Chapter V: When the Lights Went Out

THE vocal efforts of this new favorite had called forth round after round of applause, for good music never went amiss in Teuton territory.

Among the vigorous hand-clappers the boys noted a well-groomed man, apparently about forty, wearing an affable manner and the best clothes that the continent can produce.

Henri nudged Billy. "Size up Roque, won't you, please, and isn't he a dandy?"

Billy was first inclined to doubt the identity of their taskmaster, who a couple of hours ago was a far cry from being in the glass of fashion. Never before had the boys seen him in that sort of rig.

"You're dead right, Henri, it is the old scout. He's a corker, sure!"

This note of admiration had scarcely sounded when Roque was joined by a slender, wiry individual, also set up as a swell, with a shock of sandy hair, and sporting a monocle.

The fellow with the quizzing glass had apparently moved to get a better view of the singer, as well as to get in touch with the secret agent.

"Wonder if that's the man who spotted Anglin on the parade ground at Hamburg?"

"Don't let your imagination run away with you, Henri," advised Billy, who in speaking was careful not to indicate that his attitude was anything but careless.

The sandy-haired man was taking the same precaution, but Henri, nursing the idea that would not down, was more and more impressed with the belief that the elegant figure was seeking the measure and not the music of the warbler at the other end of the room.

If the singer had sized up the situation, it had not affected his rendering a bit of light opera that was just then exciting an encore. There was nothing at all the matter with his German or with his voice.

Nobody apparently was more delighted than Roque, and he appeared to be expressing his opinion to the wiry listener beside him.

The latter bowed politely and then sauntered toward the revolving door leading into the lounging section of the hotel, fingering a cigar as he proceeded.

Henri edged around nearer to the piano, the player of which was completing the program with a national air, the melody of many voices aiding the performance.

Billy had hardly realized the desertion of his chum when he saw that Roque had changed his position, and was standing nearest the door leading to the street. The secret agent shifted something from his hip to the sidepocket of his coat, and Billy caught the glitter of that something in the swift movement. The boy guessed then that there was trouble brewing.

In the meantime, Henri, in an innocent sort of way, pushed still closer to the pianist, who was hitting the high notes in fine style.

As he passed within a foot of the singer, now idly posing, with an elbow on the piano top, he, without turning his head, joined in the triumphant chorus, but changed two words at the climax, and "beat it" reached Anglin's ear.

The French sleuth never moved a muscle, and it was as if the warning had been passed to a man stone deaf.

Anyone posted, however, would have known that within an arm's length of Anglin was a wall switch which controlled the electric lights by which the room was so brilliantly illuminated.

Billy had just had the experience of being rather rudely thrust aside by a couple of burly troopers, who seemed inspired to get as quickly as possible into the very center of the select circle.

"Get him!"

As this command rang out the astonished pleasure seekers started a panic, as if an alarm of fire had sounded. There was a rush for every doorway, but every way of departure was blocked by stalwart guardsmen.

Billy was not among those who tried to break through the doors--he was dodging among the charging force sent in by the loud orders to "get him."

Click! The room was suddenly shrouded in darkness, penetrated a little distance only by the lights beyond the entrance of the lounging room section.

The pursuing force, working from several directions, ran into one another's arms. The pianist, familiar with the place, leaped for the electric switch, and turned on the flood of light.

Everybody was present but the singer!

Henri had a perch on the keyboard of the piano, which he had sought to save a mad tramping on his feet.

"Set you to catch a weasel," sneered Roque, as the sandy-haired man stood staring at the shattered casement of the tall window overlooking an inner court of the hotel.

"He can't get clear away," retorted the sandy one.

"Stop him then," challenged Roque. "Don't stand there like a stoughton bottle."

The pursuers scoured the building from bottom to top, and every street and alley roundabout, but it was a case of looking for a needle in a haystack.

Roque was in a black mood. Once more baffled by his cunning chief adversary, the only one he acknowledged in his own class, and on his own stamping ground--it was a bitter dose for the master craftsman.

Did he remember how he himself had spread a web over Britain, woven so finely that even Scotland Yard could not see it? Yet he rebelled at the like cut of a diamond.

"Stir your stumps," was his peremptory address to the boys, and they trotted to catch his long stride out of the hotel.

The sidewalks on both sides of the street were crowded with curious onlookers, attracted by the reported doings inside.

Roque bucked the line like a football star, and Billy and Henri followed in the cleared space without special exertion.

"He doesn't care whom he pushes," observed Billy, as he listened to angry protests along the line of travel.

Both of the boys were eager to talk over the latest disappearing act of that wonderful Anglin, but not so anxious as to take chances with Roque in earshot.

The secret agent turned into a silent side street, and stopped before a heavily grated door in the gloomy front of a solid stone building that was a skyscraper in height. Reaching through the grating, he evidently opened way of communication with the interior, for in a moment or two a glimmer of light splintered through the barred entrance, the ponderous lock creaked, and the door swung back on its massive hinges. A skull cap and a gray beard showed behind the lamp shining in the doorway. Roque pushed the boys ahead of him, and their closing in was marked by a clang behind them.

They followed their guide through a long corridor and into a modern high-power elevator, that shot noiselessly upwards. It was a circular room into which they stepped, the very tip of a tower, and a wireless telegraph apparatus was there in operation.

"How is it working?" promptly questioned Roque of an operator who was off his turn, and relieved of his headgear.

The man jumped to his feet, all attention, and replied: "There's been hardly a break for an hour, sir."

Here was one of the hidden intelligence stations that accounted in part for Roque's ability to get searching and quick information. That he should initiate the boys into his particular secret service methods indicated a determination that they should never get away from him.

As Billy said to Henri at a chance moment, "He thinks we are booked for a life job as his air chauffeurs."

They were not aware as yet that in the extensive grounds, housed at the water's edge, was the seaplane in which they had recently traveled so far, and in addition a big biplane and two monoplanes were in hangars ready for service. Also the most speedy of steam launches rested at the private wharf.

Roque was a recognized genius, like every cog in the German wheel, absolutely thorough in his methods, and the means placed at his disposal were practically limitless.

Billy and Henri had climbed into the steep embrasure of a tower window and were enjoying the magnificent view spread out before them.

"How about my imagination now?" Henri was recalling exciting incidents in the hotel. "Didn't I get the figure of the sandy man as a spotter?"

"I think you did," admitted Billy. "But," he continued, "I didn't take much stock in the idea until I saw the revolver in Roque's hand. Then I knew that the fat was in the fire."

"I gave Anglin the cue to beat it, and I did the trick by breaking into that Rhine song," exclaimed Henri. "Yet he never made a move until the yell of 'get him,' and I thought the jig was up, sure. He's the coolest hand in the business, that fellow."

"Some of these days, maybe, he'll fall a little short in one of those getaways, and that will mean a tumble into six feet of earth."

"Not he," stoutly maintained Henri, "he's the regular man with a charmed life. Say, I can't help laughing even now when I think of Spitznagle calling 'Conrad,' and the expression on Roque's face."

Billy gave Henri a kick on the foot. Roque was approaching with a sheaf of telegraph messages in his hand.

"What are you boys jabbering about? I want you to go down to the wharf with Albert and get the seaplane in trim. I'll join you in half an hour."

Albert, a strapping youth, with the breezy way of a sailor, guided the boys across the grounds to the hangar, and watched with interest the making ready of the airship.

"That's not my kind of a boat," he briskly stated, "but I'll be bound if this kind of craft didn't give us submarine workers a Christmas surprise. Ever travel in a submarine?"

"We had a ride in one that we will never forget," replied Henri, as he applied the oil can to the big motors.

Billy, busy with the steering gear, was not expected to answer, as he did not understand the question.

"It is all a question of ups and downs, anyhow," went on Albert, "bombs from above and torpedoes from below."

This trade discussion ended with the arrival of Roque, who had severed himself from style and was again in aviation attire.

"Now, my carrier pigeons, you are in for a homing flight, that is, Hamburg; and it may be some time before you again get a breath of this port."

With this assurance the seaplane was launched and took the airline for Hamburg, leaving Albert to his own devices.

The travelers soon had sight of Zorn's ever-ready grin at the home of "the well-known tradesman."

"We've been through a lot since we were last hauled out of these feathers," remarked Billy, as he bounced into the bed pillows that night.

Happily, "coming events do not cast shadows" for sound sleepers.

Roque had departed for the city before the boys charged into the breakfast room.

"He has gone to the store," announced Zorn, who uncovered his teeth an extra inch, in compliment to his own humor.

"Let's go over to see Lieutenant Hume," proposed Billy, after breakfast.

"Just the ticket," agreed Henri, "I'm crazy to get a peep at the old flying quarters again."

But Zorn objected to any move that Roque had not ordered.

The boys had to be satisfied with the prospect, for to run against Zorn would be akin to tackling a mountain.

When Roque returned, sure enough, he was again playing the merchant--horn, spectacles, and all.

"Ah, young sirs, kindly waiting for the weary worker?"

"Same old blarney," muttered Billy.

Zorn chuckled as he relieved the "merchant" of his hat and overcoat.

"Some time ago I believe I told you that here you were only balancing on the edge of the great empire, and there might be an opportunity for you to see much more of the country. The opportunity is at hand. I have been called by trade interests further afield, and as I cannot consent to a separation, you will continue as my companions."

In his hour of relaxation, Roque really enjoyed this sort of word play, and he eyed the boys to see if they appreciated the fact that all of the best actors were not on the stage.

He was sure of Zorn's sincere appreciation. This man had seen the chief in many parts.

Henri accepted the cue, and, with a profound bow, and a hand on his heart, replied in kind:

"My dear Herr Roque, we would grieve if you left us behind."

"What of you?" Roque turned to Billy.

"Oh, anything goes with me." The boy from Bangor always hit straight from the bat.

The last evening of many in Hamburg was a very pleasant one to the boys. Roque's intimate knowledge of London and Paris was displayed in entertaining way, with no reference to his own exploits as the cleverest conspirator that ever invaded court and palace. He expressed regret that he had never seen America, and induced Billy to tell about Boston and Bangor.

It may also be recorded that with this evening the boys unconsciously said good-by to the character of the Hamburg merchant. They went far with the many-sided man, but never again saw him in the rôle imposed by this big city on the Elbe.

When the boys retired they left master and man--Roque and Zorn--conversing before the fire. With the coming of the morning, the journey to the unknown began, and the Aëroplane Scouts had no idea of its purpose or their assignment in the new sphere of action.

That it would, however, include further conquest of the air they might have guessed.