Dave Darrin and the German Submarines Part 7

"If you have the key to this locked door, Captain, it will save us the trouble of smashing the door," Dave warned. He had followed the usual custom in terming the ober-lieutenant a captain since he had an independent naval command.

"I do not know where the key is," replied von Bechtold, carelessly. "You may break the door down, if you wish, but you will not be repaid for your trouble."

"I'll take the trouble, anyway," Darrin retorted. "Mr. Dalzell, your shoulder and mine both together."

As the two young officers squared themselves for the a.s.sault on the door a black cloud appeared briefly on von Bechtold's face. But as Darrin turned, after the first a.s.sault, the deep frown was succeeded by a dark smile of mockery.

b.u.mp! b.u.mp! At the third a.s.sault the lock of the door gave way so that Dave and Dan saved themselves from pitching into the room headfirst.

"Oh, whew!" gasped Danny Grin.

An odor as of peach-stone kernels a.s.sailed their nostrils. They thought little of this. It was a sight, rather than the odor, that instantly claimed their attention.

For on the berth, over the coverlid, and fully dressed in civilian attire of good material, lay a man past fifty, stout and with prominent abdomen. He was bald-headed, the fringe of hair at the sides being strongly tinged with gray.

At first glance one might have believed the stranger to be merely asleep, though he would have been a sound sleeper who could slumber on while the door was crashing in. Dave stepped close to the berth.

Dalzell followed, and after them came the submarine's commander.

"You will go back to the cabin and remain there, Mr. von Bechtold," Dave directed, without too plain discourtesy. "Corporal, detail one of your men to remain with the prisoner, and see that he doesn't come back here unless I send for him. Also see to it that he doesn't do anything else except wait."

Scowling, von Bechtold withdrew, the marine following at his heels.

As Darrin stepped back into the cabin he saw the stranger lying as they left him.

"Dead!" uttered Dave, bending over the man and looking at him closely.

"He lay down for a nap. Look, Dan, how peaceful his expression is. He never had an intimation that it was his last sleep, though this looks like suicide, not accidental death, for the peach-stone odor is that of prussic acid. He has killed himself with a swift poison. Why? Is it that he feared to fall into enemy hands and be quizzed?"

"A civilian, and occupying an officer's cabin," Dan murmured. "He must have been of some consequence, to be a pa.s.senger on a submarine. He wasn't a man in the service, or he would have been in uniform."

"We'll know something about him, soon, I fancy," Darrin went on. "Here is a wallet in his coat pocket, also a card case and an envelope well padded with something. Yes," glancing inside the envelope, "papers. I think we'll soon solve the secret of this civilian pa.s.senger who has met an unplanned death."

"Here, you! Stop that, or I'll shoot!" sounded, angrily, the voice of von Bechtold's guard behind them.

But the German officer, regardless of threats, had dashed past the marine, and was now in the pa.s.sageway.

"Here, I'll soon settle you!" cried the marine, wrathfully. But he didn't, for von Bechtold let a solid fist fly, and the marine, caught unawares, was knocked to the floor.

All in a jiffy von Bechtold reached his objective, the envelope.

s.n.a.t.c.hing it, he made a wild leap back to the cabin, brushing the marine private aside like a feather.

"Grab him!" yelled Dave Darrin, plunging after the German. "Don't let him do anything to that envelope!"

CHAPTER IV

THE TRAIL TO STRANGE NEWS

Fortune has a way of favoring the bold. The corporal and a marine were in the corridor behind Darrin. The ober-lieutenant's special guard had been hurled aside.

Hearing the outcries, the other two marines in the cabin sprang toward the German officer. One of these von Bechtold tripped and sent sprawling; the other he struck in the chest, pushing him back.

Just an instant later von Bechtold went down on his back, all five of the marines doing their best to get at him in the same second. But the German had had time to knock the lid from a battery cell and to plunge the envelope into the liquid contained in the jar. Then the German was sent to the mat by his a.s.sailants.

Darrin, following, his whole thought on the envelope, plunged his right hand down into the fluid, gripping the package that had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from him.

"Sulphuric acid!" he exclaimed, and made a quick dive for a lidded fire bucket that rested in a rack. The old-fashioned name for sulphuric acid is vitriol, and its powers in eating into human flesh are well known.

Darrin's left hand sent the lid of the bucket flying. Hand and envelope were thrust into the water with which, fortunately, the bucket was filled. When sulphuric acid in quant.i.ty is added to water heat is generated, but a small quant.i.ty of the acid may be washed from the flesh with water to good advantage if done instantly. After a brief washing of the hand Dave drew it out, patting it dry with a handkerchief. Thus the hand, though reddened, was saved from painful injury. The envelope he allowed to remain in the water for some moments.

"Von Bechtold, you are inclined to be a nuisance here," Darrin said coolly. "I am going to direct these men to take you above."

"I am helpless," replied the German, sullenly, from the floor, where he now lay pa.s.sive, two marines sitting on him ready to renew the struggle if he so desired.

"Take him above, you two men," Darrin ordered, "and take especial pains to see that he doesn't try to escape by jumping into the water."

At this significant remark von Bechtold paled noticeably for a moment.

Then his ruddy color came back. He got upon his feet with a resentful air but did not resist the marines who conducted him up to the deck.

Dave now drew out the envelope, which had become well soaked, and took out the enclosure, a single sheet. The writing at the top of the sheet was obliterated. Darrin did not read German fluently, but at the bottom of the sheet he found a few words and phrases that he was able to translate. Their meaning made him gasp.

"Danny-boy," he murmured to his chum, "I want you to make quick work of transferring the prisoners to the 'Logan.' Keep back two of the German engineer crew, and send word to Ensign Phelps to come over on the launch's next trip with two men of our engine-room force, and to bring along also six seamen and a petty officer. Phelps will take charge of this craft as prize officer."

The submarine was soon cleared of her officers and crew. Ensign Phelps and his own men came over and took command. Two German engine-room men had been kept back to a.s.sist the Americans. On the last trip Darrin and Dalzell returned to the undersea boat and gave the order to Ensign Phelps to proceed on his way to the base port.

As soon as the prize with its captors was under way, Darrin went to the chart-room of the "Logan," sent for the marine corporal, and ordered that Ober-Lieutenant von Bechtold be brought before him.

As the prisoner was ushered in Dave rose courteously, bowed and pointed to a chair.

"Be seated, if you please. Now, Herr Ober-Lieutenant, your second-in-command and your crew will be taken ash.o.r.e as ordinary prisoners of war, and turned over to the British military prison authorities. Of course you are aware that your own imprisonment will take place under somewhat different circ.u.mstances."

Von Bechtold, who had accepted the proffered chair, gazed stolidly at this American naval commander, who was several years younger than himself.

"I fear that I do not understand you," the German replied.

"You soon will, for you speak excellent English," Darrin returned, with a chilly smile. "Your English does not have exactly the Chicago accent, but it was good enough for your purposes. The Chicagoan speaks with a sort of sub-Bostonese accent, as perhaps you did not know. Your own English has rather the sound of Oxford or Cambridge University in England."

Opening his eyes wide, and expressing bewilderment, the German begged:

"Will you be good enough to speak more explicitly?"

"Certainly," Dave a.s.sented. "When you are turned over to the British military authorities it will be done with a card showing that you now give the name of von Bechtold--"

"Which is my right name," interposed the German officer, tartly.

"And the card will also state that, a few days ago, you gave the name of Matthews."