Chapter XII: Kuhlhafen

The old fortress of Kuhlhafen stands a milestone on the path of Time. Its vast walls have endured and survived the ravages of a thousand storms driving in off the sea. Its gloomy might still rears itself silhouetted against the grey skies of the Baltic upon its lofty setting of wood-clad hills. Its dull, unlit eyes still gaze down upon the broad waters of the shallow, silted harbor from which it takes its name. And with it all it haunts the primitive mind of the simple fisher folk beneath its shadows with the grim romance of the days of martial barbarity which have endured within its walls.

No one would have associated modern significance with this survival of the ages. Yet it was sedulously kept in repair. It still retained its splendid furnishings, and all the relics of its antiquity. Furthermore, all the invention of modern days had been applied to add to its convenience. And it was solicitously cared for by the retainers of the princely house to which it belonged.

The peasants of Kuhlhafen knew every detail of its history. Its martial story was part of their lives. Oh, yes. The information was handed down from father to son, and was told with all that care for fantastic detail in which the primitive mind never fails to indulge itself.

The owner? Of course. It was Prince Frederick von Berger. Did they not have to pay for the tenancy of their miserable hovels to his steward, who lived in the castle itself? Oh, yes. He was a great man--a very great man. This was only one of his estates, and one which he never visited. One could not blame him. It was scarcely attractive to a man who owned a palace in Berlin. Then the storming of the cruel Baltic, which robbed them of comrades every year. Who would live on its bitter, desolate shores unless tied there by the stress of existence? No, he never came, they would tell the enquirer with a shrug. A man who enjoyed the friendly patronage of the supreme War Lord had no call to visit Kuhlhafen, even though the whole of the countryside belonged to him.

This was the spoken attitude of the people towards their over-lord. Maybe, deep in their hearts, other feelings prevailed. But these poor folks had been bred to the discipline of an iron Prussian rule, and it is just possible that they had no power to think or feel otherwise than authority taught them.

But had these simple fisher-folk been less absorbed in the struggle for their frugal existence; had they sufficient initiative to go seek out information for themselves; had they, in fact, been human rather than Prussian peasantry, they might have discovered that their over-lord was a different person from the ease-loving creature of wealth they so fondly supposed.

They would indeed have found that it was by no means his habit to spend idle days in the gilded courts of Berlin. On the contrary, it seemed suspiciously as if it were his lot to have to work very hard indeed. Work which even the cleverest amongst the fishers could never have hoped to achieve.

Frederick von Berger was by no means an ordinary man. Amongst even his intimates he was something of an enigma. These knew that he occupied an exalted position in official life. They knew he was on the best of terms with the Supreme War Lord. This was all patent enough. But the nature of his work was doubtful. His name never appeared in the official lists, although it was understood that he was entitled to the rank of "General" placed before his name. Nor did he attempt to offer the least enlightenment on the subject.

But then he was a silent, even morose, man. He was harsh; a man devoid of any lighter side to his nature. There were even some who looked upon him as a sort of restless evil spirit whom it was very much best to avoid. But, like most men of genuinely strong purpose, public opinion left Frederick von Berger cold. He came and went as it suited him quite regardless of anything but his own objects, and he never failed to avail himself of every ounce of the power which the favor of the German monarch endowed him with.

Kuhlhafen, however, was not kept up in its present condition without having uses in its princely owner's scheme of things. Although the humble fisher-folk remained in ignorance of anything that went on within its austere precincts, it was not so much abandoned by their over-lord as they believed.

Thus it was that, one night, long after the village had been wrapped in slumber, a powerful automobile, with blazing head-lights, flashed through its single main street, and passed on up the heights towards the dour silhouette above. Later, a second automobile passed over the same route. And, with the coming of the second car, there was a tumult of bustle raised amongst the resident staff at the castle.

Later on still, there was even a stranger happening. A single white eye flashed out its searching rays from the sea and settled its focus upon the castle. Then, as though satisfied with its inspection, it turned its gaze upon the surface of the restless waters, and discovered a small motor-driven boat heading towards the fishing-quay of the village. Then, as though in answer to a signal, the blackness of the castle hill was lit by a pair of eyes less dazzling than the eye from the sea, and an automobile made its way towards the quay for which the little sea-boat was heading.

The great secret council-chamber of Kuhlhafen possessed all the air of a dungeon or crypt. It suggested no other for its original purpose. But as long as the present house had ruled within its walls this great underground apartment had been known as the secret council-chamber. It was probably the oldest portion of the whole castle, for it certainly dated back to the days somewhere before the earliest occupation of the territory by the Romans.

One or two significant additions had been made since the great dungeon had been converted to the dignity of a council-chamber. Down the length of the low-roofed hall, between the central aisle of piers supporting it, a long iron-bound oaken table filled up the major space. This was flanked by a number of leather-seated chairs belonging to a similar period, and of equal crudeness of manufacture.

Table and chairs formed the complete furnishing of this dreary apartment, whose only beauty lay in the simple antiquity of its architecture and the characteristic chiselling of the grey piers which supported its quartered roof. For the rest, in the dim recesses beyond the rays of the lamplight on the table, there were to be found the wrought-iron sconces upon the walls, which had once doubtless served to support the light of blazing torches. And further, still more remote from the light, lost in the dusky corners, were an array of instruments which had survived the years, and whose evil purpose there could be no mistaking.

At the head of this long table sat a man with almost snow-white hair and a moustache of similar color, carefully trained with a sharp, upward turning of the pointed ends. His was a handsome face of considerable refinement. But it was deeply lined, even beyond his years, and the thin lips, drooping markedly downwards at the corners of his mouth, gave his whole expression something of tragedy.

On his right, at the side of the table, the single lamp-light shining full upon his harsh features, sat Frederick von Berger, the absolute antithesis of the man at the head of the table. Here was cold strength and even ruthlessness, not one whit less than the harsh surroundings of the council-chamber in which he sat. The cold eyes of the man possessed not one single lurking shadow of warmth. He was perhaps forty-five, and the iron mould of his plain features, and the tremendous air of physical strength about his body, all added to the impression that here was the direct descendant, untempered with the blood of gentler races, of those savage forbears who had wrested place and power for themselves from amongst their people by the sheer weight of the sword.

These two men had remained seated in conference for some time. The manner of the man at the head of the table was silent, even morose. Frederick von Berger did most of the talking, and this fact, combined with his marked air of deference, gave some indication that his guest was some one of extremely unusual importance.

After a while Von Berger rose from his seat and was swallowed up in the shadowy remoteness of the room. His companion remained seated, leaning back in his chair, gazing after him with deep, cold, introspective eyes. His preoccupation was marked, and the drawn lines of his handsome face gave some clue to the importance, and even urgency, of his visit to these outlands of northern Prussia.

When Von Berger returned he was accompanied by another, who, as he came within the radiance of the lamp, revealed the angular, erect figure of the Captain-General of the great arsenal of Borga. The moment he came within view of the solitary figure at the head of the table he halted abruptly in perfect military salutation. His whole attitude underwent a marked and deferential change. His usual air of arrogant authority seemed to have dropped from him like a cloak. It was a perfect example of the effect of the Prussian system.

The man at the table nodded faintly. It was the signal Von Berger and his companion awaited. They approached. Von Berger took his original seat, but Von Salzinger remained standing.

Von Berger waited. Then the man at the head of the table bestirred himself.

"Go on," he said sharply. And at once the Prince turned upon the Captain-General.

"The complaint is a serious one, Herr Captain-General. It is so serious, and affects such deep interests, that, as you see, it is deemed inadvisable to place it before a military tribunal. But it is also felt that the complaint in itself is not all; that there is other matter of even greater importance lying behind it. Thus you have been summoned to make your explanations--here."

The cold eyes of the man were turned from Von Salzinger upon a document lying on the table. Just for a moment his hard voice ceased from stirring the echoes of the vaulted chamber. But it was only for a moment. The next he was reading from the paper before him.

"It appears that on Prince von Hertzwohl's last visit to Borga, when he was conveying thither his relative, his most important engineer, for the rectification of certain defects in his new light, you displayed towards him the gratuitous discourtesy of refusing the Prince's guarantee of his relative, and sought to submit the man to the interrogatory customary where there is some doubt of a visitor's credentials. The Prince, somewhat naturally, refused to submit to such an indignity, and left the arsenal. Whereupon you persisted in your attitude, and even went so far as to endanger the Prince's valuable life by opening the secret batteries upon his vessel--a course which was utterly unwarranted in view of the Prince's identity and position. It is necessary that you should now state your story of this affair without any reservations."

Von Berger's charge was coldly formal. It was also distinctly threatening in its final pronouncement. The arrogant Von Salzinger was bitterly forced to the reflection that he might expect small enough mercy if he failed to convince with his explanation. That which disturbed him more, however, was the identity of at least one of the men to whom he must explain. He had counted on a military tribunal, where his rank and the nature of his office would count. He felt that these things would by no means count here.

But he dared not display any misgiving. He knew the value of promptness and brevity, with, at least, one of his audience. So he replied--

"In every detail the complaint is accurately outlined. But it avoids entirely Prince von Hertzwohl's offence."

"Offence?"

The interrogation came sharply from the man at the head of the table, who was almost lost to Von Salzinger's view behind the bulk of the oil-lamp which lit the scene.

"It was his right, just as it would have been your right, sir," Von Salzinger replied daringly, "to submit to the discipline of the place, a discipline which has been ordered by those who have a right to order such things. The complaint must come after obedience, not after open defiance of Berlin's most imperative orders. That is the case of Prince von Hertzwohl. I could not have acted otherwise than I did in the interests of our greatest of all State secrets."

The man at the head of the table nodded in seeming approval at the robust vindication. Von Berger gave no sign. His eyes never left the angular figure of the Captain-General.

"But you threatened his life--by your action in the matter." Von Berger's words came without emotion. The hard eyes were unchanging.

"I submit that it had been better for the State had I more than threatened it."

"How do you mean, sir?"

The man at the head of the table was sitting up. His eyes were angrily alight.

For a second Von Salzinger flinched before this display. He recovered himself swiftly, however. He knew he dared not lose a second in such a crisis.

"Your pardon, sir, if my manner should seem rough. I feel strongly. If a man in Von Hertzwohl's position refuses to obey the laws he is fully cognizant of, then, I say, he has reason--grave reason for so doing."

"You imply?"

Again it was the question of the man at the head of the table.

"He dared not have his--nephew interrogated, sir."

"And if he dared not?" It was still the same speaker.

Von Salzinger shrugged.

"There can only be one interpretation, sir."

"You mean--betrayal of Borga's secrets."

"Yes, sir."

The man at the head of the table turned to Von Berger with a smile that never reached his eyes.

"Tell him," he said imperiously.

"Your contention loses all its apparent force in the light of--facts," said Von Berger coldly. "Agents have been set to work upon the matter. From the moment of Von Hertzwohl's complaint, in justice to you as Borga's commandant, the closest secret enquiries have been made. On the occasion of Hertzwohl's visit to your command his nephew did accompany him. This nephew is certainly his most trusted engineer, and is the actual inventor of the U-light. There is no shadow of doubt about these matters. Your suspicions are groundless and cannot be accepted in your defence."

Von Salzinger was taken aback at the concise refutation of his carefully elaborated suspicions. He began to see the fabric he had constructed tumbling about his ears. He had been the victim of his own spleen, he knew, and his suspicions had had no sound foundation.

He stood flushed and silent. Then the man at the head of the table unconsciously came to his rescue.

"Show him," he briefly ordered Von Berger.

The latter picked up a photograph--a mere rough print--and handed it to the troubled Von Salzinger.

"That is Herr von Bersac, the Prince's nephew. It was taken three days ago, without the man being aware of it. That is the man who visited Borga with his uncle."

Von Salzinger had taken the picture in his hands, and his eager eyes scrutinized it carefully. A moment later he handed it back, and an intense look of triumph had replaced the embarrassment of a moment before.

"That is not the man to whom Von Hertzwohl displayed the secrets of Borga. It is not the man I sought to have interrogated. The man who posed as Hertzwohl's nephew was a tall man of magnificent physique. Not slim like that youth. He was a man of nearly forty, with fair, curling hair and dark eyes, and the face and general figure of an--Englishman."

"Englishman?"

The man at the head of the table started up. The passionate hatred flung into his echo of the other's word sent a wave of rejoicing through Von Salzinger's heart.

"I am morally certain, sir," he added.

Quite abruptly Von Berger had become completely thrust into the background. The other had taken entire possession of the scene. He began to pace the stone-flagged hall with hasty, uneven steps.

"If I thought it could be so," he cried, with a sudden wave of intemperate heat. "Oh, if I believed it were!" He raised one clenched fist above his head and shook it in dire threat. The other arm remained unmoved at his side. The passionate eyes were flashing a cruel, almost insane fire as he strode the echoing stones. The others were held in appalled silence in face of his paroxysm.

In a moment he turned fiercely upon the Captain-General, standing beyond the table. There was no longer any dignity or restraint in him. The hectoring nature of the man was caught in the passion of the moment, and his innate brutality must find an object upon which to vent itself.

"I tell you, if the secrets of Borga have been betrayed there shall be such a reckoning as shall stagger our country from end to end. From the highest to the lowest those responsible shall pay to the uttermost. Of all the world--an Englishman! Gott in Himmel, it is unthinkable!"

He glared for a silent moment into the abashed face of Von Salzinger. Then he went on more calmly--

"I tell you you are wrong. Damnably wrong--somehow. Hertzwohl dare not betray us. No money in the world would buy him. We have proved him a hundred times. English gold to buy Hertzwohl?" He laughed derisively, but there was no conviction in his manner. "You understand, sir, you are wrong--utterly wrong. The matter shall be cleared up. You shall confront Von Hertzwohl. And if lies have been told, God help the liars."

The two men stood eye to eye across the table. Von Salzinger had recovered under stress of emergency.

"I could ask no better, sir--if it were in the best interests of the secrets of Borga. But is it? I could give you the names of a number of my junior officers in Borga, all of whom encountered this--nephew of Hertzwohl. And without reference to me, there is not one of them but would deny the identity of that nephew they saw in Borga with the identity of the original of that picture. If the liar is to be punished I have no fear, sir. But would it be in the best interests of Borga to deal hastily with the matter?"

"Explain!" The man went back to his seat at the head of the table. His harsh demand warned his hearers of the storm still raging within him.

But Von Berger took up the reply.

"I see the Captain-General's point, sir," he said. "If Hertzwohl is confronted it means his vindication or immediate punishment. If secrets have been betrayed such a course will not serve us. This Englishman Von Salzinger speaks of will still possess them, and--be _free to act upon them_. We must recover those secrets, or _make them useless to their possessors_. Then we can deal with those responsible for Borga."

Von Salzinger listened to the cold words and eagerly awaited the reply of the man at the head of the table. But none was forthcoming, for he seemed to be lost in moody contemplation of the whole affair. Therefore the Captain-General seized his opportunity.

"That is how I see it, sir," he said eagerly. "I submit, with all deference, that I be nominally punished as though I had seriously offended. What is that punishment? Degradation? Degradation and retirement from the service of the Fatherland. It will satisfy Hertzwohl, and put him off his guard. He will have no suspicion, and I shall be free to work. If I am placed on the Secret Service and sent to--England, it should not be impossible to discover all we want to know and nullify the effects of the treachery. Those concerned can be silenced. We can be guided by developments. And----"

"The harm is done, man! You talk of nullifying. You talk like a fool. There can be no undoing the harm done."

The hoarse passion of the man at the table was in every word he spoke. The gleaming eyes were full of the burning fire of unrestrained ferocity.

But the cold tones of Von Berger once more dropped like ice upon a kindling fire.

"It will be the better course, sir," he said. "We do not yet know the full position. That must be perfectly established before we can estimate the damage."

But the other seemed absorbed in his own imagery of the matter.

"An Englishman! Gott!"

Von Berger turned abruptly to Von Salzinger.

"Leave us. I will call you when ready. Remain within call."

The authority was unmistakable. The Captain-General might have been the veriest conscript for the courtesy displayed. He left the great chamber with no outward sign, but with storm sweeping through his heart.

Beyond the door he reviewed the situation. His position was by no means enviable, but it was not without possibilities. He realized now that the hand of Fate had pointed through the whole affair. He knew that he had had no suspicion of Hertzwohl in Borga. A thought of treachery had never entered his head. Hertzwohl had piqued him. He had seriously offended him, as, long ago, this same man's daughter had offended his pride. He had intended merely to retaliate through his official capacity, and now through these trivial pettinesses a deadly plot had been revealed. He had answered the summons to Kuhlhafen intending to defend himself by casting suspicion upon Hertzwohl, and his defence had turned out to be the true estimate of the matter. Well----

But his reflections were cut short by the summons to return to the council-chamber. Von Berger held the iron-studded door for him to enter, and, as he passed within, he closed and carefully secured it.

Then he came back to his place at the table, and his companion signed for him to proceed.

He faced the waiting officer.

"Captain-General von Salzinger, you are to be degraded from your rank and office. You will be relieved of command at Borga at once. You will then report to the Foreign Office, where you will receive sealed instructions. On receipt of these instructions you will proceed to London without delay. When you have completed the work allotted to you in England--satisfactorily--you will receive your reinstatement. That is all."