"Well, I guess you'll have to fix me up also. I'm not staying is this
gol-darned country all on my lonesome. In a week or less, from what I
see, John Bull will be on his hind legs and fair ramping. I'd rather
watch him from over the water."
"But you're an American citizen?"
"Well, so was Jack James an American citizen, but he's doing time in
Portland all the same. It cuts no ice with a British copper to tell
him you're an American citizen. 'It's British law and order over
here,' says he. By the way, mister, talking of Jack James, it seems
to me you don't do much to cover your men."
"What do you mean?" Von Bork asked sharply.
"Well, you are their employer, ain't you? It's up to you to see that
they don't fall down. But they do fall down, and when did you ever
pick them up? There's James--"
"It was James's own fault. You know that yourself. He was too
self-willed for the job."
"James was a bonehead--I give you that. Then there was Hollis."
"The man was mad."
"Well, he went a bit woozy towards the end. It's enough to make a man
bug-house when he has to play a part from morning to night with a
hundred guys all ready to set the coppers wise to him. But now there
is Steiner--"
Von Bork started violently, and his ruddy face turned a shade paler.
"What about Steiner?"
"Well, they've got him, that's all. They raided his store last night,
and he and his papers are all in Portsmouth jail. You'll go off and
he, poor devil, will have to stand the racket, and lucky if he gets
off with his life. That's why I want to get over the water as soon as
you do."
Von Bork was a strong, self-contained man, but it was easy to see
that the news had shaken him.
"How could they have got on to Steiner?" he muttered. "That's the
worst blow yet."
"Well, you nearly had a worse one, for I believe they are not far off
me."
"You don't mean that!"
"Sure thing. My landlady down Fratton way had some inquiries, and
when I heard of it I guessed it was time for me to hustle. But what I
want to know, mister, is how the coppers know these things? Steiner
is the fifth man you've lost since I signed on with you, and I know
the name of the sixth if I don't get a move on. How do you explain
it, and ain't you ashamed to see your men go down like this?"
Von Bork flushed crimson.
"How dare you speak in such a way!"
"If I didn't dare things, mister, I wouldn't be in your service. But
I'll tell you straight what is in my mind. I've heard that with you
German politicians when an agent has done his work you are not sorry
to see him put away."
Von Bork sprang to his feet.
"Do you dare to suggest that I have given away my own agents!"
"I don't stand for that, mister, but there's a stool pigeon or a
cross somewhere, and it's up to you to find out where it is. Anyhow I
am taking no more chances. It's me for little Holland, and the sooner
the better."
Von Bork had mastered his anger.
"We have been allies too long to quarrel now at the very hour of
victory," he said. "You've done splendid work and taken risks, and I
can't forget it. By all means go to Holland, and you can get a boat
from Rotterdam to New York. No other line will be safe a week from
now. I'll take that book and pack it with the rest."
The American held the small parcel in his hand, but made no motion to
give it up.
"What about the dough?" he asked.
"The what?"
"The boodle. The reward. The ?00. The gunner turned damned nasty at
the last, and I had to square him with an extra hundred dollars or it
would have been nitsky for you and me. 'Nothin' doin'!' says he, and
he meant it, too, but the last hundred did it. It's cost me two
hundred pound from first to last, so it isn't likely I'd give it up
without gettin' my wad."
Von Bork smiled with some bitterness. "You don't seem to have a very
high opinion of my honour," said he, "you want the money before you
give up the book."
"Well, mister, it is a business proposition."
"All right. Have your way." He sat down at the table and scribbled a
check, which he tore from the book, but he refrained from handing it
to his companion. "After all, since we are to be on such terms, Mr.
Altamont," said he, "I don't see why I should trust you any more than
you trust me. Do you understand?" he added, looking back over his
shoulder at the American. "There's the check upon the table. I claim
the right to examine that parcel before you pick the money up."
The American passed it over without a word. Von Bork undid a winding
of string and two wrappers of paper. Then he sat dazing for a moment
in silent amazement at a small blue book which lay before him. Across
the cover was printed in golden letters Practical Handbook of Bee
Culture. Only for one instant did the master spy glare at this
strangely irrelevant inscription. The next he was gripped at the back
of his neck by a grasp of iron, and a chloroformed sponge was held in
front of his writhing face.
"Another glass, Watson!" said Mr. Sherlock Holmes as he extended the
bottle of Imperial Tokay.
The thickset chauffeur, who had seated himself by the table, pushed
forward his glass with some eagerness.
"It is a good wine, Holmes."
"A remarkable wine, Watson. Our friend upon the sofa has assured me
that it is from Franz Josef's special cellar at the Schoenbrunn
Palace. Might I trouble you to open the window, for chloroform vapour
does not help the palate."
The safe was ajar, and Holmes standing in front of it was removing
dossier after dossier, swiftly examining each, and then packing it
neatly in Von Bork's valise. The German lay upon the sofa sleeping
stertorously with a strap round his upper arms and another round his
legs.
"We need not hurry ourselves, Watson. We are safe from interruption.
Would you mind touching the bell? There is no one in the house except
old Martha, who has played her part to admiration. I got her the
situation here when first I took the matter up. Ah, Martha, you will
be glad to hear that all is well."
The pleasant old lady had appeared in the doorway. She curtseyed with
a smile to Mr. Holmes, but glanced with some apprehension at the
figure upon the sofa.
"It is all right, Martha. He has not been hurt at all."
"I am glad of that, Mr. Holmes. According to his lights he has been a
kind master. He wanted me to go with his wife to Germany yesterday,
but that would hardly have suited your plans, would it, sir?"
"No, indeed, Martha. So long as you were here I was easy in my mind.
We waited some time for your signal to-night."
"It was the secretary, sir."
"I know. His car passed ours."
"I thought he would never go. I knew that it would not suit your
plans, sir, to find him here."
"No, indeed. Well, it only meant that we waited half an hour or so
until I saw your lamp go out and knew that the coast was clear. You
can report to me to-morrow in London, Martha, at Claridge's Hotel."
"Very good, sir."
"I suppose you have everything ready to leave."
"Yes, sir. He posted seven letters to-day. I have the addresses as
usual."
"Very good, Martha. I will look into them to-morrow. Good-night.
These papers," he continued as the old lady vanished, "are not of
very great importance, for, of course, the information which they
represent has been sent off long ago to the German government. These
are the originals which cold not safely be got out of the country."
"Then they are of no use."
"I should not go so far as to say that, Watson. They will at least
show our people what is known and what is not. I may say that a good
many of these papers have come through me, and I need not add are
thoroughly untrustworthy. It would brighten my declining years to see
a German cruiser navigating the Solent according to the mine-field
plans which I have furnished. But you, Watson"--he stopped his work
and took his old friend by the shoulders--"I've hardly seen you in
the light yet. How have the years used you? You look the same blithe
boy as ever."
"I feel twenty years younger, Holmes. I have seldom felt so happy as
when I got your wire asking me to meet you at Harwich with the car.
But you, Holmes--you have changed very little--save for that horrible
goatee."
"These are the sacrifices one makes for one's country, Watson," said
Holmes, pulling at his little tuft. "To-morrow it will be but a
dreadful memory. With my hair cut and a few other superficial changes
I shall no doubt reappear at Claridge's to-morrow as I was before
this American stunt--I beg your pardon, Watson, my well of English
seems to be permanently defiled--before this American job came my
way."
"But you have retired, Holmes. We heard of you as living the life of
a hermit among your bees and your books in a small farm upon the
South Downs."
"Exactly, Watson. Here is the fruit of my leisured ease, the magnum
opus of my latter years!" He picked up the volume from the table and
read out the whole title, Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, with
Some Observations upon the Segregation of the Queen. "Alone I did it.
Behold the fruit of pensive nights and laborious days when I watched
the little working gangs as once I watched the criminal world of
London."
"But how did you get to work again?"
"Ah, I have often marvelled at it myself. The Foreign Minister alone
I could have withstood, but when the Premier also deigned to visit my
humble roof--! The fact is, Watson, that this gentleman upon the sofa
was a bit too good for our people. He was in a class by himself.
Things were going wrong, and no one could understand why they were
going wrong. Agents were suspected or even caught, but there was
evidence of some strong and secret central force. It was absolutely
necessary to expose it. Strong pressure was brought upon me to look
into the matter. It has cost me two years, Watson, but they have not
been devoid of excitement. When I say that I started my pilgrimage at
Chicago, graduated in an Irish secret society at Buffalo, gave
serious trouble to the constabulary at Skibbareen, and so eventually
caught the eye of a subordinate agent of Von Bork, who recommended me
as a likely man, you will realize that the matter was complex. Since
then I have been honoured by his confidence, which has not prevented
most of his plans going subtly wrong and five of his best agents
being in prison. I watched them, Watson, and I picked them as they
ripened. Well, sir, I hope that you are none the worse!"
The last remark was addressed to Von Bork himself, who after much
gasping and blinking had lain quietly listening to Holmes's
statement. He broke out now into a furious stream of German
invective, his face convulsed with passion. Holmes continued his
swift investigation of documents while his prisoner cursed and swore.
"Though unmusical, German is the most expressive of all languages,"
he observed when Von Bork had stopped from pure exhaustion. "Hullo!
Hullo!" he added as he looked hard at the corner of a tracing before
putting it in the box. "This should put another bird in the cage. I
had no idea that the paymaster was such a rascal, though I have long
had an eye upon him. Mister Von Bork, you have a great deal to answer
for."
The prisoner had raised himself with some difficulty upon the sofa
and was staring with a strange mixture of amazement and hatred at his
captor.
"I shall get level with you, Altamont," he said, speaking with slow
deliberation. "If it takes me all my life I shall get level with
you!"
"The old sweet song," said Holmes. "How often have I heard it in days
gone by. It was a favorite ditty of the late lamented Professor
Moriarty. Colonel Sebastian Moran has also been known to warble it.
And yet I live and keep bees upon the South Downs."
"Curse you, you double traitor!" cried the German, straining against
his bonds and glaring murder from his furious eyes.
"No, no, it is not so bad as that," said Holmes, smiling. "As my
speech surely shows you, Mr. Altamont of Chicago had no existence in
fact. I used him and he is gone."
"Then who are you?"
"It is really immaterial who I am, but since the matter seems to
interest you, Mr. Von Bork, I may say that this is not my first
acquaintance with the members of your family. I have done a good deal
