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L.P.M. : The End of the Great War, a novel by J. Stewart Barney |
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Chapter 8. The Spy-Driven Taxi |
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_ CHAPTER VIII. THE SPY-DRIVEN TAXI On coming out of the Admiralty, Edestone, a trifle preoccupied, was about to take the taxi with the rather sleepy driver which stood at the head of the line. But the thought came to him, where shall I go? As he had told Rebener, none of his pals were in town and he had absolutely nothing to do until dinner at eight o'clock. Why not take lunch at some quiet little place in the neighbourhood? "I say, cabby, is there any sort of a decent restaurant around here where one can get a very nice little lunch?" "Yes, sir, thank you, sir"; the chauffeur rather abruptly came into full possession of his faculties. "There is a very neat little place right across the road, sir, thank you, sir," and he pointed in the direction of the window at which Schmidt was sitting. "Ah, thank you, cabby," said Edestone in his usual kind manner with people of that class. He was rather struck by the handsome face of the man, although it was covered over with grease and grime. "Here is a shilling. Don't you think I might be able to walk that far this beautiful day?" "Yes, sir, thank you, sir." The man showed no appreciation of the humour. "Would you be wanting a cab later on, sir? If so I'll just hang about, sir. Times is hard in these war times, sir." "Certainly, wait by all means," said Edestone with a jolly laugh. "Set your clock. Now open your door and drive me to that restaurant over there, and then wait for me till I have had my lunch. By the time that I get through with you I think you will find that you have done a good day's work." "I am sure of it, sir." The chauffeur hid a surreptitious chuckle with his very dirty hand. On entering the restaurant the first person Edestone saw was Schmidt, and he gave a little nod of recognition. "Well, Mr. Schmidt, we seem to be meeting quite often this morning. I hope that I am to infer from your presence that I will be able to get some of your delightfully greasy German dishes." But at this point he was interrupted by the proprietor, who came bustling up, trying to force him to take a seat at a table in another part of the room. "German dishes?" stammered the restaurant keeper. "Not at all. That was when the place was run by Munchinger, but he went back to Germany last July, and this place is run by me, and I am a Swiss. Still, sir, if you are fond of the German dishes I think I might be able to accommodate you, sir." "Well, suppose I leave that entirely to you. I can't by any chance get a large stein of Munchener beer?" "No, sir, I am sorry. I can get you some French beer though, which we think is much better. You know that Admiral Fisher has got those Dutchmen bottled up so tight that they tell me the beer won't froth any more in Germany." And he burst into a roar of laughter in which he was joined by a chorus of adoring customers sitting about at the different tables. Edestone sat down while the proprietor in person took his order to the kitchen. In a very short time, the man returned and put down before him a gemuse suppe, following this with schweine fleisch, sauerkraut, and gherkins--a luncheon which might have been cooked in a German's own kitchen--and set before him a glass of beer which Edestone would have sworn had not been brewed outside of the city of Munich. The proprietor bustled about, laughing and cracking clumsy jokes with everyone who would listen to him, and his jokes seemed to Edestone to be almost as German as his beer. In this way he finally worked over to where Smith was sitting, and as he pretended to arrange something on the table whispered sharply: "Go to the lavatory." Smith, unable to eat, sat toying with his food. He gulped his beer as if it choked him. He turned around several times to look at Edestone, but the latter after his perfunctory greeting took no further notice of him. At last, paying his check, the man walked to the rear of the restaurant and into a small, dark, badly ventilated room under the stairs. The place was so dimly lighted that he could scarcely see in front of him a wash basin, but as he was wondering what he was expected to do next he heard a voice that seemed to come from a little partially opened window that looked out into a dark ventilating shaft to the left of the basin. "Pretend to wash your hands," the voice whispered cautiously. Smith did as he was directed and found that he thus brought his left ear close to the window opening. "Now listen," said the voice, speaking rapidly in German. "God is with the Fatherland today! 4782 has been engaged to wait. Hottenroth has telephoned that our man undoubtedly has his instrument with him. The order is for you and 4782 to get it from him this afternoon at any cost. 4782 knows what he is to do." And the window closed softly. Smith broke out into a cold perspiration. He knew that he was looking death straight in the face, and in a twinkling his mind carried him back over his entire life. He clutched at his throat as he realized his horrible situation. His present position in the grip of this relentless but invisible master had come about so gradually that he had not realized how firmly he was caught until now it was too late. Not being borne up by the hysterical exaltation of the true-born Prussian, he resented that he should be the one selected to do this ghastly thing. He staggered back into the restaurant where the proprietor, laying a hand upon his arm, and laughing loudly and winking as if he were telling a risque story, muttered some further directions into his ear. "He is preparing to go now. Join him and don't leave him until--" he broke off and rushed over to Edestone who had risen from the table and was taking his hat and cane from the waiter. "I hope, sir, you found everything perfectly satisfactory?" he bowed. "Very nice indeed," said Edestone, handing him a half-crown. "I am glad to have discovered your place and I shall come again." At the door he encountered Smith, who was lingering about as if waiting for him. "Oh, Mr. Edestone," he forced himself to say, swallowing and fumbling with his mouth. "I remember when I was fixing up your Little Place in the Country for you that you took a great deal of interest in old English prints. Well, I have just found an old print shop over in the Whitechapel district with some of the most wonderful old prints, and if you have the time to spare I would like to take you over and have the old man show them to you." "I should like to very much," said Edestone. "I have just been wondering what I should do with myself this afternoon." "The Kaiser and God will bless you for this," the restaurant keeper whispered into Smith's ear, after he had bowed Edestone out to the sidewalk. "Mr. Smith, will you please give the address to the driver," said Edestone as he stepped into the taxi. Smith leaned over and gave some mumbled instructions to the chauffeur, who had remained upon his box; then he took his place at the side of his friend and patron. But no sooner had the motor started than he turned to Edestone. "Mr. Edestone,"--his voice trembled so violently that he could scarcely speak,--"please do not move or seem surprised at what I am going to say." Edestone drew back slightly and looked at him. He thought at first that the man had suddenly lost his reason. Smith was perfectly livid and his little eyes were starting from his head. His mouth was open and he seemed to be vainly trying to draw his blue lips over his great dry yellow teeth on which they seemed to catch, giving him the appearance of a snarling dog as he cringed in the corner of the cab. One hand was pulling at his collar while with the other he clutched at the seat in a vain effort to restrain the tremors which were shaking him from head to foot. "Don't speak. I must talk and talk fast," he said. Edestone leaned forward as if to halt the car, but the fellow caught him by the knee in a grip almost of desperation. "For God's sake don't do that!" he pleaded. "He will kill both of us. Oh, don't you understand? He is a German spy. I am German, Rebener is German, we are all Germans--all spies. We have been watching you for the past six months. This man is now driving you to a place where they will certainly kill you unless you turn over that instrument which you have in your pocket." At this Edestone started. Although he could scarcely control himself and felt like strangling the chicken-hearted wretch, he recovered himself in time to say with a look of disgust, "You poor miserable creature." "I know, Mr. Edestone, but please keep quiet. I may save you if you will do as I say. I don't know about myself. I am a dead man for certain, though, if you let him once suspect," and he motioned in the direction of the chauffeur. Then continuing he gasped out: "Stop the taxi anywhere along here: get out and go into some shop. When you come out again say to me that you have decided you will look at the prints some other day, and that you will walk to the hotel. Discharge and pay him. I will re-engage him and as soon as we get out of sight you take another taxi and drive straight to your hotel. But you must be careful; he knows that you have the instrument with you. They are desperate enough to do anything. Your life is in danger." Edestone, thoroughly enjoying the excitement of the situation, had absolutely no fear either for himself or for the instrument, since as a matter of fact he knew that he could destroy that at any moment. He felt sorry for Smith, however. He pitied him for his weakness but realized that he was risking his life to save him, so he did as he was urged. While he was in the shop 4782 got off the box, and, looking into the cab, said sternly to Smith in German: "If you are playing me any of your American tricks, you half-breed, you will never see the sun set again." Also, when Edestone returned and discharged him with a very handsome tip, he did not seem especially gratified, and when poor Smith in a trembling voice re-engaged the taxi, the driver almost lost control of himself. Had he done so, Edestone, who was watching him closely, would have been delighted, since he would have liked nothing better than to have forced the fellow to show his hand then and there. He was again struck with the chauffeur's appearance as he stood talking to Smith for he had the air of a gentleman and even through his dirt looked above his position. Leaving them there, the American strolled along, and, after a block or two, hailed another cab and ordered it to drive to Claridge's. He really did not think to look about him, but had he done so he might have discovered that he was being followed by the first taxi with its woebegone passenger and its handsome chauffeur. Arriving at the hotel he was interested to see standing in front of the door a carriage with men in the royal livery, and he was met at the entrance by the proprietor himself in a frightful state of excitement. "Mr. Edestone, one of the King's equerries is waiting in the reception room to see you. I have been calling you up at every club and hotel in London." Edestone went into the reception room where he was met by an officer in the uniform of the Royal Horse Guards, who after going through the formality of introducing himself delivered his message: "His Majesty, the King, instructs me to say that he will receive you and inspect your drawings, photographs, etc., at Buckingham Palace this afternoon at half-past four o'clock." _ |
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