Facing the German foe Part 6

"Right!" said d.i.c.k.

Just then the cab, caught in a rutty road where the going was very heavy, and there was a slight upgrade in addition, to make it worse, slowed up considerably. And d.i.c.k, looking out of the window on his side, gave a stifled exclamation.

"Look there, Harry!" he said. "Do you see the sun flas.h.i.+ng on something on the roof of that house over there? What do you suppose that is?"

"Whew!" Harry whistled. "You ought to know that, d.i.c.k! A heliograph--field telegraph. Morse code--or some code--made by flashes. The sun catches a mirror or some sort of reflector, and it's just like a telegraph instrument, with dots and dashes, except that you work by sight instead of by sound. That _is_ queer! Try to mark just where the house is, and so will I."

The cab turned, while they were still looking, and removed the house where the signalling was being done from their line of vision. But in a few moments there was a loud report that startled both scouts until they realized that a front tire had blown out. The driver stopped at once, and descended, seemingly much perturbed. And Harry and d.i.c.k, piling out to inspect the damage, started when they saw that they had stopped just outside the mysterious house.

"I'll fix that in a jiffy," said the driver, and began jacking up the wheel. But, quickly as he stripped off the deflated tire, he was not so quick that Harry failed to see that the blow-out had been caused by a straight cut--not at all the sort of tear produced by a jagged stone or a piece of broken gla.s.s. He said nothing of his discovery, however, and a moment later he looked up to face a young man in the uniform of an officer of the British territorial army. This young man had keen, searching blue eyes, and very blond hair. His upper lip was closely shaven, but it bore plain evidence that within a few days it had sported a moustache.

"Well," said the officer, "what are you doing here?"

The driver straightened up as if in surprise.

"Blow-out, sir," he said, touching his cap. "I'm carrying these young gentlemen from Waterloo to Ealing, sir. Had to come around on account of the roads."

"You have your way lost, my man. Why not admit it?" said the officer, showing his white teeth in a smile. He turned to Harry and d.i.c.k. "Boy Scouts, I see," he commented. "You carry orders concerning the movement of troops from Ealing? They are to entrain--where?"

"Near Croydon, sir, on the Brighton and South Coast line," said Harry, lifting innocent eyes to his questioner.

"So! They go to Dover, then, I suppose--no, perhaps to Folkestone--oh, what matter? Hurry up with your tire, my man!"

He watched them still as the car started. Then he went back to the house.

"Whatever did you tell him that whopper about Croydon for?" whispered d.i.c.k.

"I wasn't going to tell him anything--"

"Then he might have tried to make us," answered Harry, also in a whisper.

"Did you notice anything queer about him?"

"Why, no--"

"'You have your way lost!' Would any Englishman say that, d.i.c.k? And wouldn't a German? You've studied German. Translate 'You've lost your way'

into German. 'Du hast dein weg--' See? He was a German spy!"

"Oh, Harry! I believe you're right! But why didn't we--"

"Try to arrest him? There may have been a dozen others there, too. And there was the driver. We wouldn't have had a chance. Besides, if he thinks we don't suspect, we may be able to get some valuable information later. I think--"

"What?"

"I'd better not say now. But remember this--we've got to look out for this driver. I think he'll take us straight to Ealing now. When we get to the barracks you stay in the cab--we'll pretend we may have to go back with him."

"I see," said d.i.c.k, thrilling with the excitement of this first taste of real war.

Harry was right. The driver's purpose in making such a long detour, whatever it was, had been accomplished. And now he plainly did his best to make up for lost time. He drove fast and well, and in a comparatively short time both the scouts could see that they were on the right track.

"You watch one side. I'll take the other," said Harry. "We've got to be able to find our way back to that house."

This watchfulness confirmed Harry's suspicions concerning the driver, because he made two or three circuits that could have no other purpose than to make it hard to follow his course.

At Ealing he and d.i.c.k carried out their plan exactly. d.i.c.k stayed with the cab, outside the wall; Harry hurried in. And five minutes after Harry had gone inside a file of soldiers, coming around from another gate, surrounded the cab and arrested the driver.

CHAPTER V

ON THE TRAIL

Harry had reached Colonel Throckmorton without difficulty and before delivering Major French's message, he explained his suspicions regarding the driver.

"What's that? Eh, what's that?" asked the colonel. "Spy? This country's suffering from an epidemic of spy fever--that's what! Still--a taxicab driver, eh? Perhaps he's one of the many who's tried to overcharge me. I'll put him in the guardhouse, anyway! I'll find out if you're right later, young man!"

As a matter of fact, and as Harry surmised, Colonel Throckmorton felt that it was not a time to take chances. He was almost sure that Harry was letting his imagination run away with him, but it would be safer to arrest a man by mistake than to let him go if there was a chance that he was guilty. So he gave the order, and then turned to question Harry. The scout first gave Major French's message, and Colonel Throckmorton immediately dispatched an orderly after giving him certain whispered instructions.

"Now tell me just why you suspect your driver. Explain exactly what happened," he said. He turned to a stenographer. "Take notes of this, Johnson," he directed.

Harry told his story simply and well. When he quoted the officer's remark to the cab driver, with the German inversion, the colonel chuckled.

"'You have your way lost!' Eh?" he said, with a smile. "You're right--he was no Englishman! Go on!"

When he had finished, the colonel brought down his fist on his desk with a great blow.

"You've done very well, Fleming--that's your name?--very well, indeed," he said, heartily. "We know London is covered with spies but we had flattered ourselves that it didn't matter very much what they found, since there was no way that we could see for them to get their news to their headquarters in Germany. But now--"

He frowned thoughtfully.

"They might be able to set up a chain of signalling stations," he said.

"The thing to do would be to follow them, eh? Do you think you could do that? You might use a motorcycle--know how to ride one?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry.

"Live with your parents, do you? Would they let you go? I don't think it would be very dangerous, and you would excite less suspicion than a man.

See if they will let you turn yourself over to me for a few days. Pick out another scout to go with you, if you like. Perhaps two of you would be better than one. Report to me in the morning. I'll write a note to your scoutmaster--Mr. Wharton, isn't it? Right!"

As they made their way homeward, thoroughly worked up by the excitement of their adventure, Harry wondered whether his father would let him undertake this service Colonel Throckmorton had suggested. After all, he was not English, and he felt that his father might not want him to do it, although Mr. Fleming, he knew, sympathized strongly with the English in the war. He said nothing to d.i.c.k, preferring to wait until he was sure that he could go ahead with his plans.

But when he reached his house he found that things had changed considerably in his absence. Both his parents seemed worried; his father seemed especially troubled.

"Harry," he said, "the war has. .h.i.t us already. I'm called home by cable, and at the same time there is word that your Aunt Mary is seriously ill.

Your mother wants to be with her. I find that, by a stroke of luck, I can get quarters for your mother and myself on to-morrow's steamer. But there's no room for you. Do you think you could get along all right if you were left here? I'll arrange for supplies for the house; Mrs. Grimshaw can keep house. And you will have what money you need."

"Of course I can get along!" said Harry, stoutly. "I suppose the steamers are fearfully crowded?"

"Only about half of them are now in service," said Mr. Fleming. "And the rush of Americans who have been travelling abroad is simply tremendous.