Two Daring Young Patriots Part 10

"Now for it, Dale; it's now or never," cried Max in a voice of suppressed eagerness, as he emerged from under the desk the moment the party of Germans moved away along the pa.s.sage. "If we do not get clear at once I rather think we never shall."

"Yes, we are what you might call 'right on the post' and rowing neck and neck. 'Twill be a near thing whoever wins," replied Dale, again breaking out into rowing jargon, as he was apt to do whenever excited.

"The prize is bigger than you imagine," responded Max, dragging out the bag and glancing quickly about the room. "Could you follow what was said well enough to understand why they rounded on Schenk, or Schenkendorf, as his name seems to be?"

"No, old man, my German isn't nearly equal to the job, especially when I'm submerged in trunks and desks."

"Well, among the papers we've stuffed into this bag are the plans of some special siege-guns the Germans seem to set no small store on.

Schenk was just going to wire in making them, by the look of it. We've upset the whole business, and if he isn't under arrest he's very near it. But come along; we must get out of this."

The bottom panels of the door were quickly removed and Max and Dale crawled through, carrying the now doubly precious bag with them. The manager and the two officers had by this time reached the front entrance of the building but appeared to have halted there and to be talking earnestly together. Hastily removing their boots, Max and Dale crept quietly down the stairs to the door of the drawing-office. They paused and listened before opening it, and heard the party at the entrance descend the steps, still talking together, and the scrunch of the gravel under their feet as they strode away. Then, almost immediately, they heard a harsh command and the rapid tramp of feet as the guard turned out at the entrance to the works.

Max whipped open the door of the drawing-office and they entered and closed it behind them. The window through which they had come an hour or two before gaped before them, and they eagerly moved to it and peered out. All seemed clear for the moment, but they could hear men in motion somewhere, and in the pa.s.sage they had just left they were startled to hear the voice of the manager talking in a peremptory tone to someone, one of the guard they imagined, and the tramp of their feet as they pa.s.sed the door and began ascending the stairs.

"Quick; jump out," whispered Max, and he a.s.sisted his friend to drop as noiselessly as possible to the ground. Then he handed down the bag and lowered himself down after it. In silence and in great trepidation they sped towards the outer walls at the point at which they had entered.

Without mishap they helped one another up and over, and fled at the top of their speed towards their lodging. At any moment they feared a general alarm might be sounded, and the truest caution seemed to be to throw caution momentarily to the winds.

They reached the door of their lodging in safety, and as they entered Dale whispered triumphantly to his friend: "We've won the final too. By George we have!"

Day was just beginning to break as the two friends left the town on the northward side and made their way across country towards the Dutch frontier. They carefully avoided the roads, and their progress was slow; but it was sure, and as soon as they were well away from the neighbourhood of the town they regained the roads and made more rapid progress. Before the day was out they reached Maastricht, and Max found his mother and sister safe and sound, though indeed in great distress.

The relief of Madame Durend at the return of her son from beleaguered Liege was intense. The stories told by the numerous refugees from the towns and villages of Belgium were so terrible that she could not be other than most anxious for his safety. Now he had arrived, and had brought, she soon learned, sufficient funds to enable them all to live in comfort and security for a long time.

But it was not until Max and his friend unfolded their story that she fully realized in what peril they had been, and at what cost they had been able to bring the much-needed a.s.sistance. Their story was indeed amazing. Schenk a traitor, and Schenk outwitted! Priceless German plans captured, and funds that the enemy had hoped to secure removed from beyond their grasp! Madame Durend could not but be proud of her son's exploits, but it was a pride with many a tremble at the frightful dangers run.

A fuller examination of their captures revealed to Max and Dale how valuable their prize had been, and sent them both hotfoot to the house of the nearest British consul, into whose care they confided the precious plans, with instructions that they wished them handed over to the British War Office without delay.

A statement briefly describing who the captors were, and how the _coup_ had been brought about, was drawn up and signed, and, in high glee at the shrewd blow struck against Schenk and his Germans, they returned once more to the lodging of Madame and Mademoiselle Durend.

A few days spent there in safety, and almost in idleness, were, however, sufficient to make Max and Dale, and especially the former, restless and dissatisfied with their inactivity. The onward march of the Germans, their terrible unscrupulousness and rapacity, and the tales of the terrific fighting with the English and French vanguards reached their ears and made them long to be doing something, however small, to aid the great cause. Max, in addition, had a constant sense of irritation at the thought that his father's great works were running night and day in the interests of the Germans and to the vast injury of his own countrymen.

He could not get away from the feeling that he had a responsibility towards the Durend works--a responsibility which he seemed in honour bound to discharge. This feeling grew and grew until it became so intolerable that he was impelled to announce to his mother that he must, without delay, return to his post in the stricken city.

"But surely you have done enough, Max?" cried Madame Durend, almost in consternation. "You are not yet of man's age, and ought not to think of taking upon yourself such fearful tasks. It is no fault of yours that our property is being used by the Germans. Many other factories and workshops besides ours have been seized, and who can fairly put the blame upon the owners?"

"I know, Mother," replied Max in a quiet voice, and with a far-away look in his eyes. "I know it is no fault of ours. But our workmen--the faithful and real Belgian workmen--are there bearing alone in silence the pain and misery of seeing the great business they helped to create worked to the destruction of their own liberties. They feel nothing so much as the thought that their masters have deserted them, and left them to fight the battle for their land and liberties alone. I must go back and join them, if only to let them know we are with them, hand and foot, heart and soul. I feel, Mother, that so long as one workman still holds out against tyranny and oppression, the owners of the Durend workshops must be by his side to give him both countenance and aid."

Max's voice grew stronger, and thrilled with a deeper and deeper earnestness, as he went on. It was clear to each of his hearers that the guardianship of his father's works had become the one great object and aim of his existence. With such a burning, pa.s.sionate desire in his heart, it was almost impossible that he could be persuaded to abandon his project if he were not to be rendered miserable for life, and Madame Durend realized almost at once that she dare not attempt it. But the thought of the desperate character of the undertaking made her mother's heart sink with dread.

"I dare not say you nay, Max, my son," she said tremulously, after a long pause, "for I should feel that I was setting my own wishes against what is, perhaps, your duty to your country, and still more your duty to your dear father's name. Go, then--only do not--do not run unnecessary risks. Be as cautious as you can--and come back to me often."

"We will be as cautious as we honourably can, will we not, Dale?" cried Max, appealing to his friend. "It is stratagem that we shall use in making our war--not force. We have thought it all out together, and hope to give a good account of ourselves without giving the Germans a chance to pay us back with usury."

"Yes," replied Dale cheerfully, "we are not going to give the enemy a chance. Why, you have no idea how cautious and full of dodges Max is. He just bristles with 'em, and I think we shall give Schenk and his friends a warm time."

Madame Durend sighed deeply. "It seems terrible to me to think of two such boys returning to that dreadful place to do battle unaided with those men. How I pray that you may come safely back!"

"No fear of that," cried Dale confidently, and Max gazed into his mother's face and nodded rea.s.suringly.

The next day they left the hospitable streets of Maastricht and arrived safely in Liege, still in their disguises as Walloon workmen. A visit to a clever hairdresser before they left had completed their disguise.

Their fresh complexions were hidden beneath a stain that darkened the skin to the tints of the swarthiest Walloons of the Liege district.

Max, as he was by far the better known and ran the greater risk of detection, had, in addition, his brown hair dyed a much darker hue and his eyebrows thickened and made to meet in the centre. A few lines skilfully drawn here and there about his face gave him the appearance of a much older man than Dale, and enabled them to pose as brothers aged about twenty-eight and twenty respectively. Their hair was allowed to run wild and mat about their brows and ears; hands and wrists were left, much to their discomfort, to get as grubby as possible, and in the end they were ready to meet the gaze of all as Belgian workmen of the most out-and-out kind.

The necessity for the constant renewal of their various disguises was not overlooked, and the hairdresser was prevailed upon to part with a supply of his dyes and to tell them exactly how and when to apply them.

Max of course could maintain the part of workman to perfection, even if questioned at length, but Dale was under the necessity of answering only in monosyllables, as his knowledge of the language was at present not very great. With Max at his elbow, however, this was not a serious drawback, and neither antic.i.p.ated any difficulty on that score.

Max was now a broad-shouldered, well-built young fellow of twenty. He was not much above medium height, but his rowing and running at Hawkesley and his hard work in the various shops of the Durend concern had given him a muscular development that most of the real workmen might have envied. His responsibilities as stroke at college, and, later, as the future head of the firm, had given him a self-reliant att.i.tude of mind that was reflected in his bearing, and enabled him to maintain with unconscious ease his sudden increase in years over his more youthful-looking comrade.

Dale was still slim and boyish-looking. He was wiry enough, however, and was, as we have seen, extremely cool and courageous in any tight corner.

He was quick, too, and the pair made an ideal couple to hunt together.

Had Schenk known that they were bending all their energies to the task of hindering his use of the Durend workshops for the benefit of the Germans he would probably have bestowed more than a pa.s.sing thought upon them. And had he had an inkling that they were at the bottom of the shrewd blow already dealt him within the sacred precincts of his office he would, no doubt, have spent a sleepless night or two.

The few days that had elapsed since Max and Dale left Liege had already witnessed yet another development in the rapid conversion of the Durend workshops into a first-cla.s.s manufactory of war material for the German army. A large building on the outskirts of the town had been taken over and converted into a filling-shop, and the sh.e.l.ls manufactured within the works were conveyed thither on a miniature railway, and there filled with high-explosive drawn from a factory situated about a mile and a half away, well outside the limits of the town. This new shop was being staffed with men drawn partly from Germany and partly from former workmen of the less determined sort, who were gradually returning to work under stress of hunger.

On Max and Dale applying for work they were promptly drafted to this shop. Fortunately for them, perhaps, the foreman who was now engaging fresh workmen was a man sent from Germany, a bullying, overbearing, Prussian foreman who was expected to bring the methods of the Prussian drill-sergeant to bear upon the poor half-starved wretches applying for work, and to reduce them to a proper state of submission. Max had no difficulty in satisfying the man, especially as he made no demur to working in the night shift. Few workmen cared for the night shift, and the foreman was therefore the more ready to clinch the bargain. Soon Max and Dale were being shown the way to fill the sh.e.l.ls and finish them off, ready to be sent on their mission of destruction.

"Things couldn't have happened better, Dale," remarked Max at the first opportunity.

"Why, Max? We are safe inside; is that what you mean?"

"Not exactly. What I mean is our being sent to the filling-shops. It's no end of a piece of luck."

"Ah, I see! You are thinking of wrecking the place, eh?"

"Possibly, later on. But what I mean is that for our plans we need explosives, and plenty of them. Well, here they are, ready to hand, and all we have to do for a start is to get what we want away unseen."

"Aye; acc.u.mulate a store of our own ready for the day we want them?"

"Yes; the best place to attack we can settle later. In fact we may have to seize our opportunities as they come along."

"The best places to choose are these filling-shops, old man. Heaps of explosives about, and, although they watch everyone pretty closely, we ought to get a chance before long. If this place were blown sky-high it would damage a lot of the other shops, and probably get Schenk the sack.

He seems to have got over that other affair all right."

"Yes, but I can't bring myself to blow up this great place with all the workmen in it, Germans or renegade Belgians though they are. I want to cripple the works, not kill the work-people."

"Don't see much in your scruples, Max. If we don't kill them they are left to go on sending sh.e.l.ls out to kill our men."

"True, old man, but all the same I should like, if I can, to do the business without causing any loss of life among the workmen. There is the power-house now. If we could wreck that we should bring the whole of the works to an absolute standstill."

"Phew! Yes. Well, and why shouldn't we?"

"I've been thinking, and I believe we ought to be able to do it. Of course you know there is a soldier always posted at each entrance?"

"We must dispose of him--that's all."

"Or else we must get jobs as stokers. But enough of this--see that man coming along there eyeing the benches?"