“It is a dark night,” it said in perfect English.
“Dark as pitch,” I answered.
“It was darker last night,” said the voice.
“It is dark enough,” I answered.
Not perhaps a very remarkable conversation, you may think; but I can assure you my fingers were on my revolver, just in case one single word had been different. Now I breathed freely at last.
“Herr Tiel?” I inquired.
“Mr. Tiel,” corrected the invisible man beside me.
I saw him then for the first time as he stepped out from the shelter of the trees and closed the gate behind me—a tall dim figure in black.
“I’ll lead your cycle,” he said in a low voice, as he came back to me; “I know the way best.”
He took it from me, and as we walked side by side towards the house he said—
“Permit me, Mr. Belke, to give you one little word of caution. While you are here, forget that you can talk German! Think in English, if you can. We are walking on a tightrope, not on the pavement. No precaution is excessive!”
“I understand,” I said briefly.
There was in his voice, perfectly courteous though it was, a note of command which made one instinctively reply briefly—and obediently. I felt disposed to be favourably impressed with my ally.
He left me standing for a moment in the drive while he led my motorcycle round to some shed at the back, and then we entered the house by the front door.
“My servant doesn’t spend the night here,” he explained, “so we are safe enough after dark, as long as we make no sound that can be heard outside.”
It was pitch-dark inside, and only when he had closed and bolted the front door behind us, did Tiel flash his electric torch. Then I saw that we stood in a small porch which opened into a little hall, with a staircase facing us, and a passage opening beside it into the back of the house. At either side was a door, and Tiel opened that on the right and led me into a pleasant, low, lamp-lit room with a bright peat fire blazing and a table laid for supper. I learned afterwards that the clergyman who had just vacated the parish had left hurriedly, and that his books and furniture had not yet followed him. Hence the room, and indeed the whole house, looked habitable and comfortable.
“This is the place I have been looking for for a long time!” I cried cheerfully, for indeed it made a pleasant contrast to a ruinous farm or the interior of a submarine.
Tiel smiled. He had a pleasant smile, but it generally passed from his face very swiftly, and left his expression cool, alert, composed, and a trifle dominating.
“You had better take off your overalls and begin,” he said. “There is an English warning against conversation between a full man and a fasting. I have had supper already.”
When I took off my overalls, I noticed that he gave me a quick look of surprise.
“In uniform!” he exclaimed.
“It may not be much use if I’m caught,” I laughed, “but I thought it a precaution worth taking.”
“Excellent!” he agreed, and he seemed genuinely pleased. “It was very well thought of. Do you drink whisky-and-soda?”
“You have no beer?”
He smiled and shook his head.
“I am a Scottish divine,” he said, “and I am afraid my guests must submit to whisky. Even in these little details it is well to be correct.”
For the next half-hour there was little conversation. To tell you the truth I was nearly famished, and had something better to do than talk. Tiel on his part opened a newspaper, and now and then read extracts aloud. It was an English newspaper, of course, and I laughed once or twice at its items. He smiled too, but he did not seem much given to laughter. And all the while I took stock of my new acquaintance very carefully.
In appearance Adolph Tiel was just as he had been described to me, and very much as my imagination had filled in the picture: a man tall, though not very tall, clean-shaved, rather thin, decidedly English in his general aspect, distinctly good-looking, with hair beginning to turn grey, and cleverness marked clearly in his face. What I had not been quite prepared for was his air of good-breeding and authority. Not that there was any real reason why these qualities should have been absent, but as a naval officer of a country whose military services have pretty strong prejudices, I had scarcely expected to find in a secret-service agent quite this air.
Also what I had heard of Tiel had prepared me to meet a gentleman in whom cleverness was more conspicuous than dignity. Even those who professed to know something about him had admitted that he was a bit of a mystery. He was said to come either from Alsace or Lorraine, and to be of mixed parentage and the most cosmopolitan experience. One story had it that he served at one period of his very diverse career in the navy of a certain South American State, and this story I very soon came to the conclusion was correct, for he showed a considerable knowledge of naval affairs. Even when he professed ignorance of certain points, I was inclined to suspect he was simply trying to throw doubt upon the reports which he supposed I had heard, for rumour also said that he had quitted the service of his adopted country under circumstances which reflected more credit on his brains than his honesty.
In fact, my informants were agreed that Herr Tiel’s brains were very remarkable indeed, and that his nerve and address were equal to his ability. He was undoubtedly very completely in the confidence of my own Government, and I could mention at least two rather serious mishaps that had befallen England which were credited
