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The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [1093]

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for five hours sure. It was impossible to miss the way, and with my stout allies heaving me forward, I made short work of the two-mile passage. There was a sharp tussle at the last, where the Riff-Gat poured its stream across my path, and then I was craning over my shoulder, God knows with what tense anxiety, for the low hull and taper mast of the Dulcibella, Not there! No, not where I had left her. I pulled furiously up the harbour past a sleeping ferry-steamer and--praise Heaven!--came on her warped alongside the jetty.

'Who's that?' came from below, as I stepped on board.

'Hush! it's me.' And Davies and I were pawing one another in the dark of the cabin.

'Are you all right, old chap?' said he.

'Yes; are you? A match! What's the time? Quick!'

'Good Heavens, Carruthers, what the blazes have you done to yourself?' (I suspect I cut a pretty figure after my two days' outing.)

'Ten past three. It's the invasion of England! Is Dollmann at the villa?'

'Invasion?'

'Is Dollmann at the villa?'

'Yes.'

'Is the Medusa afloat?'

'No, on the mud.'

'The devil! Are we afloat?'

'I think so still, but they made me shift.'

'Think! Track her out! Pole her out! Cut those warps!'

For a few strenuous minutes we toiled at the sweeps till the Dulcibella was berthed ahead of the steamer, in deeper water. Meanwhile I had whispered a few facts.

'How soon can you get under way?' I asked.

'Ten minutes.'

'When's daylight?'

'Sunrise about seven, first dawn about five. Where are we bound?'

'Holland, or England.'

'Are they invading it now?' said Davies, calmly.

'No, only rehearsing!' I laughed, wildly.

'Then we can wait.'

'We can wait exactly an hour and a half. Come ashore and knock up Dollmann; we must denounce him, and get them both aboard; it's now or never. Holy Saints! man, not as you are!' (He was in pyjamas.) 'Sea clothes!'

While he put on Christian attire, I resumed my facts and sketched a plan. 'Are you watched?' I asked.

'I think so; by the Kormoran's men.'

'Is the Kormoran here?'

'Yes.'

'The men?'

'Not to-night. Grimm called for them in that tug. I was watching. And, Carruthers. the Blitz is here.'

'Where?'

'In the roads outside--didn't you see her?'

'Wasn't looking. Her skipper's safe anyway; so's Böhme, so's the Tertium Quid, and so are the Kormoran's men. The coast's clear--it's now or never.'

Once more we were traversing the long jetty and the silent streets, rain driving at our backs. We trod on air, I think; I remember no fatigue. Davies sometimes broke into a little run, muttering 'scoundrel' to himself.

'I was right--only upside down,' he murmured more than once. 'Always really right--those channels are the key to the whole concern. Chatham, our only eastern base--no North Sea base or squadron--they'd land at one of those God-forsaken flats off the Crouch and Blackwater.'

'It seems a wild scheme,' I observed.

'Wild? In a way. So is _any_ invasion. But it's thorough; it's German. No other country could do it. It's all dawning on me--by Jove! It will be at the _Wash_--much the nearest, and as sandy as this side.'

'How's Dollmann been?' I asked.

'Polite, but queer and jumpy. It's too long a story.'

'Clara?'

_

'She's_ all right. By Jove! Carruthers--never mind.'

We found a night-bell at the villa door and rang it lustily. A window aloft opened, and 'A message from Commander von Brüning--urgent,' I called up.

The window shut, and soon after the hall was lighted and the door opened by Dollmann in a dressing-gown.

'Good morning, Lieutenant X--,' I said, in English. 'Stop, we're friends, you fool!' as the door was flung nearly to. It opened very slowly again, and we walked in.

'Silence!' he hissed. The sweat stood on his steep forehead and a hectic flush on either cheek, but there was a smile--what a smile!--on his lips. Motioning us to tread noiselessly (a vain ideal for me), he led the way to the sitting-room we knew, switched on the light, and faced us.

'Well?' he said, in English, still smiling.

I consulted my watch, and I may say that if my hand was an index to my general appearance, I must

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