
"The door is open, as I expected," whispered Max, who was too intent upon the work in hand to heed his friend's playfulness. "Now I will light the lantern and we will go upstairs. The door of the manager's room is sure to be locked, but we shall make short work of that."
As Max expected, the door was locked, but they had come provided with tools for all eventualities, and in ten minutes the whole of the bottom panels right up to the framework had been neatly sawn out in one piece. Through the aperture the two lads crept, drawing the bag through after them.
"Heat No. 2 won by a dozen lengths," cried Dale joyously.
The room was a fairly large one, and contained the manager's desk, a really handsome piece of furniture which had been Max's father's, two or three tables, bookcases, a screen, and a large and massive safe.
Max lost no time. Setting Dale to keep watch and ward at the window which commanded a view of the entrance-gates, he placed the lantern on the desk, so that its light fell upon the safe, and then advanced upon it, key in hand. This was the crucial moment. Had Schenk appropriated the money and securities committed to his charge, or were they still there, awaiting the strange midnight visit from their rightful owner? It was, indeed, a strong indictment of the methods of the invaders that the legitimate owner should have to come by stealth at dead of night, while the unfaithful steward could do as he listed in the broad glare of day.
Max's hand trembled, and the lock seemed to stick. Then the lever seemed to jamb, until he feared that, after all, something had happened that would balk him at the last moment. But it was only his momentary nervousness, and the door swung ponderously open at last.
"Well, Max, how goes it?" enquired Dale excitedly, turning to watch his friend as he explored the open safe.
"All's well, I think. It seems full enough."
"Semi-final won by a clear length—eh?" cried Dale in great glee. "Seems a regular walk-over. If we want any real excitement we shall have to go and throw stones at the German guard."
"We haven't done yet," replied Max more soberly, though his voice was confident enough. "Here, I'm not going to examine all these papers and documents now. I'm going to cram the whole lot into the bag and be off. We can see what our capture is when we get back to our room."
"Right you are. By George, though, what's that?"
Both stood stock-still and listened. The sound of voices and the tramp of feet upon the stairs was plainly audible.
Max darted an angry look at Dale. In the excitement of the opening of the safe the latter had forgotten that he was on guard at the window, and no doubt this was the result. "You see, Dale?" he cried sharply.
"I'm sorry, old man," replied Dale miserably.
"No matter. Cram these things into the bag while I lock the safe. Mind, not a sound!"
The safe locked, Max sprang noiselessly to the door, replaced the cut-out panels and secured them in position, against anything but a blow or strong pressure, by two or three sharp nails pressed in with his fingers. Flight was out of the question, but it might be possible to make good their escape later on if they could only hide themselves successfully for a little while. For a hiding-place Max had no need to look. He had played at hide-and-seek in that very room with his sister years ago, too often to forget that the best shelter was inside the well of his father's—now the manager's—desk.
The panels replaced, Max knelt down and gently blew away the tell-tale sawdust. Then he turned and eagerly scanned the room. Dale had already packed the bag, and was looking vainly round for a hiding-place.
"Under here—quick!" cried Max, indicating the desk, and in Dale scrambled, dragging the precious bag after him. There was only one thing left which needed to be disposed of, and that was the lantern. Max knew that if he blew it out and hid it under the desk the smell would inevitably betray them. Therefore he took it to the fire-place, blew it out close under the chimney, and instantly thrust it as far up as his arm would reach and lodged it there.
The noise of voices and the tramp of feet had, during the few moments that these preparations had taken, been growing stronger, and the lantern had scarcely been disposed of before the approaching persons halted at the door. The rattle of keys, as someone—no doubt the manager—drew a bunch from his pocket, could now be distinguished, and as Max crawled in under the desk, and packed himself in on top of Dale, the key turned in the lock.
Several men entered, talking together in the German tongue. One voice only Max and Dale recognized, and that, as they expected, belonged to the manager, Otto Schenk.
"... take severe measures against any workman adopting a hostile attitude. Would this meet with approval in Highest quarters?"
"Certainly. You may rest assured, Herr von Schenkendorf, that the Government of His Imperial Majesty has no intention of showing aught but the utmost sternness and rigour towards the whole Belgian population, whether workmen, property owners, or their families."
"Thank you, General."
"Serious consequences have ensued from the unexpected delay caused to our armies by the resistance of the Belgian army, and it is the Belgians who shall be made to pay for it. And to make them pay for it in a literal sense is, as you know, the reason of my presence here now."
"True, General," replied the manager as he switched on the light; "but if I am to develop these works to the utmost, and to support our armies with ample supplies of guns and shells, I must be able to pay my workmen."
"The gold and securities handed over will be replaced by notes of our Imperial Reichsbank or by Belgian paper money, which I have good reason to believe we shall shortly commence to manufacture. You will thus be as well off as before, and the Government will have securities which it can sell in neutral countries."
"Oh, I am not objecting, General! The plan is excellent, and should yield much profit to our country. As for these Belgians, they have brought it on themselves by their foolish obstinacy. Ha, ha! A large part of the securities I am about to hand to you, General, were, by the explicit instructions of the widow of Monsieur Durend, to have been sent into Holland for her use. I thought I could find a better use for them than that, however, and they will doubtless be made to render important service to the Imperial Government. Only two days ago, too, that young English cub, Monsieur Durend's son, attacked me in this room and demanded money for his mother's use. I told him to go and work for her, and sent him about his business."
There was a rumble of laughter, and the desk creaked as one of the officers—there seemed two men beside M. Schenk—sat down on the side of it.
"And what sum will it be, Herr von Schenkendorf? It must be a large one. My Government will expect much from so large and prosperous a business."
"I can give you 1,500,000 marks in money and securities," replied the manager as he drew his keys from his pocket and approached the safe. "If you wish I will hand the sum to your aide-de-camp now."
"I do wish it, Herr von Schenkendorf," replied the officer decisively.
Max and Dale held their breaths in suspense as they heard the key turn in the lock and the door of the safe swing heavily open. There was a sharp exclamation, followed by a dull sound as though the manager had flung himself down on his hands and knees, the better to peer into the inside.
"Mein Gott!" he cried in a strangled voice. "Gone—all gone!"
"No tricks, sir!" cried the general in a rasping voice, getting up suddenly from the desk on which he had been sitting. "I will not be trifled with."
The manager made no reply, but Max could hear him breathing heavily and fancied he caught a groan.
"What is the matter, von Schenkendorf? Have you been robbed?" demanded the officer.
"Yes, General," replied the manager after a pause in which he vainly endeavoured to find his voice. "Mein Gott—yes—robbed! How—I know not. Last evening I left all——"
"Bah! Youaretrifling with me!" cried the officer in a stern voice. "This is altogether too opportune to be the result of accident. I come to you demanding a contribution to His Imperial Majesty's exchequer and you tell me you have just been robbed. I begin to have grave doubts of your faithfulness to our cause."
"General," cried Schenk in a voice which positively trembled with vexation, "General, I assure you that it is a pure coincidence. Never before has the firm been robbed, and how or why it should happen now I do not know. But it shall be fully investigated and I will leave no stone unturned to recover possession of the valuables—be assured of that."
"So! Well, well, you have had a good reputation with our Government in the past and I will let matters rest for the moment," replied the officer in a voice which contained more than a suspicion of a threat. "By the way," he went on suddenly, his voice again taking on a rasping tone, "I am no doubt right in assuming that those siege-gun plans which I handed to you yesterday are in safe custody?"
"I will look after them, General, have no fear," responded Schenk in a voice which made Max, who knew its usually firm tones so well, grasp the bag on which he leaned with a sudden new affection. "I fully realize their vast importance to our common cause."
Apparently the officer also noticed something amiss. "Show me the plans," he replied curtly.
There was a few moments' suspense. Max could hardly suppress his impulse to laugh aloud, for, although he could not see, he could picture without the least difficulty the manager's utter misery and discomfiture.