The Belgians to the Front Part 3

And he was pretty sure that there was a decided connection between this cottage, so strangely stout in its construction, and the unquestionably threatening and sinister discovery he and Arthur had made in the field only a stone's throw away.

Inside, he found himself in a large room that took up all save a very small part of the ground floor of the cottage. To the left there was a wall, and in it an open door--he could see that much through the very faint light that filtered through the windows. Seemingly, he was in luck. There was absolutely nothing to make him doubt that he was alone in the house. Everything was still. There was not even the ticking of a clock, the one sound he might reasonably have expected to hear even in a temporarily deserted house. But he waited for quite a minute, to make sure that no one was about. He felt certain that, had anyone been there, he would have heard breathing, no matter how anxious the other occupant of the house might be to conceal his presence.

Then he switched on the light, shielding it with his hand, so that no reflection of its faint glow should betray him, by means of the windows, to anyone approaching from outside.

About the big room in which he found himself there was nothing to excite suspicion at first sight. The room seemed ordinary enough; the usual living-room of a peasant. One thing was curious; he could see a trap door, evidently leading to a cellar below. But that he reserved for later inspection, preferring at first to look upstairs. He reached the second floor by the stairs; there, too, there seemed at first nothing out of the ordinary. But when he threw aside all scruples and looked everywhere, he found something that confirmed some at least of his suspicions--a bundle of letters, all written in German script. He did not stop to read the letters, but on the chance that they might contain something that would prove valuable or important, he slipped them into his pocket.

As yet, however, he had made no real discovery. The letters might prove a great deal; for the moment he was obliged to leave them unread, since his time might prove to be very short. Down he went, light out, pausing in the big living-room to listen for some sound from the watcher outside. There was none.

Now he lifted the trap door, and found, as he had been sure he would, a ladder leading to the cellar below. He hesitated for a moment now.

There seemed to be no safe way of propping up the trap door. To descend, closing it after him, meant that he would be shut into the cellar, where he could not hear the warning signal from Arthur, should it be sounded. But his hesitation lasted only a minute.

"It's a chance, but I've got to take it," he said to himself. "After all, I haven't really found anything anywhere else. The cellar's the last place to look--and the most likely, too."

One thing was a relief; when he was safely down he could turn on his light, unafraid. From the cellar, without a window, with no means of egress save that by which he had entered it, there was no danger that a stray beam of light would betray his presence to the lawful dwellers in this cottage, should they chance to return while he was there. And what he saw in the light when he switched it on was ample reward for his daring in braving the dangers of the place.

The place was an a.r.s.enal! Arranged against one wall were the parts of three powerful guns, all ready to be a.s.sembled. And all about, neatly stacked, were sh.e.l.ls. He looked at them, pointing his light at them, to make sure. They bore the stamp of the Krupp works at Essen in Germany, the world-famous works whence the greater part of German munitions of war come.

Here was a discovery indeed! The Germans were ready to attack Liege.

Of that there could no longer be even the shadow of a doubt. Not only had they prepared a place for the reception of guns; they had even smuggled the guns themselves over the border. It was, as he could see, not a matter of really great difficulty. The border was not far distant; the guards, on the Belgian side at least, had had no great reason in the past year or so to be especially vigilant. But Paul was horrified by this proof of the determination of the great power to the east and north not to hesitate to invade Belgium, should that course be necessary to enable it to reach its most formidable antagonist, France.

There was something horrible and cold-blooded about such minute preparation. He was thrilled by his discovery. No less was he thrilled by the feeling that it was within his power now really to serve the land he loved. He was not old enough to be a soldier, but he felt that if he could get back to Liege with the information that he and Arthur had garnered that night they might serve Belgium as well as soldiers could do.

Light in hand, he made his way back to the ladder. Then he switched off the light and started to climb the ladder. And as he did so, he stopped, appalled. Above there was the sound of a closing door; then heavy footsteps sounded on the trap door over his head.

CHAPTER IV

THE FLIGHT

From his hiding place outside the cottage, Arthur had been watching faithfully while Paul explored the inside. He heard the steps that heralded the approach of a man, and whistled at once, imitating the cry of a quail, since he thought it better to take the chance of giving a false alarm than of letting his chum be trapped inside. But it was already too late, as it turned out. Paul had gone down into the cellar and let the door fall behind him. So Arthur's warning fell on deaf ears.

The steps came nearer, and Arthur, wondering why Paul did not appear, and only half guessing the reason, whistled louder. It was hard for him to refrain from dashing at once to the rescue. But after a moment's thought he realized that this would do Paul no good, and that it was all important for him to remain free, so that, if Paul was made a prisoner, he could carry the news to Liege and so serve not only Belgium, but Paul, since that would be Paul's only chance of rescue.

At least so it seemed then.

Now the man whose approach had alarmed Arthur came in sight. He was trudging along, looking like a veritable peasant. But, now, in the light of the suspicions that had been aroused that day, Arthur could see things about this man that distinguished him from the Flemish dwellers in the neighborhood.

"He is a German!" he thought. "What shall I do?"

For the moment he could do literally nothing. He could only lie still and watch the man go up to the front door of the cottage and unlock it.

But then, after the German had gone in, Arthur saw that there was still a light--a light that became visible as soon as the pretended peasant lighted his lamp. Plainly the door had not been quite closed; the little streak of light showed that.

Arthur waited breathlessly for some sign that Paul's presence had been discovered. But none came. He was close enough to the door to hear the man in the cottage stamping about, and he could guess, of course, that Paul was concealed in some fashion. He had even the idea of the cellar but of course he could not be sure that Paul was not above--safe as long as it did not enter the German's head to climb the stairs. At any rate, Arthur was grateful for a respite, no matter how brief it might prove to be. Almost anything was better than the actual knowledge that his chum had been caught.

"While there's life, there's hope!" he said to himself, grimly.

But it was a good deal easier for him to determine that he would make some sort of effort to release his chum than it was for him to discover a practical way of doing so. He had the feeling that at any cost to Paul he must secure his own freedom; that was the thing that Paul had impressed most vividly on his mind. At last he determined to risk a trip to the window by which Paul had made his entrance. He wanted to look inside; to see, at least, what was going on. Then some means of helping Paul might suggest itself.

Of course Arthur had seen nothing of the inside of the room, since it had been dark when Paul had climbed in. Now the first thing he saw after the man of the house himself, was the trap door that led to the cellar. He understood at once that Paul must be down there.

"That's why he didn't hear me, of course!" he said to himself. "Now to get him out!"

Suddenly, just as he was about to leave the window, Arthur was startled into a stiff and rigid halt by the sound of a heavy knock on the door of the cottage. The German inside, busy just then in cutting up a huge sausage that was evidently to be his dinner, seemed to be almost as startled as Arthur himself. He jumped up, upsetting his chair, and flung the door open. At once his whole manner changed. He started back, then stiffened himself and stood at attention. A young man, dressed in a uniform of a greenish-gray cloth that Arthur had never seen before, and covered now with dust, walked in. Arthur could scarcely believe his eyes. Everything about the newcomer pointed to the fact that he was a German officer, for if the color of the uniform was unfamiliar, its cut was not. But a German officer in uniform here!

"Zu befehl, Herr Hauptmann!" said the man of the cottage.

"It's come, Froebel," said the captain. He stretched his arms, as if glad of the chance. "I've had a fine trip from Aachen! The worst roads I ever tried to push a motorcycle over! But I'm here--so that's even! There are more coming. General von Emmich's army is on the march already. We have even now taken possession of Luxembourg.

To-night the Belgian government finally declined to give us the right to move our troops through their little toy country! So we must fight them, too."

"I'm not sorry," said Froebel. Some of the stiffness had gone out of his manner. "I'll be glad to get a chance to do some fighting instead of this eternal spying! And who knows? If I am lucky, I may get a little swifter promotion than I had hoped for."

"Oh, I forgot," said the other. "Congratulations, Froebel! You have your captaincy, and a staff detail. That's unofficial, of course. But I've seen the order."

"Good," said Froebel, impa.s.sively. "But if you stay with the line, Poertner, you'll be a colonel before I'm a major. Enough--to business!

I have bad news."

"Bad news? What sort?"

"It's that clumsy fool Ridder! He has been mapping the whole field of operation here, as you know--details of the forts, and the location of all the concealed gun mountings and platforms we have put in in case the Belgians should be foolish enough to try to stop us by force."

"Yes, yes! What of it?"

"Eh? He had those papers--those simply invaluable papers! And he was alarmed by two Belgian boys in Boy Scout uniform--thought they were soldiers coming to arrest him! He took to his heels and naturally, being boys, they followed! He dropped his papers going over a fence!

When he missed them he went back. But he found no trace of them. He is sure that the two boys got them."

"Donnerwetter! That's a bad business, Froebel! I fear for our friend Ridder! The intelligence department will not be altogether pleased by this. But what if the boys have them? Is there a chance, do you think, that they will understand them?"

"Who knows? Some devil might lead them to take them to a Belgian officer! However--even so, there is this much of good about it. There is no time for them to do anything. They can't get at our gun platforms. If they had a week! But you say General von Emmich is already on the march? That means that war has been declared?"

"No, only that it has begun," said Poertner, with a smile. "It is no longer the fashion to declare war formally---unless the enemy is like Russia with us--so far away that we can't strike first. No. The modern way is to begin fighting and let the other side declare war. So they seem to take the aggressive."

"I see," said Froebel. "Well, at any rate, it is the time I am thinking of. They are fairly well prepared here at Liege. The forts are in order; they have good men, and plenty of ammunition for their guns. But against our Krupp pieces--"

He laughed to express the chance that the stout forts of Liege were to have against the German artillery. And outside Arthur, listening, ground his teeth. He was glad that he had come; already he had learned facts likely to prove of the first importance. No matter how well the garrison of Liege was prepared for any emergency, it would be vastly helpful to know when the blow might be expected to fall. It is one thing to be prepared for a trouble that may come some day; it is quite another to know that it is imminent, and to make plans accordingly.

In Arthur's mind an idea now began to take root. The voices of the two Germans inside died away, and he seized the opportunity to make his way quietly to the front of the cottage. There, lying on its side, was the motorcycle of which the new arrival had spoken. Arthur had ridden motorcycles himself, and now he went up to this one and examined it carefully. He found that while it was different from the ones he had ridden, the points of difference were really trifling and that he could understand it easily enough.

Then he went back for another peep in the window. The two German officers were busily engaged now in eating, and were washing down the sausage, amid a good deal of laughter at the rough fare, with two bottles of wine.

"When we have finished," said Poertner, "we will have a look at your little a.r.s.enal below."

"It's a real a.r.s.enal," said Froebel, proudly. "That was rather well managed, I think. We have managed to bring in the guns, one part at a time and the ammunition piecemeal, in the same way. These stupid Belgians never even suspected. It is only just lately that they have even begun to dream that there might be danger for them if it came to war. Before they woke up everything was here!"

"Well, your guns will be at work before many hours if all goes well,"

said Poertner. "This sausage of yours is not so bad, after all! Food is food when you are hungry! Ah, it will be some time, at best, before we can eat again in Berlin, my friend!"

"Yes. There will be garrison work, even after we have taken Paris.