The Master Spy

Chapter I.—“By the Dark North Sea”-2

“But in what way do the people over here regard you,” asked Dr. Gottlieb, his smile was very grim—“as an individual of our hated race?”

“Oh! Personally, we are not hated over here in England,” replied Mitter quickly. He spoke rather contemptuously. “Britishers have not the temperament for a lasting, virile hate, and although they are nearly all of opinion we are going to drop poison gas upon their civilian population one day, there is no anticipatory resentment about it. No, my social status here could not be better, and I mix with the best county people. I am just regarded as a well-to-do, and perhaps rather eccentric, foreigner, who prefers this country to his own. As you know, painting is supposed to be my great hobby, and I have a beautiful studio here. I am not without some talent either, and there is a sea-scape of mine in the Academy this year.” He nodded significantly. “As for my other life and the work I am doing for the fatherland—well, I have resources that no one would suspect.”

“Ah! but one slip,” commented the doctor gravely, “one little slip, and——”

“There will be no slip, big or little,” interrupted Mitter sharply, “and make your mind easy about that.” He punctuated each word with his hand. “Remember, nothing is done from this house that in any way touches my real work; no trail of any of my activities can be picked up here, and as Carl Mitter”—he laughed merrily—“I am no master spy.” He threw out his hands. “Indeed, I am no spy at all, but just a clumsy bungler who makes happy the British Secret Service, because they discover so easily my little vain attempts to find out what is going on.”

“But I wish you would give me some idea of how you carry on,” frowned Dr. Gottlieb, “for I could then take back to our people a more reassuring report. I know, of course, that no communications of any important nature are sent to you here, and that you yourself compose the letters we write for you to receive at the house, still——”

“Have patience, Doctor, and tell them at home to have patience, too,” interrupted Mitter. “I am doing the work you have entrusted to me, and, with no boasting, am doing it well. So be content with that. I cannot tell you what my ways are, for if my secret were once disclosed to you, you would have to pass it on, and it might get into wrong hands. Remember, if we are spying here, the British, are also spying among you, too, and we never know how highly placed our own traitors are.” He shook his head. “No, if I told you everything, my confidence in myself would be gone, and I should no longer feel I was secure.” His voice swelled in triumph. “Now, my confidence is absolute, and pursuing the way I am I know I have got the famous British Secret Service tied in a knot they can by no possibility unravel.”

A long silence followed, and then, as if resigning himself to the inevitable. Dr. Gottlieb turned his thoughts in another direction, and glancing curiously round the room, apparently took in its beautiful furnishings for the first time. “Yes, you certainly have a nice place here,” he remarked, “and that panelling must be very old.”

“Two hundred years and more,” replied Mitter with the enthusiasm of a connoiseur. “This house was built in the 18th century and there are ruins, just outside, that go back for nearly a thousand years.” He rose from his chair and leading the doctor over to one of the windows, pulled aside the curtain. “See, those are the ruins of a Franciscan Priory whose foundations were laid in 1254, when a branch of that great order had its headquarters here.” He pointed out to sea. “A score and more of churches, moreover, are supposed to be engulfed there, and upon stormy nights the villagers say they can even hear the clanging of the bells. This little hamlet of Dunwich was a big town once, with a large important harbor, but the sea is for ever encroaching and now a few scattered habitations are all that remain. Within living memory this very house of mine was three hundred yards from the sea, and yet tonight a bare sixty or seventy yards separate it from the waves.” He sighed. “If I had any children they would live to see it topple over the cliff.”

Then suddenly the sound of a car was heard outside in the drive and a few seconds later the bell of the front door whirred.

Mitter looked frowningly at his watch. “Ten minutes past ten and another visitor!” he exclaimed. “What's happening tonight?”

They heard voices in the hall and then the door of the room opened to admit a smart and very good-looking parlormaid. “A gentleman to see you, sir,” she announced, “a Mr. Smith. He says he's very sorry to trouble you so late, but he won't keep you long. I've shown him into the morning room.”

“Has he come alone, Margaret?” asked her master quickly.

“Yes, sir, he's driving himself in a limousine.”

“All right,” nodded Mitter. “I'll go and see him in a minute.” Then when the door had shut behind the girl, he turned to Dr. Gottlieb. “Excuse me a minute or two will you. I'll go and see what the man wants.”

“But where's that butler of yours?” asked the doctor uneasily.

“Oh! He's always allowed off duty at nine,” replied Mitter, “to go for a walk and get some fresh air.” He grinned. “But I expect tonight he's writing up a description of you and your car to give to the postman the first thing in the morning.” He laughed. “I've got hold of some of his letters and they are very crude and inaccurate stuff, so I expect he'll be describing you as handsome and aristocratic-looking, with a furtive and secretive air.”

He left the room still smiling, but once in the hall his expression changed. “Smith, Smith,” he muttered. “I don't know him, but, of course, most probably that's not his real name.”

He opened the door of the morning room to see the tall and closely muffled figure of a man standing in the middle of the room. The man was wearing his motor-goggles, but directly he saw who had appeared, he pulled them off and began quickly to uncoil the scarfe about his neck.

“The Ambassador!” ejaculated Mitter under his breath, “the haughty Count Von Rieben himself.”

“Quick!” whispered the man, beginning to unbutton his overcoat. “Whose car is that outside? Who is your visitor?”

Mitter was all smiles. “It's quite all right, Count,” he replied. “He's Herr Gottlieb, who has flown over to have a little talk with me.”

“Dr. Gottlieb!” exclaimed Von Rieben frowningly. “What's he come for? Has anything gone wrong?”

“No, nothing,” replied Mitter reassuringly. “He's only come to give me some news of which it happens I am already aware; pure routine business and of small interest.” He went on quickly. “But you yourself, what has brought you here? It must be something important, of course?”

“Yes,” snapped the ambassador, “most important.” He hesitated a moment. “But as Gottlieb is here he may as well hear it at the same time. In fact, his being here is quite opportune and may save me a long despatch.” He lowered his voice again. “But where's that damned butler of yours? As he didn't open the door to me, it may be just as well he shouldn't see me.”

“Oh! Dempster's out, or in bed,” replied Mitter airily, “but in any case you shan't meet him. Come into the library where the doctor is,” and pausing for a moment to make sure there was no one about, he led the way across the hall.

With every appearance of annoyance, Dr. Gottlieb jumped scowlingly to his feet, as they entered the library, but then recognising who it was who was accompanying Mitter, his expression at once changed.

“His Excellency!” he exclaimed looking very surprised. “But this is a great pleasure!”

Von Rieben advanced and shook hands. “Not so much of a pleasure,” he growled, “when you've heard what I've got to say.” He peered hard at Gottlieb. “But you've brought no bad news, Herr Mitter tells me?”

The doctor shook his head. “No, our friend assures me that everything is going well and that the little scraps of information I have been able to furnish are no news to him at all.”

Von Rieben seated himself at the table and, almost in one gulp, drank off the brandy and soda Mitter had mixed for him. Then he said sharply.

“Well, my news is not good,” and his handsome face puckered into a dark frown as he blurted out:—“They've beaten us, these damned Britishers! They've got an invisible aeroplane!”

His listeners made no comment. Dr. Gottlieb regarded him wonderingly and Mitter stood frowning, with his mouth half open.

A deep hush filled the room, and, for a long minute, almost the falling of a feather could have been heard. Then, as if angered by the silence, Von Rieben burst out again. “An invisible aeroplane, I tell you! Don't you take it in?”

Mitter found his voice. “What do you mean?” he asked. “I don't understand you. What do you say they've got?”

Von Rieben laughed bitterly. “An aeroplane that you can't see, man. A plane that's invisible until it drops within 50 yards of you, and one that's almost noiseless as well.” He ground his teeth viciously. “It's the greatest invention since aeroplanes came, and will give Britain the whip-hand over everybody else. No nation would dare fight her now.”

“An invisible aeroplane!” ejaculated Mitter incredulously. “And you've seen it?”

“Been within 30 yards of it,” scowled Von Rieben. “Seen it taxiing along before us like a grey shadow, seen it dart up into the sky and fade away like one, seen an enormous Union Jack trailing round and round a thousand feet up with nothing to show what was dragging it along.” He looked contemptuously at Mitter. “You're an efficient director of our secret service, aren't you, to let an invention like this be sprung upon us and not to have had the slightest inkling of what was going on?”

“But how have you come to find out about it?” asked Dr. Gottlieb gruffly. “Let Mitter, here, learn how it is that you are before him.”

Von Rieben calmed down. “I was shown it this afternoon,” he said with a grim smile, and speaking very slowly so that every word should be taken in, “along with the representatives of nine other embassies, by special courtesy of the British Government. We were all motored separately to the Newmarket racecourse and taken on to the balcony of the Royal Box on the grandstand there. We had not been told what we were going to see, except that it was something that would be of great interest to our respective Governments, and until we began to assemble there it appears each one of us had imagined he was going to be the only favored one.” He heaved a deep sigh. “Then this damned aeroplane was brought out and we were struck almost speechless in our astonishment. It was——”

“But why did they show it you?” interrupted Dr. Gottlieb sharply. “What was their idea?”

Von Rieben nodded vehemently. “To convince us of the undesirability of going to war with them, of course; to make us realise that this invention put all other countries at their mercy and that as long as they alone possessed its secret, peace at any price must be the policy of the whole world.” He scowled. “Before the damned thing appeared the Prime Minister made a speech to that effect, when he had told us what we were going to see.”