CHAPTER XIV
"KAMERADS"
Two men walked briskly up Baker Street in the direction of theUnderground Station. At least, one of them walked briskly. The gait ofthe other were better described as hurried. He was obviously making aneffort to keep up with his powerful, square-cut, vigorous companion.Many eyes were turned upon them as they passed by. It was theprovocative air of the larger man, whose gait was more than arrogant.
The lesser of the two was not oblivious to the attention.
"It is almost in the nature of a shock to find myself walking besideyou in London, Ludwig. It is the old days again. But in the old daysyou were thankful to disguise the fact that you possessed militarytraining. Now it is as if you were on parade. These people hate anddistrust anything which suggests the--military."
Ludwig von Salzinger laughed gutturally. His fierce eyes glancedswiftly about him, ready to challenge any resentful glance in hisdirection.
"I care nothing for the pigs," he observed pleasantly.
"No. But you are here for--distraction. I have work which demands thatI attract as little attention as possible."
"Distraction?" Von Salzinger laughed without any mirth. Then he becamesuddenly serious. "Distraction--yes, that is it."
The smaller man was quick of eye--almost furtive. His slight figure waswell clad in an ordinary blue serge suit. His boots had once been ofpatent leather. His hat was of the Homburg pattern so beloved of theLondoner. He wore his brown hair fairly long to disguise the flat backof his head. His face was perfectly clean shaven, which left it typicalof the ordinary man on the street. The other was so obviously of theTeuton military caste in spite of his elegant civilian dress, that hiscompanion was seriously troubled. He protested again.
"If you cannot disguise yourself let us take a cab. Can you not dropyour shoulders like the London 'knut'? Can you not slouch? Can you notrefrain from lifting your feet as though you would crush a worm, or--anEnglishman? Your moustache is bad enough."
"Ach! you are afraid, like some sick woman. What is it?" criedSalzinger half angrily, half contemptuously. "Has the work broken yourspirit? It was not so in the old days. Johann Stryj, you need aholiday--distraction, like I am seeking." He laughed at his own clumsyhumor.
Stryj took no umbrage. He never took umbrage till he had discovered allthe possibilities of a man. Von Salzinger had arrived just as he hadfinished his English breakfast in his essentially English flat in BakerStreet. Johann Stryj had spared no pains to mould his whole life andperson upon London lines. Von Salzinger had explained nothing as yet ofthe meaning of his sudden descent upon London. He had merely demandedthat his erstwhile comrade now accompany him to his hotel.
"And what--distraction do you seek?"
The man's quick eyes were sharply questioning in spite of the smileaccompanying his words.
"That is what I conduct you to my hotel to tell you of."
Johann Stryj appeared to acquiesce, and they progressed in silence fora few paces. Then the quick eyes were again raised in the direction ofVon Salzinger's square face.
"You have left us all very far behind in the service of the Fatherland.We hear it all--here. And four years ago you were with us, waiting uponevery message that came, wondering where the next few hours would findus."
Stryj's words were calculated to set the other talking. They succeeded.Von Salzinger was obviously pleased.
"You, my Johann, were built for the--service. I was not. I have notthat faculty for making my feelings subservient to the needs of themoment. I was glad when the call of the war took me out of it,and--gave me my chance."
Stryj nodded in an expressionless fashion.
"Yes. I am at home in the work. I love it." Then he laughed silently."I am the servant of every pompous official who visits London. I am theslave of my orders. I am a cypher on the official lists, I am nothingamongst the people of the nation which I serve. Yet I am the head ofthe underground system which works here in England, and, incidentally,my income is four times that of a Captain-General. Your honor is verygreat, Ludwig, but I wonder if you have advanced since--those days."
Von Salzinger made no reply. He was thinking of the recent scene inwhich he had participated in the castle of Kuhlhafen. His faceexpressed something of his feelings of chagrin, and his companion wasnot slow to detect them.
"This is a thought of yours too, perhaps," he went on at once. "Themoment a man enters the higher ranks of our army his troubles begin. Hemust fight for favor, and win it or decay in some obscure ditch in themilitary office. Nor can he rely for five minutes upon that favor.Degradation awaits at the first blunder which it is not humanlypossible to avoid. Is it not so?"
All the buoyancy of Von Salzinger seemed to have vanished from his hardeyes. His old friend was telling him all that he had only too muchreason to be aware of. He had fought his way up that perilous ladder ofPrussian militarism, and like so many others he had tripped and fallen,and now was faced with the task of making good the temporary set-back.He had struggled hard at the first trip, and he told himself thatfortune had favored him, and he had kept his hold, but well he knewthat unless he recovered his foothold himself he must fall to thebottom and die in obscurity.
He turned on the Secret Service man.
"It is all as you say. But the very uncertainty of it makes it all themore worth winning. That is why I am in London now. When I havefinished in London I shall have achieved the lasting honor, so rare inour Fatherland."
Stryj shook his head.
"There is none--no lasting honor in our Fatherland," he said.
Then with a quick turn he pointed at the window of a fashionablephotographic studio. There was a life-size portrait standing in thevery centre of it. It was a full-length portrait of a man of over sixfeet. He was in the uniform of a British field-marshal.
"There is lasting honor in this country," he said, as they paused andstood gazing at the wonderful face in the portrait, with its level,stern brows, its convincing, powerful eyes, and the heavy moustachethat in no way detracted from the purposeful set of the jaws. "They areloyal to those they honor here. The man who has fought a great war forthem, as that man has done, need do no more. His name and fame will godown to history with the vast material honor they have showered uponhim. That is a name that will never die--in England."
But Von Salzinger had no comment to offer. They stood gazing for somemoments at the stern-faced presentation of the marshal. Then quitesuddenly an iron grip took hold of the spy's muscular upper arm.
Von Salzinger was pointing at a lesser portrait. It was one amongseveral comprising the faces of well-known parliamentarians.
"That man! Quick!" There was excitement in his voice, and a mild pinkhad leapt up into his sallow cheeks.
Stryj was startled, but displayed no emotion.
"The name is underneath," he said, pointing. "He is a new member of theCabinet. Ruxton Farlow."
"Donner! I've found him. Quick! We take a taxi." Then Von Salzingerlaughed, all his earlier buoyancy returned. "You are right, my Johann.I am too military to walk in London. But the walk has done megood--much good."
A moment later they were in a taxi speeding on their way towards VonSalzinger's hotel.
"What is the--distraction?" enquired Stryj, as the cab swung sharplyout of Baker Street. His calmness of manner was in marked contrast tothat of his companion, who was still breathing heavily under hisemotion. He understood now that a matter, an important mission, was onhand, and every faculty was alert to miss nothing of any detail of it,even the mood of his old friend.
"Distraction?" Von Salzinger laughed. "Yes, it is distraction. Butdistraction can mean another emotion than pleasure. Hey?"
"Yes." Stryj nodded.
Then Von Salzinger leant over and whispered elaborately into theother's ear, as the cabby changed his gears with a clatter and the cabbegan the ascent of the approach to the hotel.
"That man Farlow, as you call him, stole into Borga when I was incommand. I am not in command of Borga--n
ow."
Johann Stryj faced his companion with eyes that never seemed to expressmore than a mild interest. Von Salzinger was lounging in a largearmchair smoking a long cigar. They were in the latter's privatesitting-room in the hotel. In spite of his leisured attitude, deepemotion lit the eyes of the late Commandant of Borga, and anundercurrent of excitement kept his cigar glowing in a reckless manner.Stryj smoked a Turkish cigarette with a composure that was in sharpcontrast with his companion's attitude.
"So you see it was not only friendship that fetched me to yourapartment this morning, my good Johann," Von Salzinger finished up, atthe conclusion of his story of the visit of Ruxton Farlow to the secretheart of the great Borga arsenal. "I am here for distraction. Hey?Distraction, and the unravelling of the plot against the most treasuredsecret of the Fatherland. I am here for more. I am here to break it up,and, incidentally, if possible, to break up those concerned in it."
The man illustrated his purpose viciously, with two clenched fistsbreaking an imaginary object.
Stryj inhaled deeply of his cigarette.
"And if you fail?"
He was reading deeply into the less astute mind of the other. He hadgrasped fully his position. He knew, although he asked, what awaitedfailure for his old comrade, Von Salzinger.
"There will be no failure, I promise you. I have unlimited powers, andI shall use them. Oh, yes, I shall use them."
"What powers?"
The keen eyes of the spy were watchful.
Von Salzinger produced a document from his breast pocket. He opened it.He glanced over it, and passed it across to the other.
"My credentials," he said, with triumph in his accompanying glance.
Johann Stryj took the document and perused it carefully. He closelyexamined the signatures. When he looked up it was obvious that he wasalmost startled.
"It has never been done before," he said, almost incredulously. "Bythis the entire Secret Service is placed at your disposal--absolutely."
Von Salzinger nodded.
"Now do you understand? Now?" he cried violently. "We believe thisEnglishman has burrowed out the most stupendous secret of ourGovernment. We believe he has tricked us through this traitor,Hertzwohl. Gott! He has caused me to be--degraded."
Stryj passed the violence of his companion by. His mind was searching,searching where the less acute soldier could not follow.
"And what of this Hertzwohl? Has he been shot?"
"Not yet. We have to prove this thing--first. That is _our_ work."
"Ah."
Stryj had learned all he wanted to know.
At that moment a waiter entered the room bearing a copy of _Who's Who_for the current year. Von Salzinger seized upon it, and, by the timethe man had withdrawn and shut the door, he had found the page hesought.
"Ach!" cried Von Salzinger. "Here he is. The luck has served me well.It is as though the plums were ripe, and ready to drop into my mouth."
Stryj rose and crossed over to his side. He looked down where thestubby finger of the soldier pointed.
"Farlow, Ruxton. Only son of Sir Andrew Farlow, Bart. Member ofParliament for ----. Under Secretary for Foreign Office in 19--. Yes.Partner in firm of Farlow, Son and Farlow, ship-builders andship-owners. Dorby. Ha! Dorby, Yorkshire. Residence, Dorby Towers,Yorkshire. So." Salzinger looked up as he concluded reading outdisjointed fragments of the information he sought. "They areripe--ripe, these plums," he cried exultingly. "Johann, my friend," hewent on, glancing up into the spy's clever face, "it is good to see theplums hanging--ripe. We have got to hear all they talk of andcontemplate, we have to watch and discover all that is known by Farlow,Son and Farlow. That is your work. You, and those under your control.You will leave for Dorby at once. While I----"
"Watch that the birds do not eat the ripe plums you would pick. Dorby.I saw the name in the papers yesterday. Those are the yards someportion of which have been taken over by the British Admiralty. Thesepapers tell me something worth while sometimes."
"The British Navy?" The fierce eyes of the soldier were startled. Heran his fingers through his stubbly hair. "Curse the British Navy."
"Yes."
The mild rejoinder seemed to irritate Von Salzinger.
"Talk! Talk! Ach! Those are your orders, Johann. See to them, andcommunicate with me here. I must write."
He moved over to a desk while Stryj deliberately adjusted his hat andlit another cigarette. Then he moved towards the door.
"Is there anything else?" he enquired, with his hand upon the handle.
Von Salzinger glanced round.
"Yes, use every means at your command to get the information we need.Remember, Stryj, if the secrets of Borga have been discovered, if ourcountry has been betrayed, then a harvest of vengeance is going to bereaped."
He turned back to his desk and began a long communication addressed toPrince von Berger, while Johann Stryj passed silently out of the room.