The Men Who Wrought Part 20

Sir Andrew's manner was a dismissal, and the engineer rose to depart.

He was accustomed to the ship-owner's brevity, and it suited his own ideas of things. But Ruxton detained him. He, too, had risen from his seat.

"One moment, McGrath," he said quickly. "There is danger--personal danger in this work. It may even be a matter of life and death to--all concerned. We shall probably have no peaceful time over this thing. I expect that every means--even force--will be used to--wreck us. It is only right to tell you. Shall you be--willing to undertake it in the circ.u.mstances?"

The engineer regarded him keenly. Then his hard mouth relaxed, and he seemed to lick his lips.

"This danger. Where does it come from?"

"Germany. The German Government."

The Scot's eyes lit. His face contorted, and he gave a short hard laugh.

"I'm more than willing," he said briefly. Then, with a curious unconcern for the warning, he turned to the drawings and gazed down at them affectionately. "Man, but they're beautiful. Did you--get them, Mr. Ruxton?"

There was no mistaking the implication.

"They are not stolen, McGrath," said Ruxton quietly. "At least not in the manner you are thinking. They were given to us by the inventor, whose property they were. But--they represent one of Germany's most treasured secrets."

The Scot nodded.

"Fine," he said, and the ring in his voice left the two men more than satisfied.

Sir Andrew smiled in his most genial fashion.

"Good," he exclaimed. "I shall be free in half an hour, McGrath. We'll go into details then. Thank you."

The engineer departed as hastily as he had appeared, and Ruxton dropped back into his seat. His father was still contemplating the plans.

At last he spoke without looking up.

"We are committed to it," he said. Then: "I wonder."

Ruxton sprang to his feet.

"I am glad--glad."

Then he moved round and stood gazing out through the leaded window, and his thoughts went back to the beautiful creature who on that one memorable night upon his beloved Yorkshire cliffs had first opened the doors of Life to him.

CHAPTER XII

KUHLHAFEN

The old fortress of Kuhlhafen stands a milestone on the path of Time.

Its vast walls have endured and survived the ravages of a thousand storms driving in off the sea. Its gloomy might still rears itself silhouetted against the grey skies of the Baltic upon its lofty setting of wood-clad hills. Its dull, unlit eyes still gaze down upon the broad waters of the shallow, silted harbor from which it takes its name. And with it all it haunts the primitive mind of the simple fisher folk beneath its shadows with the grim romance of the days of martial barbarity which have endured within its walls.

No one would have a.s.sociated modern significance with this survival of the ages. Yet it was sedulously kept in repair. It still retained its splendid furnishings, and all the relics of its antiquity. Furthermore, all the invention of modern days had been applied to add to its convenience. And it was solicitously cared for by the retainers of the princely house to which it belonged.

The peasants of Kuhlhafen knew every detail of its history. Its martial story was part of their lives. Oh, yes. The information was handed down from father to son, and was told with all that care for fantastic detail in which the primitive mind never fails to indulge itself.

The owner? Of course. It was Prince Frederick von Berger. Did they not have to pay for the tenancy of their miserable hovels to his steward, who lived in the castle itself? Oh, yes. He was a great man--a very great man. This was only one of his estates, and one which he never visited. One could not blame him. It was scarcely attractive to a man who owned a palace in Berlin. Then the storming of the cruel Baltic, which robbed them of comrades every year. Who would live on its bitter, desolate sh.o.r.es unless tied there by the stress of existence? No, he never came, they would tell the enquirer with a shrug. A man who enjoyed the friendly patronage of the supreme War Lord had no call to visit Kuhlhafen, even though the whole of the countryside belonged to him.

This was the spoken att.i.tude of the people towards their over-lord.

Maybe, deep in their hearts, other feelings prevailed. But these poor folks had been bred to the discipline of an iron Prussian rule, and it is just possible that they had no power to think or feel otherwise than authority taught them.

But had these simple fisher-folk been less absorbed in the struggle for their frugal existence; had they sufficient initiative to go seek out information for themselves; had they, in fact, been human rather than Prussian peasantry, they might have discovered that their over-lord was a different person from the ease-loving creature of wealth they so fondly supposed.

They would indeed have found that it was by no means his habit to spend idle days in the gilded courts of Berlin. On the contrary, it seemed suspiciously as if it were his lot to have to work very hard indeed.

Work which even the cleverest amongst the fishers could never have hoped to achieve.

Frederick von Berger was by no means an ordinary man. Amongst even his intimates he was something of an enigma. These knew that he occupied an exalted position in official life. They knew he was on the best of terms with the Supreme War Lord. This was all patent enough. But the nature of his work was doubtful. His name never appeared in the official lists, although it was understood that he was ent.i.tled to the rank of "General" placed before his name. Nor did he attempt to offer the least enlightenment on the subject.

But then he was a silent, even morose, man. He was harsh; a man devoid of any lighter side to his nature. There were even some who looked upon him as a sort of restless evil spirit whom it was very much best to avoid. But, like most men of genuinely strong purpose, public opinion left Frederick von Berger cold. He came and went as it suited him quite regardless of anything but his own objects, and he never failed to avail himself of every ounce of the power which the favor of the German monarch endowed him with.

Kuhlhafen, however, was not kept up in its present condition without having uses in its princely owner's scheme of things. Although the humble fisher-folk remained in ignorance of anything that went on within its austere precincts, it was not so much abandoned by their over-lord as they believed.

Thus it was that, one night, long after the village had been wrapped in slumber, a powerful automobile, with blazing head-lights, flashed through its single main street, and pa.s.sed on up the heights towards the dour silhouette above. Later, a second automobile pa.s.sed over the same route. And, with the coming of the second car, there was a tumult of bustle raised amongst the resident staff at the castle.

Later on still, there was even a stranger happening. A single white eye flashed out its searching rays from the sea and settled its focus upon the castle. Then, as though satisfied with its inspection, it turned its gaze upon the surface of the restless waters, and discovered a small motor-driven boat heading towards the fishing-quay of the village. Then, as though in answer to a signal, the blackness of the castle hill was lit by a pair of eyes less dazzling than the eye from the sea, and an automobile made its way towards the quay for which the little sea-boat was heading.

The great secret council-chamber of Kuhlhafen possessed all the air of a dungeon or crypt. It suggested no other for its original purpose. But as long as the present house had ruled within its walls this great underground apartment had been known as the secret council-chamber. It was probably the oldest portion of the whole castle, for it certainly dated back to the days somewhere before the earliest occupation of the territory by the Romans.

One or two significant additions had been made since the great dungeon had been converted to the dignity of a council-chamber. Down the length of the low-roofed hall, between the central aisle of piers supporting it, a long iron-bound oaken table filled up the major s.p.a.ce. This was flanked by a number of leather-seated chairs belonging to a similar period, and of equal crudeness of manufacture.

Table and chairs formed the complete furnishing of this dreary apartment, whose only beauty lay in the simple antiquity of its architecture and the characteristic chiselling of the grey piers which supported its quartered roof. For the rest, in the dim recesses beyond the rays of the lamplight on the table, there were to be found the wrought-iron sconces upon the walls, which had once doubtless served to support the light of blazing torches. And further, still more remote from the light, lost in the dusky corners, were an array of instruments which had survived the years, and whose evil purpose there could be no mistaking.

At the head of this long table sat a man with almost snow-white hair and a moustache of similar color, carefully trained with a sharp, upward turning of the pointed ends. His was a handsome face of considerable refinement. But it was deeply lined, even beyond his years, and the thin lips, drooping markedly downwards at the corners of his mouth, gave his whole expression something of tragedy.

On his right, at the side of the table, the single lamp-light shining full upon his harsh features, sat Frederick von Berger, the absolute ant.i.thesis of the man at the head of the table. Here was cold strength and even ruthlessness, not one whit less than the harsh surroundings of the council-chamber in which he sat. The cold eyes of the man possessed not one single lurking shadow of warmth. He was perhaps forty-five, and the iron mould of his plain features, and the tremendous air of physical strength about his body, all added to the impression that here was the direct descendant, untempered with the blood of gentler races, of those savage forbears who had wrested place and power for themselves from amongst their people by the sheer weight of the sword.

These two men had remained seated in conference for some time. The manner of the man at the head of the table was silent, even morose.

Frederick von Berger did most of the talking, and this fact, combined with his marked air of deference, gave some indication that his guest was some one of extremely unusual importance.

After a while Von Berger rose from his seat and was swallowed up in the shadowy remoteness of the room. His companion remained seated, leaning back in his chair, gazing after him with deep, cold, introspective eyes. His preoccupation was marked, and the drawn lines of his handsome face gave some clue to the importance, and even urgency, of his visit to these outlands of northern Prussia.

When Von Berger returned he was accompanied by another, who, as he came within the radiance of the lamp, revealed the angular, erect figure of the Captain-General of the great a.r.s.enal of Borga. The moment he came within view of the solitary figure at the head of the table he halted abruptly in perfect military salutation. His whole att.i.tude underwent a marked and deferential change. His usual air of arrogant authority seemed to have dropped from him like a cloak. It was a perfect example of the effect of the Prussian system.

The man at the table nodded faintly. It was the signal Von Berger and his companion awaited. They approached. Von Berger took his original seat, but Von Salzinger remained standing.

Von Berger waited. Then the man at the head of the table bestirred himself.

"Go on," he said sharply. And at once the Prince turned upon the Captain-General.

"The complaint is a serious one, Herr Captain-General. It is so serious, and affects such deep interests, that, as you see, it is deemed inadvisable to place it before a military tribunal. But it is also felt that the complaint in itself is not all; that there is other matter of even greater importance lying behind it. Thus you have been summoned to make your explanations--here."