With Haig on the Somme Part 26

"Your excellency is pleased to be very kind," said Dennis, scarcely able to disguise the laughter which convulsed him.

"By Jupiter, Bob, here's a chance to rub it in!" he whispered aside. And then he very gravely gave an account of what Prince Rupprecht's agent was supposed to have discovered!

"The enemy has consolidated himself in what were our support trenches,"

reported the mock spy. "The _Konigin Augusta_ Redoubt was carried with great fury at six o'clock this evening, and its brave defenders practically destroyed. The English have now seventy machine-guns mounted on the work, and to take it will be impossible. In my opinion, there is nothing for it but to fall back. We can do nothing against the horde of reserves ma.s.sed behind the English firing line. It is incredible the number of battalions I have seen to-night, and their howitzer batteries have been moved forward."

"Here, I say, go slow!" interjected Bob, marvelling at the clever way in which Dennis conducted his ruse.

"Shut up!" snapped Dennis shortly. "He is asking me questions now, and we shall learn something."

"Has the evacuation of the brewery taken place?" inquired Von Bingenhammer.

"It has, your excellency," answered Dennis promptly.

"And there is nothing to prevent that Australian Division taking possession of the place--nothing to warn them of the trap?"

"I am expecting their arrival at any moment, your excellency. In fact, it will be difficult for me to escape if I stay here much longer."

"Good," a.s.sented the speaker at the other end of the 'phone. "And the land mine is charged ready to blow them back to their antipodes, _nicht wahr_?"

"Everything is ready as your excellency has ordered it," replied Dennis, with a startled grimace at his brother.

"Then you had better look after your own safety, only remaining to see the mine properly fired, and then come back to His Highness's headquarters. We are preparing a heavy counter-attack for the early hours of the morning. That is all, captain. May the G.o.d of the Fatherland protect thee!"

Dennis laid the receiver down, and was rapidly recounting all the general had said to his brother, when he stopped and switched his light off.

A quick step was heard in the outer room. The real spy was approaching, and their old acquaintance, Von Dussel, alias Van Drissel, came through the doorway, turning on his own light as he did so!

CHAPTER XX

The Last Rung of a Broken Ladder

For a couple of strides he advanced towards them, deceived for an instant by the jacket of the dead German which Dennis was wearing. Then he sprang back with a startled cry, his light vanished, and the clang of the heavy door echoed dully in the pitch darkness.

Bob Dashwood's hand gave his brother's shoulder a warning grip, and the pair listened, scarcely breathing. In both their minds was the one thought: Had their enemy gained the outer room before the door closed, or was he still there, waiting for the first sound that should betray their whereabouts?

Dennis, who had been standing erect when the torch beam found him, now crouched low; but Bob stood motionless, his head turned sideways to listen, the half-smoked cigarette still in his mouth.

The silence of the room seemed to be intensified by the gunfire outside; and, without thinking, Bob Dashwood pulled at the cigarette.

The tiny end shone faintly, with a brighter glow, a loud report broke the unnatural stillness, and the bullet of an automatic pistol carried the cigarette from the smoker's lips and struck the wall behind him!

Even Bob Dashwood, to whom physical fear was unknown, felt himself turn pale at the narrowness of his escape.

The spy was still there, and evidently a crack shot, while they had no firearms!

After a long, thrilling pause, a gloating laugh came out of the darkness.

"The English are the greatest fools in the world; or is it perhaps that they have no weapons, hein?" said the spy's voice, the soliloquy being evidently intended for his listeners' benefit.

Dennis was conscious that his brother had edged away behind a large boiler, and groping desperately in the pockets of the German coat, hoping against hope that he might find something that would turn the tide in their favour, his own fingers closed on--a raw potato!

An idea occurred to him, and with a silent jerk of his forearm he threw it to the other end of the room. As the potato fell, Von Dussel swung round and fired two shots in the direction of the sound, and under cover of the reports Dennis joined Bob in his temporary shelter.

A snarl of vexation broke from the angry Prussian at his second failure; and, taking Bob's hand in his own, Dennis tapped out a Morse Code sentence on the back of it with his first finger, relieved to find from his brother's answering squeeze that Bob understood him.

"Give me that rifle," he tapped. "There might be an unused cartridge left in the magazine, after all."

Bob supported himself on the side of the boiler, and Dennis took the Mauser from him without noise.

He knew the barrel must be choked with earth from the use it had been put to, but, after all, it was a chance.

_Bur-r-r-r!_ The telephone bell struck an odd, imperative note at that moment, and Von Dussel spoke sharply.

"You hear that, you hound?" he thundered. "You Dashwoods, you! How long have you been here?"

They knew it was only a ruse to make them betray themselves, prompted by their enemy's keen anxiety to answer the summons, and they stood behind the boiler perfectly still.

_Bur-r-r-r!_

"So you will not speak," snarled Von Dussel. "Very well, I am going to answer that message. I shall have a Browning pistol in one hand and the receiver in the other. You had better look out; you will never leave this room alive, either of you."

Dennis, groping silently in front of him along the brick base in which the boiler was fixed, had found a heavy screw wrench, and, repeating his former manoeuvre, hurled it this time to the opposite end of the engine-room.

It dropped with a loud clang; but Von Dussel was on his guard, and before he fired he switched his light on for an instant, and Dennis pulled the trigger of the rifle.

It was only for a second's s.p.a.ce that Dennis saw the man with his hand raised, and he could not repress a fierce shout of joy as a Mauser bullet dashed the Browning pistol from Von Dussel's hand.

"Perhaps we English are not such fools, after all!" he laughed. But when the spy's voice answered him, it was from the opposite side of the room.

"That remains to be seen," was his reply. "I tell you, you will not leave this place alive. The brewery is mined, and I am going to fire the charge. Good night. I will send Madame Dashwood a field post card to-morrow!"

In vain Dennis had pulled on the trigger while he spoke, the rifle pointed in the direction of the voice. That cartridge had been the last one; and as they heard the heavy door bang for the second time that night, they knew that the man had gone and would keep his word!

"Dennis, boy," said Bob quickly, "I'm rather afraid our number's up, after all. I'm useless with this leg, but where there's life there's hope. There's a permanent ladder at the end of this hole. Give me my crutch again, and, meanwhile, see where it leads to."

Dennis did not require telling twice.

"You're right, Bob," he said. "There's death on the other side of that door, so it's wasting time to try whether that hound has fastened it or no." And while he spoke he flashed his own pocket torch to the far end of the engine-room. "You'll be able to pick your way, and I'll be back in a shake," he concluded, tearing along the floor and bounding up a permanent ladder to the next storey.

A circling sweep of his invaluable light showed the lad a low-ceilinged room corresponding to the one he had just left, and a cool wind blowing in from somewhere reminded him of his adventure in the German dug-out, and the friendly pa.s.sage he had discovered.

"Come on, Bob!" he called down the ladder. "I'll be back in a minute and give you a hand. We'll do the beggar yet."

He bounded through the door which his light revealed, and found himself in the open air upon an iron gallery running along the outside of the building.