If I had been decided before, I was doubly decided now.
“It is not the German navy’s way to fear risks,” I said. “It is my duty to stay—for two reasons—and I am going to stay!”
“And Commander Wiedermann?”
“I shall simply tell him I am under higher orders, given me by Herr Tiel.”
“If you added that there is a second plan directed against the British navy, and that you are needed to advise on the details, it might help to convince Commander Wiedermann how essential your presence here is,” she suggested.
“Yes,” I agreed, “it would be well to mention that.”
“Also,” she said, “you would require to have all the details of this first plan so fully written out that he would not need to keep you to explain anything.”
“You think of everything!” I cried with an admiration I made no pretence of concealing. “I shall go now and set to work.”
“Do!” she cried, “and when Tiel comes in I shall tell him you are going to stay. I wonder what he will say!”
“I wonder too,” said I. “But do you care what he says?”
“No,” she replied, “because of course he won’t say it. He will only think.”
“Let him think!” I laughed.
I went back to my room in a strange state of exhilaration for a man who had just decided to forgo the thing he had most looked forward to, and run a horrible risk instead. For I felt in my bones that uniform or no uniform I should be shot if I were caught. I put little trust in English justice or clemency. But, as I said before, when I am obstinate, I am very obstinate; and I was firmly resolved that if Wiedermann wanted me back on board tonight, he would have to call a guard and carry me! However, acting on Eileen’s suggestions, I had little doubt I should convince him. And thereupon I set to work on my notes. By evening I had everything so fully written out and so clearly explained that I felt I could say with a clear conscience that even my own presence at a council of war could add no further information.
In the course of the day I had a talk with Tiel, and, just as Eileen had anticipated, he left one to guess at what was in his mind. He certainly professed to be glad I had changed my mind, and he thanked me with every appearance of cordiality.
“You are doing the right thing, Belke,” he said. “And, let me tell you, I appreciate your courage.”
There was a ring of evident sincerity in his voice as he said this, and whatever I might think of the man’s moral character, a compliment from Tiel on one’s courage was not a thing to despise.
In the late afternoon he set out to obtain a motorcar for the evening’s expedition, but through what ingenious machinery of lies he got it, I was too busy to inquire.
Finally, about ten o’clock at night we sat down to a little supper, my pockets bulging with my notes, and my cyclist’s overalls lying ready to be donned once more.
IX
On the Shore
Soon after eleven o’clock two dark figures slipped unostentatiously out of the back door, and a moment later a third followed them. My heart leapt with joy and surprise at the sight of it, and Tiel stopped and turned.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“I’m coming too,” said Eileen.
“Why?” he demanded in that tone of his which seemed to call upon the questioned to answer with exceeding accuracy.
“Because I’d like a drive,” she answered, with a woman’s confidence that her reason is good enough for anybody.
“As you please,” he said, drily and with unfathomable calm; and then he turned again, and in a voice that betrayed his interest in her, asked, “What have you got on?”
“Quite enough, thank you.”
“You are sure? I’ve lent my spare coat to Belke, but I can get another rug.”
“I am quite sure,” she smiled.
More than ever I felt glad I was staying beside her.
Tiel sat in front and drove, and Eileen and I got in behind. He offered no objections to this arrangement, though as she seated herself while he was starting the engine, he was certainly not given much choice. And then with a deep purr we rolled off into the night.
There would be no moon till getting on towards morning, but the rain had luckily ceased and the wind fallen, and overhead the stars were everywhere breaking through the last wisps of cloud. Already they gave light enough to distinguish sea from land quite plainly, and very soon they faintly lit the whole wide treeless countryside. The car was a good one, however Tiel had come by it, and the engine was pulling well, and we swept along the lonely roads at a great pace, one bare telegraph post after another flitting swiftly out of the gloom ahead into the gloom behind, and the night air rushing against our faces. At first I looked round me and recognised some features of the way we had come, the steep hill, and the sound that led to the western ocean, and the dark mass of hills beyond, but very soon my thoughts and my eyes alike had ceased to wander out of the car.
We said little, just enough to serve as an excuse for my looking constantly at her profile, and, the longer I looked, admiring the more every line and every curve. All at once she leaned towards me and said in a low beseeching voice—
“You will come back, won’t you?”
“I swear it!” I answered fervently, and to give force to my oath I gently took her hand and pressed it. If it did not return the pressure, it at least did not shrink from my clasp. And for the rest of the way I sat holding it.
Presently I in turn leaned towards her and whispered—
“One thing I have been wondering. Should I take Tiel with me
