THE TRENCH DAYS: The Collected War Tales of William Le Queux (WW1 Adventure Sagas, Espionage Thrillers & Action Classics). William Le Queux

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      Rigaux glanced at the closed door rather apprehensively, and then in a low voice asked:

      “What does it all mean?”

      “War,” replied the other in a whisper. “The Emperor is in Cologne in secret. I had audience with him at three o’clock, and he sent me to you. I have to return at once. I was to tell you that his Majesty wishes for your final report.”

      For a moment the financier’s narrow eyes grew serious, and his lips quivered.

      “The reply from England has not yet been received,” his visitor went on, speaking in excellent French, though he was undoubtedly German. “But whatever it may be, the result will be the same. Eight Army Corps are moving upon the Luxembourg frontier. They will soon be in Belgium. What a surprise our big howitzers will be for the forts of Namur and Liège — eh?”

      And he laughed lightly, chuckling to himself. Captain Wilhelm von Silberfeld, of the famous Death’s Head Hussars, was a trusted messenger of the Kaiser, a man who had performed many a secret mission for his Imperial Master. He was attached to the General Staff in Berlin, and for hours he had sat in the fast two-seated motor-car, travelling swiftly over the hundred and sixty miles or so of long, straight white roads which led from Cologne to the Belgian capital.

      “In four days we shall be in Belgium,” the German officer whispered. “The Emperor, as you know, decided upon war three months ago, and ever since we have been steadily and carefully making the final preparations. What is the opinion here?”

      “The Cabinet meets to-night. The Government do not, even now, believe that Germany really intends to defy Europe, and I, of course, have endeavoured still to lull them to sleep,” responded the financier. “But I have not been idle these past three days. My reports are all prepared. The last was written at seven o’clock this evening.”

      And crossing to a big, heavy book-case, which occupied the whole of one side of the room, he opened one of the glass doors. Then, pulling forward a section of the books which swung round upon a pivot, there was disclosed the green-painted door of a safe, securely built into the wall. This he opened with a key upon his chain, and from a drawer took out a large envelope filled with papers, which he handed to his visitor.

      “All are here?” asked the other.

      “Yes. According to instructions I received by courier yesterday, I have prepared the list of names of influential persons in Liège and Louvain — the banks, and what cash I believe them to hold. How are you proceeding in Antwerp?”

      “Antwerp is practically a German city. We have, outside the city, six concrete platforms ready for our big howitzers. They were put down two years ago by German residents in their gardens — for the English game of tennis,” and he laughed. “Besides, we have three secret wireless installations of wide range communicating with Nauen, as we also have here in Brussels. Is your wireless here in working order?”

      “S-s-sh, my friend?” Rigaux said warningly. “I will send Michel out on a pretext, and you shall see. He is loyal, but I trust no man. I never let him know too much.”

      Then he rang, and his man, white-haired and humble, appeared.

      “Michel, go down to the Grand Hotel at once and ask for Monsieur Legrand. Tell him I wish to see him. If he will kindly come up here in a taxi.”

      “Bien, m’sieur!” and the grave-faced servant bowed and withdrew.

      A few moments later Arnaud Rigaux took from a drawer in his library table an electric torch and led the way up the great wide staircase, through his own bedroom, past a door into a smaller dressing-room, in which was a huge mahogany wardrobe. The door of this he opened, and pushing the back outwards through a line of coats hanging there, a dark opening was revealed. Into this both men passed, finding themselves upon a wooden flight of dusty stairs, up which they ascended for two floors, until they arrived in a long, low attic, beneath the sloping roof of which were suspended, upon porcelain insulators, many thin, black-enamelled wires.

      “Come! You shall hear for yourself,” Rigaux exclaimed; and passing along to the gable-end of the main wall of the house, he paused before two tables, upon which were set out a most complete set of wireless instruments.

      To the uninitiated eye those two tables were filled with a most complicated assortment of weird electrical apparatus connected by india-rubber covered wires. To the expert, however, all was quite clear. On the one table stood a receiving-set of the latest pattern, while upon the other was what is technically known as “a five kilowatt set,” which would transmit wireless messages as far as Nauen, the great wireless station near Potsdam, and, indeed, over a radius of nearly a thousand miles. It was a Marconi set, not Telefunken.

      Arnaud Rigaux seated himself upon a stool before the receiving-table, while overhead, insulated from the rafters of the roof, were a hundred bare copper wires strung across and across. His example was followed by Captain von Silberfeld, both clamping the double head-telephones over their ears, listening.

      Next instant both heard the buzzing ticks of wireless, so weird and uncanny to those uninitiated.

      “Da-de, Da-de-da. Da-de, Da-de-da.”

      It was a call. Then followed the code-letters, “B.B.N.” with “B.Y.B.”

      “Hush!” Rigaux exclaimed, glancing at the book at his elbow. “The British Admiralty station at Cleethorpes are calling the battleship London.”

      The big wireless code-book — a book which could be bought in Berne for five francs — lay open before him. There was a quick response in the ’phones.

      “The London is off the west coast of Ireland,” he remarked, bending with interest. “There’s the reply. Here is ‘London.’”

      He touched the “tuner,” one of the round ebonite handles upon a long mahogany box, and next moment a little “click” of quite a different note was heard in the head ’phones.

      “Listen?” Rigaux exclaimed, and then for a moment he was again all attention. “Marseilles is speaking to one of your North German Lloyd liners on her way from Alexandria.” Then he paused. “Are you satisfied that I am leaving to your army a complete set, quite in working order — eh?”

      “Entirely. Why, it is splendid,” declared the captain, who, though he had no expert knowledge of wireless, had seen quite enough to convince him that the secret installation was practically perfect. “This,” he added, “will surely be of great use to us before many weeks are over. It is splendid!”

      “Let us descend,” Rigaux said. “Michel may now be back. This part of the house is, of course, unknown to my servants.”

      When they were again back in the financier’s snug little business-room, wherein he received visitors privately, he asked earnestly:

      “Tell me, Count, is all complete?”

      “Everything. We shall advance to-morrow, or next day. We have mobilised secretly, though Europe is in entire ignorance. First Belgium is to be occupied — then we shall cross to England. Paris is only a secondary affair. London is our chief goal. We shall crush for ever the arrogant English with our Zeppelins and our submarines. Oh! what an unpleasant surprise they will have?” and he СКАЧАТЬ