A Hero of Liége: A Story of the Great War

  Produced by Al Haines.

  Cover art]

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  THE SPY UNMASKED]

  A HERO OF LIEGE

  _A STORY OF THE GREAT WAR_

  BY

  HERBERT STRANG

  _ILLUSTRATED BY CYRUS CUNEO_

  LONDON HENRY FROWDE HODDER AND STOUGHTON

  _First Printed in 1914_

  HERBERT STRANG'S WAR STORIES

  SULTAN JIM: A STORY OF GERMAN AGGRESSION.THE AIR SCOUT: A STORY OF HOME DEFENCE.THE AIR PATROL: A STORY OF THE NORTH-WEST FRONTIER.ROB THE RANGER: A STORY OF THE GREAT FIGHT FOR CANADA.ONE OF CLIVE'S HEROES: A STORY OF THE GREAT FIGHT FOR INDIA.BARCLAY OF THE GUIDES: A STORY OF THE INDIAN MUTINY.THE ADVENTURES OF HARRY ROCHESTER: A STORY OF MARLBOROUGH'S CAMPAIGNS.BOYS OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE: A STORY OF THE PENINSULAR WAR.KOBO: A STORY OF THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR.BROWN OF MOUKDEN: A STORY OF THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR.

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  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I--THE OPENING OF THE GAME CHAPTER II--THE FIRST TRICK CHAPTER III--THE SECOND TRICK CHAPTER IV--IN NEUTRAL TERRITORY CHAPTER V--A CLOSE CALL CHAPTER VI--THE OLD MILL CHAPTER VII--A HORNET'S NEST CHAPTER VIII--A FIGHT IN THE MILL CHAPTER IX--IN THE TRENCHES CHAPTER X--BROKEN THREADS CHAPTER XI--THE CENTRE ARCH CHAPTER XII--A FIGHT WITH A ZEPPELIN CHAPTER XIII--THE GREAT GUNS CHAPTER XIV--HUNTED CHAPTER XV--HUNS AT PLAY CHAPTER XVI--THE CARETAKER CHAPTER XVII--A BARMECIDE FEAST CHAPTER XVIII--RUNNING THE GAUNTLET CHAPTER XIX--'A LONG, LONG WAY----'

  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  THE SPY UNMASKEDTHE PEASANTS SCATTERED OUT OF ITS PATHTHE END OF THE ZEPPELINCLEARING THE ROAD

  CHAPTER I--THE OPENING OF THE GAME

  At nine o'clock on Tuesday morning, August 4, Kenneth Amory walked intothe private office of the head of the well-known firm of Amory &Finkelstein, gutta-percha manufacturers, of Cologne. Max Finkelstein,the head of the firm, swung round on his revolving chair, moved his handbackward over his brush-like crop of brownish hair, and looked upthrough his spectacles at Kenneth, his stout florid countenance wearingan expression of worry.

  "I sent for you to tell you to pack up and get away by the first train,"he said, in German. "Things are looking very black; the sooner you arehome, the better."

  "Our dear Max is jumpy," came in smooth tones from the third person inthe room, the ends of his well-brushed moustache rising stiffly as hesmiled. He was tall and slim--a contrast to his cousin Finkelstein, whohad reached that period of life when good food, a successful business,and Germanic lack of exercise, tend to corpulence. "I tell him he neednot worry," the speaker went on. "It will be as in '70."

  "Provided that England----" Finkelstein was beginning, but Kurt Hellwigbroke in with a laugh.

  "Oh, England! England will protest a little, and preach a little, andtake care not to get a scratch."

  "Don't you be too sure of that," said Kenneth, rather warmly.

  "No? You think otherwise?" Hellwig was smiling still. "Well, we shallsee. Perhaps you have private information?"

  His mocking smile and ironical tone brought a flush to Kenneth's cheeks.

  "I don't want any private information to know what England will do,"cried the boy.

  "True, the public information is conclusive. England is helpless; shesuffers from an internal complaint; she is breaking up."

  "That will do, Kurt," said Finkelstein, anticipating an explosive wordfrom Kenneth, who was quick-tempered, and apt to fall out with Hellwig."Really, Ken, you will be safer at home, and if you don't go now youwill lose your chance; all the trains will be required for the troops."

  "I'd rather wait a little longer," replied Kenneth. "It's all sointeresting. I've never seen a mobilisation before."

  "It will do him good to see how we manage things in Germany," saidHellwig. "And since England will remain neutral, he will run no risk."

  Finkelstein, easygoing and indolent where business was not concerned,yielded the point.

  "Very well," he said. "Do as you please. But I recommend you to packup in readiness for a sudden departure. For my part, I hope Kurt isright; I think of my business."

  "We all think of our business," said Hellwig, with a slight stress uponthe pronoun.

  "Our business--yes," said Finkelstein. "We shall all suffer, I fear.But if it is as in '70----"

  Kenneth did not wait to hear further discussion on the chances of thewar. Remarking that he would see the others at lunch, he hurried awayinto the street. Awakened very early that morning by the rumbling ofcarts and the tramp of horses, he had got up and gone out, to watch thecontinual passage of regiments of infantry and cavalry, batteries ofartillery, pontoon trains, commissariat and ammunition wagons, throughthe streets and the railway station. Everything was swift andsystematic; the troops, though a little hazy as to their destination,were in high spirits; the war would soon be over, they assured theiranxious friends.

  It was all very new and exciting to Kenneth Amory, who had only vaguememories of the English mobilisation for the South African war, when hewas a child of four. His father had founded, with Max Finkelstein, anAnglo-German business which had attained great dimensions. Finkelsteincontrolled the German headquarters at Cologne; Amory looked after thingsin London. The latter died suddenly in the winter of 1912, leaving hisson Kenneth, then nearly seventeen years of age, to the guardianship ofFinkelstein, in whom he justly placed implicit confidence.

  Since then Kenneth had spent much of his time in Germany, learning thebusiness under Finkelstein's direction. He had a great liking for hisfather's partner, who was a keen man of business, scrupulously exact inhis duties as guardian, and a "good fellow." Finkelstein had announcedthat Kenneth, as soon as he came of age, would be taken intopartnership. The firm would still be Amory & Finkelstein.

  When Kurt Hellwig spoke of "our business," his use of the first personalpronoun must be taken to have implied a commendable feeling: he had noactual share in the business. His connection with it was a proof of hiscousin Max's kindness of heart. Hellwig had brilliant abilities; inparticular, remarkable linguistic powers; but he had never been able toturn them to account in the various careers which he had successivelyattempted. Finkelstein had more than once lent him a helping hand;since Mr. Amory's death he had employed him as occasional representativein England. Needless to say, he did not entrust any matter ofimportance to his erratic cousin; and the salary he paid him wasproportionate rather to relationship than to services.

  Kenneth returned to Finkelstein's house for the midday lunch. NeitherFinkelstein nor Hellwig was present.

  "Father sent word that he was detained," said Frieda, Finkelstein'sdaughter, a little younger than Kenneth. "We are not to wait for him."

  "He seemed very worried when I saw him this morning," said Kenneth. "Ofcourse business will be at a standstill, especially if we come into thewar."

  "It will be hateful if you do," said the girl. "But you won't, Kurtsays. We have done nothing to you."

  "Kurt knows nothing about it. He thinks we are afraid to fight. He'swrong. Of course we are not concerned with your quarrel with Russia;but when it comes to your attacking France, quite unprovoked, andbullying Belgium to let you take the easy way, you can hardly expect usto look on quietly. But we won't talk about that, Frieda; you and Imustn't quarrel."

  Frieda and Kenneth
were very good friends. One bond of union betweenthem was a common dislike of Kurt Hellwig, whose sarcastic tongue was aconstant irritant. Kenneth related what had passed at the office thatmorning.

  "Why has he come back?" said Frieda. "He has been away for weeks; Iwish he would stay away altogether."

  "Do you?"

  "Of course I do. What do you mean?"

  "I fancy Kurt thinks you admire him--because he wants you to, Isuppose."

  "Will you take me to Cousin Amalia's after lunch?" asked Frieda, with adisconcerting change of subject. "I promised to spend the rest of theday with her. And you'll fetch me this evening, won't you?"

  After escorting Frieda to her cousin's, Kenneth strolled about, watchingthe war preparations, then turned homewards to pack his bag, as he hadpromised Finkelstein to do. On the way he bought a copy of the _CologneGazette_ containing a mangled version of Sir Edward Grey's speech in theHouse of Commons on the previous day. When he had finished packing, hesat down with the paper at the open window of his room. Having risenearly, he was rather tired, and the heat of the afternoon soon sent himto sleep.

  He was wakened by voices near at hand. There was no one but himself inthe room; after a moment's confusion of senses he realised that thesounds came up from the balcony beneath his window. It was reached fromthe drawing-room, and since it was shaded by a light awning, someone hadevidently gone there for the sake of fresh air.

  The awning concealed the speakers from Kenneth's view, but in a fewmoments he recognised Hellwig's voice. The other speaker was a man anda stranger. Kenneth at first paid no attention to them; Hellwig hadmany acquaintances, and was fond of entertaining them. But presently hecaught a sentence that made him suddenly alert.

  "The bridge has been mined."

  It was the stranger speaking, in German. Kenneth rose silently from hischair, and leant out of the window, so that he should not miss a word.

  "The train can be fired at any moment, thanks to our forethought intunnelling between the mill-house and the bridge."

  "That is well," said Hellwig, in the tone of a superior commending thereport brought him by a subordinate. "Get back as quickly as you can,and tell them to be ready to act instantly on receipt of a marconigram."

  "The stations are closed to private messages," remarked the visitor.

  "Yes: but mine will get through. What news have you?"

  "When I left yesterday the Belgians were becoming alive to their danger.They are mobilising feverishly. The forts at Liege are fully manned.But many people refuse to believe that we shall go to extremes andinvade their territory. They say that its inviolability is guaranteedby treaty."

  Hellwig laughed.

  "Keep in touch with London," he said. "In a few hours I shall be cutoff from London except through Amsterdam, and I shall have to move myheadquarters there. You remember the address?"

  "As before?"

  "Yes. Send there any information that comes through from London, andkeep me informed of your whereabouts."

  "There was talk, as I came through, of possible English intervention. Ilearn that crowds clamoured for war in front of Buckingham Palace lastnight."

  "A mistake: they were shouting against war. The British government willnot dare to strike: even if they do, they will be too late. We areready: they are not. Before they have made up their minds we shall beacross the Belgian frontier and into France."

  The conversation continued for a few minutes longer, then the visitorrose to go. Acting on impulse, Kenneth ran out of his room, and wasnearing the foot of the staircase as the two men came from thedrawing-room. He had the _Cologne Gazette_ in his hand.

  "Have you read Sir Edward Grey's speech?" he asked Hellwig.

  "Not yet. Is it worth the trouble?" replied Hellwig in his smoothmocking tones.

  "I thought you hadn't, or you wouldn't be so cock-sure," Kennethreturned. "I rather think the British government have already made uptheir minds."

  "So you have been eavesdropping?" said Hellwig quickly.

  "You are a spy!" cried Kenneth--"you and your friend."

  "Is that any concern of yours?"

  "Only to this extent; that I'll have nothing more to do with you," saidKenneth hotly, conscious at the moment that it was a foolish thing tosay, and feeling the more irritated.

  "That will kill me," sighed Hellwig.

  "And Max shall know it," Kenneth went on. "He doesn't know that you'vebeen up to this sort of thing, I'm sure."

  "Certainly; Max shall know that I am doing something for my country. Youare, no doubt, doing wonders for yours."

  "I wouldn't do such dirty work as yours," cried Kenneth, more and moreangry under Hellwig's calmness.

  At this moment the outer door opened, and Frieda came in from thestreet.

  "What is the matter?" she asked, looking from Kenneth's flushed face toHellwig's smiling one, upon which, however, there flickered now a shadeof embarrassment.

  "The fellow is a spy!" Kenneth burst out.

  "I was explaining, my dear cousin, that I am doing at least somethingfor my country," Hellwig said.

  "We should have preferred that it were anything else," said Friedacoldly. "Come, Ken, I've something to say to you."

  She hurried along the corridor, not heeding Hellwig's bow as she passed.Kenneth followed her. Hellwig shrugged, and left the house with hisfriend.

  "How did it come out?" asked Frieda, when Kenneth was alone with her inthe drawing-room.

  "They were talking under my window. He accused me of eavesdropping. Icouldn't help hearing them at first; and when I found out what they wereat, of course I listened. You have come back alone?"

  "Yes. I met Father. He says that your government has sent us anultimatum, and war is certain. You must go home at once. Father sentme to tell you."

  "All right. He sneered about my doing wonders for my country. I'll dosomething better than spying. I'll volunteer for the Flying Corps."

  "Oh, don't do that! It's so dangerous."

  "No more dangerous than being in the firing line."

  "But why do anything at all--of that sort, I mean? War ishorrible--horrible!"

  "It is, for everyone. I'm sure none of our people wanted it. But ifwe're in for it, every fellow who can do anything will be required, andyou wouldn't wish me to skulk at home while others fight?"

  "I'd rather you should fight than spy. You must make haste. Martiallaw is proclaimed. Father called at the station, and found that therewill be a train at half-past nine to-night: it will probably be thelast. And the stationmaster said that anyone who wanted to secure aseat must be early, for there's sure to be a great rush. Have you doneyour packing?"

  "Yes; there's only one bag I need take. The less baggage the better.I'll run down to the station and get my ticket now, to make sure of it."

  "Don't be long. Father will be back to dinner, and he wants to saygoodbye to you, and to give you some messages for business friends inLondon."

  Kenneth hurried to the station. There were signs of new excitement inthe streets. Newsvendors were shouting that Belgium was invaded. Peoplethronged the beer-shops, eagerly discussing the situation. Already therewere cries of "Down with the English!" Tourists of all nationalitieswere flocking to the station and to the landing-stage for the Rhinesteamers. Soldiers were everywhere.

  At the station ticket office there was a long queue of people waiting.Kenneth saw little chance of obtaining a ticket for some time; but beingwell acquainted with the stationmaster, he sought his assistance and wasprovided with a written pass.

  "I can't guarantee that you will get beyond Aix-la-Chapelle," said theofficial. "You must take your chance."

  Kenneth set off to return. Attracted by a crowd at the door of one ofthe hotels, he went up to discover the cause of the assemblage. Amountain of luggage was piled on the pavement, and the distractedowners, turned out of the hotel, were vainly seeking porters to conveyit to the station. The riff-raff of the streets were jeering
at them.Kenneth turned away, feeling that the scene was ominous.

  He had walked only a short distance from the spot when a hand touchedhis shoulder from behind.

  "You are under arrest, sir," said a police sergeant, who was accompaniedby two constables.

  "Nonsense," said Kenneth, good-humouredly. "You have mistaken yourman."

  "Your name is Kenneth Amory?" said the sergeant.

  "Something like that," said Kenneth, amused at the man's pronunciation.

  "There is no mistake, then. You are arrested."

  "Indeed! On what charge?"

  "As a suspect."

  "Suspected of what?"

  "Of spying."

  This took Kenneth's breath away. Mechanically he walked a few stepsbeside the officer, the two constables following. Then realising thenature of the charge against him, he stopped short.

  "It is false!" he cried. "I am no spy. Where is your warrant? Whatright have you to arrest me?"

  "No warrant is needed," replied the sergeant, courteously enough. "Youwill no doubt clear yourself if you are innocent."

  "Of course I am innocent. My friends will prove that. Oh! I won'tgive you any trouble: the sooner I get to the police-station, thebetter."

  "That is reasonable," said the sergeant.

  They marched on. Kenneth looked eagerly at all the passers-by in thehope of finding a friend who would vouch for him; but he recognised nofamiliar face. On reaching the station he was searched, but deprived ofnothing except his pocket-book and the letters it contained.

  "They are only private letters," he explained. "The whole matter isridiculous. You will let me write a note to a friend, who will speakfor me?"

  "Certainly," said the officer, "provided I see what you say."

  Kenneth quickly scribbled a note to Max Finkelstein, and handed it tothe officer, who remarked that it had nothing suspicious about it, andplaced it in an envelope which Kenneth addressed.

  "I shall be released as soon as Herr Finkelstein comes?" asked Kenneth.

  "That is doubtful," replied the officer. "It will probably be necessaryto bring you before the magistrate to-morrow."

  "But I am going to England to-night."

  "To England! That is suspicious. Herr Finkelstein may have influence.We shall see."

  A short conversation, carried on in low tones, ensued between thesergeant and his superior officer. They were consulting as to where theprisoner should be placed: the cells, it appeared, were full. UltimatelyKenneth was taken to a room on the ground floor. The window was barredand shuttered on the outside, and light entered only by two small roundapertures in the shutters.

  "A black hole, this," he said to the sergeant.

  "It will not be for long, if you are innocent," replied the man.

  Then he shut and locked the door; Kenneth was left to himself.