Spies of the Kaiser: Plotting the Downfall of England Read online

  CHAPTER II

  THE SECRET OF THE SILENT SUBMARINE

  "It's a most mysterious affair, no doubt," I remarked. "Has anythingfurther been discovered?"

  "Yes, Jack," replied my friend Ray Raymond, rolling a fresh cigarettebetween his fingers. "On investigation, the mystery grows morecomplicated, more remarkable, and--for us--much more interesting."

  We were seated together in our dismal chambers in New Stone Buildings,Lincoln's Inn, one wet afternoon about six weeks after the Forth Bridgeaffair. With us, lolling in the shabby old easy chair beside the fire,sat Vera Vallance, in a big black hat, with her muff and coat thrownaside. Her disappearance at North Queensferry had been of only briefduration, for we had discovered her hiding at the bottom of the longgarden, close to the water's edge, watching the landing of two smallboxes from a boat. It appeared that the two men, Scholtz and Klauber, onreceipt of the note purporting to come from their director, HermannHartmann, in London, had asked her to wait in an adjoining room whilethey wrote a reply. But from there she had slipped out, and concealedherself in the garden to wait and watch.

  Half an hour ago she had come to my gloomy chambers with her fiance, inorder, as he explained, to consult with us. She was at present on avisit to her married sister who lived in Argyll Road, near KensingtonHigh Street, hence they were daily in each other's company.

  "You see, Jack, very little has been allowed to leak out to the papers,"Ray exclaimed as he lit his cigarette and took up a position with hisback to the fire. "As soon as I read of the discovery I ran down toScotland Yard, saw Evans, and explained my theory. He was inclined toagree with me, and at once gave orders that no facts were to be given tothe Press. Upon complete secrecy, our success now depends."

  "I only know what I've read in the papers," I remarked.

  "Tell us the whole facts, Ray," urged the pretty fair-haired girl, whosat with her veil raised and her long white gloves laid across herknees.

  "Well, dear, they are briefly as follows," he replied, with anaffectionate glance at her. "Last Thursday afternoon, on the arrival at4.51 of a train from Guildford at Vauxhall, the ticket-collectordiscovered lying on the floor of a third-class compartment amiddle-aged, respectably dressed man in an apparently dying condition.The police were called, and he was conveyed to St. Thomas's Hospital,where it was found that he was suffering from a severe fracture of theskull, the wound having been inflicted probably with a loaded stick or alife-preserver. There was a severe cut over the right eye and a greatgash down the left cheek. The man was unconscious, and still remains so.The doctors have grave doubts whether, even if he recovers, his mindwill not be permanently affected. In all probability he will neverregain his right mind."

  "Terrible!" ejaculated Vera.

  "Yes. A case of attempted murder, no doubt," he said. "But what firstattracted my notice was the statement that the man had been identifiedas Max Steinheim, a German hairdresser employed in a shop in New BondStreet, who had been missing for nearly two months. He resided inHargwynne Street, Stockwell, and as he owed a considerable sum to hislandlady, she had given notice to the police of his disappearance. Itwas she who had identified him in the hospital."

  "That's as far as the information conveyed by the newspapers carries theaffair," I remarked.

  "Exactly. But we are able to proceed a little farther, to a matter whichmust be closely investigated," continued Raymond. "On the arrival of thetrain at Waterloo the compartment, which showed signs of a desperatestruggle, was searched, and under the seat was discovered a small pieceof paper tightly screwed up into a small ball as though somebody wishedto get rid of it unobserved. Upon it, in a distinctly foreign hand, andin violet ink--which, by the way, is seldom used by Englishmen--weretraced some cryptic memoranda, a copy of which I have here," and hehanded for our inspection a piece of paper which presented thisappearance:

  J 11864! 19505 Kingscliffe 12.15 train St. Pancras M.R. Weldon and Corby 1 mile Royal Pier 18 6.11 248 and 392 Harpur Street 2.30 ? 8.88 M. 88 Elmar 39 X clock.

  "You've endeavoured to decipher it, of course," I remarked, as both Veraand I gazed at the puzzling array of numerals and words.

  "I have. For the past three days I've indeed done nothing else.Unfortunately the result is not very reassuring," he answered."Deciphered by one of the little-known codes, the figures 19505 standfor 'January 24th,' which is four days before the murderous assault.Kingscliffe is the name of a village in Northamptonshire, on the NorthWestern line between Peterborough and Rugby. The 12.15 from St. Pancrasis a restaurant train for Derby, and takes passengers to Weldon andCorby station, by changing at Kettering, and the distance '1 mile' wouldbring the traveller to the village of Great Weldon."

  "Royal Pier sounds like the name of a hotel," I remarked.

  "No doubt. But there are a good many Royal Pier hotels in England, sothere we are confronted with a difficulty. To what 6.11 refers I cannotconceive, while Harpur Street, which is off Theobalds Road, I visitedyesterday, but I find there are no such numbers as 248 or 392. The nextline is unintelligible, but if I read the last line aright it is anappointment made beneath the clock at Charing Cross Station at six."

  I drew hard at my pipe. That strange document presented to me a verycomplicated puzzle.

  "It seems to refer to some district in Northamptonshire, yet he wasattacked coming up from Guildford, on the South Western line!" Veraremarked. "Is your only suspicion based upon the fact of the injuredman's nationality, Ray?"

  "That, combined with other circumstances," he replied. "As soon as Iread the first announcement in the papers, I went down to Guildford andthere ascertained that the injured man arrived at the Angel Hotel in amotor-car about one o'clock. The chauffeur remarked to the ostler thathe had come up from the south coast, and after having a drink he startedoff on the return journey. Steinheim had luncheon upstairs, took hiscoffee and cigarette in the little room below, and idled about, tellingthe lady bookkeeper of the hotel that he was expecting a friend. Thefriend in question did not, however, arrive, therefore he walked down tothe station, and left at 4.13 for London. A porter remembers seeing himalone in the compartment, and it seems quite certain that, on startingfrom Guildford, he was still alone. The train was an express, and timednot to stop anywhere from Guildford to Vauxhall, but, from the railwayofficials, I find that it was pulled up by signal about a mile fromEsher, in which time he may have been joined by some one from theadjoining compartment."

  "Then your theory is that the man who attacked this mysterious Germangot back again to his carriage, and alighted at Vauxhall," I said.

  "I certainly think so, for the driver says that outside Clapham Junctionthe signals were against him, and he pulled up."

  "It's a pity he has not sufficiently recovered to make any statement."

  Ray smiled grimly.

  "He would never do that, I think," he said. "It is to his advantage toconceal the facts, if my deductions prove correct."

  "Are those all the known circumstances?" I inquired, much interested.

  "There is one other. A week after the man's disappearance fromStockwell, his landlady received a letter bearing the postmark ofCrawley in Sussex, telling her not to trouble on his account. He wrote:'I am engaged upon an important mission, but shall return home withinten days, when I will pay all I owe you. Do not trouble after me. Burnthis letter as soon as you have read it.--MAX STEINHEIM.' The other factI learned from the man's employer, an Englishman in New Bond Street. Itappears that to the establishment there often came a stout,well-dressed, prosperous-looking German gentleman who waited forSteinheim to shave him, or cut his hair, and on such occasions it wasnoticed that they exchanged whispered words in their own tongue."

  "Well?" asked Vera, looking up at her lover.

  "The stout German's description tallies exactly with that of HermannHartmann."

  "Ah! I see," I remarked. "You've certainly not been idle, Ray." And withmy eyes fixed upon
that puzzling array of figures and words, I added,"If we could only decipher the whole of these we might elucidate thetruth."

  "The injured man's knowledge of Hartmann, the crafty chief of the GermanSecret Service in London, is certainly suspicious," Vera remarked. "Butcannot some information be gathered from the landlady at HargwynneStreet? He may have had visitors there."

  "And if he did, they would speak in German, which the good lady couldnot understand," her lover replied thoughtfully, contemplating the endof his cigarette.

  "There could be no harm in seeing the good lady," the girl remarked."I'll go over to-morrow and have a chat with her."

  "And in the meantime Jack and I will pursue another line of inquiry,"remarked my friend.

  Vera rose, a tall, fair-haired, and sweet-faced figure in black, andseating herself at the table, served us our tea. She was no stranger atour chambers, and as an Admiral's daughter, the question of German spiesin England, which her lover had taken up so strongly, interested hermost keenly. The Forth Bridge peril had already impressed a great andserious truth upon the Government, but Ray Raymond's success had onlywhetted his appetite for further exploration and discovery.

  Therefore on the following morning I called at his chambers in BrutonStreet--a tastefully furnished bachelor suite, the art green and bluesof which were scarcely in keeping with his serious, earnestcharacter--and together we drove in a taxi-cab to St. Thomas's Hospital,where, in the accident ward, we stood at the bedside of the mysteriousSteinheim. His head was enveloped in surgical bandages, but during thenight he had regained consciousness. To the questions we put to him,however, we obtained no satisfactory replies. His mind seemed to be aperfect blank as to what had occurred.

  Ray read the copy of those cryptic figures upon the scrap of paper foundin the railway carriage. When my friend pronounced the name of thestation "Weldon and Corby," the invalid's big grey eyes started from hishead as he exclaimed in German:

  "Ah! Yes--yes. At Weldon. She was at Weldon!"

  Who was "she"? In vain we tried to wring from him some reply to thisquestion, but, alas! in vain.

  Mention of Hermann Hartmann, the ingenious and fearless secret agent whocontrolled so cleverly the vast army of German spies spread over oursmiling land of England, brought no responsive expression to the man'swhite, drawn face. It was indeed apparent that his intention was to holdback at all hazards the truth regarding the murderous attack upon him.Perhaps he himself was guilty of some offence, or perhaps he intended tohold his peace then and to retaliate at a moment when his assailantthought himself most secure.

  He was a big, burly, strong-featured man, just the type of heavy-limbedGerman who might be expected to bear a murderous malice against any whodid him injury.

  "I feel more than ever convinced that Hartmann is at the bottom of thecurious affair," Ray declared, as we walked together across WestminsterBridge and I crossed with him to the St. Stephen's Club, at the cornerof the Embankment. "As far as I can discover, the man was always inpossession of ample funds. Yet to his landlady he was careful never toreveal that he had money. There was, no doubt, some hidden reason forthis, as well as for the letter he wrote to the woman after hisdeparture."

  "The mystery surrounding the affair grows more fascinating as weproceed," I declared.

  "And if the deduction I have made this morning proves to be the correctone, Jack, the mystery will still increase. There's some very crookedbusiness in progress, depend upon it."

  That afternoon I had to make an application in the Chancery Court,therefore it was not until after dinner that I again sat in one of thegreen velvet chairs in his art-green sitting-room.

  Contrary to his usual habit, he had not dressed, but still wore thebrown tweed suit which he had had on in the morning.

  "You've brought what I asked you over the 'phone?" he inquired, as soonas I entered.

  "Yes," I replied, opening the well-worn leather brief bag which Icarried, and displaying a dark lantern, a coil of strong silk rope, anda small but serviceable jemmy. All that burglarious outfit belonged tomy friend.

  "Right," he exclaimed, stroking his smooth-shaven chin. "Have a pipe.We'll leave here about ten. We are going to spend the night in PontStreet." And he pointed to a silver flask and a paper of sandwiches uponthe sideboard. "Vera has seen the landlady in Stockwell, but can makenothing of her. She's as deaf as a post. She returned home to Portsmouthto-night."

  We smoked together until ten, he consuming cigarette after cigarette inthat quick, nervous manner which showed the volcano of excitement ragingwithin him.

  "I can't think why the mention of Weldon and Corby should have soexcited our friend this morning. To me it seemed as though he retainedrather bitter memories of the place."

  "And there was a woman in the case, without a doubt."

  "I think, Jack, I shall go down there and have a look round as soon as Ihave a chance. From the ordnance map this place seems quite a small one.The station is at Corby, while Little Weldon and Great Weldon are abouta mile distant."

  "There's just a chance, of course, that you might pick up somethingthere," I remarked.

  "And yet what I surmise leads me in entirely an opposite direction.There are no defences or secrets in Northamptonshire, remember."

  Once more he took from his writing-table the piece of paper whereon wasa copy of the strange array of figures found in the railway carriage atWaterloo. But at last he shook his head and laid it aside with a sigh.The mystery remained as complete as ever.

  "There's a good deal that's suspicious about Hartmann. I suppose that'swhy we are going to Pont Street?" I remarked.

  "Yes. As I've explained, he's believed to be a money-lender with anoffice in Cork Street, and is registered as such, in order that no oneshould be surprised at the constant callers at his house. He receivesvisits from all sorts and conditions of men--and women, but observationwhich I have placed upon the house has convinced me that the majority ofthese people are German agents of whom he is the guiding spirit andpaymaster, and among whom he is all-powerful. Payment is made throughhim for all confidential services rendered to the Fatherland."

  "And the police do not suspect it?"

  "My dear fellow, have not the police received orders from our Governmentto close their eyes to the doings of these gentry? England is theparadise of the spy, and will remain so until we can bring pressure tobear to compel the introduction of fresh legislation against them."

  Soon after half-past ten a taxi-cab deposited us in Sloane Street, andtogether we turned into Pont Street, walking leisurely past amedium-sized red-fronted house approached by a flight of steps leadingto a deep portico. There was a light in the first-floor window of whatwas evidently the drawing-room but the rest of the house of the arch-spyof Germany was in darkness.

  As we passed the house, my friend examined its highly respectableexterior. Then we passed on to the end of the thoroughfare, in order toattract no attention. A constable passed us, and in order to avoid beingnoticed we walked together for some distance. Presently, however, Rayturned back, and gaining the house adjoining Hartmann's, ran swiftly upthe steps into the shadow of the portico, I following at his heels.

  In a few seconds he had opened the door with a latch-key he carried inhis hand, and next moment we were within the wide, echoing hall, for thehouse was empty, and to let.

  "I called upon the agent, and had a look over this place a few daysago," he explained. "On that occasion, I had the key in my hand for amoment, and obtained an impression of it," and switching on his electrictorch he showed the square hall with the flight of stairs ascending fromit.

  Gaining the big drawing-room, Ray crossed to the long French window onthe left and gazed cautiously out upon the street below.

  As he did so I noticed the figure of a man in a dark overcoat and felthat cross from the opposite pavement and ascend the stairs of the housenext door. Ray glanced at his watch, which he could see by the light ofthe street lamp outside. Noticing the time, he became reassured.

&
nbsp; "You see, Jack, that from here runs a balcony leading to that ofHartmann's house. We must creep along it and try and get a peep of ourfriend at home. I've watched that drawing-room window for a long time,and I believe that he makes it his business room."

  Carefully he unfastened the French window, and bending low so as toescape the observation of any person passing by, we both crept alongthe narrow balcony until, by swinging from one balustrade to the other,we found ourselves standing over Hartmann's portico.

  Even from where we stood we could hear voices. Forward we crept againuntil we were outside the windows of the drawing-room, crouching so thatno inquisitive policeman could detect us.

  The blind of the window at which I listened did not fit well, therefore,through the small crack, I was enabled to peer within. The room was alarge, well-furnished one with a fire burning brightly; near it stood alarge roll-top writing-table at which sat a fat, flabby, sardonic-facedman of about fifty-five. He had grey eyes full of craft and cunning, aprominent nose, and a short-cropped grey beard. Ray whispered that itwas the great Hartmann.

  Near the fire, seated nervously on the extreme edge of a chair, was arespectably dressed man, a German evidently, with his hat in his hand.The man presented the appearance of a hard-working mechanic, and wasobviously ill at ease.

  We watched them in conversation, but could not distinguish one singleword of what was said. All we could gather was that the fat man wasoverbearing in his manner, and that the visitor was most humble andsubservient against his will.

  For a full half-hour we watched, but unable to gather anything further,we were compelled to return to the house next door and regain thestreet, where for still twenty minutes longer we waited for thevisitor's exit. When at last he came forth we followed him to the cornerof Knightsbridge, opposite the Hyde Park Hotel, where he boarded amotor-bus, from which he eventually descended at the corner of Gray'sInn Road walking thence to a house in Harpur Street, Bloomsbury, wherewe later on discovered he lodged, under the name of Leon Karff.

  The nature of the mission entrusted to this man, if one had actuallybeen entrusted to him, was a mystery, yet it was a curious fact that"Harpur Street" appeared upon that scrap of paper which to us was suchan enigma.

  Next morning at six o'clock, I was already idling, at the corner ofHarpur Street and Theobalds Road, but not until three hours later didthe foreigner emerge and walk toward Holborn. Thence he took a motor-busback to Sloane Street, and calling upon Hartmann, spent another half anhour with him.

  And afterwards he went straight home. It was then about noon, and havingan engagement in Court, I was compelled to relinquish my vigil. But at alittle after five Ray entered our chambers, exclaiming:

  "As I expected! That man Karff has been to see Steinheim in thehospital. I was there awaiting him, believing that he might visit him.Apparently the injured man has given him certain instructions."

  "About what?"

  Ray shrugged his shoulders in blank ignorance. Then he said, "We haveadvanced one step toward the solution of the problem, my dear Jack. Butwe have not gone very far."

  He took the copy of the cryptogram from my writing-table and againexamined it. The figures "6.11" puzzled him. Many times he referred tothem.

  Four days passed, during which we kept strict observation upon Karff andfollowed him wherever he went. On the fifth day, Ray having spent allthe morning watching him, to relieve him I walked along the TheobaldsRoad a few minutes before one and paused, as usual, before the oil shopat the corner. There was no sign of my friend, and though I waitedthrough the whole of that cold afternoon and evening, continuing mywearisome vigil till midnight, yet he did not come.

  Much surprised, I returned to New Stone Buildings, where I found atelegram from Ray, sent from Waterloo Station at three o'clock, tellingme that all was right, and urging me to await further information.

  This I did. For a whole week I possessed myself in patience, not knowingwhere Ray was or what had befallen him. That he was on the trail of asolution of the mystery was evident, but he sent me no word of hiswhereabouts.

  It was apparent, however, that he was no longer in London.

  Eleven days after his disappearance I one afternoon received anothertelegram, which had been handed in at Chichester, asking me to go atonce to the Queen's Hotel at Southsea, where he would meet me at teno'clock that night.

  At the hour appointed I awaited him in my bedroom overlooking SouthseaCommon and the harbour, and at last he joined me. I saw by the seriousexpression upon his face that something unusual had happened.

  "The fellow Karff has realised that I'm following him, Jack. Thereforeyou must take the matter up. He's in the service of a greengrocer inQueen Street, close to the Hard. I haven't yet discovered his game."

  Thus there was left to me a very difficult matter, a mystery which Iexerted every effort to unravel. For the next fortnight I watched thefellow incessantly, being relieved sometimes by the pretty daughter ofthe Admiral Superintendent, whose home was fortunately in the Dockyard.In all weathers and at all times we watched, but we failed to discoveranything. Ray remained at the hotel impatient and inactive, and I mustadmit that more than once I was inclined to believe that he had beenmistaken in his surmises. Leon Karff was, as far as we could discover, ahard-working foreigner, driven by force of circumstances into adoptingthe lowly calling of a greengrocer's assistant. His employer suppliedwith fruit and vegetables the officers' messes of several of the shipsin the Dockyard, and on infrequent occasions he drove in the light cartwith his master when on his rounds taking orders.

  This round at last he was in the habit of making three times a week.

  One Saturday morning, as I was idling along the Hard, I saw Karff andhis master, a man named Mitchell, drive in past the policeman at themain gate. But though I waited for over three hours to watch their exit,they did not reappear.

  Much surprised at this, I walked round to the Unicorn Gate, at Landport,where, on making judicious inquiries of the policeman on duty, I learntthat Mitchell had driven out--but alone! His assistant, he said, hadbeen sent back on foot with a message through the main gate just whenthe dockyard men or "maties," as they are called, were leaving work atmidday.

  Now having stood at that gate when the throngs had poured forth, I wasquite certain he had not emerged. But I kept my own counsel, andreturned to Southsea, deep in my own reflections.

  On taking counsel with Ray, he at once telephoned to Vera at AdmiraltyHouse, and an hour later we all three discussed the situation, it beingarranged that the Admiral's daughter should contrive to admit us to theDockyard that night, when all was quiet, in order that we mightinstitute a search for the missing German.

  Therefore, just before half-past eleven, we halted before the smallprivate door in the Dockyard wall, used by the Admiral-Superintendentand his household, and as the clock struck the door opened, revealingVera. Next instant we were within the forbidden zone.

  The night was frosty and a good deal too bright to suit our purpose.Vera gave some instructions to her lover, pointing to a row of long,dark sheds with sloping roofs on the opposite side of the Dockyard,saying:

  "If he's inside, he's almost certain to be hidden somewhere near No. 4shed. But be careful of the police; they are very watchful over yonder."

  And after refastening the gate she disappeared into the darkness.

  In the deep shadows we both crept noiselessly forward, negotiating insafety a pair of lock-gates in the open, and pursuing our way until inthe vicinity of the shed which the Admiral's daughter had pointed out wediscovered an old boiler, in which we both secreted ourselves.

  Hardly had we crept inside when we heard the measured tramp of apoliceman, who passed actually within a few feet of us. From the roundhole in which we lay we could see Gosport--a pale row of lamps acrossthe harbour.

  We waited there, scarcely daring to whisper, until at last the clockstruck one. If Karff was in the vicinity of that shed beside which wewere secreted, he made no sign. All was silent. Once
the shrill siren ofa ship out at Spithead broke the quiet. Then its echoes died away.

  "I really think we might have a careful look round," Ray suggested aftera long silence.

  With great care, therefore, we both emerged from our hiding-place, andkeeping well within the shadows, passed round shed No. 4, which we foundwas completely closed in from view, its door being strongly barred andpadlocked.

  Unable to see anything, we decided to halt in the darkness behind a heapof scrap-iron and to listen for any sound of movement.

  The cutting wind chilled us both to the marrow, for a white rime hadgathered on the ground. The only sound we heard was that of the measuredfootsteps of another constable, which advanced and then died away again.There was, however, no sign of the German spy.

  "To get in by the door yonder would be impossible. Therefore, he wouldtry the roof," my companion remarked.

  "You're right," I said. "You remain down here and watch while I try andget up above."

  So I left him, and after considerable difficulty succeeded in gainingthe roof of the shed adjoining, crouching in the gutter between thesloping roofs of the two sheds.

  On each side of me sloped upwards skylights which lighted the interiorsof the building-sheds, but all were thickly coated with a composition ofdockyard dust and soot, which had been poured forth from many awarship's funnel as well as from the dozens of furnaces around. All wasdark below; therefore I could see nothing.

  I had been in my elevated position for fully twenty minutes before I wasprompted to creep along to the further end of the gulley, where, to mysurprise, I saw that close to where I stood two panes of glass had beenneatly removed and laid aside.

  Through the hole I gazed down into the interior of the shed, when I wasstartled to see the small glow of an electric lamp in the hand of theman of whom we were in search.

  He was standing beside the long, spindle-shaped hull of a new submarineboat which lay on a very elevated set of stocks on the far side of theshed. Another boat similar, but not so nearly complete, lay at thebottom of the dock alongside her.

  As Karff with his electric lamp moved slowly and noiselessly along,carefully examining England's newest submarine, which rumour had saidwas the most silent and perfect craft of its kind, I was able to makeout vaguely that, differing considerably from photographs of othersubmarines I had seen, the boat on the elevated stocks had a bow whichran out into a kind of snout, while instead of the usual small circularor oval conning-tower she had what looked like a long, narrowsuperstructure running along the greater part of her length. This,however, was much higher forward than aft. She seemed, too, to have agreat number of propellers.

  I watched the man Karff making some rapid memoranda, and so occupied washe with his work that he never looked upward. Had he done so, he wouldcertainly have detected my head against the sky.

  In a manner which showed him to be fully acquainted with theconstruction of submarine vessels, he moved to and fro, examining bothboats. Then, after about half an hour's minute investigation, he seatedhimself upon a bench and with his little lamp shaded to throw noreflection he took out a piece of paper and leisurely made a roughsketch of England's newest war-craft, both side and horizontal views.

  Leaving him thus occupied, I descended to Ray, and finding him secretednear the water's edge, described what I had discovered.

  "Good!" he exclaimed. "So I was not mistaken in that cryptogram afterall! We will allow the fellow to complete his work and then compel himto disgorge his notes. They will furnish us with very excellentevidence."

  So we waited, keeping our eyes fixed upon the spot where he mustdescend, and hardly daring to breathe lest we should prematurely alarmhim.

  The Dockyard clock chimed three, but the spy had not emerged. Afteranother half-hour of watchful silence I saw that Ray began to beanxious. At last the bell rang out four, and scarcely had the last sounddied away when we were startled by a splash near us, and next momentdiscerned a man in white shirtsleeves swimming away.

  "Why! That's him!" I gasped. "He's cut a way out of the side of theshed!"

  But next moment a boat shot forth from the darkness pulled by a womanwho had apparently been waiting close by. The woman was Vera!

  In a moment we were both down the steps and pulling in the boat towardsthe swimming man, who, we saw, was being rapidly approached by a secondboat which had also been in waiting until the chiming of the clock.

  The spy was exerting every muscle to reach the boat, but we soonovertook him.

  Ray called upon him in German to surrender, but he refused, and kept on.Quickly, however, we cut him off from the boat which he was trying toreach, while the rower, seeing the discovery of his friend, pulled awayinto the darkness.

  For some time the spy struggled on, but at last, abandoned andexhausted, he was compelled to obey us and come aboard in order to savehis life.

  Half dead and helpless he submitted to our search, when in his belt,preserved in an oilskin pocket, we discovered the memoranda and thedrawing which I had seen him prepare.

  The man, sullen and half drowned, refused to make any statement, thoughhe could speak English well and write it perfectly, as shown by the noteon his plan of the new boat; therefore we landed him at the Stony Stepsacross at Gosport. Before we left him we gave him to understand that ifhe did not at once leave the country he would be arrested. Yet so absurdis our law that I doubt whether we could have given him in charge eventhough we had wished!

  LEON KARFF'S ROUGH DRAWING OF THE NEW BRITISH SUBMARINE.

  The letters refer to the notes which were also found, and which ran asfollows: AA, Conning Tower; BB, Telephone Buoys; CC, Hatchways; D,Lifeboat (detachable); E, Rudder; FF, Wells with Horizontal Propellers;GG, Planes; H, Hatch from Diving Chamber; II, Wheels in Recesses; K,Detachable Safety Weight in Recess; L, Tiller; T T T T, Torpedo Tubes; PP P P, Propellers.

  I. Side View (in awash position). II. Horizontal position (from above).Scale, 1/2 inch to 12 feet.]

  We rowed back across to the landing-stage at Portsmouth Harbour Station,and after we had seen Vera safely home we returned together to the"Queen's" at Southsea, where, in the secrecy of Ray's bedroom, weexamined the spy's plan of the new submarine, and read his memoranda,which were in German, but which translated were as follows:

  "REPORT BY LEON KARFF, LATE FOREMAN-FITTER AT KIEL DOCKYARD, ON SUBMARINE 'F 2,' NOW BUILDING IN SHED NO. 4, PORTSMOUTH DOCKYARD.

  "This boat would appear to me to be of about 700 tons displacement when complete, possibly rather over. She is, as far as I am able to measure, about 180 feet long with an extreme beam a little forward of amidships of 20 feet. She is fitted with three propeller shafts with three small four-bladed propellers on each. As she is provided with what appear to me to be some kind of turbine engines, I imagine that the centre shaft is for going astern only. The propellers on this shaft seem to be attached in such a way that they could be 'feathered' by suitable gearing on board so as not to retard the vessel's way when going ahead. The engines of this boat are of a type which I have never before seen. I imagine that they are a combination of the new 'gas-producer' engine and the turbine system, the explosion of the combined gas and air being split up and passing into the turbine through a number of different channels simultaneously. This would be a very economical system if the necessary power can be obtained, and would be much safer for use below than petrol engines.

  "The boat is evidently intended to operate a good deal in an 'awash' position, for there is fairly thick armour-plating over the greater part of the upper side of the bow, while the fore end of the superstructure is made of two 6-inch Krupp steel plates meeting at an acute angle, and so forming a kind of stem when the boat is moving in this way. The space enclosed between these two plates is evidently intended to be used as the conning-tower. Here there are a periscope, steering-wheel, voice-tubes, and everything necessary for the control
of the vessel. There are two horizontal propellers or fans, which seem to be driven by electricity derived from an installation of accumulators, and which are certainly intended to secure horizontal immersion, so the vessel will not plunge or dive, but immerse herself horizontally by means of these propellers, which, by the way, work in vertical shafts running completely through the boat, one forward and the other aft, as was the case in the _Nordenfeldt_, _Waddington_, and other early submarines.

  "Forward there is an air-lock and diving-chamber, as in the 'Lake' boats, so that divers can get in and out of the vessel whilst under water. It would also afford a means of escape for the crew in the case of accident. This is further provided for by a detachable boat or caisson at the after end of the superstructure capable of holding ten men, I should say, or possibly a dozen. There are also appliances which I suppose are telephone buoys for communicating with the surface. There are six torpedo tubes fitted, one forward, one aft, and the others two on either broadside. And there seems to be provision for six other torpedoes of the 18-inch type.

  "There is a long rudder for ordinary steering, and four horizontal ones or planes which are placed abreast the horizontal screws and which, I imagine, act automatically in conjunction with them, as they seem to gear up with the shafts for these propellers. There is a big safety detachable weight which fits loosely into a recess amidships, and four broad wheels with ball bearings which do not fold up as in the 'Lake' boats, but always protrude nearly half their diameter. After all they would not obstruct her way when water-borne more than a keel--or very little more. They are quite independent and unconnected with the interior of the vessel, which while resting on them would receive forward impetus from her propellers. In the 'awash' position she would offer a very small and almost invulnerable target."

  "Well," I said, marvelling at what we had translated. "What induced youto believe that the cryptogram had any reference to the new submarine."

  "Those figures '6.11' puzzled me greatly," he replied; "but at last Ideciphered them as 'F. 2'--F being the sixth letter of the alphabet--thenumber of our newest and most formidable submarine, which was being keptsuch a strict secret by the Admiralty. 'Royal Pier' is the name of thehotel in which Steinheim stayed at Southsea, and 18 the number of hisroom. From facts I elucidated, it was made plain that Max Steinheim wasabout to embark upon the investigation, being in secret communicationwith Hartmann, and was to meet Karff at Charing Cross Station. ThisSteinheim had already, by an ingenious device, secured from a private ofengineers named James Ward--whom I have seen--certain informationregarding the new boom defences of Portsmouth Harbour. Ward, whose homeis at Great Weldon, suddenly discovered to his horror that the man was aGerman spy, followed him to Guildford, attacked him in the train, andleft him for dead. For that reason Steinheim has refused to make anystatement to the police. When I saw Ward a week ago, he explained howinnocently he had fallen into the trap which the cunning Steinheim hadlaid for him."

  "The evidence you have here in black and white will surely proveconvincing," I remarked. "You will go and see Steinheim again, Isuppose? He is still in the hospital."

  "No. We shall remain silent. To show our hand will only place Hartmannon the alert. To do that is needless. We have prevented the plan of ournew submarine going to Germany, and for the present that is sufficient."

  And my friend drew up the blind and gazed out upon the rosy dawn acrossthe water.