"I have them not. They were with the valuables locked in the safe," replied Schenk in a stammering voice. "But, General, they shall be recovered. I have agents everywhere, and no efforts shall be spared to recover them."
The officer strode the length of the room and back. Then he sat heavily down again on the side of the manager's desk, cleared his throat, and responded slowly and impressively:
"This matter, Von Schenkendorf, is now beyond my powers. I must report the matter to my Government. Till then you must not move from Liége without my permission."
The manager made no reply.
"This room," the officer went on, "must be kept locked until it has been thoroughly investigated by officers whomIshall send. But you may make such enquiries through your own agents as you think fit. If you succeed, it will, of course, influence matters considerably to your advantage."
"General," replied the manager humbly, "General, I will do so. But let me beg you not to let this one mischance, which might have happened to anyone, wipe out the recollection of my many great services to the State."
"All shall be considered," replied the officer coldly as he strode towards the door. It was obsequiously opened for him, and the three men passed out, the manager locking the door behind them.
"Give me the key," demanded the officer. It was handed over, and the party moved with heavy tread along the passage and down the stairs.
"Now for it, Dale; it's now or never," cried Max in a voice of suppressed eagerness, as he emerged from under the desk the moment the party of Germans moved away along the passage. "If we do not get clear at once I rather think we never shall."
"Yes, we are what you might call 'right on the post' and rowing neck and neck. 'Twill be a near thing whoever wins," replied Dale, again breaking out into rowing jargon, as he was apt to do whenever excited.
"The prize is bigger than you imagine," responded Max, dragging out the bag and glancing quickly about the room. "Could you follow what was said well enough to understand why they rounded on Schenk, or Schenkendorf, as his name seems to be?"
"No, old man, my German isn't nearly equal to the job, especially when I'm submerged in trunks and desks."
"Well, among the papers we've stuffed into this bag are the plans of some special siege-guns the Germans seem to set no small store on. Schenk was just going to wire in making them, by the look of it. We've upset the whole business, and if he isn't under arrest he's very near it. But come along; we must get out of this."
The bottom panels of the door were quickly removed and Max and Dale crawled through, carrying the now doubly precious bag with them. The manager and the two officers had by this time reached the front entrance of the building but appeared to have halted there and to be talking earnestly together. Hastily removing their boots, Max and Dale crept quietly down the stairs to the door of the drawing-office. They paused and listened before opening it, and heard the party at the entrance descend the steps, still talking together, and the scrunch of the gravel under their feet as they strode away. Then, almost immediately, they heard a harsh command and the rapid tramp of feet as the guard turned out at the entrance to the works.
Max whipped open the door of the drawing-office and they entered and closed it behind them. The window through which they had come an hour or two before gaped before them, and they eagerly moved to it and peered out. All seemed clear for the moment, but they could hear men in motion somewhere, and in the passage they had just left they were startled to hear the voice of the manager talking in a peremptory tone to someone, one of the guard they imagined, and the tramp of their feet as they passed the door and began ascending the stairs.
"Quick; jump out," whispered Max, and he assisted his friend to drop as noiselessly as possible to the ground. Then he handed down the bag and lowered himself down after it. In silence and in great trepidation they sped towards the outer walls at the point at which they had entered. Without mishap they helped one another up and over, and fled at the top of their speed towards their lodging. At any moment they feared a general alarm might be sounded, and the truest caution seemed to be to throw caution momentarily to the winds.
They reached the door of their lodging in safety, and as they entered Dale whispered triumphantly to his friend: "We've won the final too. By George we have!"
Day was just beginning to break as the two friends left the town on the northward side and made their way across country towards the Dutch frontier. They carefully avoided the roads, and their progress was slow; but it was sure, and as soon as they were well away from the neighbourhood of the town they regained the roads and made more rapid progress. Before the day was out they reached Maastricht, and Max found his mother and sister safe and sound, though indeed in great distress.
The relief of Madame Durend at the return of her son from beleaguered Liége was intense. The stories told by the numerous refugees from the towns and villages of Belgium were so terrible that she could not be other than most anxious for his safety. Now he had arrived, and had brought, she soon learned, sufficient funds to enable them all to live in comfort and security for a long time.
But it was not until Max and his friend unfolded their story that she fully realized in what peril they had been, and at what cost they had been able to bring the much-needed assistance. Their story was indeed amazing. Schenk a traitor, and Schenk outwitted! Priceless German plans captured, and funds that the enemy had hoped to secure removed from beyond their grasp! Madame Durend could not but be proud of her son's exploits, but it was a pride with many a tremble at the frightful dangers run.
A fuller examination of their captures revealed to Max and Dale how valuable their prize had been, and sent them both hotfoot to the house of the nearest British consul, into whose care they confided the precious plans, with instructions that they wished them handed over to the British War Office without delay.
A statement briefly describing who the captors were, and how thecouphad been brought about, was drawn up and signed, and, in high glee at the shrewd blow struck against Schenk and his Germans, they returned once more to the lodging of Madame and Mademoiselle Durend.
A few days spent there in safety, and almost in idleness, were, however, sufficient to make Max and Dale, and especially the former, restless and dissatisfied with their inactivity. The onward march of the Germans, their terrible unscrupulousness and rapacity, and the tales of the terrific fighting with the English and French vanguards reached their ears and made them long to be doing something, however small, to aid the great cause. Max, in addition, had a constant sense of irritation at the thought that his father's great works were running night and day in the interests of the Germans and to the vast injury of his own countrymen. He could not get away from the feeling that he had a responsibility towards the Durend works—a responsibility which he seemed in honour bound to discharge. This feeling grew and grew until it became so intolerable that he was impelled to announce to his mother that he must, without delay, return to his post in the stricken city.
"But surely you have done enough, Max?" cried Madame Durend, almost in consternation. "You are not yet of man's age, and ought not to think of taking upon yourself such fearful tasks. It is no fault of yours that our property is being used by the Germans. Many other factories and workshops besides ours have been seized, and who can fairly put the blame upon the owners?"
"I know, Mother," replied Max in a quiet voice, and with a far-away look in his eyes. "I know it is no fault of ours. But our workmen—the faithful and real Belgian workmen—are there bearing alone in silence the pain and misery of seeing the great business they helped to create worked to the destruction of their own liberties. They feel nothing so much as the thought that their masters have deserted them, and left them to fight the battle for their land and liberties alone. I must go back and join them, if only to let them know we are with them, hand and foot, heart and soul. I feel, Mother, that so long as one workman still holds out against tyranny and oppression, the owners of the Durend workshops must be by his side to give him both countenance and aid."
Max's voice grew stronger, and thrilled with a deeper and deeper earnestness, as he went on. It was clear to each of his hearers that the guardianship of his father's works had become the one great object and aim of his existence. With such a burning, passionate desire in his heart, it was almost impossible that he could be persuaded to abandon his project if he were not to be rendered miserable for life, and Madame Durend realized almost at once that she dare not attempt it. But the thought of the desperate character of the undertaking made her mother's heart sink with dread.
"I dare not say you nay, Max, my son," she said tremulously, after a long pause, "for I should feel that I was setting my own wishes against what is, perhaps, your duty to your country, and still more your duty to your dear father's name. Go, then—only do not—do not run unnecessary risks. Be as cautious as you can—and come back to me often."
"We will be as cautious as we honourably can, will we not, Dale?" cried Max, appealing to his friend. "It is stratagem that we shall use in making our war—not force. We have thought it all out together, and hope to give a good account of ourselves without giving the Germans a chance to pay us back with usury."
"Yes," replied Dale cheerfully, "we are not going to give the enemy a chance. Why, you have no idea how cautious and full of dodges Max is. He just bristles with 'em, and I think we shall give Schenk and his friends a warm time."
Madame Durend sighed deeply. "It seems terrible to me to think of two such boys returning to that dreadful place to do battle unaided with those men. How I pray that you may come safely back!"
"No fear of that," cried Dale confidently, and Max gazed into his mother's face and nodded reassuringly.
The next day they left the hospitable streets of Maastricht and arrived safely in Liége, still in their disguises as Walloon workmen. A visit to a clever hairdresser before they left had completed their disguise. Their fresh complexions were hidden beneath a stain that darkened the skin to the tints of the swarthiest Walloons of the Liége district.
Max, as he was by far the better known and ran the greater risk of detection, had, in addition, his brown hair dyed a much darker hue and his eyebrows thickened and made to meet in the centre. A few lines skilfully drawn here and there about his face gave him the appearance of a much older man than Dale, and enabled them to pose as brothers aged about twenty-eight and twenty respectively. Their hair was allowed to run wild and mat about their brows and ears; hands and wrists were left, much to their discomfort, to get as grubby as possible, and in the end they were ready to meet the gaze of all as Belgian workmen of the most out-and-out kind.
The necessity for the constant renewal of their various disguises was not overlooked, and the hairdresser was prevailed upon to part with a supply of his dyes and to tell them exactly how and when to apply them.
Max of course could maintain the part of workman to perfection, even if questioned at length, but Dale was under the necessity of answering only in monosyllables, as his knowledge of the language was at present not very great. With Max at his elbow, however, this was not a serious drawback, and neither anticipated any difficulty on that score.
Max was now a broad-shouldered, well-built young fellow of twenty. He was not much above medium height, but his rowing and running at Hawkesley and his hard work in the various shops of the Durend concern had given him a muscular development that most of the real workmen might have envied. His responsibilities as stroke at college, and, later, as the future head of the firm, had given him a self-reliant attitude of mind that was reflected in his bearing, and enabled him to maintain with unconscious ease his sudden increase in years over his more youthful-looking comrade.
Dale was still slim and boyish-looking. He was wiry enough, however, and was, as we have seen, extremely cool and courageous in any tight corner. He was quick, too, and the pair made an ideal couple to hunt together. Had Schenk known that they were bending all their energies to the task of hindering his use of the Durend workshops for the benefit of the Germans he would probably have bestowed more than a passing thought upon them. And had he had an inkling that they were at the bottom of the shrewd blow already dealt him within the sacred precincts of his office he would, no doubt, have spent a sleepless night or two.
The few days that had elapsed since Max and Dale left Liége had already witnessed yet another development in the rapid conversion of the Durend workshops into a first-class manufactory of war material for the German army. A large building on the outskirts of the town had been taken over and converted into a filling-shop, and the shells manufactured within the works were conveyed thither on a miniature railway, and there filled with high-explosive drawn from a factory situated about a mile and a half away, well outside the limits of the town. This new shop was being staffed with men drawn partly from Germany and partly from former workmen of the less determined sort, who were gradually returning to work under stress of hunger.
On Max and Dale applying for work they were promptly drafted to this shop. Fortunately for them, perhaps, the foreman who was now engaging fresh workmen was a man sent from Germany, a bullying, overbearing, Prussian foreman who was expected to bring the methods of the Prussian drill-sergeant to bear upon the poor half-starved wretches applying for work, and to reduce them to a proper state of submission. Max had no difficulty in satisfying the man, especially as he made no demur to working in the night shift. Few workmen cared for the night shift, and the foreman was therefore the more ready to clinch the bargain. Soon Max and Dale were being shown the way to fill the shells and finish them off, ready to be sent on their mission of destruction.
"Things couldn't have happened better, Dale," remarked Max at the first opportunity.
"Why, Max? We are safe inside; is that what you mean?"
"Not exactly. What I mean is our being sent to the filling-shops. It's no end of a piece of luck."
"Ah, I see! You are thinking of wrecking the place, eh?"
"Possibly, later on. But what I mean is that for our plans we need explosives, and plenty of them. Well, here they are, ready to hand, and all we have to do for a start is to get what we want away unseen."
"Aye; accumulate a store of our own ready for the day we want them?"
"Yes; the best place to attack we can settle later. In fact we may have to seize our opportunities as they come along."
"The best places to choose are these filling-shops, old man. Heaps of explosives about, and, although they watch everyone pretty closely, we ought to get a chance before long. If this place were blown sky-high it would damage a lot of the other shops, and probably get Schenk the sack. He seems to have got over that other affair all right."
"Yes, but I can't bring myself to blow up this great place with all the workmen in it, Germans or renegade Belgians though they are. I want to cripple the works, not kill the work-people."
"Don't see much in your scruples, Max. If we don't kill them they are left to go on sending shells out to kill our men."
"True, old man, but all the same I should like, if I can, to do the business without causing any loss of life among the workmen. There is the power-house now. If we could wreck that we should bring the whole of the works to an absolute standstill."
"Phew! Yes. Well, and why shouldn't we?"
"I've been thinking, and I believe we ought to be able to do it. Of course you know there is a soldier always posted at each entrance?"
"We must dispose of him—that's all."
"Or else we must get jobs as stokers. But enough of this—see that man coming along there eyeing the benches?"
"Yes."
"I believe he's a spy. He is really looking more at the men than at the benches. We must be very careful, or one of those fellows will get in our way."
"It will be the worse for him," muttered Dale under his breath, as he went on with his work with redoubled energy.
"And for us too," replied Max, lifting a heavy shell with an ease that many of the regular workmen, practised though they were, could not have excelled.
The man stopped when he reached the bench on which Max and Dale were working. "Where are you from?" he enquired sharply, in very indifferent Walloon.
"Yonder," replied Max, nodding towards the poorer quarter of the town. "Back of Rue Gheude."
"You're a Belgian, eh?"
"Yes," admitted Max with an appearance of reluctance.
"Why do you come here to work? Many of your countrymen refuse to work."
"One must live," replied Max sullenly. Then he went on in an angry tone: "We have been deserted and left to starve. Why shouldn't we work? They should protect us, these French and English, if they want us to remain on their side. Are we to let our little ones perish for their sakes?"
"You are right, my friend," replied the man approvingly. "These English and Frenchmen care naught so long as their country is safe. Why should Belgians fight their battles for them? No, no, my friend."
Max nodded and turned back to his work. The man watched him for a minute or two and then continued on his way along the shop, scarcely glancing at Dale, who was to all appearances too engrossed in his work to pay much attention to what was going on about him.
"End of round No. 1," whispered Max to his friend. "We've got the better of Mr. Ferret so far, but I fear we shall have trouble in getting many live shells away from under the noses of him and his tribe."
"We shall do it," replied Dale confidently. "We may get the job of loading them up on the lorries presently and find an opportunity. If the worst comes to the worst we must carry medium-sized ones away one by one in our folded coats."
"H'm!" grunted Max. "We must find a safer way than that I fancy. I doubt if our ferret friends would let us do much of that sort of thing."
Dale shrugged his shoulders in contempt of the whole of the spy crew, and the conversation dropped.
For some two weeks Max and Dale worked in the filling-shops, observing the routine and making careful note of every circumstance that seemed to offer a chance of making off with supplies of finished shells. They soon found that they had reason to congratulate themselves upon having joined the night shift. Max had accepted the foreman's offer of the night shift for two reasons: first, because he thought that their disguises were less likely to be penetrated in artificial light, and, secondly, because they might reasonably expect to be quite safe during their journeys to and fro in the dark. But he found that an even greater advantage to their projects lay in the fact that the shop was only half manned at night, the work, and especially the supervision, were less efficient, and the yards, while well lighted, contained plenty of deep shadows suited to shelter those on dubious errands.
As soon as he could, Max got into touch with his friend Dubec and the workmen who had remained faithful to their country's cause. He had brought ample funds with him from the moneys recovered from the firm, and hoped to relieve any who might be in acute distress. He soon found plenty of outlet for his funds, for the men who refused to work in the shops were drawing terribly near the edge of starvation.
As Max had expected, the knowledge that their employers were standing by them, and were ready to aid them at every opportunity, greatly heartened the men, and a small but loyal band steadily refused to work, and fought a gallant battle with starvation in the cause of their country's freedom. Between Max and these men an unbreakable, unforgettable bond of union was gradually forged; and several times, to their unbounded delight, he was able to use them in furthering his projects. He found them particularly useful in obtaining information and in keeping watch over the movements of M. Schenk and his numerous spies. Patriotism, resentment at their sufferings, and hatred of Schenk, all combined to render them zealous auxiliaries, and lightened, in some measure at least, the heavy task fate seemed to have cast upon Max's own shoulders.
Some three weeks after Max and Dale had so unobtrusively re-entered the Durend works, their plans were laid and their preparations complete. Eight large shells had been carried off one by one and secreted in a hole in the bank of the Meuse, at a spot where it was well shaded by thick bushes. The power-house had been carefully reconnoitred, and the times and habits of the men and of the sentries carefully noted. The bulk of the great engines which provided the power required to run the various workshops were underground, and all the approaches to the building were commanded by two sentries stationed at opposite corners.
The success of their enterprise was dependent upon one of these sentries being put out of action for some minutes. This was no easy matter, but by dint of much discussion and careful observation they reached the conclusion that it could be done; and, better still, done so that no alarm need be given.
A Sunday night was fixed for the attempt, because Max and Dale had never worked on Sundays, and their absence would not therefore be likely to arouse any subsequent suspicion that they had had anything to do with the matter. Moreover, all departments of the works were run on reduced staffs, and the staff of the power-house was reduced proportionately. The loss of life which both Max and Dale feared might ensue from the realization of their plans was thus brought to a minimum.
Shortly after midnight, Max, Dale, and Dubec made their way silently to the little cache of shells in the river bank, and began transporting them to a point as near the power-house as they could expect to get without attracting notice. There was a bright moon, but there were also clouds, and they patiently bided their time, and moved only when the moon was obscured. It was one o'clock before the whole of the shells had been transported within easy reach of the power-house.
The sentries were changed at two o'clock, and Max and Dale waited only until this had been completed. Then they drew near, and took a long look at the sentry upon the least-exposed corner of the building. He was a young fellow, and while not looking particularly alert, yet seemed fully alive to his duties and determined to carry them out. As has already been explained, he was posted at a corner of the building, and could command a view of two sides. One of these sides was flooded with the light of the moon, but the other was in shadow, except at intervals where it was cut by the light from the windows of the power-house, which were here on a level with the ground.
After a whispered word or two, Dale left Max and worked his way round until he was near the side of the building which was in shadow. Watching his chance, he slipped into the shadow at a moment when the sentry was gazing the other way. Max now retreated some distance, and then began boldly advancing towards the building, his feet crunching heavily into the gravel and giving the sentry every warning of his approach. The sentry watched him with lazy indifference, but, as he drew near, lifted rifle and bayonet and challenged.
"Who comes there?"
"A workman with message to the engineer," responded Max in a casual voice, slackening his pace and coming to a stop a few paces away.
"Pass," replied the sentry indifferently, letting the butt of his rifle drop again to the ground. Max slouched on again, directing his steps so that he would pass just in front of the young soldier.
The sentry idly watched the supposed workman, who slouched along gazing at the ground in front of him in the most stolid fashion. Just as he was on the point of passing the sentry, however, he shot out a hand, seized the man's rifle, and tore it from his grasp.
Simultaneously a hand appeared from behind, and a cloth was clapped over the soldier's nose and mouth and held firmly in position, while another hand and arm grasped him round the middle.
Noiselessly grounding the captured rifle, Max in his turn sprang upon the sentry and wound both his arms about him, crushing his arms to his side and preparing to subdue his wildest struggles. Almost immediately, however, the man's muscles relaxed, as the chloroform, with which the cloth had been sprinkled, took effect, and Max and Dale lowered him to the ground.
"Now, Dale, off with his tunic and helmet and put them on," cried Max rapidly. "Then take his rifle and stand on guard. All is well, and I believe we shall win through without a hitch."
Dale did as he was bidden. The soldier's tunic and helmet were removed, and his body was dragged into the shadow close to the wall of the building. Then Max walked quickly back to the spot where the shells had been deposited. Here Dubec crouched in readiness.
"Bring them along," whispered Max. "The sentry is disposed of, and we ought to meet with no interruption."
"'Twas splendidly done," replied Dubec with enthusiasm. "The man seemed to be overcome as though by magic, and I heard scarce a sound."
In three trips the shells were transported to the power-house and laid along the wall. Then Max went to one of the windows and looked in.
The power-house was largely underground, and the windows, which ran around all sides on a level with the ground at intervals of about six feet, were high above the great boilers. In fact, as Max gazed down he had a bird's-eye view of the interior, and could see workmen flitting to and fro, stoking the great furnaces in blissful ignorance of the fact that a bolt which might destroy them with their engines was on the point of being shot.
Drawing back his head, Max drew a bomb of his own manufacture from his pocket and lit the fuse. Then he leaned through the window, and, shading his mouth with his hands so that his words might carry downwards and be heard above the roar of the engines, cried in quick, urgent, warning tones:
"Fly for your lives—the engine-house is being blown up! Fly! fly! fly!"
The workmen looked up, startled, and into their midst Max flung his bomb. The men scattered to right and left, and a second or two later it burst with a splutter, sending out a great puff of white, pungent smoke. It was quite harmless, but the men did not know that, and a great cry of alarm went up and a terrific stampede began towards the nearest exit.
"Now, Dubec," cried Max energetically, "light the fuses and fling them in. It matters little where they fall so long as we cover a wide area."
In a few seconds the shells had been flung down into the power-house, right in among the boilers and machinery. Then the two men took to their heels and fled, followed by Dale, who had already divested himself of his borrowed plumes and donned his own.
The success of their enterprise was complete. Hardly had they got clear of the building before a series of heavy explosions occurred in the interior of the power-house, followed by the upward burst of great clouds of smoke and steam. Instantly all the lights in the whole of the Durend workshops and the great lights in the yard went out, and the roar of machinery slackened and gradually ceased. The entire works were at a standstill, and the whirr of lathes and clink of hammers were succeeded by shouts of alarm from the thousands of workmen as they poured excitedly out into the open air.
The alarm and excitement were not decreased when, almost immediately, there was a great outburst of flame in one of the large workshops devoted to the building of the bodies of railway carriages and trucks, and the chassis of motorcars. With extraordinary rapidity the flames leapt up from floor to floor, until the great yards in the vicinity, a moment before plunged in blackness by the destruction of the electric-light plant, were again as light as day.
"See that, Max?" whispered Dale in an awestruck voice as the flames leaped up. "Surely our raid on the power-house cannot have done that?"
"I expect that something was upset in the mad rush for the doors. The place is full of inflammables, and they will never get the fire out—you see."
The scene was of absorbing interest, and Max and Dale and the faithful Dubec mingled with the crowds of excited workmen and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Alarm-bells were sounding and bugle-calls ringing in all directions, and in a few minutes two or three engines dashed into the yard and began a hopeless fight against the raging fire. Max and his friends continued to gaze on at the exciting scene until the former was recalled to himself by the heavy tramp of what seemed to be detachments of soldiers outside the walls of the yard.
"Listen, Dale, I can hear a lot of troops marching outside. I don't think their presence bodes any good, and I think we had better be off. The Germans will be most awfully savage, and will be firing on the mob, or something of the sort."
"Shouldn't wonder, old man. Well, we've done enough for one night, so let us join this crowd and leave by the main entrance."
A number of workmen, who were probably of the same mind as Max and did not like the look of things, were moving towards the gates, and to these our three friends joined themselves. On reaching the gates, however, the whole party came to a standstill. The gates were closed, and a dozen soldiers with fixed bayonets stood on guard in front of them.
"We made a mistake, Dale, in not getting away at once," whispered Max. "We shall have trouble now, you may be sure."
As he spoke, the gates were opened and a motorcar drove through. It contained the manager, M. Schenk, and two officers, and came to a stand on the outskirts of the crowd collected at the gates. The manager immediately stood up in the car and addressed the crowd in such stern and peremptory tones that it would have seemed fitter, Max thought, had the words been uttered by one of the officers at his side.
"Listen, men. A dastardly outrage has just been committed in these works, and I am determined to bring the guilty ones to justice. I shall allow no one to leave until he has been thoroughly examined, however long it may take. Stand aside, therefore, and await your call quietly, or I shall have recourse to sterner measures."
The car moved on, and the workmen addressed stopped obediently where they were and began discussing the affair in low, excited tones.
"This sort of thing won't suit us, Dale," whispered Max, as he edged out of the crowd and began moving away from the gates. "Examinations are not a strong point with us at present."
"No, we require to study a little more—in strict seclusion," replied Dale in the same spirit, as they got away from the crowd into the blackness between a long workshop at a distance from the burning building and the outer walls.
"Where now, Master," asked Dubec, looking at Max enquiringly as the three came to an involuntary halt.
"Over the walls and away, I think. We have done enough for one night, and I fancy Schenk will think so too—eh, Dale?"
"Aye, and say so, if ever he gets the chance," replied the latter.
The party moved to the walls at the darkest point they could find and prepared to clamber over. The wall was here nearly ten feet high, and it was necessary for Dubec to plant himself against it and allow Max, assisted by Dale, to climb on his back. He could then help Dale up also before clambering on to the top. The rest would be easy enough. But a rude awakening was in store for them, for Max had no sooner put his head above the wall than he was greeted by a rifle-shot from the road below, and a bullet whizzed close overhead.
"Down, Max, down!" cried Dale, clutching at his friend in sudden consternation.
"I'm all right, old man," replied Max, who, needless to say, had lost no time in bobbing down below the level of the wall. "But we can't get over here," he added as he lowered himself gently to the ground. Dale followed suit, and the three men stood at the foot of the wall and anxiously debated their next move.
"It is pretty clear," Max summed up, "that the Germans have put a cordon of soldiers all about the works, and clearer still"—a little ruefully this—"that their orders are to shoot first and make enquiries afterwards."
"We must chance it and try to get over somewhere," responded Dale.
"No—too risky. The moment we top the wall we show up plainly against the light of the fire behind us. We should be noticed at once. We must try another plan."
"What's that?"
"The river."
"Ah—swim across?"
"Yes—or, better still, float down until we get beyond the roads about the works."
"But what about Dubec? Can he swim?"
"I don't suppose so. Can you, Monsieur Dubec?"
The answer was a decided negative, and Max went on: "But it doesn't matter. Dubec doesn't need to leave in the unorthodox way that Schenk has forced upon us. He is abona fideworkman, and has been working in the shops for the last three days. He is safe enough."
It was so arranged, and soon the party had gained the shelter of the bushes at the spot where their stock of shells had been hidden. Max and Dale then waded waist-deep into the Meuse, and, with a whispered farewell to M. Dubec, allowed themselves to float down with the stream. For some yards out the edge of the river was in deep shadow from the bank, and beyond a gentle movement of the hands to keep them within its shelter, the two lads let themselves drift at will. The water was warm and they felt no discomfort, and in half an hour they were beyond what they considered the danger zone. Clambering out of the river, they wrung as much of the water as possible out of their clothes and made rapid tracks for their lodging.
As was to be expected, the destruction of the power-house and the burning of one of the largest workshops at the Durend works created a great sensation among both the Germans and the Liégeois. The former looked upon it, rightly enough, as a determined attempt to interfere with their exploitation of the manufacturing resources of the city for the benefit of the invading armies; the latter, as a patriotic and successful demonstration of the hatred of the Belgians for their temporary masters and of their determination to hinder them by every means in their power. It gave the spirit of the people a fillip, and, despite the redoubled severity of the Germans, the Liégeois went about their businesses with a prouder air, as if conscious that, though temporarily overcome, they were very far from being beaten.
On attending for work on the following evening, at the usual hour, Max and Dale were curtly informed that they would not be required for another week at least. They had expected this, of course, and were only disappointed that the holiday was likely to be so short. They had hoped that the works would be out of action for at least three weeks. But the manager had set to work with his usual energy. Engines were being requisitioned from other factories in the town, not engaged in the manufacture of war supplies, and repairs to those less seriously damaged were going on with shifts of fresh workmen night and day.
It was nearly a fortnight, however, before the works were again in full swing, or would have been in full swing had not other events occurred to hinder the complete resumption of business. That fortnight Max considered as a specially favourable opportunity for paying further attention to M. Schenk and his many activities. It meant that the various workshops were empty, save for two or three watchmen, and that groups of workmen were necessarily hanging about the premises, idly watching the proceedings and waiting for the time when they could recommence work. The first meant opportunities that would not occur when the workshops were in full swing, and the second that the prowling of Max and his friends would be the less likely to attract notice.
One of the first things that caught the attention of Max and Dale was the rapid accumulation of great stocks of coal outside the yard, owing to the enforced idleness of the power-house. The Durend mines were, of course, unaffected by the stoppage of the workshops, and coal was sent up to the surface with the same regularity as before. In fact, the rate of production was accelerated, as numbers of the workmen thrown out of employment by the closing of the workshops applied for work at the collieries. Thus the stores of coal grew and grew, from stacks of the moderate dimensions (for the Durend Company) of 2000 or 3000 tons, to great piles of 10,000 and finally 24,000 tons. Then came a rumour that, as soon as trucks were available, the accumulation was to be transported into Germany and, worse still, to Krupp's.
This was enough to set Max and Dale discussing the matter with anxious care. To the former it was as intolerable that the Durend mines should produce coal for Krupp's as it was that the Durend workshops should cast shells for the German guns. And yet it was no easy matter to devise means of dealing with a great mass of coal. Obviously, it could not be carried off, and to blow it up was hardly practicable. However, after much discussion, it was decided that an attempt should be made to burn it. It certainly did not seem a very hopeful scheme, seeing the number of fire-engines that were close at hand in the city and the unlimited supply of water in the River Meuse. But to Max and Dale anything seemed better than to do nothing in such a matter, and they determined to make the attempt.
For materials all they needed was a good supply of firewood, a gallon or two of benzine, and some fuses.
The coal stacks were situated on a piece of waste land outside, but adjoining, the walled-in enclosure of the Durend works. They were accessible on all sides, but a watchman was always on guard to see that none of the coal was stolen. This man patrolled round and round the stacks, keeping a look-out for suspicious characters, especially, of course, any bearing sacks or baskets which might be used to contain coal.
It was in the middle of the night that Max and Dale, accompanied by the faithful Dubec, appeared on the scene. The last was carrying a bulky sack filled with firewood, Max bore a two-gallon tin of benzine, and Dale a dummy sack which appeared to be full, but which, as a matter of fact, contained only a light framework of wood designed to fill it out.
Dale's part of the performance began first. Waiting until the watchman had passed, he flitted across the road to the coal stack. Then he gave the stack a kick which sent a number of loose pieces of coal rattling to the ground. The watchman stopped instantly, and without more ado Dale turned and bolted down the road in full view.
As was expected, the watchman immediately gave chase, and in a couple of minutes both men had disappeared from the scene.
Max and Dubec now emerged, and lost no time in getting to work. They crossed the road to the end of the stack where, in the morning, work would be resumed. There they made four caches of wood close against the stack, covered them over with loose coal, and deluged the pile with benzine. From these caches fuses were laid upward to the top of the stack, and the whole covered over with more coal.
Long before the watchman had crawled back, grumbling and exhausted from his long chase after a thief who carried a great bag of coal with an ease that seemed extraordinary, the two other conspirators had disappeared from the scene. An hour later they rejoined Dale and spent half an hour in laughing over his recital of the way in which he had led the man farther and farther afield by pretending to be always on the point of dropping from fatigue.
The next day Dubec spent in watching the stacking of further supplies of coal. The caches of firewood, he reported, had not been noticed, and by the end of the day another 1200 tons of coal had been dumped against the stack, completely enclosing them. For one day more Max held his hand, while he worked at another scheme that was slowly maturing. Then, immediately after nightfall, he crept to the stack, and, watching his opportunity, clambered carefully to the top and lit the three fuses.
The smell presently told him that the fires had caught, and he crept away, satisfied that on the morrow there would be something of a hubbub, even if no very considerable damage resulted.
It was with the idea of watching developments that Max and Dale applied for work at the depots next day. They hoped to witness amusing and exhilarating scenes, and to get as near to the spot as possible they gladly offered to shovel coal. Their offer was accepted and they were soon at work transporting coal and shovelling it on to the stacks.
They soon experienced a sense of disappointment. Instead of finding the stacks enveloped in smoke, and all work suspended for the day, as they expected, they discovered that work was going on as usual and nothing seemed amiss.
"Seems to have been a frost, Max," grumbled Dale discontentedly. "All our trouble and brain-fag gone for nothing."
"I thought so at first, Dale, but I'm not so sure now. See that light haze yonder? It may be the fires have caught all right but are burning out for lack of draught. Let's hope they've done a bit of damage anyhow!"
"H'm!" grunted Dale in a tone of discouragement.
"Besides," Max went on, "this is only a small affair. The next real attack will come in a day or two, and I hope there will be no failure there."
"No," replied Dale, brightening up, "if that comes off we shall have done something worth doing. Schenk will be ready to tear his hair, and we shall have to look out for ourselves."
"Well, so we will. We shall deserve a rest, and we will retire into obscurity for a season and recuperate. Another ramble in the Ardennes would suit us well."
"Especially with a little shooting thrown in—Uhlans, I mean," replied Dale facetiously.
"There will be plenty of scouting, if not shooting, if all the tales we hear of those gentlemen be true."
"Aye—but see, Max, how that smoky haze is getting thicker! The pile must be alight all right after all."
The light fleecy smoke which hovered over the great stack certainly seemed denser than it was, and a slight smell of burning was in the air. The other workmen had also noticed it, and hazarded conjectures as to whence it came, but none of them got very near the mark. All day the smoke increased, until, by the time the men ceased work, it lay like a thick fog all about the neighbourhood.
Max and Dale returned to their lodging in high glee, and their joy was not diminished when they noticed that the wind was beginning to freshen up.
"This ought to finish the business, Dale," remarked Max. "With a high wind all night, if the fire doesn't get into its stride it never will."
Soon after daybreak the shrill notes of a bugle in several quarters of the town and the ringing of fire-bells told our heroes that something unusual was afoot. They guessed, or rather hoped, that it might be on their account, and dressed and sallied out as quickly as they could. Sure enough, an enormous pall of smoke, that a volcano in full eruption need not have disowned, lay in the air in the direction of the Durend coal-yards. Fire engines were hurrying to the scene from all parts of the town, and the hoped-for hubbub seemed to have arrived.
"This is worth a little trouble," remarked Dale with intense relish as they drew near the burning stack and saw hundreds of soldiers and firemen hovering actively about the spot.
"Yes, but we may as well take a little more trouble and do the thing in style," responded Max coolly. "Let us follow these hoses to the river bank and see whether there is anything doing."
They did so, and, finding that the hoses entered the water at a point where a patch or two of short scrubby bushes gave cover against chance watchers, they passed on and struck the bank again a hundred yards farther on. Then they disappeared from view, and, crawling along under cover of the bushes, they reached the hoses, and with a dozen rapid slashes of their clasp-knives effectually put them out of action.
An extraordinary hubbub ensued. Soldiers and firemen rushed about in all directions, chasing away every unfortunate civilian who had had the temerity to approach the scene of the fire. In the confusion Max and Dale had no difficulty in escaping, and retired to the hills, there to gloat over the further efforts made to fight the fire, which seemed only to grow fiercer as hundreds of gallons of water were pumped upon it. It was two days before the fire was completely subdued, and the net result from a material point of view was that at least 10,000 tons of coal had been destroyed and the project of transporting coal to Krupp's effectually quashed. From the point of view ofmoral, the Germans were the laughing-stock of the town; they were deeply enraged and the townsfolk proportionately delighted.
To Max Durend the successful raid on the coal-yards was only the prelude to the main performance. His mind was bent wholly towards one great object, and that was to prevent, by every means in his power, the exploitation of his father's great works by the enemies of his country. The coal-yard incident, as he termed it, was satisfactory so far as it went, but gave his mind no real relief such as had resulted from the recovery of part of the firm's monetary resources and the destruction of the power-house. The next affair, which, as has been hinted, was already well in hand, was more important and was an attempt to damage, if not destroy, some of the great machines installed for the production of rifles and machine-guns.
The largest workshop in the yard was devoted to this and a few other of the more delicate kinds of work, and it seemed to Max that the greatest amount of injury might be inflicted upon the Germans by an attempt on this shop. The works were still at a standstill, though it was fairly evident that they would not be so for much longer. The attempt ought, therefore, to be made within the few following days.
The plan was simplicity itself. It merely provided for Max and Dale to enter the workshop during the night and to work as much mischief among the machines as they could, consistently with the need for silence and the avoidance or silencing of the watchmen. For some days they had kept the place under close observation, and noted the hours and habits of the watchmen and the sentinels at either end of the building until they knew them as well as the men themselves.
Dubec they would not bring with them. He was eager to come, but the work required alertness and lightness of hand and foot rather than strength, and for this he would have been of no use. Besides, the two lads, keen as they were on their self-imposed tasks, were not unmindful of the fact that he had a wife and children to mourn him should the venture come to grief.
All, however, seemed to go well. Max and Dale succeeded in effecting an entrance into the ground floor of the workshop after they had seen the watchman, by the glint of his lamp, make his midnight round. The two soldiers—one at each end of the building—saw nothing and heard nothing, of that they were assured. Without delay, therefore, for in a little over an hour the watchman would be back from his rounds upon the upper floors, they proceeded to put out of action the more valuable and more complicated machines in the building. It was necessary, of course, that they should be almost silent; so their mode of procedure was to muffle up in an old blanket the most delicate and fragile parts of the machines before smashing them with a heavy hammer well swathed in flannel wrappings.
The machines dealt with first were those farthest from the route that would be taken by the watchman on his next round. Consequently, when he came, he passed along swinging his lantern in utter ignorance that anything was amiss, or that two men lay in ambush close at hand, ready to spring upon him should he suspect anything wrong and pause to investigate. As soon as he had passed out of ear-shot the two recommenced their work with redoubled energy, and some two and a half hours were thus consumed in work that utterly spoiled a large proportion of the valuable machines which filled the great workshop.
Skilful, vigilant, and almost silent as they had been, they were yet after all caught napping. How or by whom they never knew, until, some time after, Dubec told them of a tale that was going the round among the workmen to the effect that one of Schenk's hired ferrets had all the time been hidden on the upper floor. Strange to say, he had been there not so much to deal with disaffected workmen—the sentinels were expected to do that—as to spy upon the watchmen themselves. The story seemed to fit in well with what Max knew of Schenk's character, and he accepted it as in all probability true. At any rate, neither Max nor Dale dreamed that aught was amiss until the latter heard the sound of marching outside, and that upon an unusual scale. He slid quickly to the nearest window and peeped out.
"We're done, Max!" he cried soberly. "Scores of soldiers, and they look to be forming a cordon right round the building."
"Are you sure?" Max cried incredulously, hurrying to a window on the opposite side of the block. One glance was enough to show that a strong cordon of soldiers was being drawn—nay, to all appearances was already drawn—all round the workshop. The soldiers faced inwards, and stood with bayonets fixed, as though prepared for an attempt at escape from some body of men caught within their armed circle.
"We've been seen, Jack, old man!" cried Max, coming back to the side of his friend. "It's all up, I fear. They've made up their minds they've got us, and do not intend to let us slip. I'm so sorry, old man, you should have been mixed up in this. It's really not your quarrel, but mine."
There was a new note in Max's voice, one his friend had never heard before, and it was with something suspiciously like a break in his own that Dale replied as he seized and wrung his hand: "Don't say another word, Max. It's my affair too, and I won't have you blame yourself on my account. We've simply fought for our country, and have now got to die for it—that's all."
For a moment or two the friends stood silent, grasping one another's hands. That moment they were indeed friends, and each would cheerfully have given up his own life to save the other. Then the ruling thought which still swayed Max's mind asserted itself once more.
"It seems so, Dale. Well, then, let us die to some good purpose. Here we have under our hands the most valuable of the workshops filched from us. It is only partly out of action. Let us complete the good work, and we shall at least have deserved well of our country."
"Aye; but how so?"
"Let us burn it down."
"With us in it?"
"Aye, if need be. But if we will we can always sally out and exchange that fate for the bayonet's point."
Dale gazed at his friend in undisguised admiration. "You are a terror, Max," he said slowly. "These old works are your very life-blood, and I believe you would go through fire and water to keep the Germans out of 'em."
"So I would," replied Max with conviction, as he coolly reached down a great can of lubricating-oil and poured it over the floor and upon a pile of wooden cases close by. "Well, if you are game—and I know you are—let us scatter all the oil and stuff we can find about the place and set fire to it. They'll never get it out."
"Right you are, Stroke. It's the final, and we must make a win of it. What would Hawkesley's think if they could see us—or Benson's?"
"Dale," cried Max, with sudden and deeper earnestness, "d'ye know, I believe this is what we were really training for during all those gruelling races. It was not for nothing we slogged away there day after day, learning to conquer disappointment and defeat. No; it was to know how to serve our country here."
"I believe you—and we will."
"Hark! I think I can hear soldiers on the floor below. Look out! I am going to set a light to this pile of cases. Get ready to run. I fancy it will spread like wildfire."
A match was applied, and flames leapt up and spread with a rapidity that would have terrified anyone less absorbed or less determined than our two heroes. The flames flew along the floor and benches, and Max and Dale retreated down the room, overturning all the cans of oil and grease they could find, and making it an easy matter for the fire to catch and hold. The smoke, driven along in front of the flames, quickly became so intolerable that they had to fly for relief to the staircase at the farther end of the building.
Outside the workshop the burst of flame was the signal for a loud yell of execration, mingled with cries of warning to the soldiers who had entered the building in search of the hostile workmen reported there. The soldiers trooped noisily out and joined the cordon still drawn about the burning building. Messengers were dispatched to the fire-stations, and in a few minutes a couple of engines arrived and set to work to fight the flames. But though they were expeditious in arriving, the firemen were not equally expeditious in getting their hoses effectually trained upon the building. For one thing, the river had been largely relied upon to furnish a water-supply, and no hydrants were close at hand. Consequently the hoses had to be carried a great distance, and as the yards were still in darkness, save for the lurid light shed by the burning building, the hoses were badly exposed to the attentions of any hostile workman who happened to be near the scene.
Dubec "happened" to be there, with two or three other men animated by out-and-out hostility to the Germans, and waged fierce war upon the hoses at every point at which they lay in shadow. By the time the officer commanding the troops had awakened to the situation, the hoses had been completely ruined, and the fighting of the flames delayed until fresh ones could be brought to the spot.
In the meantime Max and Dale had ceased their efforts to extend the fire, and had retreated to one of the stone staircases situated at each end of the building. There was, in fact, little more to be done, for the fire had got firm hold, and it seemed certain that the whole building was doomed. The end by the staircase was almost free from smoke, and Max and Dale lingered there while awaiting the moment when they should be compelled to choose between death by burning or by the bayonets of the German soldiers. They fell somewhat quiet during those moments, and when they talked it was of the good old glorious times they had spent together. Presently Max's ear caught the sound of someone ascending the stairs.
"Someone—a fireman, I suppose—is coming up the stairs, Dale."
"What shall we do with him? Give him his quietus? I still have my hammer."
"No—get in the corner here and watch what he's after. It won't help us to hurt him."
The man moved on up the stairs until he passed by the spot where Max and Dale were in ambush. He was a fireman, and his object seemed to be to find out at close quarters the extent and power of the fire. As the man passed him, Max had a sudden idea.
"We must attack him after all, Dale," he whispered. "Come—help me so that no alarm is raised. I will tell you why in a moment."
Sheltered by the fitful light and occasional gusts of rolling smoke, it was an easy matter to creep upon the fireman unawares and to bring him to the ground stunned and helpless. That accomplished, Max immediately proceeded to remove the man's tunic and helmet. Dale then understood—it was to be the ruse of the sham sentry outside the power-house over again.
"Now put them on, Dale," cried Max rapidly. "You can then go boldly down and out to the cordon of soldiers. They will let you through without question."
"Not I," replied Dale sturdily. "I'm not going to leave you like that. What will become of you, I should like to know?"
"I shall be all right. When the next fireman comes along I shall do the same. Now, go ahead, and don't delay."
"No," replied Dale decidedly. "I'll not do it, Max. We will wait for the next fireman together ifyouwill not don the suit."
"Dale—you will do as you are told!" cried Max, roused to sudden anger by his friend's unexpected obstinacy. "I am Stroke of this crew—not you."
"I know you are, but you are asking too much when you want me to leave the boat. Besides, I should never get through. I can't muster up nearly enough German. You put them on, old man—it's no use staying here when you might escape."
"You shall suffer for this, Dale, upon my word you shall," cried Max angrily, as he savagely thrust himself into the tunic, buckled on the belt and axe, and donned the great helmet. "But if you think I am going without you you are badly mistaken. Come downstairs, near the entrance, and I will tell you what I propose."
The two lads descended the stairs, bearing the unconscious fireman between them—for they could not bring themselves to leave him there to burn—until they reached the entrance to the building. There they deposited him just inside the door, in such a position that the first man entering would be sure to stumble over him.
Outside several engines were now in full swing pumping water into the first floor, which was burning furiously from end to end. The fire had spread to the upper floors, and the ground floor had begun to catch in several places. The whole workshop, indeed, seemed doomed to complete destruction, for the fire had obtained such firm hold that the engines seemed to make little impression upon it. From the shouts of the Germans it was clear that they were greatly enraged, and it was perfectly certain that the shrift of the authors of the fire, if they were caught, would be an exceedingly short one.
"Halt here for a moment, Dale, while I tell you what I propose. It is a desperate venture, but if you are still going to be obstinate it is all I can think of, and we might just as well try it as throw our lives away."
"I'm absolutely obdurate, Max. I'm not going to be saved at your expense, so go ahead with your venture."
"Well—it's this. I am going to sally out, wearing the fireman's uniform and carrying you in my arms. You are to feign unconsciousness. The idea is that you have been badly hurt, and I am carrying you out of reach of the fire. I have some hope that in my fireman's garb and with my blackened face they will let me pass."
"All right—it sounds good enough, Max. At any rate, we shall keep together—whether we sink or swim."
"Come along, then," replied Max briskly, stooping down and lifting Dale in his arms. "Let your head fall back and look as lifeless as you can. It's now or never—absolutely."
The cordon of soldiers with fixed bayonets, outside, suddenly saw the fireman—apparently the man who had entered the building a few minutes before—reappear, bearing in his arms the limp figure of a man rescued from the flames. The fireman strode straight out towards them, and as he reached them the men opened to right and left and let him pass through. A non-commissioned officer followed him.
"What have you there, fireman?" he asked, as he endeavoured to catch a glimpse of the blackened face that hung so limply down. "Is the man dead?"
"No—he still lives," replied Max, moving on without checking his pace. Other people were coming up, and his one thought was to get beyond the circle of light cast by the great fire before taking action.
"Set the man down here while I give him a drain from my flask. You must not take him away until my officer has seen him."
"One moment—here is a bank against which I can lean him," replied Max, still moving steadily away. He could see the non-commissioned officer was getting impatient, if not suspicious, and whispered to Dale: "I am going to set you down. Directly your feet touch ground, bolt for the river. I will follow and be there as soon as you; but don't wait for me.Now!"
As he spoke, Max slowly lowered Dale to the ground. The soldier was close by, but none else was within some yards. They were beyond the circle of bright light cast by the fire, and a few yards would take them into darkness, which was pitchy to anyone coming from the vicinity of the fire. The chance of escape was good, and Max, the time for resolute action at hand, felt his heart bound with fresh hope and energy.
The moment Dale's feet were on the ground Max gave him a push in the direction of the river and off he flew. Almost simultaneously Max seized his helmet and dashed it in the face of the soldier, who had raised a shout of alarm and was on the point of chasing Dale. The sudden blow disconcerted the man, and he hung in the wind for a moment. The supposed injured man might be an enemy, but it was certain this aggressive fireman was one, and, as Max darted off, the soldier turned, lifted his rifle, and aimed a shot at him.
Max had little fear of the man's rifle. It was too dark, and he was moving too rapidly and erratically, for anyone to take good aim. The bullet passed wide of the mark, and the soldier, realizing his mistake in not pursuing at once, instead of wasting precious moments in firing, put his rifle at the trail and rushed madly after, shouting to his comrades and all who might be within hearing that a spy was on the point of escaping.
Max knew the ground and the soldier did not, so Max had no difficulty in increasing his lead. He could see Dale a dozen yards ahead, and by the time he reached the bank had caught him up.
"In at once, and dive down-stream, Dale!" he cried, and without a moment's pause they both tumbled in, anyhow, and struck out with all their strength down-stream.