Submarine U93

The rest of the message, according to Crouch, was simplicity itself. "Vernacular encumbrance"; in other words, the language would be a great difficulty. As the captain himself was able to testify, all branches of the Kanaka language were extremely difficult to learn; and it is not always easy to make South Sea Islanders understand by means of signs. If the Germans required this island as a secret base, or coaling station, they would first have to make friends with the inhabitants, since obviously they could not afford to keep a permanent garrison in the place. The concluding sentence was altogether apparent. The chief port of German New Guinea, or Kaiser Wilhelm's land, is Stephansort, which lies at the end of Astrolabe Bay, and a ship entering the harbour would naturally steam at half-speed to avoid the numerous shoals.

The captain went on to say that, since there was no doubt that Stork was a German spy, he had probably received definite instructions in regard to the wireless station in New Guinea against which, it was believed, an Australian expedition had already been despatched. It was even probable that the message was not without reference to the German cruiser, the "Emden," which in point of fact had already been overhauled and destroyed.

"None the less," said Crouch in conclusion, "there's mischief enough brewing in all conscience. So far as I can see, there's nothing to prevent the enemy's light cruisers breaking away from Kiel and taking to the high seas, where, by reason of their great speed, they are capable of doing a great deal more damage than the submarines. That this message refers to some secret coaling-station in the Western Pacific I have not a shadow of doubt."

There was something so simple, and yet so probable, in Captain Crouch's explanation, that Jimmy Burke was from the first both interested and filled with admiration for the little captain's ingenuity. The more he read the message the more was he certain that Crouch was on the right track. As for the captain himself, now fairly launched upon the subject of his travels, there is no knowing when he would have left off talking of coral islands, cannibals and great banana festivals, had not, on a sudden, Jimmy's attention been attracted by a very singular thing.

Regarding the message from over Crouch's shoulder, he was struck by an extraordinary coincidence, which he had not noticed before, namely, that the first letters of the first five words were S-E-V-E-N.

He pointed this out at once to Crouch; whereupon it appeared that in similar fashion the first letters of the next four words spelt F-I-V-E.

Captain Crouch was so amazed that he even paused in the act of lighting his pipe, with the result that he burnt his fingers with the match.

"That's strange," said he. "It may be we've got hold of the wrong end of the stick. What about the rest of it? Have the first letters of the remaining words any sort of meaning?"

Letter by letter Jimmy spelt them out.

"E-I-G-H-S."

"There's a flaw there," said Crouch. "It should end up with a T. That last word should be eight."

By then Jimmy was wildly excited. The whole affair had suddenly become not only interesting, but vastly thrilling.

"What about the last letters of each word?" he exclaimed.

"T-E-D-G," spelt Crouch. "That means nothing, so far as my knowledge goes."

"What's the next letter?" asked the boy.

"E," said Crouch. "T-E-D-G-E, that spells nothing either." Then suddenly his expression changed. "Wait a moment!" he exclaimed. "What about this? Supposing the last word, which is half-speed, counts as one word, and not as two. Take the first letters of each word, and then go back to the beginning and take the last letters. That makes the 't' at the end of steamboat, the last letter of the word 'eight'-"

"And then," cried Jimmy, taking the words out of the captain's mouth, "then the last letters are E-D-G-E-W-A-R-E-R-O-A-D."

"Edgeware Road!" cried Crouch, "by all that's wonderful and mad!"

They looked at one another with the blank expression of men who are half-dazed. Then Crouch produced a pencil from his pocket, and wrote down this new interpretation of Rudolf Stork's mysterious instructions-

It was only natural that Jimmy should look for advice to Captain Crouch, who was considerably older and far more experienced than himself.

"And whatever does that mean?" he demanded.

Crouch made a wry face, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Ask me another!" said he. "I know well enough where the Edgware Road is, and seeing that I was born and bred in London I suppose I ought to. But, if you want to know what that has got to do with my secret coaling-station in the South Sea Islands, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong shop. Seven hundred and fifty-eight, Edgware Road! Jimmy, my lad, we're no nearer the solution of this mystery than we were before-in fact, it seems to me, we've lost our bearings in a fog."

In addition to which, there is no denying that Captain Crouch felt not a little personally aggrieved that his own lucid explanation, his strange, fantastic solution concerning some mysterious Pacific island, should be supplanted by so commonplace and well-known a locality as the Edgware Road in London.

"My boy," said he, knocking out his pipe on the toe of his cork foot, "we'll go to this address, just you and I, and find out who's at home."

"When?" asked Jimmy, all eagerness.

"When!" repeated Crouch. "Why, now."

CHAPTER XVII-Number 758

The more they thought about the whole strange, mysterious business, the more was it apparent that they were face to face with plain matter-of-fact. It was now obvious that the written message was nothing more than the memorandum of an address. Every Londoner knows the Edgware Road. Stork, however, or perhaps Rosencrantz or von Essling, the German military attaché, had thought it advisable to write it down, and that in such a manner that it would be extremely improbable that any one else could read it.

Captain Crouch was once again upon his feet, limping backwards and forwards from one end of the room to the other, talking in a quick, excited voice, and flinging his arms about him like a windmill.

"We must go to London at once," he cried. And at that, he hastened from the room, to find the whole hotel in complete darkness. The "Goat and Compasses" kept late hours as a rule; but it was now two o'clock in the morning, and everyone had long since gone to bed. Crouch found his bedroom candle and lit it, and with the aid of this searched the smoking-room for a South-Western Railway time-table, a copy of which he at length succeeded in finding. Licking the end of his second finger, he turned over the pages so rapidly that he tore several in half.

"Here we are!" he cried. "There's a workmen's train at three-fifteen. We'll catch that, and be in London before daybreak."

Crouch woke up the proprietor in order to pay his bill, concerning which neither was much inclined to argue, the one being too sleepy and the other in too great haste even to count his change. They had little in the way of luggage, and Crouch had been well supplied with money by Mr. Jason, who was determined that Jimmy Burke should want for nothing. Accordingly, in little more than an hour after they had discovered that Stork's message was nothing more or less than a simple acrostic cypher, they were speeding to London at the rate of forty miles an hour, both sound asleep on the comfortable cushions in a first-class railway carriage.

Crouch had his own rooms in Pimlico, where he had constituted his headquarters-so to speak-and where he rented two rooms, divided one from the other by folding doors. In one was a camp-bed and a veritable armoury of big-game rifles and shotguns; whereas the other, which he called the dining-room, contained a table, a few basket chairs, and many kinds of curios from all parts of the world. The walls of both rooms were adorned with the heads and antlers of many rare animals: waterbuck and koodoo, white and black leopards, jaguars, tigers and lions.

Thither, on a cold, dark, wintry morning, Crouch and his young companion hastened immediately on their arrival at Waterloo, chartering the only taxi that was to be found at that early hour.

First, it was necessary to have breakfast, during which Crouch explained that it would be certainly advisable for them to disguise themselves. In all probability, Stork would repair to the house in the Edgware Road, and it would never do for them to be recognized. They had the whole morning at their disposal, and it must be admitted that the precautions that the little sea-captain deemed it expedient to take bordered on the ludicrous.

For himself he purchased an extremely vulgar-looking shepherd's plaid suit, a flaming red tie, and a white bowler hat which he set jauntily on the side of his head at a very acute angle.

As for Jimmy, it has been stated that he was a fair boy, with light brown hair. That was now dyed completely black. A similar darkening of the eyebrows, carried out by an expert in the art of "making up," completed the boy's disguise, to the complete satisfaction of Captain Crouch and the delight of Jimmy himself.

"My lad," said Crouch, "I'd lay a sheet-anchor to a safety-pin your best friend wouldn't know you now. As for me, I'll go so far as to shave off my moustache and beard."

A little after, he entered a barber's shop, and having fulfilled his promise, looked, without his moustache and small imperial beard, even more formidable than ever. His great, square, protruding chin suggested a determined and aggressive nature; whereas his thin, tightly compressed lips proved convincingly enough that here was a man who could not be trifled with.

They lunched together in a fashionable restaurant in the West End, where Crouch, in the strange and wonderful costume, was evidently under the impression that he was cutting a dash. Thence, arm-in-arm, they sallied forth up Regent Street and along Oxford Street, in the direction of the Edgware Road, entering a gunsmith's on the way and purchasing a brace of revolvers and a score of rounds of ammunition.

They found Number 758 to be a large block of unoccupied flats. Crouch stationed himself on the opposite side of-the road, and regarded the building for some time in silence.

"There's one thing about the place which is suspicious," he observed. "Do you notice that every one of those flats is unoccupied, with the exception of one on the first floor? On the ground floor are shop premises, also 'To let.' Now, when you come to think of it, that is a very remarkable thing. This is a popular and central part of London, and one moreover in which rents are fairly moderate. Also, the agent's notice on the ground floor has, by the look of it, been there for months. Come, my boy, we'll look into the matter. But have your revolver ready in case of an emergency, don't hesitate to use it, and take your lead from me."

So saying, the little captain stepped across the street, and rang the bell of Number 758, Edgware Road.

They did not have to wait long before the door was opened by an old woman with a shawl about her shoulders, who asked who they were in an exceedingly squeaky voice.

"Are you Mr. Russell?" she piped, the moment she set eyes upon Captain Crouch.

Crouch thought for a moment before he answered.

"I won't say I'm not," said he; "on the other hand, I won't go so far as to say I am. The main question is, who are you?"

"I'm Mrs. Wycherley," said the old woman, "her that looks after the flat. And if you're Mr. Russell, the rooms are well aired and the fires was a-lighted this morning."

"Ha!" said Crouch. "That's just as it should be. I and my friend will go upstairs."

At that, without a moment's hesitation, he brushed past the old woman and ascended the stairs to the first floor, whither Mrs. Wycherley followed him, muttering a great deal to herself on the subject of "the rheumatics."

"Where's the key?" demanded Crouch.

There was an air of self-assurance about him that would have deceived a Russian diplomat, to say nothing of a London charwoman of about seventy years of age. Mrs. Wycherley, producing the key, flung open the door of one of the first-floor flats and ushered in both Jimmy Burke and Captain Crouch.

They found themselves in a small self-contained flat, consisting of three rooms and a kitchen. These rooms were not only tastefully, but even expensively, furnished; whereas the kitchen was complete as far as furniture and cooking utensils were concerned.

Crouch had a good look round, and then, producing his blackened briar pipe, seated himself in the most comfortable armchair in the dining-room, and proceeded to smoke at his leisure. Both Jimmy and the charwoman remained standing.

"There are a few points," said Crouch, fixing the old lady with the mouthpiece of his pipe, in much the same way as a man would point a pistol, "there are one or two things I would like to know."

"Begging your pardon, sir," said the woman, "if you're a friend of Mr. Russell's, and Mr. Russell knows you're here, well and good. But if you ain't, might I make so free as to ask your business, because my daughter, Emily Jane, lies a-dying, and that's as true as I'm standing here, and it's no time for me to be gossiping with gents with white hats, nor black neither."

She had spoken exceedingly fast, from time to time lifting her voice to a higher key, until at last she pulled up short, apparently for want of breath, having reached the topmost note she was capable of producing.

"Mum," said Crouch, "don't you get fidgety. I'm an honest man, though a dog-breeder by profession. As for Russell, he knows me well enough, or he was never a ship's carpenter that cut off in a dinghy with the ship's cook and the cook's mate. So you may set your mind at rest."

Old Mrs. Wycherley, who had not the least idea as to what Crouch was talking about, folded her arms, and nodded her head as in approval.

"If you're a friend of Mr. Russell's," said she, "I'm sure it's all right. Perhaps you don't know, sir, that I'm expecting him here this evening."

"Is that so?" said Crouch. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Maybe you'll stay," said the old woman, "until Mr. Russell arrives?"

"I will that," said Crouch, feeling in his coat pocket for his revolver. Then, in a changed voice, he remarked, "These are fairly comfortable rooms."

"Comfortable!" exclaimed the old woman. "Fit for a king, I calls them. And that clean you could eat your dinner off of the carpet, as no one knows better than me who've worked day and night as I'm a living woman."

"When did Mr. Russell leave?" asked Crouch.

"Leave! Why he ain't never come since the flat was took."

"And when was that?"

"On the fourth of August, sir. My memory ain't of the best, and I only recollect the date because it was on that day, sir, that this here 'orrible war broke out. The fourth of August was the date, or I ain't never been married, which I've lived to repent ever since the very moment the ring was put on me finger."

Crouch sat silent for a moment, mersed in thought, filling the room with clouds of his evil-smelling tobacco smoke.

"How is it," he asked at length, "that none of the other flats in the building have been taken?"

"There's no knowing," said the old woman. "But the fact is, that since August no one, saving yourself, ain't been near the place."

Crouch drew a whistle and looked across at Jimmy; then, once more, he turned to Mrs. Wycherley.

"And what about Emily Jane?" he asked.

"She was took bad three weeks ago, and ain't left her bed for a fortnight. And it's my solemn belief as all her blood's turned to water."

Whereupon, as the old woman showed signs of tears, Crouch thought it advisable to change the subject; which he did with great dexterity.

"How do you know," he asked, "that Mr. Russell arrives this evening?"

"Because Mr. Valentine rung me up on the telegraph, and said as I was to have the rooms ready by eight o'clock this evening."

"And who is Mr. Valentine?"

"Don't know no more than you, sir, except that he's the gent what took the rooms in August, as I'm a-telling you."

"Well, then," said Crouch, "I don't think you need trouble to stay. You can go back to Emily Jane. I and my friend will remain here until Mr. Russell arrives. We'll keep the fire alight, and make ourselves at home."

Mrs. Wycherley, who a moment since had been on the verge of tears, gathered her shawl about her shoulders, and beamed upon Captain Crouch.

"And it may be," said the little captain, "that Emily Jane will be none the worse for a few comforts, such as beef-tea and a jelly. On your way home, you might be able to get her something with that."

So saying, he banged down a sovereign on the table, which Mrs. Wycherley was not slow to accept.

"Then with your permission," said she, "I think I'll just be stepping round."

With that, and with a curtsey, she was off, with much more alacrity than she had shown before.

CHAPTER XVIII-"Mr. Russell"

Left alone with Jimmy, Crouch solemnly refilled his pipe.

"The moment I first set eyes on her," he observed, "I summed that old woman up. Emily Jane's a hoax."

"Are you sure of it?" asked Jimmy.

"Absolutely certain," said Crouch. "I don't imagine for a moment that the old woman's in league with a gang of German spies; else she would never have shown us up here. For all that, she's not to be trusted further than a first engineer can throw a quoit. That's all the better for us. I don't suppose she'll come back to-night."

"And what about these men, Russell and Valentine?" asked Jimmy. "Who are they, do you think?"

"Valentine may be any one," answered Crouch. "But I've a shrewd suspicion that Russell is Rudolf Stork. Stork has now been in England three days. He has had plenty of time in which to get to London."

"And if he turns up," asked the boy, "what are we to do?"

"If it's necessary, shoot him like a dog," said Crouch, forgetting that he was not on his ship's deck.

For the next half-hour, they systematically searched the whole flat, but could find nothing suspicious. There was an aspect of newness about the place; carpets, curtains, and cushions had evidently come straight from the furnishers, and showed no signs of wear. In an old-fashioned Sheraton bureau were writing and blotting paper, ink and pens; but, the blotting paper was quite spotless, and the pen nibs had never been dipped into the ink.

"There's nothing here," said Crouch. "We shall have to wait for Stork."

And hardly had the words left his lips than a bell rang, somewhere in the room. Jimmy started, and even Crouch carried a hand to the coat pocket that contained his revolver. The moment was one of intense excitement; they were face to face with great events. It was as if the atmosphere of the room was electrified by the strong current of anticipation.

"The telephone!" cried Jimmy, pointing to the wall.

In a moment, Crouch had the receiver to his ear. He had the wisdom not to speak, until he had found out who it was who had rung up the unoccupied flat, and this proved to be no less a person than the mysterious "Mr. Valentine," who was speaking from the "Hotel Magnificent" in the Strand. "Are you there?" he asked. "Are you the charwoman?"

Crouch replied at once, in the old woman's squeaky voice.

"I'm Mrs. Wycherley," said he.

"I told you," said the voice, "that you were to expect Mr. Russell this evening. He will probably arrive at about eight o'clock."

"Very well, sir," said Crouch. "The rooms is aired, and all the fires was a-lighted this morning, and everything's that clean you could eat your dinner off the carpet, as sure as my Emily Jane's blood has turned to water."

"Shut up!" cried "Valentine," so loudly that even Jimmy was able to hear. "I've not rung up to hear about Emily Jane. I intended to come round this evening, to meet Mr. Russell on his arrival; but I have to go to Edinburgh at once, on extremely urgent business, and have only just time to catch my train. Can you hear what I say?"

"Bless you, yes, sir," answered Crouch. "It don't make no difference whether it's the butcher or a hundred-weight o' coal, I allus makes use of the telegraph, and I don't take no sauce from the young woman in the middle."

"Then, listen here," said "Valentine." "I'm sending round a messenger-boy with an important sealed letter. On no account whatever are you to let this letter out of your hands, until you give it to Mr. Russell, the very moment he arrives."

"Valentine," in order to make quite sure that Mrs. Wycherley had heard aright and understood, made Crouch repeat his instructions word for word. That done he rang off, apparently in the greatest haste, no doubt fearing to miss his train.

Captain Crouch was wildly excited. Jamming his white bowler hat well on to the back of his head, he proclaimed that they were hot upon the scent of the gang. Mrs. Wycherley had left him in possession of the key of the flat; and going down to the front door, he waited impatiently for the messenger to arrive.

The messenger-boy had some diffidence about handing over the letter to Crouch, saying that he understood that he was to deliver it to a charwoman. Crouch, however, was not to be denied, and with the sealed letter in his hand returned to Jimmy.

To break the seal and tear open the envelope was the work of a few seconds. The letter was written in German, of which language Crouch and Jimmy knew enough to make out the meaning, though there were one or two words that neither could understand. With the translation of "Valentine's" letter all doubt was dispelled that the unknown "Mr. Russell" was any one else than Rudolf Stork, the ship's carpenter of the "Harlech."

The letter began with the words "Dear Stork," and continued to the following effect: A sea raid had been planned on the North Coast, against the dockyards of the Forth and Tyne. All German submarines had been warned, with the exception of the U93, whose wireless had been probably by H.M. Destroyer "Cockroach." The U93 had come north-eastward from the Lizard, had passed the Straits of Dover in safety, and was now lying somewhere in the vicinity of the Wellbank lightship, which is a little north of the latitude of the Tyne.

Immediately on his arrival in London, Stork was to go to Hull, taking the first and fastest train. Thence, he was to put to sea in a fishing smack, the "Marigold," the skipper of which was in the pay of "Valentine." He was to find the U93, and tell her to proceed due east without delay, to meet the German fleet, issuing from the Bight of Heligoland, and which would comprise some of the biggest battle-cruisers ever built: notably, the "Derfflinger," the "Seydlitz," the "Blücher," and the "Moltke."

Captain Crouch was a man of iron nerve; but, when he realized the colossal magnitude of the plot with which they were confronted, even he could not control the features of his face. As for Jimmy Burke, his lips were parted, and when he held the letter in his hand, the sheet of paper trembled like a leaf. Scene by scene, the great drama that had opened in the offices of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern unfolded itself before the eyes of those who were something more than mere spectators. And each scene, it appeared, was more dramatic, more fraught with terrible consequences and possibilities of triumph or disaster, than that which had gone before.

It took Jimmy Burke some time to find his breath. He was so excited that he found it difficult to speak.

"There's not a moment to lose!" he cried. "We must report what we know both to the Admiralty and Scotland Yard."

"We can't leave this place," said Crouch. "Stork may turn up at any minute; it must be nearly eight o'clock already. I'll ring up the Yard, at once."

He went straight to the telephone, where almost immediately he got into communication with the famous headquarters of the London Police. He was informed that a superintendent-detective would be sent at once to Number 758, Edgware Road.

Crouch placed the receiver back upon its rest, and pulled out his watch.

"It's past eight o'clock," said he. "Russell should be here."

It was at that very moment that they heard the sound of footsteps upon the stone staircase without. Crouch hurried to the door and threw it open; and there entered three men, two of whom were young, whilst the other was considerably over sixty.