Bob Cook and the German Spy

T >> Tomlinson, Paul Greene >> Bob Cook and the German Spy

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"If we do I hope they treat us better than that detective did."

"I hope so, too," laughed Hugh. "At any rate we'll ask your father."

"You are coming to our house for luncheon, you know."

"Yes."

"We can talk it over with father then."

They arrived at the Cook residence without further adventure or mishap.
They left their bicycles in the garage, and then started for the house.
Half-way across the lawn they met Mr. Cook.

"Well, boys," he said, plainly relieved at seeing them safely back,
"what luck?"

"Feel my head," said Bob, removing his cap.

Mr. Cook did so. "Whew!" he exclaimed. "Where did you get that?"

Bob related the story of their experiences that morning. Mr. Cook offered
no comment until he had finished. "This looks serious," he said at
length. "It's too bad you got such a bump from a detective, a man on your
own side."

"What do you think of our seeing Mr. Wernberg?" asked Hugh.

Mr. Cook's face clouded and he shook his head. "I was afraid of
him," he said.

"What shall we do about it?" Bob inquired.

"I think we'd better report it to the police, and do it soon, too." He
looked at his watch. "We've got time before luncheon," he exclaimed. "Was
Heinrich in the garage?"

"No, sir."

"How about the car?"

"That's there all right."

"Well, come along then," exclaimed Mr. Cook. "We'll get it and go
straight down to police headquarters now."

"Don't you think our friend the detective will make a report?"
asked Hugh.

"Possibly. Still, as Bob says, those men are sometimes very jealous and
he might not tell the whole story, particularly about what you did."

A few moments later all three were on their way to the police station.
Bob's old friend, Sergeant Riley, was still behind the desk and gave them
a jovial greeting.

"Yez haven't got no Germans for me, have yez?" he demanded.

"No," said Mr. Cook, "we haven't, but we can tell you where to get some."

"Sounds interesting," said the sergeant laying aside his pen and
carefully blotting the sheet of paper on which he had been writing. "Tell
me about it."

"Go ahead, Bob," his father urged. "Tell your story, and first of all let
Sergeant Riley feel the bump on your head. That'll convince him."

"It would indade," exclaimed the sergeant, after examining the swelling
on Bob's head. "Not that I'd ever doubt anything a son of yours told me,
Misther Cook."

Bob related the events of that day to Sergeant Riley. The police officer
listened attentively and interestedly until Bob came to the part about
the detective. As he began to tell of that the sergeant started
perceptibly.

"A detective, yez said?" he demanded.

"Yes," said Bob, "he had a badge on."

"Can yez describe him?"

"Well," said Bob, "he was a man about five feet seven inches tall; he had
dark hair and a close-cut black mustache. I should think he would weigh
possibly about a hundred and fifty pounds; maybe not quite so much. He
had on a soft brown hat and a dark suit of clothes. I can't remember
anything more about him."

"That's a plenty," exclaimed the sergeant. He had been jotting down the
description of the detective as Bob spoke.

"He was a grouchy fellow all right," exclaimed Hugh. "He chased us away
from there as though he was jealous of us and didn't want us around."

"I daresay he didn't want yez," said Riley.

"What's his name?" asked Bob.

"I don't know," replied the sergeant.

"Come on, Riley," laughed Mr. Cook, "you can't tell me that. Why I
thought you knew every one in High Ridge to say nothing of your own
force. You don't mean to tell me you don't know a detective that wears
the same badge you do?"

"Yes, sir, I do," said Riley soberly. "And I'll tell yez why. That man
these boys met this morning is no detective at all."

CHAPTER XIV

AN EXPEDITION

Mr. Cook and the two boys were so completely taken aback by the
sergeant's statement that for a moment all they could do was stare at one
another in amazement. Bob was the first to regain his voice.

"What do you mean, Sergeant?" he demanded.

"Just what I say."

"That man was not a detective?" stammered Bob. "He is not a member of the
High Ridge force?"

"There is no man answering to that description here."

"Then he was a fake."

"Exactly."

"Well," exclaimed Hugh, Bob, and Mr. Cook in one breath. They could
say no more.

"He was a fake," repeated Sergeant Riley emphatically. "There is no
doubt of it."

The boys were too surprised for words. What kind of a business was this
they were becoming involved in anyway? The further they went the more
confused they became. If you could not trust a man with a regulation
police badge, whom could you trust?

"It seems incredible," said Mr. Cook.

"We are at war with Germany, aren't we?" asked Sergeant Riley calmly.

"We are," Mr. Cook agreed.

"Well, then," said the sergeant, "that explains it. They want to do us
all the harm they can and as they can't bring soldiers over here, thanks
to the English fleet, they've got to strike at us with plots and bombs
and such things. They will stop at nothing."

"Are there many to guard against in High Ridge?" asked Mr. Cook. "You
know I am interested because my factory is making ammunition for the
Government."

"There are several," the sergeant admitted.

"Can you tell me who they are?"

"I cannot. 'Twould be against my orders. Yez might feel better to know
that we are watching them pretty carefully though."

"I hope so," said Mr. Cook fervently.

"Have yez had lunch?" asked the sergeant suddenly.

"No," replied Mr. Cook. "Not yet."

"Well, suppose yez go home and get it. I may telephone yez a little later
to go out to that house with some of our men."

"Good," cried Mr. Cook. "We'll hurry and you may be sure we'll be ready
any time you call on us."

They left the police station and were soon on their way home. Arriving at
the house, Hugh and Mr. Cook got out, and Bob drove the car down to the
garage. There he found Heinrich seated on a box in one corner intently
studying a sheet of paper he held in his hand.

"What you got, Heinie?" asked Bob cheerily. "A love letter!"

Heinrich looked up at Bob, a curious expression in his pale blue eyes. He
made no comment, however, and presently returned to the perusal of the
paper he held.

"What is it?" demanded Bob, impressed by the chauffeur's manner. An air
of gloom seemed to pervade the garage, even the dog, the cat, and the
parrot appeared to be affected by it. The dog stood listlessly by his
master's side, the cat walked idly up and down, and the bird failed to
greet Bob with his usual cheery "How do"; he sat limply on his perch, his
feathers ruffled, and muttered to himself.

Heinrich handed the paper to Bob. It was a sheet evidently torn from a
pad and in a large scrawling hand was written the following: "We warned
your boss to keep his car at home; now tell him to keep his son there,
too." No name was signed and Bob turned the paper over and looked at the
opposite side. A picture of an alligator was drawn there. Bob recognized
the sheet as similar to the one that he and Hugh had found in the
deserted house and the detective had taken from them; apparently it had
been torn from the same pad.

"Where did you get this, Heinie?" he demanded.

"I go up to the house to see Lena," said Heinrich. "That is maybe a
half-hour ago. I only stay there a few minutes and when I come back
here is this."

"Lying on the floor?"

"Yes."

"Have you no idea who sent it?"

"How should I?" exclaimed Heinrich.

"Somebody must have slipped in here while you were absent and left
it," said Bob. "There are queer things happening around here these
days, Heinie."

"There is," the chauffeur admitted solemnly.

"Do you mind if I keep this paper?"

"No."

Bob started out.

"You better do as that says, too," exclaimed Heinrich earnestly. "You
would not want anything to happen to you."

"I'm not afraid," said Bob soberly. "You know, Heinie," he continued,
"some people are trying to blow up things around here. Some of your
countrymen, and we can't let them do anything like that, you know."

Heinrich seemed much perturbed at this. "So?" he exclaimed his eyes wide.

"Yes," said Bob, "and it's men like you who ought to stop them. You men
who were Germans but are now Americans, could do yourselves a good turn
if you did. Some people of German blood are under suspicion nowadays and
if you showed that you were loyal to the United States it would be a good
thing for you. Not that I mean to say we are suspicious of _you_," Bob
hastened to add.

This speech of Bob's seemed to offer a new line of thought to Heinrich
who merely stared at Bob and said nothing.

"Heinrich is so loyal himself that it never occurred to him that any one
would be suspicious," thought Bob as he hurried off toward the house, the
strange paper clutched tightly in one hand.

He arrived to find every one at the dining-table, and consequently he
said nothing about the warning, for he did not wish to alarm his mother.
She had just heard from Harold; his company had been ordered away from
High Ridge that morning for an unknown destination. She was worried
enough over that without having another son on her mind. Fortunately the
lump on Bob's head was covered by his hair so that it was not noticeable
enough to draw attention to it. His black eye already had been explained.

Luncheon was hardly over when the telephone summoned Mr. Cook. Sergeant
Riley was on the wire inquiring if Mr. Cook and Bob and Hugh could not
meet him at headquarters immediately. A few moments later they were in
the car and on their way down the street. Bob was at the wheel.

Another car was drawn up alongside the curb in front of the police
station and in it were four plain-clothes men. Sergeant Riley was there
to explain that they planned to go out to the deserted house and search
it thoroughly, by force if necessary. He wished the two boys to go along
as guides, and he thought probably Mr. Cook would want to accompany them.

A short time later they started, Bob leading the way. As they passed Elm
Street he glanced curiously at the white stucco house, number twelve
eighty two, and wondered what had happened to the German who had
attempted to destroy the railroad bridge. Probably he now rested in jail,
awaiting trial. Then again it occurred to Bob that possibly he had been
shot; the country was at war and offenders of that kind were not dealt
lightly with at such a time.

They left the city behind and rolled along over the country road. The
three occupants of the car were silent for they did not know what might
await them at their destination. A squad of soldiers out on a hike passed
them. They were hot, dirty and dusty, but their rifles glinted wickedly
in the light of the afternoon sun.

"They look like business," remarked Mr. Cook.

"They certainly do," exclaimed Bob. "I wish I was one of them."

"If the war lasts long enough maybe you will be."

"The United States can certainly raise a big army."

"Indeed it can," his father agreed. "Germany thought they'd have nothing
to fear from us, but they'll be sadly fooled. Just think of the money and
food and equipment of all kinds we can furnish our allies; those things
are just as important as men, and we can send millions of those, too, if
they need them."

Presently they came to the spot where Bob and Hugh had dismounted from
their bicycles that morning. Bob stopped the car and the plain-clothes
detectives followed suit. Sergeant Riley took charge.

"You lead the way," he said to Bob. "We'll follow wherever you go."

A moment later they were off across the field and soon came to the woods
which sheltered the deserted house. In Indian file they commenced to
pick their path among the trees and underbrush. Complete silence was
maintained and the party advanced, ready for any emergency. Of course the
detectives were armed. Mr. Cook carried his pistol, so Bob and Hugh were
the only ones not provided with some means of defense.

In the course of perhaps fifteen minutes Bob, from his position in the
lead, caught a glimpse of the old house through the trees. So far as
he could see there was no sign of life around it anywhere. He held up
his hand and the little party came to a halt. A whispered consultation
was held and it was decided to spread out somewhat and move forward in
open order.

The plan was to advance until they reached the border of the trees, and
then at a given signal rush out into the opening and surround the house.
Stealthily the band stole forward. The spring air was soft and balmy, the
buds on the trees were commencing to swell; everywhere nature gave signs
of a reawakening, but these things passed unnoticed. The members of the
little party were occupied with the business in hand, and had no time or
interest for anything else.

Soon they reached their appointed positions. From the spot where he
crouched Bob could see the others lurking within the shelter of the
trees. He could see Sergeant Riley raising a police whistle to his lips
to sound the signal that had been agreed upon. Bob set himself. He had
been advised that inasmuch as he was unarmed he should remain behind, but
he had no such intention. Neither had Hugh.

Suddenly Sergeant Riley sounded a shrill blast with his whistle. Every
man rushed forward. Only for a few steps, however. A burst of flame, and
a puff of smoke shot from the cellar window of the old house, and the air
was rent by a terrific explosion.

CHAPTER XV

FIRE

Staggered, the men all stopped short in their tracks. An instant later
there was a second explosion. There was a ripping, splitting sound, and
the whole side of the building fell out. The air was filled with bits of
wood and plaster.

"Keep away from that house!" shouted Sergeant Riley as one of his men
darted forward. "Do yez want to get killed?"

A minute later flames appeared, and the red and yellow tongues of fire
began to play around the window frames. Black smoke curled from every
opening. It was plainly to be seen that the house was doomed.

"Look!" cried Hugh suddenly. "There goes a man!"

Without waiting to see what the others were going to do he dashed off in
pursuit of a figure which could be seen scuttling away through the trees.
Two of the detectives joined in the race and one of them fired two shots
from his pistol at the fugitive. In reply the man suddenly wheeled and
shot once at his pursuers. Bob heard the bullet whine past close to his
head. He also had caught a fleeting glimpse of the man, and one look was
enough to convince him that it was the fake detective with whom he and
Hugh had struggled that morning.

A moment later the man was out of sight, Hugh and the two detectives
still after him, shouting and calling to him to halt. Meanwhile the fire
in the house roared and blazed.

"She's a goner," said Sergeant Riley. He stood beside Mr. Cook and Bob as
they watched the burning building.

"I guess she is," remarked Mr. Cook. "There's nothing we can do."

"Nothing," agreed the sergeant.

"It's not much loss anyway," said Mr. Cook.

"No loss at all," exclaimed Bob. "It's a gain if anything, for it makes
one less place for spies and plotters to meet in."

"But any evidence that might have been in there is destroyed,"
said Riley.

"I never thought of that," said Bob. "That's probably why they
burned it."

"Was that your detective running off through the woods?" asked the
sergeant.

"It certainly was," said Bob. "I guess he was one of the gang after all.
I suppose they left him behind to watch us."

"Then why did he let you get away?" his father replied.

"Probably he thought it would create less suspicion," said Sergeant
Riley. "He got the paper away from the boys and as long as he thought
he could bluff them into thinking he was a detective he thought that
was sufficient. On the other hand if he had held them prisoners or
anything like that there would have been a search for them and trouble
started at once."

"I guess that's right," said Mr. Cook soberly. "However, I hope they
catch him this time."

Suddenly a piercing scream startled them. They glanced up to see a white
face at one of the windows of the house. All around, the fire roared and
the smoke curled up in great clouds. Before they could see who the man
was he had fallen back into the room and disappeared from view.

"I'll get him," exclaimed one of the detectives, and without further
ado, he sprinted for the burning house. Paying no heed to the warning
cries of his comrades he dashed up to the back door and entered, and was
soon lost to sight.

"That feller Donovan is a dare-devil," exclaimed Sergeant Riley. "He'll
stop at nothing. Why should he risk his life for a man that's as good as
dead now?"

"He'll never come out alive," cried Mr. Cook.

"And all for a man who is plotting against the country," echoed
Riley. "Here you!" he shouted to the other plain-clothes man. "Keep
out of there. The High Ridge police force can't afford to lose more
than one man a day." The fourth detective showed signs of wishing to
follow his comrade.

"If he does rescue that man it'll only be to put him in jail," said Bob.

"Or shoot him more likely," cried Riley angrily.

Breathless they waited for any sign of Donovan. The fire burned more
fiercely every moment, and it seemed incredible that any man could enter
that seething furnace and return alive. The air was filled with sparks
and blazing embers; the smoke mounted heavenward in a thick column which
must have been visible for miles.

Minutes that seemed like hours passed. Hugh and the two detectives
returned from their chase. They had not captured their man.

"We followed him as far as the road," one of them reported. "He had a
motor cycle there and got away from us."

"We'll get him later, never fear," said Sergeant Riley, grimly.
"Meanwhile that crazy man, Donovan, is in the house here trying to rescue
some one of them German plotters that showed his face at the window."

The recipients of this piece of news gasped. "He'll never come out,"
exclaimed one of the men. "Still, he never did seem to care much for
his life."

White faced and tense they watched the conflagration. Certainly not one
of the men ever expected to see Donovan again. Yet what could they do? As
Sergeant Riley had said, it was folly for any one else to follow him in,
and so they were powerless. All they could do was watch and hope.

Suddenly a figure appeared at the door. It seemed to issue straight
from the hottest part of the fire. On its shoulder was the limp
figure of a man.

"There he is!" cried six voices together, and together the six watchers
made for the house.

Donovan, for it was he, stood on the charred steps. Sparks and blazing
firebrands fell all around him and he tottered uncertainly. Willing
helpers rushed to his assistance, but before they could reach him he
swayed and fell. He rolled down the step dropping his burden, and side by
side the two men lay on the ground. Close by, the wall threatened to fall
on them at any moment.

It did not take long to seize both men, and carry them away from danger
and a moment later they were stretched out side by side on the grass, a
safe distance from the burning building.

The man whom Donovan had rescued, had a face so blackened by smoke and
soot that he was unrecognizable. His clothes were scorched and his whole
body seared with terrible burns. He was unconscious.

"Is he still alive?" whispered Bob in a low voice.

Sergeant Riley put his hand over the wounded man's heart. "I think so,"
he said. "Get some water somebody. And look after Donovan."

"There's a spring back there in the woods," exclaimed Hugh. "I have
nothing to carry water in though."

"Take all the handkerchiefs you can get," ordered the sergeant. "Fill the
hats; you'll lose most of it on the way back, but you'll get some."

Hugh hastened to obey; with him went Bob and two of the detectives. The
spring was not far distant, and they soon were sousing the handkerchiefs
in the clear, cold water. The hats, too, were filled and those made of
felt held the water fairly well. A few moments later they were hurrying
back toward the spot where the injured man was lying.

It had been found necessary to remove the patients farther away from the
burning building, for the heat grew more intense every moment. Donovan
had so far recovered as to be sitting up. He suffered acutely from
numerous burns, but otherwise seemed to be all right. The man whom he
had rescued, however, still lay unconscious on the ground.

Sergeant Riley now took charge of the operations. He bathed Donovan's
face with one of the handkerchiefs and gave him another to suck. Mr. Cook
under Riley's instructions poured water from one of the hats upon the
other sufferer's face, and then gently sopped it with a handkerchief. As
a result of this treatment the soot and grime disappeared and presently
it was possible to distinguish his features.

Suddenly Mr. Cook started back in surprise. "Come here, Bob," he cried.
"See who this is."

One glance was enough for Bob. He recognized the man over whom his father
was working as Mr. Wernberg.

CHAPTER XVI

MORE COMPLICATIONS

"Who is he?" inquired Sergeant Riley, noting his companion's
astonishment.

"His name is Wernberg," said Mr. Cook.

"I've heard of him," said Riley grimly.

"Have you been looking for him?"

"I know his name," exclaimed the sergeant evasively.

"Well," said Mr. Cook, "he's about done for, I'm afraid. I suppose we
ought to get him to a doctor as fast as we can though."

"Yes," agreed Riley.

"I'll get our car," exclaimed Bob.

"Can you bring it in here?" asked his father.

"Yes. I'll have it here in ten minutes," and Bob set off at top speed
through the woods toward the spot where the automobile had been left.

Mr. Wernberg was still unconscious. In fact it was difficult for a time
to ascertain whether or not he was alive. More water was brought from the
spring and Mr. Cook and Riley continued to minister to the sufferer. Some
of the worst of his burns were bound up with strips of shirts offered by
members of the party, and his outer clothing was removed. As a matter of
fact a large portion of it was so burned that it crumbled to powder at a
mere touch.

"He's alive," said Sergeant Riley after a few moments.

"Then he ought to recover," exclaimed Mr. Cook. "That is, unless he has
inhaled some of the flames and injured his lungs in some way."

"Only a doctor can tell that," said the sergeant. "Whether he gets well
or not, one thing is certain and that is he'll be in the hospital a
long time."

"That's right," agreed Mr. Cook. "I wish he could talk though."

At that moment Bob arrived with the automobile and presently Mr. Wernberg
was lifted into the tonneau and a blanket wrapped around him. He was
still unconscious, but his face was drawn with pain that fortunately he
could not feel. Much as the men who cared for him despised him for his
suspected work with the gang of spies and plotters they could only feel
pity for his sufferings.

Mr. Cook, Hugh, and Sergeant Riley accompanied Bob on his trip to the
High Ridge Hospital, and the three other members of the party were left
to watch the fire and see that it did not spread, and then they were to
follow in the other car. Donovan the detective seemed to be himself once
more and related briefly the story of how he had rescued Mr. Wernberg.

"I rushed into the house," he said, "and as I stuck my head inside the
door a wave of smoke caught me full in the face. At first I expected I
should have to turn back, but I kept on and presently the air cleared for
a minute. I knew the trapped man was on the second floor so I hurried
around looking for the stairs. Finally I found them and though they were
awfully rickety I got up.

"The smoke seemed to be thicker on the second floor and I could scarcely
see. I heard a cry and followed it, stumbling and falling along the
hall. The door of one big room was smashed and the smoke poured out of
there as if it was a chimney. No one was in that room and I came out
into the hall again. I heard another call, and traced it as coming from
a room where the door was closed. I grabbed the door-knob, but it was
locked. 'Help! Help!' I heard from inside. 'Unlock the door!' I shouted.
'I have no key,' said the voice, so I put my shoulder to the door and
tried to force it.

"I was choking and coughing and gasping, what with the smoke and all, and
it was hard work standing there. I shoved with all my might though, and
all of a sudden the door gave way. I went shooting into the room and fell
right over a man stretched out on the floor. 'They blew me up,' he cried
and fainted. Well, the room was full of smoke and all around the edges
little tongues of flame were playing; the fellow had fallen to the floor
and been terribly burned. I picked him up and staggered out with him and
you know the rest."

Donovan himself was badly burned about his hands and face. Every one
knows how painful is a burn, but the detective made no complaint, in
spite of the fact that he must have been suffering agonies.

Meanwhile Bob was speeding the car back towards High Ridge. He broke all
speed laws on the way, but he had been warned that haste was imperative
if Mr. Wernberg's life was to be saved. Besides he had a police officer
in the car with him and knew that he was safe.

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