"How?" asked the spy eagerly.
"By this," answered Peter holding up the revolver. "I will extract all but one cartridge and return you the weapon. If you are still intent upon my life the instrument is in your hands—only, remember, you cannot fire a second shot. Here you are. I give you five minutes to decide."
Slowly Barcroft crossed the room and descended the stairs. Only then did his calmness give way—and it required plenty of courage to deliberately turn away from a loaded weapon in the hands of a vindictive spy.
Entering the dining-room Peter sank into a chair and rested his head on his hands. Only the loud ticking of the grandfather clock disturbed the silence until the door was pushed open and Philip Entwistle entered.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "What's wrong now? Has Norton——?"
"I have made a very remarkable discovery," said Peter. "Andrew Norton is a German spy."
"Indeed?" was Entwistle's rejoinder.
"Accidentally I found some incriminating writing. He saw what I had done and let rip at me with a revolver. Needless to say he missed."
"That's the third lucky escape you've had from his murderous intentions," remarked Entwistle quietly. "I can tell you now. He tried either to murder or kidnap you by means of the Zeppelin that came to Barborough. That the authorities gathered from one of the crew when the airship was wrecked in the North Sea a few days ago and the men rescued by a British patrol boat. Secondly, he did his level best to shoot you in the back this morning——"
"Is that so?" asked Barcroft. "I can just understand a man doing such a thing through violent personal motives, but for a mere international reason——"
"My dear fellow, there was the sum of ten thousand marks waiting to be earned."
"Yes," admitted Peter. "I know that. But only yesterday he fished me out of the Dingle Dell stream when I was almost on the point of being drowned. For why?"
"Ask me another," replied Entwistle. "At any rate, you will have cause to realise the actual existence of the Unseen Hand. But what happened just now, after he fired and missed?"
Peter Barcroft glanced at the clock. It wanted thirty seconds to complete the stipulated five minutes.
"I talked to him pretty straight," he said. "Shamed him a bit, I think. Anyway, I took four unused cartridges out of the revolver. Being a six-chambered weapon one cartridge remained."
"Well?"
"I handed the pistol back to him; told him if he were still of the same mind he had yet another chance to settle with me. He didn't—"
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Entwistle striding towards the stairs. "You left him with a loaded revolver?"
Peter laid a detaining hand on the Secret Service man's shoulder.
"I gave him five minutes," he said. "And the time's up."
A pistol shot rang out from the upstairs room.
Siegfried von Eitelwurmer, otherwise Andrew Norton, had paid the penalty.
CHAPTER XXXVI
THE ELUSIVE OBJECTIVE
"By Jove! old man," exclaimed Kirkwood, "we're up against a big thing to-morrow."
Billy Barcroft merely nodded. It was "a big thing," this impending movement. Something that was well worth the risk, but at the same time the chances of the participators in the business returning were very remote.
The two chums were pacing the port side of the quarter-deck of the "Hippodrome"—a long and comparatively narrow space betwixt the rise of the deck-houses and the stern, and separated from the corresponding part on the starboard side by the inclined launching platform.
The seaplane-carrier was lying in a certain East Coast harbour, with steam raised ready to proceed at a moment's notice, and although her destination was supposed to be a strict secret, the nature of the forthcoming operations was known to all on board.
It was nothing less than a raid on Cuxhaven, where a considerable portion of the German High Seas Fleet was known to be "resting" after a speculative but cautious cruise off the west coast of Jutland, the object being twofold—to exercise the crews and to impress upon the incredulous Danes the fact that the fleet of the Black Cross Ensign were willing and anxious to meet the British navy.
With their U-boats well out to sea, their ocean-going torpedo-boats forming a far-flung screen, and Zeppelins hovering overhead, the Hun "capital ships" had steamed in and out, keeping within their protective mine-fields: Having accomplished this imposing evolution the battleships of the fleet returned, part going to Cuxhaven, the rest to Wilhelmshaven, while the bulk of the torpedo flotillas anchored off the east side of Heligoland.
Once more the German Press had burst forth into a panegyric on the invincible and undaunted prowess of the fleet of the Fatherland, taking good care to impress upon the people that, although every opportunity had been offered to the British to engage in battle, the challenge had been declined.
The projected raid upon Cuxhaven was a reply to the Huns' empty boast. The seaplane carriers "Hippodrome," "Arena," "Cursus" and "Stadium," escorted by light cruisers and destroyers, were to proceed to a rendezvous twenty miles west of Heligoland. Sixty miles away the British battle cruisers were to "standby," ready, at a wireless call for assistance, to tear off at full speed to the succour of the small craft should the latter, regarded as an easy prey, be attacked by the big-gun ships of the German navy.
At the first blush of dawn twenty seaplanes were to start from their parent ships on their perilous flight over the Heligoland Bight and drop their powerful bombs upon the naval port of Cuxhaven—a feat that, knowing the formidable anti-aircraft defences, promised to be a forlorn hope; yet there was the keenest competition amongst the airmen of the fleet to participate in the "grand stunt."
The A.P. had carried out his promise to Barcroft. He had sold Billy the deeds of Mrs. Deringhame's house at Alderdene, and the flight-sub had sent them anonymously to Betty's mother.
It was a tremendous financial sacrifice on Billy's part. It had practically wiped up the bulk of his capital, but Barcroft cared not one jot for that. What troubled him was the fact that he could not ask Betty to marry him on his meagre pay. He had very little doubt but that the girl would do so, for during his last leave he had been much in her company.
"It wouldn't be fair to Betty," he soliloquised. "I must rake in some more cash, but goodness only knows how long it will take. One thing, we are both young, or I'm hanged if I would have the nerve to ask her to wait! Well, if this raid comes off successfully it will mean promotion. That's one blessing. If it doesn't—well, Billy Barcroft won't be in a position to worry about anything, I guess."
The flight-sub had completed his preparations. Two letters, one to his parents and one to Betty Deringhame, had been written, sealed and handed to the fleet-paymaster to be forwarded in the event of the writer's death. This unpleasant but necessary business performed, Barcroft dismissed the matter from his mind and concentrated his thoughts and energies on the work in hand.
"All correct, Jones?" he asked, addressing the air-mechanic who was putting the finishing touches to the seaplane that was to carry Barcroft and Kirkwood on their adventurous flight.
"All correct, sir," was the reply. "I've advanced the spark a trifle, sir she ought to simply buzz; but perhaps you'll see that everything's to your satisfaction."
Carefully Billy tested his controls, examined unions, contact breaker, and automatic lubricators. Success depended upon motor efficiency almost as much as upon the skill and courage of the pilot. The slightest hitch might spell disaster.