Page 21 of The Men Who Wrought


  CHAPTER XXI

  ENEMY MOVEMENTS

  Ruxton's return to town from Dorby was made by special train in themiddle of the night. It had been inspired by an irresistible impulse,born of an apprehension which his great love for Vita inspired.

  Prince von Hertzwohl had only sheltered one night under the roof ofDorby Towers. Sir Andrew had been urgent that he should remain hisguest indefinitely, feeling that the safety of an Englishman's home wasthe best of all havens for this large, simple-minded Pole. But Vita'sfather proved something of his daughter's estimate of him. Hisgratitude and thanks had been sincere and cordial, but he displayed anunderstanding of the situation which astonished his hosts, and adecision that resisted all appeal.

  "Dear friends," he had urged, "it cannot be. It is a joy to me, sogreat, to feel the warm shelter of your perfect English home. I lovethe parks, the wide moor, the white cliffs. But I love more than allthe generosity and kindliness of your friendship. But you do not yetgrasp what all this means. These people will have my life, and yourlocks and bars will be no obstacle to their Secret Service. They willget me here, as they would get me in their own country. Nor can we saywhat danger I might not expose you to. No, my course is quite simple. Iwill show you to-night."

  Father and son were reluctantly forced to acquiesce.

  That night, after dinner, the shrewdness of Vita's father wasdisplayed. He departed to his bedroom, and, an hour later, hereappeared in the smoking-room.

  The metamorphosis was perfect. An unkempt individual, lean, dirty, andslouching, entered the room and made its way to the fire. His beard andmoustache were gone, and he was clad in the greasy clothes anddiscolored overalls of a riverside mechanic. The disguise was soperfect that only with the greatest difficulty both father and son wereable to recognize him. Later on he left the house, and set out for thetown of Dorby. It was his purpose to lose himself amongst the thousandsof workers who peopled the waterside, and so, while keeping in touchwith Dorby Towers, completely sink his identity. Nor was it until afterprofound consideration that Ruxton and his father realized thewonderful but simple astuteness of the man's move.

  It was the second night following this event that Ruxton's own resolvewas arrived at. It was over forty-eight hours since he had dispatchedhis telegram to Vita telling her of her father's arrival and safety. Heshould have received a reply in under six hours. No reply, however, hadbeen forthcoming.

  At first Ruxton had been patient. There had been much to occupy him ofan important nature at the shipyards. He had had little time to thinkof anything else. The constructions were steadily growing under theenergetic hands of his engineers and marine architects. Already thepromise of the future was taking definite shape. The work, pressed onat his urging, was proceeding apace. Already the completed outlines oftwo of the hulls filled twin slipways. His enthusiasm was growing withthe rapidity of a man of keen imagination. His dreams were becomingreal, tangible. The experiment was full of a promise which weeks agohad no place in his almost despairing regard of the future.

  But at night there was less occupation for his mind, and inevitably histhoughts flew at once to the woman who had opened out to him theradiant possibilities of his future. No reply had reached him on thatfirst night, and unease began to make itself felt. He mentioned thematter to his father with marked unconcern. The shrewd Yorkshire eyeswhich regarded him were blandly uncurious.

  "Did you word it for reply?" he enquired, glancing up from thepictorial periodical he was looking at.

  Ruxton had not worded it particularly so, he assured him, with a glanceof trouble in his dark eyes.

  Then the old man went on with his paper.

  "I shouldn't worry about it," he said calmly. "It must have beendelivered, or it would have been returned to you."

  But the assurance was without effect upon the lover. He said no morethen, but at dinner the following evening his anxiety would no longerbe denied.

  The butler had withdrawn. Ruxton had been unusually disinclined to talkduring the meal. The keen brain of his father had summed up the reasonto a fraction, but, with quiet understanding, he had waited for theunburdening which he knew would soon come.

  It came as Ruxton, ignoring the dessert, sat back in his chair and lita cigar.

  "I've ordered a special train for town, Dad; I can't stand the suspenseany longer."

  "You mean--the answer to your message." Sir Andrew made no attempt tomisunderstand him. "But where is the suspense? It was a message of--hisarrival, I understand. The answer was optional."

  "Optional? Ah, you don't understand." Just for a moment the troubleseemed to pass out of the younger man's eyes. He was contemplating thewonderful love which had come to him. He breathed a deep sigh. "Lookhere, Dad, what would you have felt like--you know, say just before youmarried my mother, if you sent her an urgent message by wire andreceived no reply? Why, in the past twenty-four hours you'd have beendriving in a stage coach, or something equally slow, to find out thereason, if I know anything. There are a dozen things I could have done.I could have kept the wires humming incessantly--but for possibilities.Those possibilities have restrained me. But now I can wait no longer. Imust see Vita myself and assure myself that nothing is--wrong. Dad,it's the whole world to me. I can't wait any longer. I love her, and Iam going to marry her. That's where the suspense lies."

  "That's how I supposed," Sir Andrew nodded, his shrewd eyes twinkling."One has to endure many anxious moments under such circumstances. Ihave known them myself. You leave at----"

  "Three A. M."

  The old man nodded.

  "I've not met her yet, boy," he said kindly, "though," he added slyly,"I seem as if I did know her. You see, you've spoken of her a lot.Well, if she's half the woman you have told me she is, I congratulateyou heartily. Somehow, boy, I feel sure she is. Yes, it is as well togo--with possibilities hanging over us all."

  He rose from the table and held out his hand as Ruxton followed hisexample.

  "The very best of luck, boy, and--will you give her my love? You canleave the work here in my hands."

  The two men clasped hands with a vigor such as belonged to two strongnatures, and then, as they moved off to the library, they fell todiscussing those "possibilities" to which Ruxton had alluded.

  Ruxton's anxiety was no mere impatience of a hotheaded lover. He hadnot permitted his imagination to distort things out of a realproportion. He knew that their Teutonic enemies were able to lay handsupon Vita if they decided upon such a course. And all too late he hadrealized that his message had been an indiscretion. Once having arrivedat this realization, the rest followed in painful sequence. If hismessage, though carefully worded, had fallen into enemy hands, thepossibilities such an event opened up were illimitable.

  It was between ten and eleven in the morning that he presented himselfat the flat in Kensington.

  On his way up the stairs he received his first shock. It was no lessthan an encounter with Mrs. Jenkins on her way down them, garbed in herlong outdoor ulster, such as all women of her class seem to possess,bearing under one arm an ominous-looking bundle.

  He stopped her, or rather she provoked attention herself by a dry coughand a prolonged, moist sniff.

  "You goin' up to 'er flat?" she demanded; "'cos if you are she ain'tin."

  There was a sort of defiant displeasure in her words that, to Ruxton,might have been just her natural form of address, or might not havebeen.

  He paused, glanced down at her bundle, and finally regarded herseverely.

  "Where are you going?" he demanded.

  "Don't see it's your bizness. Any'ow I'm goin' to do a bit o' shoppin'."

  Then Ruxton adopted a high hand.

  "Well, just come back up-stairs a minute. Your shopping will keep. Iwant to speak to you on a matter of importance. Come along."

  He moved on up the stairs, and Mrs. Jenkins, used to obeying somebodyat all times, followed him protestingly.

  "I don't see I got no right any'ow. But wot with her bein' away, andsto
ppin' away, and me 'avin' no food to eat, as you might say, an' mywages overdue, an' the bills unpaid, I don't know, I'm sure. Maybe yougot my wages with you, bein' a friend of 'ers?"

  But Ruxton offered no explanation until they reached the flat and thedoor of it was securely shut behind them. Then he turned upon her witha forcefulness that reduced her to the necessary condition for givingall the information he needed with the least superfluous verbiage.

  "Look here, Mrs. Jenkins, I just want a few straight answers to a fewplain questions. Remember, the matters I'm going to question you on areof vital importance--very vital importance. I just want plain truth andnothing else."

  "Truth! You'll say I'm lyin' next. Wot d'yer want to know? My motter isallus tell the truth an' shame the devil."

  "Yes, yes, that's all right. Where's your mistress?"

  The woman sniffed, while she eyed him distrustfully.

  "Dunno. Ain't see 'er since you was 'ere last."

  "When did you expect her?"

  "Why, next day, o' course. She allus come 'ere every day 'less she sed.'Sides, my wages was due next day, an' there's the 'ousekeepin' money.I ain't got neither. I writ 'er to 'er home, but ain't 'ad no answer. Igot to eat, an' I ain't got nothin' t' eat in the place, so I was justgoin' to slip round with a pair o' blankets an' get a loan. Y' see Ididn't know wot to do, an' I tho't----" She broke off with a freshsniff.

  Ruxton produced some money and handed her two sovereigns.

  "There, that'll keep you going. Now all I want from you are thesefacts. You haven't seen her since I was here, and you expected her nextday. You wrote to her and received no reply. The last time you saw hershe was leaving for her--home. That so?"

  The woman nodded and sniffed.

  "Yes, sir." The gold had impressed her.

  "Very well. Now I want you to keep on here as if nothing had happened.You shall have your money regularly. Look after your mistress's thingscarefully, and if any one calls here, any visitors, men, or--orstrangers, let me know. There, that card will give you my address. IfI'm not there my secretary will take any message for me. I'm afraidsome accident must have happened to your mistress. I am going to findout with the help of the--police. Do you understand? Whatever you do,don't talk."

  By the time he had finished the poor woman was thoroughly alarmed, andshowed it.

  "My, sir, I do 'ope nothin' 'as 'appened serious-like. She was allus aventuresome one, as you might say, goin' about, an' I allus wasa-tellin' of 'er----"

  "Yes, yes; that's all right. The thing is, I've got to find out. Now,you see and do as I have said, and your mistress will thank you. Norshall I forget. Remember, if any one calls for her, get their names andremember their faces, and--don't talk."

  He hurried away, and passed down the uninviting stairs at a run. Twominutes later he was in a taxi, driving at a breakneck speed for SmithSquare.

  Arrived there, he ordered his own car, and, while awaiting its arrival,gave a string of instructions to Heathcote. Within another twentyminutes he was in his car, threading his way through the London trafficwith the reckless inconsequence only to be found in an ex-navalchauffeur urged by an equally reckless employer.

  A nightmare of apprehension pursued Ruxton over the switchback Oxfordroad. With a mind clear and incisive he had thought at almost electricspeed, and planned the course to be pursued. In his brief twentyminutes with his secretary he had carefully detailed all hisrequirements. Now he could only lie back in his car, while thesailorman, driving him, obeyed the reckless instincts which have madehim and his comrades a byword for devotion. Ruxton demanded speed, andthe keen-eyed chauffeur gave it him. Heavy car as it was, it dancedover the greater part of the journey with the fantastic and dangerousirresponsibility of a runaway. But the man at the wheel knew hismachine. The pride and joy of his life was that he was the driver ofeighty horse-power. This was the first time he had ever been permittedto test the accuracy of the maker's claims.

  But to Ruxton the speed was a snail gait, and it seemed to him, on thatbrief journey to Wednesford, that he lived through centuries ofdespairing anxiety and doubts. Had these devils got at Vita? The burdenof his cry was based on all the experiences of the late war. Yet whatcould they do? What would they dare do, here in England? He tried toreassure himself. But it was a vain attempt. He knew, only too well,the ruthless audacity of these people. Then he blamed himself that hehad not insisted that Vita should have abandoned her home inBuckinghamshire when she first told him of Von Salzinger's visit. Wasnot that sufficient warning for any sane mind? Did it not clearly provethat Vita was watched? And, if she were watched, did it not point thepurpose in the Teutonic mind to act if it suited it? Of course it did.He was to blame, seriously to blame--if anything had happened to her.He remembered Vassilitz and the inspiration his doings had awakened inhim. He must have been mad not to think further--mad or incompetent.

  So his feverish imagination ran on and tortured him as no other anxietycould have tortured him. And then came the relief of further action.

  He reached Wednesford all too soon for his sailorman, who would haveinfinitely preferred continuing his reckless journey to Land's End andthen--back again. However, he removed his foot from the accelerator anddrew up at the police-station of the little old market town in aperfectly decorous fashion. The local chief was awaiting the car, andRuxton was conducted promptly to that officer's private room.

  The chief superintendent was a florid-faced, bulldog-looking man ofabout forty, vigorous, alert, but possessing no outward sign ofparticular mentality. He was all deference for his visitor.

  "I received the telephone message, sir," he said at once, "and actedupon it. I sent a plain-clothes man out to Redwithy with instructionsto ascertain if Madame Vladimir was at her residence, and, if not, toascertain if possible something of her recent movements. The man shouldreturn now at any moment." He pulled out his watch and made a roughcalculation. "Yes, he is quite due now. Would you care to give me moreintimate particulars?"

  To find himself dealing with a Cabinet Minister in matters of his owndepartment was a little overwhelming to Chief Superintendent Reach, buthe saw in it a possibility of advancement, and was ready to surpasshimself in his efforts. But Ruxton saw no advantage in laying the innerdetails of the matter before the local police. If any such official aidwere needed it would be better demanded of Scotland Yard.

  "For the moment nothing more is needed than the simple localinformation," he replied. "On that depends all future movements. I willtell you this, however. Apart from my personal interest in the matter,there is certain political significance in it of a very importantnature. More than that I cannot say until your man----"

  The whistle of the tube on the officer's desk interrupted him.

  "That's our man, sir," beamed Superintendent Reach, more than satisfiedat the opportuneness of the interruption. "Excuse me, sir," he added,and listened at the tube.

  "Ah, yes. Send him up here at once," he called through it. Thenglancing over at his visitor, he observed ungrammatically, "It's him,sir."

  A moment later a brisk plain-clothes man entered the room.

  "Well?" demanded his chief sharply.

  "The lady's been away about three days, sir," he said, with thestolidity of a policeman giving evidence. "Couldn't tell me when she'dbe back. Hadn't left any instructions about the heating apparatus forthe new peach-house she is having built. The butler believed the firmwho were constructing the house were to put in the plant. He said sheleft after tea with her maid and luggage for a journey in a motor. Nother own car. He thought it must have been one she hired fromWednesford. I have been round the garages, but no one from Redwithy hashired a car. That's why I am a bit late, sir."

  The chief turned to Ruxton, who was eagerly intent upon the man'sinformation.

  "I sent him"--indicating the plain-clothes man--"as a heating expertfrom a well-known horticultural firm."

  Ruxton nodded.

  "You saw the butler--a foreigner?"

  "Yes, sir."


  "Did you gather an--impression from him?"

  "He seemed straightforward and quite ready to talk, sir. I'm sure heknew nothing more, and seemed to believe what he said."

  "There's nothing else?"

  "No, sir, I think not. The place seemed all reg'lar. You see, sir, I'veoften 'ad to keep an eye on it when the lady's been awayholiday-makin', and during the war. You see, she's a foreigner. So Iknow it pretty well, though it don't know me. One thing that struck mehe was speaking truth was there was a tidy bunch of letters on a halltable. Might have been an accumulation."

  "Letters--ah." Ruxton turned to the chief. "I think you'd better comewith me and look into things. Those letters. There should be animportant telegram there--if----"

  He rose from his chair with a sickening fear at his heart. The chiefdismissed his subordinate and waited for Ruxton to complete his remark.But as no completion was forthcoming he attempted one himself.

  "If there's been no trickery, sir."

  "If she went away of her own free will--that's what we've got to findout. Come along."

  Half an hour later Ruxton was addressing himself to the black-haired,sallow-faced Vassilitz, who was urbanity itself in the face of thechief of the Wednesford police.

  His story was exactly the same as he had told to the plain-clothes man,and no amount of cross-examination could elicit the smallest shadow ofcontradiction.

  Madame was frequently in the habit of going away suddenly and remainingaway indefinite periods. But usually she used her own car, and rarelytook her maid. Sometimes she said when she would be back; sometimesnot. On this occasion she did not. No, she was unaccompanied except forher maid, Francella, Vassilitz's own sister. And she, Francella, hadgiven him no information. Madame was very secret in her movements.Doubtless madame would return in due course, as she had always done. Hehoped no accident had happened. He was devoted to madame, whom he hadknown all his life.

  Even the matter of letters in no way disconcerted him. They were allthere on the hall table. But he appealed to the chief of police forauthority to show them.

  The chief assumed the responsibility, and they were produced.

  They were examined carefully, and all but one telegram were duly handedback to the butler. The telegram was sequestered by the officer, butremained unopened.

  There was nothing more to be gained from Vassilitz, and the car rolledaway. And as they went, Ruxton, in an agony of painful conviction,gazed sombrely back at the beautiful old Elizabethan structure in itsperfect setting, which was the home of the woman he loved.

  He was aroused from his despairing contemplation by the voice of theofficer beside him.

  "There's trickery afoot, sir," he said emphatically, "and I'll lay amonth's salary that black-haired Vassilitz is in it."

  Ruxton turned sharply.

  "What makes you so convinced?" he enquired thickly.

  "Why, the letters. Every one of 'em has been opened. So has thistelegram. Didn't you twig it, sir?"

  Ruxton confessed his oversight, and the officer beamed pleasantsatisfaction.

  "That's where experience comes in, sir," he went on. "There never was asystem of opening letters that couldn't be detected by those who know.I've made a study of it. Those letters have all been opened--all of'em. What about this telegram, sir?"

  "If it's mine, then the Princess has not left of her own free will. I'mafraid it's mine."

  "Princess, sir?"

  "Yes. She's the Princess von Hertzwohl!"

  The officer's face had become a study. He was impressed more deeplythan ever.

  "Er--shall I open it, sir?" he hesitated.

  Ruxton nodded.

  "You may as well."

  The man tore it open and glanced at the contents. A flush spread overhis already florid cheeks.

  "It's yours, sir," he said. Then he added in a low tone: "I'm--I'msorry, sir."

  For answer he suddenly felt a forceful clutch on his arm.

  "The Princess has been kidnapped," cried Ruxton, in a voice deep withpassionate intensity. "Do you understand? She was waiting at her housethere for that message. Nothing but force would have caused her toleave it until she received that message."

  Ruxton's extreme dejection on his return to town was changed abruptlyinto even greater alarm.

  His secretary was nervously awaiting him. Nor could he restrain hisimpatience. Heathcote was in the hall when Ruxton's key turned in thelock. The young man held a long telegram in his hand and flourished ittowards his employer the moment the door closed.

  "It's from Sir Andrew," he said. "There's trouble--trouble at Dorby."

  Ruxton snatched at the ominous paper and his eyes eagerly sought theboldly-written message.

  "Explosion here at 6 A. M. Drawing offices completely wrecked. Seriousfire. Certain departments damaged and had narrow escape completedestruction.--Farlow."

  It was the second blow in a few hours. Ruxton was hit hard. He readinto the message all the ominous facts which had been left unwritten.

  But in a moment he had been roused out of himself. The loss of thewoman he loved had left him stunned in a curious degree. He had beenattacked thereby through the sensitive organism which controlled allthat belonged to the emotional side of the human heart. A terribleweight of depression had overwhelmed him for the moment. Now it wasdifferent. Here was a tangible attack. Here was something that left hisheart untouched, but roused instead all the human fighting instinctwhich had lain dormant within him. There was no deadening apathy, therewas no feeling of helplessness. He was alive, alert, and full ofbattle. So he prepared for a second night in succession to be spent onthe railway.

  "I must go to Dorby to-night," he said briefly. Then he added, as hepassed up-stairs to his library: "Get on to Scotland Yard and put methrough."