Number 70, Berlin Part 13

The "sounder" clicked loudly, and the clockwork of the tape released, causing the narrow paper ribbon to unwind.

"S.S." answered Rodwell, the German war-code letters for "All right.

Received your message and understand it."

Then he took from his pocket his gold cigarette-case, which bore his initials in diamonds on the side, and selecting a cigarette, lit it and smoked while waiting for the necessary connections and relays to be made which would enable him to transmit his message direct to the general headquarters of the German Secret Service in the Koeniger-gratzerstra.s.se, in Berlin.

In patience he waited for a full ten minutes in that close little room, watching the receiving instrument before him. The angry roar of the wintry sea could be heard without, the great breakers rolling in upon the beach, while every now and then the salt spindrift would cut sharply across the little window, which rattled in the gusty wind.

Click--click--click! The long letter T repeated three times. Then a pause, and the call "M.X.Q.Q.--J.A.J.70."

By the prefix, Rodwell knew that he was "through," and actually in communication with the headquarters of the German espionage throughout the world; that marvellously alert department from which no secret of state, or of hostile army or navy was safe; the department formed and controlled by the great Steinhauer, who had so many times boasted to him, and perhaps with truth, that at the Koeniger-gratzerstra.s.se they knew more of England than even the English themselves knew.

True, the British public will never be able to realise one hundredth part of what Germany has done by her spy-system, or of the great diplomatic and military successes which she has achieved by it. Yet we know enough to realise that for years no country and no walk of life-- from the highest to the lowest--has been free from the ubiquitous, unscrupulous and unsuspected secret agents of whom Lewin Rodwell was a type.

In Germany's long and patient preparation for the world-war, nothing in the way of espionage was too large, or too small for attention. The activity of her secret agents in Berlin had surely been an object-lesson to the world. Her spies swarmed in all cities, and in every village; her agents ranked among the leaders of social and commercial life, and among the sweepings and outcasts of great communities. The wealthiest of commercial men did not shrink from acting as her secret agents. She was not above employing beside them the very dregs of the community. No such system had ever been seen in the world. Yet the benefits which our enemies were deriving from it, now that we were at war, were incalculable.

By every subtle and underhand means in her power, Germany had prepared for her supreme effort to conquer us, and, as a result of this it was that Lewin Rodwell that night sat at the telegraph-key of the Berlin spy-bureau actually established on British soil.

He waited until the call had been repeated three times with the secret code-number of the Koeniger-gratzerstra.s.se, namely: "Number 70 Berlin."

Then, putting out his cigarette, he drew his chair forward until his elbows rested upon the table, and spreading out the closely-written doc.u.ment before him, tapped out a signal in code.

The letters were "F.B.S.M."

To this kind of pa.s.s-word, which was frequently altered from time to time, he received a reply: "G.L.G.S." and then he added his own number, "0740."

The signals exchanged were quite strong, and he drew a long breath of relief and satisfaction.

Then, settling down to his dastardly work, he began to tap out rapidly the following in German:

"On Imperial War Service. Most Urgent. From 0740 to Berlin 70.

Transmitted Personally.

"Source of information G.27, British Admiralty. Lieutenant Ralph Beeton, Grenadier Guards, British secret agent, is at present staying at Kaiserhof Hotel, Berlin, as James B. James, an American citizen, of Fernville, Kansas, and is transmitting reports. Captain Henry Fordyce, British Navy, is at Park Hotel, Dusseldorf, as Francis Dexter, iron merchant of New Orleans, and has sent reports regarding Erhardt's ordnance factory. Both should be arrested at once. Lieutenant George Evans, reported at Amsterdam on the 5th, has gone to Emden, and will probably be found at the Krone Hotel."

Then he paused. That message had, he knew, sealed the fate of three brave Englishmen who had dared to enter the camp of our enemies. They would be arrested within an hour or so, and most certainly shot as spies. His face broadened into an evil grin of satisfaction as the truth crossed his mind.

He waited for an acknowledgment that his report had been received.

Then, having listened to the answering click--clickety--click, he sent a second message as follows:--

"British Naval Dispositions: Urgent to Q.S.R.

"Source of information H.238. To-night, off the Outer Skerries, Shetlands, are battleships _King Charles_ (flag), _Mole, Wey, Welland, Teign, Yare, Queen Boadicea, Emperor of India_, _King Henry VIII_; with first-cla.s.s cruisers _Hogue, Stamford, Petworth, Lichfield, Dorchester_; second-cla.s.s cruisers _Rockingham, Guildford, Driffield, Verulam, Donnington, Pirbright, Tremayne_ and _Blackpool_; destroyers _Viking, Serpent, Chameleon, Adder, Batswing, St.u.r.dy_ and _Havoc_, with eight submarines, the aircraft-ship _Flyer_, and repair-ship _Vulcan_.

Another strong division left Girdle Ness at 4 p.m. coming south. The division in Moray Firth remains the same. _Trusty, Dragon, Norfolk_ and _Shadower_ left Portsmouth this evening going east. British Naval war-code to be altered at midnight to 106-13."

The figures he spelt out very carefully, repeating them three times so that there could be no mistake. Again he paused until, from Berlin, they were repeated for confirmation.

Afterwards he proceeded as follows:

"_Ruritania_ leaves Liverpool for New York at noon to-morrow, carrying bullion. Also liners _Smyrna, Jacob Elderson, City of Rotterdam_ and _Great Missenden_ leave same port for Atlantic ports to-morrow.

Submarines may be advised by wireless."

Once more he paused until he received the signal of acknowledgment, together with the query whether the name of one of the ships mentioned was Elderson or Elderton. But Lewin Rodwell, with keen interest in his fell work of betraying British liners into the hands of the German pirate submarines, quickly tapped out the correct spelling, repeating it, so that there should be no further mistake.

After yet another pause, the man seated in the fisherman's stuffy little bedroom grasped the telegraph-key and made the signals--"J.O.H.J."-- which, in the German war-code, meant: "Take careful note and report to proper quarter instantly."

"All right," came the answering signal, also in code. "Prepared to receive J.O.H.J."

Then, after a few seconds, Rodwell glanced again at the closely-written sheet spread before him, and began to tap out the following secret message in German to the very heart of the Imperial war-machine:

"Official information just gained from a fresh and most reliable source--confirmed by H.238, M.605, and also B.1928--shows that British Admiralty have conceived a clever plan for entrapping the German Grand Fleet. Roughly, the scheme is to make attack with inferior force upon Heligoland early on Wednesday morning, the 16th, together with corresponding attack upon German division in the estuary of the Eider and thus draw out the German ships northward towards the Shetlands, behind which British Grand Fleet are concealed in readiness. This concentration of forces northward will, according to the scheme of which I have learned full details, leave the East coast of England from the Tyne to the Humber unprotected for a full twelve hours on the 16th, thus full advantage could be taken for bombardment. Inform Grand Admiral immediately."

Having thus betrayed the well-laid plans of the British Admiralty to entice the German Fleet out of the Kiel ca.n.a.l and the other harbours in which barnacles were growing on their keels, Lewin Rodwell, the popular British "patriot," paused once more.

But not for long, because, in less than a minute, he received again the signal of acknowledgment that his highly interesting message to the German Admiralty had been received, and would be delivered without a moment's delay.

Then he knew that the well-organised plans of the British Fleet, so cleverly conceived and so deadly if executed, would be effectively frustrated.

He gave the signal that he had ended his message and, with a low laugh of satisfaction, rose from the rickety old chair and lit another cigarette.

Thus had England been foully betrayed by one of the men whom her deluded public most confidently trusted and so greatly admired.

CHAPTER TEN.

THE KHAKI CULT.

Twenty-four hours later Lewin Rodwell was standing upon the platform of the big Music Hall, in George Street, Edinburgh, addressing a great recruiting meeting.

The meeting, presided over by a well-known Scotch earl, had already been addressed by a Cabinet Minister; but when Rodwell rose, a neat, spruce figure in his well-fitting morning-coat, with well-brushed hair, and an affable smile, the applause was tremendous--even greater than that which had greeted the Minister.

Lewin Rodwell was a people's idol--one of those who, in these times, are so suddenly placed high upon the pedestal of public opinion, and as quickly cast down.

A man's reputation is made to-day and marred to-morrow. Rodwell's rapid rise to fortune had certainly been phenomenal. Yet, as he had "made money in the City"--like so many other people--n.o.body took the trouble to inquire exactly how that money had been obtained. By beating the patriotic drum so loudly he stifled down inquiry, and the public now took him at his own valuation.

A glib and forceful orator, with a suave, persuasive manner, at times declamatory, but usually slow and decisive, he thrust home his arguments with unusual strength and power.

In repeating Lord Kitchener's call for recruits, he pointed to the stricken fields of Belgium, recalling those harrowing scenes of rapine and murder, in August, along the fair valley of the Meuse. He described, in vivid language, the ma.s.sacre in cold blood of seven hundred peaceful men, women and young children in the little town of Dinant-sur-Meuse, the town of gingerbread and beaten bra.s.s; the sack of Louvain, and the appalling scenes in Liege and Malines, at the same time loudly denouncing the Germans as "licentious liars" and the "sp.a.w.n of Satan." From his tongue fell the most violent denunciations of Germany and all her ways, until his hearers were electrified by his whole-souled patriotism.

"The Kaiser," he cried, "is the Great a.s.sa.s.sin of civilisation. There is now ample evidence, doc.u.mentary and otherwise, to prove that he, the Great War Lord, forced this great war upon the world at a moment which he considered propitious to himself. We now, alas I know that as far back as June 1908 the Kaiser a.s.sembled his Council and, in a secret speech, declared war against England. You, ladies and gentlemen, have been bamboozled and befooled all along by a Hush-a-bye Government who told you that there never would be war:" emphatic words which were met with loud yells of "Shame!" and execration.

"The Cabinet," he continued, "knew all along--they knew as far back as 1908--that this Mad Dog of Germany intended to strangle and crush us.

Yet, what did they do? They told you--and you believed them--that we should never have war--not in our time, they said; while in the House of Commons they, knowing what they did, actually suggested disarmament!

Think of it!"

Renewed cries of "Shame!" rose from all parts of the hall.

"Well," Lewin Rodwell went on, clenching his fist, "we are at war--a war the result of which no man can, as yet, foresee. But win we must--yet, if we are to win, we must still make the greatest sacrifices. We must expend our last shilling and our last drop of blood if victory is at last to be ours. Germany, the mighty country of the volte-face, with her blood-stained Kaiser at her head, has willed that Teuton `kultur'

shall crush modern civilisation beneath the heel of its jack-boot. Are you young men of Scotland to sit tight here and allow the Germans to invade you, to ruin and burn your homes, and to put your women and children to the sword? Will you actually allow this accursed race of murderers, burglars and fire-bugs to swarm over this land which your ancestors have won for you? No! Think of the past history of your homes and your dear ones, and come forward now, to-night, all of you of military age, and give in your names for enlistment! Come, I implore of you!" he shouted, waving his arms. "Come forward, and do your duty as men in the service of mankind--your duty to your King, your country, and your G.o.d!"