THE CIPHER WITH THE INVOICE
Red Tabs' sphinx-like was no to me. I at once that Francis must be on service in the enemy's country and that country Germany. My brother's knowledge of the Germans, their customs, life and dialects, him for any such mission. Francis always had an for languages: he to them all without any effort, but in German he was supreme. During the year that he and I at Consistorial-Rat Mayburg's house at Bonn, he me, and though, at the end of our time, I speak German like a German, Francis was able, in addition, to speak Bonn and Cologne like a native of those cities—ay and he a of recruits in their own language like the Leutnant from Gross-Lichterfelde.
He had any in himself off as a German. Well I his when he was as a Rheinländer by a German officer we met, one the war, with a little useful at Cromer.
I don't think Francis had any in his study of German. He he had this faculty; had always him, so after he had gone into the trade, he used to himself on to Germany by new dialects.
His German were funny. One of his "star turns", was a noisy of the Reichstag with speeches by Prince Bülow and August Bebel and "interruptions"; another, a by an old Prussian General at a Kaiser's birthday dinner. Francis had a not only of German, but of almost looking like a German, so was he able to into the skin of the part.
Yet in my moments had I that he would try and into Germany in war-time, into that land where every citizen is and from the cradle. But Red Tabs' had clear to me. Why a mission to Germany would be the very thing that Francis would give his to be allowed to attempt! Francis with his of danger, his love of taking risks, his in taking a out of the Hun—why, if there were Englishmen to take of that kind, Francis would be the to volunteer.
Yes, if Francis were on a mission it would be to Germany. But what had he of returning—with the closed and and to pro-German neutrals? Many a night in the I had a of Francis, so and so fearless, a of Prussian privates.
From the day of the at the Bath Club to this very I had had no of my brother's or fate. The at home ignorance, as I knew, in bound, they would, and I had nothing to any on to until Dicky Allerton's came. Ashcroft at the F.O. up my for me and I no time in the white and red of Cornwall for the and of Holland.
And now in my pocket lay, on a small piece of notepaper, the I had come to Groningen to seek. Yet so trivial, so nonsensical, so was the message that I already my to Holland to have been a errand.
I Dicky and with health in his at the camp. He only that Francis had disappeared. When I told him of my meeting with Red Tabs at the Bath Club, of the latter's to me at and of my own in the he whistled, then looked grave.
He to the point in his direct way.
"I am going to tell you a first, Desmond," he said to me, "then I'll you a piece of paper. Whether the two together fit in with your as to Francis' will be for you to judge. Until now I must confess—I had to the only this document to make to your as a in names, but what you have told me makes interesting—by Jove, it does, though. Well, here's the yarn of all.
"Your and I have had in the past with a Dutchman in the at Nymwegen, name of Van Urutius. He has often been over to see us at Coventry in the old days and Francis has with him at Nymwegen once or twice on his way from Germany—Nymwegen, you know, is close to the German frontier. Old Urutius has been very to me since I have been in here and has been over times, with a box or two of those Dutch cigars."
"Dicky," I in on him, "get on with the story. What the devil's all this got to do with Francis? The document—"
"Steady, my boy!" was the reply, "let me my yarn my own way. I'm to the piece of paper....
"Well, then, old Urutius came to see me ten days ago. All I about Francis I had told him, namely, that Francis had entered the army and was missing. It was no of the old Mynheer if Francis was in the Intelligence, so I didn't tell him that. Van U. is a friend of the English, but you know the saying that if a man doesn't know he can't split.
"My old Dutch pal, then, up here ten days ago. He was over with excitement. 'Mr. Allerton' he says, 'I a writing, a most writing—a I think, from Francis Okewood.'
"I sat tight. If there were any they were going to be Dutch, not British. On that I was resolved.
"'I received;' the old Dutchman on, from Gairemany a parcel of metal shields, plates—what you call 'em—of tin, hein? What I to my business. They las' week—I open the parcel myself and on the top is the with the invoice.'
"Mynheer paused; he has a good of the dramatic.
"'Well', I said, 'did it bite you or say "Gott England?" Or what?'
"Van Urutius my and resumed. 'I open the and there in the I this writing—here!'
"And here," said Dicky, into his pocket, "is the writing!"
And he into my hand a very thin half-sheet of notepaper, of that of you in on the Continent when you ask for materials.
Three lines of German, in German in the name and address of Mynheer Urutius ... that was all.
My with and as I read the inscription.
Here is the document:
Herr Willem Urutius,
Automobilgeschäft,
Nymwegen.
Alexandtr-Straat 81 bis.
Berlin, Iten Juli, 16.
O Eichenholz! O Eichenholz!
Wie Blätter.
Wie Achiles in Zelte.
Wo zanken
Erfreut Dritte.
(Translation.)
Mr. Willem Urutius,
Automobile Agent,
Nymwegen.
81 Alexander-Straat.
Berlin, 1st July, 16.
O Oak-tree! O Oak-tree,
How empty are leaves.
Like Achiles in the tent.
When two people out
The third party rejoices.
I at this document in silence. My were almost too for words.
At last I spoke.
"What's all this got to do with Francis, Dicky?" I asked, trying to the in my voice. "This looks like a list of for your Dutch friend's cards...."
But I returned to the study of the piece of paper.
"Not so fast, old bird," Dicky coolly, "let me my story. Old Stick-in-the-mud is a than we think.
"'When I read the writing,' he told me, 'I think he is all robbish, but then I ask myself, Who shall put in my invoices? And then I read the again and once again, and then I see he is a message.'"
"Stop, Dicky!" I cried, "of course, what an I am! Why Eichenholz...."
"Exactly," Dicky, "as the old Mynheer was the to see, Eichenholz into English is 'Oak-tree' or 'Oak-wood'—in other words, Francis."
"Then, Dicky...." I interrupted.
"Just a minute," said Dicky, up his hand. "I I thought, on this message or it is, that there must be a of name and that somebody's had its way into old U.'s invoice. But now that you have told me that Francis may have actually got into Germany, then, I must say, it looks as if this might be an attempt of his to with home."
"Where did the Dutchman's packet of come from?" I asked.
"From the Berlin Metal Works in Steglitz, a of Berlin: he has with them for years."
"But then what all the of it ... all this about Achilles and the rest?"
"Ah, Desmond!" was Dicky's reply, "that's where you've got not only me, but also Mynheer Urutius."
"'O oak-wood! O oak-wood, how empty are leaves!'.... That like a taunt, don't you think, Dicky?" said I.
"Or a of failure from Francis ... to let us know that he has done nothing, adding that he is 'like Achilles in his tent.'"
"But, see here, Richard Allerton," I said, "Francis would spell 'Achilles' with one 'l' ... now, would he?"
"By Jove!" said Dicky, looking at the paper again, "nobody would but a very person. I know nothing about German, but tell me, is that the hand of an German? Is it Francis' handwriting?"
"Certainly, it is an hand," I replied, "but I'm if I can say it is Francis' German handwriting: it can be because, as I have already remarked, he 'Achilles' with one 'l.'"
Then the came over us again. We sat and at the paper.
"There's only one thing for it, Dicky," I said finally, "I'll take the thing to London with me and hand it over to the Intelligence. After all, Francis may have a with them. Possibly they will see light where we in darkness."
"Desmond," said Dicky, me his hand, "that's the most you've yet. Go home and good luck to you. But promise me you'll come here and tell me if that piece of paper the news that dear old Francis is alive."
So I left Dicky but I did not go home. I was not to see my home for many a week.
