CHAPTER II

  The Eavesdropper

  Ludwig Schoeffer, London agent for the Pfieldorf Company of Chemnitz,was feeling at the very top of his form. He was carrying out hisinstructions in a manner that bid fair to be highly satisfactory bothto his employers and himself, and unless untoward events disturbed theeven tenor of his investigations he stood to win the sum of two hundredpounds before the day was out.

  The Pfieldorf Company were both surprised and angry when the news camethat their tender for work for the Kilba Protectorate had been "turneddown". Their Teutonic mentality could not account for the fact that atender considerably higher than theirs had been accepted. The war wasover: why, then, should a good, old German firm be slighted andpractically debarred from securing a contract that would advance thecommercial prestige of the Fatherland?

  At an extraordinary meeting of the directors Herr Bohme, chairman ofthe company, proposed a somewhat startling scheme. He suggested thatthe steelwork should be put in hand immediately, according to thespecification of the Kilba Protectorate Government. In any case, thebridge, being of a useful design, would find a ready purchaser in oneof the South American republics, or perhaps in certain parts of Africawhere there was no British prejudice against German goods. The merefact that they were picking another man's brains by copying theProtectorate's civil engineer's designs hardly entered into HerrBohme's calculations.

  "And now I come to an important proposition," continued the chairman."It is for us to do our best to prevent this British BrocklingtonIronworks Company from carrying out their contract. Somehow--how, I donot know yet--somehow that firm must be compelled to fail in theirundertaking. At the critical juncture the Kilba Protectorate will bewithout their most important bridge, and we can well imagine the effectthat will have upon the country. That is where we step in. We canoffer a similar structure, complete, and in every way conformable tospecification, for the sum of twenty million marks, which is tenthousand pounds more than our original tender, free on board atHamburg. To save the situation the Protectorate Government will jumpat our offer."

  "But how can we prevent----?" began one of the directors.

  Von Bohme winked ponderously.

  "There are ways and means, von Kessler," he interrupted. "TheseEnglish fondly imagine that, now the war is over, there is no need forour admirable secret service. As you know, that organization stillexists most healthily; only, instead of being the Imperial, it is nowthe German Commercial Secret Service."

  Herr von Bohme had occasion to be vindictive towards everyone andeverything British. A violent Junker, he had supported the ex-Kaiser'swar policy with all his might and main, never doubting, until it wastoo late, of the rapid and triumphant success of the German arms. Atthe Armistice he had been compelled to surrender eight of his largestmerchant vessels to the Allies. That practically smashed up theshipping business of which Herr Bohme was managing director. Thereremained the Pfieldorf Company, the activities of which bid fair tomore than recoup the directors and shareholders for the loss of theirmercantile marine. But von Bohme never forgot. Behind his keenbusiness capabilities lurked the spirit of vindictiveness towards thePower that had taken so large a part in the smashing of the GermanEmpire.

  Without loss of time von Bohme telegraphed to Ludwig Schoeffer, andtwenty-four hours later Ludwig presented himself at von Bohme's housein the Platz Alice at Chemnitz.

  Schoeffer, although only twenty-seven years of age, had had anadventurous career. He was one of the very few German spies in Englandwho had eluded the skilfully drawn toils of Sir Basil Thomson. At theoutbreak of hostilities the spy was actually holding a BritishAdmiralty position in Whitehall, and during the next two years he wasbusily serving two rival Governments at Portsmouth, Chatham, andRosyth. At the latter place a very simple slip nearly "gave him away",and he quickly transferred his activities to the United States. Therehe specialized in "deferred action bombs"; ingenious contrivancesdetonated electrically by means of clockwork. Many a good ship owedher destruction to Ludwig Schoeffer's cunning; and, even after thecessation of hostilities, he remained in New York with the object ofwrecking the ex-German vessels surrendered under the terms of theArmistice. But at last the spy was caught through the 'cuteness of aHoboken policeman. Arrested, he was tried, found guilty, and sent fora life-sentence to Sing Sing. Three weeks later he created a record bybreaking out of that grim penitentiary, and succeeded in making his wayback to Germany, via San Francisco, Sydney, and Colombo.

  There was nothing about Ludwig Schoeffer's appearance to betray hisnationality. He might, and frequently did, pass for an Englishman,while his command of English defied detection. He was of medium heightand build, dark-haired and sallow-featured. There was nothing ofTeutonic stolidity about his movements. On the other hand, he walkedwith the elasticity and easy carriage of an Anglo-Saxon athlete.

  Von Bohme received his visitor in his study, drew a thick curtain overthe door, and came to the point at once.

  "I want you to proceed to England, Schoeffer," he began. "Usualterms--payment by results with immediate advance to meet currentexpenses. You know Brocklington?"

  "I was there in May and June, 1915, Herr Bohme."

  "Good; but I fancy you don't know the Brocklington Ironworks."

  The spy considered a few moments. To admit that he did not might be aconfession of lack of local knowledge. To say that he did when he wasnot sure of the fact was to lay himself open to being discredited.Then he considered that perhaps his employer was trying to catch himout.

  "I saw no ironworks there," he said at length.

  Von Bohme grunted in satisfaction.

  "For the very good reason that they came only into existence since thewar. Now, read this and commit the salient facts to memory."

  Von Bohme handed his caller a dossier containing the papers dealingwith the Kilba Protectorate contract. There were eleven pages ofclosely lined typescript with marginal notes in von Bohme's ownhandwriting.

  "You've grasped the important points? Good! Now, this is your task.Go to Brocklington, find out and report to me on the progress of thework. When necessary, shadow the directors of the Company in London.Their offices are in Chilbolton Row, off St. Mary Axe. Use every meansat your disposal to hinder the work, since at all costs that steelworkmust not arrive at Kilba. You understand?"

  Thirty-six hours later Ludwig Schoeffer arrived at Brocklington. Inthe guise of a mechanic he presented himself at the works foreman'soffice, having previously taken the precaution of registering under thename of James Sylvester at the local Labour Exchange.

  Already the contract was well in hand. Additional workmen were beingtaken on, and the mere fact that Jim Sylvester was a skilled riveterrecommended by the local Exchange enabled the secret service agent toobtain employment forthwith.

  That was all very well as far as it went, but the fact that he wasactually at the works afforded Ludwig very few opportunities of gettingin touch with the brains of the concern. So, after two futile attemptsto hinder the work, Jim Sylvester obtained his discharge anddisappeared from the neighbourhood.

  By this time the spy had got to know the managing director and most ofthe principals by sight. His next step was to try to probe the secretsof the head office in Chilbolton Row.

  Judicious inquiries resulted in the information that the BrocklingtonIronworks Company's city premises were the ground floor of a large,somewhat dingy building. The second and third floors were occupied byshipping agents; the first floor was at present unoccupied.

  Three days later Ludwig Schoeffer was in possession of the hithertovacant rooms immediately over the Brocklington Ironworks Company'soffices, but not as Ludwig Schoeffer. A card affixed to the doorannounced to anyone who had occasion to visit the upstairs offices thatMr. Josiah Sherringham, London agent for Messrs. Hoogenveen, bulbgrowers, of Haarlem, would be in attendance daily from ten to four.Since Messrs Hoogenveen, had no material existence, it was extremelyunlikely that clients woul
d call upon Mr. Josiah Sherringham. Nor didthe tenant of the first floor want any. Usually the door was locked,generally from the outside, and inside whenever the directors of theBrocklington Ironworks Company held converse in the room below.

  Amongst Mr. Josiah Sherringham's office furniture was a dictaphone, themouthpiece of which was extended by means of a length of india-rubbertube and rested above a hole in the ceiling of the room below. Someyears previously the premises had been renovated and electric lightinstalled in place of gas, but the huge ornamental rose from which achandelier once depended formed a convenient camouflage for theeavesdropper's operations.

  Whenever the directors of Brocklington Ironworks Company held a boardmeeting, Ludwig Schoeffer was an unseen listener. Being ratherparticular about his appearance the spy invariably donned a suit ofworkmen's overalls, lest his clothes should show signs of having comein contact with the dusty floor. Fortnightly, transcribed records ofthe British firm's progress were transmitted to the Platz Alice atChemnitz.

  At length came the momentous meeting at which Captain Mostyn was toannounce the result of the Kilba Protectorate Government's inspector'spreliminary tests of the steelwork; and also the arrangements made forthe shipment of the material to its destination.

  The dictaphone was purring softly. Ludwig, on his hands and knees, hadprized up some floor-boards and was listening to the report. In hiseagerness he could not wait for the wax cylinders to tell him what wastranspiring.

  At a critical moment the dictaphone ceased functioning. Theeavesdropper half rose to attend to the instrument. His knees slippedon the narrow joists, and the next instant, amidst a rending of lathsand plaster, he landed on his back upon the table around which wereseated the directors of the Brocklington Ironworks Company.

 
Percy F. Westerman's Novels