The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [995]
'My cure?' said Davies; 'what in the world do you mean? It was jolly decent of you to--'
'Never mind! There's another view of it, but it doesn't matter now. Let's return to the point. What's your plan of action?'
'It's this,' was the prompt reply: 'to get back to the North Sea, _via_ Kiel and the ship canal. Then there will be two objects: one, to work back to Norderney, where I left off before, exploring all those channels through the estuaries and islands; the other, to find Dollmann, discover what he's up to, and settle with him. The two things may overlap, we can't tell yet. I don't even know where he and his yacht are; but I'll be bound they're somewhere in those same waters, and probably back at Norderney.'
'It's a delicate matter,' I mused, dubiously, 'if your theory's correct. Spying on a spy--'
'It's not like that,' said Davies, indignantly. 'Anyone who likes can sail about there and explore those waters. I say, you don't really think it's like that, do you?'
'I don't think you're likely to do anything dishonourable,' I hastened to explain. 'I grant you the sea's public property in your sense. I only mean that developments are possible, which you don't reckon on. There _must_ be more to find out than the mere navigation of those channels, and if that's so, mightn't we come to be genuine spies ourselves?'
'And, after all, hang it!' exclaimed Davies, 'if it comes to that, why shouldn't we? I look at it like this. The man's an Englishman, and if he's in with Germany he's a traitor to us, and we as Englishmen have a right to expose him. If we can't do it without spying we've a right to spy, at our own risk--'
'There's a stronger argument than that. He tried to take your life.'
'I don't care a rap about that. I'm not such an ass as to thirst for revenge and all that, like some chap in a shilling shocker. But it makes me wild to think of that fellow masquerading as a German, and up to who knows what mischief--mischief enough to make him want to get rid of _any_ one. I'm keen about the sea, and I think they're apt to be a bit slack at home,' he continued inconsequently. 'Those Admiralty chaps want waking up. Anyway, as far as I'm concerned, it's quite natural that I should look him up again.'
'Quite,' I agreed; 'you parted friends, and they may be delighted to see you. You'll have plenty to talk about.'
'I--I'm,' said Davies, withered into silence by the 'they'. 'Hullo! I say, do you know it's three o'clock? How the time has gone! And, by Jove! I believe the fog's lifting.'
I returned, with a shock, to the present, to the weeping walls, the discoloured deal table, the ghastly breakfast litter--all the visible symbols of the life I had pledged myself to. Disillusionment was making rapid headway when Davies returned, and said, with energy:
'What do you say to starting for Kiel at once? The fog's going, and there's a breeze from the sou'-west.'
'Now?' I protested. 'Why, it'll mean sailing all night, won't it?'
'Oh, no,' said Davies. 'Not with luck.'
'Why, it's dark at seven!'
'Yes, but it's only twenty-five miles. I know it's not exactly a fair wind, but we shall lie closehauled most of the way. The glass is falling, and we ought to take this chance.'
To argue about winds with Davies was hopeless, and the upshot was that we started lunchless. A pale sun was flickering out of masses of racing vapour, and through delicate vistas between them the fair land of Schleswig now revealed and now withdrew her pretty face, as though smiling _adieux_ to her faithless courtiers.
The clank of our chain brought up Bartels to the deck of the Johannes, rubbing his eyes and pulling round his throat a grey shawl, which gave him a comical likeness