His Last Bow

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Book by Arthur C. Doyle - His Last Bow, page 35

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home the bacon at last."

"The signals?"

"Same as I said in my cable. Every last one of them, semaphore, lamp code,
Marconi -- a copy, mind you, not the original. That was too dangerous. But
it's the real goods, and you can lay to that." He slapped the German upon the
shoulder with a rough familiarity from which the other winced.

"Come in," he said. "I'm all alone in the house. I was only waiting for
this. Of course a copy is better than the original. If an original were
missing they would change the whole thing. You think it's all safe about the
copy?"

The Irish-American had entered the study and stretched his long limbs from
the armchair. He was a tall, gaunt man of sixty, with clear-cut features and a
small goatee beard which gave him a general resemblance to the caricatures
of Uncle Sam. A halfsmoked, sodden cigar hung from the corner of his mouth,
and as he sat down he struck a match and relit it. "Making ready for a
move?" he remarked as he looked round him. "Say, mister," he added, as his
eyes fell upon the safe from which the curtain was now removed, "you don't
tell me you keep your papers in that?"

"Why not?"

"Gosh, in a wide-open contraption like that! And they reckon you to be
some spy. Why, a Yankee crook would be into that with a can-
opener. If I'd known that any letter of mine was goin' to lie loose in a thing
like that I'd have been a mug to write to you at all."

"It would puzzle any crook to force that safe," Von Bork answered. "You
won't cut that metal with any tool."

"But the lock?"

"No, it's a double combination lock. You know what that is?"

"Search me," said the American.

"Well, you need a word as well as a set of figures before you can get the
lock to work." He rose and showed a doubleradiating disc round the keyhole.
"This outer one is for the letters, thel inner one for the figures."

"Well, well, that's fine."

"So it's not quite as simple as you thought. It was four years ago that I
had it made, and what do you think I chose for the word and figures?"

"It's beyond me."

"Well, I chose August for the word, and 1914 for the figures, and here we
are."

The American's face showed his surprise and admiration.

"My, but that was smart! You had it down to a fine thing."

"Yes, a few of us even then could have guessed the date. Here it is, and I'm
shutting down to-morrow morning. "

"Well, I guess you'll have to fix me up also. I'm not staying in this gol-
darned country all on my lonesome. In a week or less, from what I see, John
Bull will be on his hind legs and fair ramping. I'd rather watch him from
over the water."

"But you're an American citizen?"

"Well, so was Jack James an American citizen, but he's doing time in
Portland all the same. It cuts no ice with a British copper to tell him
you're an American citizen. 'It's British law and order over here,' says he.
By the way, mister, talking of Jack James, it seems to me you don't do much
to cover your men."

"What do you mean?" Von Bork asked sharply.

"Well, you are their employer, ain't you? It's up to you to see that they
don't fall down. But they do fall down, and when did you ever pick them up?
There's James --"

"It was James's own fault. You know that yourself. He was too self-willed
for the job."

"James was a bonehead -- I give you that. Then there was Hollis. "

"The man was mad."

"Well, he went a bit woozy towards the end. It's enough to make a man
bughouse when he has to play a part from morning to night with a hundred
guys all ready to set the coppers wise to him. But now there is Steiner --"

Von Bork started violently, and his ruddy face turned a shade paler.

"What about Steiner?"

"Well, they've got him, that's all. They raided his store last night, and
he and his papers are all in Portsmouth jail. You'll go off and he, poor
devil, will have to stand the racket, and lucky if he gets off with his life.
That's why I want to get over the water as soon as you do."

Von Bork was a strong, self-contained man, but it was easy to see that the
news had shaken him.

"How could they have got on to Steiner?" he muttered. "That's the worst blow
yet."

"Well, you nearly had a worse one, for I believe they are not far off me."

"You don't mean that!"

"Sure thing. My landlady down Fratton way had some inquiries, and when I
heard of it I guessed it was time for me to hustle. But what I want to know,
mister, is how the coppers know these things? Steiner is the fifth man you've
lost since I signed on with you, and I know the name of the sixth if I don't
get a move on. How do you explain it, and ain't you ashamed to see your men
go down like this?"

Von Bork flushed crimson.

"How dare you speak in such a way!"

"If I didn't dare things, mister, I wouldn't be in your service. But I'll
tell you straight what is in my mind. I've heard that with you German
politicians when an agent has done his work you are not sorry to see him put
away."

Von Bork sprang to his feet.

"Do you dare to suggest that I have given away my own agents!"

"I don't stand for that, mister, but there's a stool pigeon or a cross
somewhere, and it's up to you to find out where it is. Anyhow I am taking no
more chances. It's me for little Holland, and the sooner the better."

Von Bork had mastered his anger.

"We have been allies too long to quarrel now at the very hour of victory,"
he said. "You've done splendid work and taken risks, and I can't forget it. By
all means go to Holland, and you can get a boat from Rotterdam to New York.
No other line will be safe a week from now. I'll take that book and pack it
with the rest."

The American held the small parcel in his hand, but made no motion to give
it up.

"What about the dough?" he asked.

"The what?"

"The boodle. The reward. The 500 pounds. The gunner turned damned nasty at
the last, and I had to square him with an extra hundred dollars or it would
have been nitsky for you and me. 'Nothin' doin'!' says he, and he meant it,
too, but the last hundred did it. It's cost me two hundred pound from first
to last, so it isn't likely I'd give it up without gettin' my wad. "

Von Bork smiled with some bitterness. "You don't seem to have a very high
opinion of my honour," said he, "you want the money before you give up the
book."

"Well, mister, it is a business proposition."

"All right. Have your way." He sat down at the table and scribbled a check,
which he tore from the book, but he refrained from handing it to his
companion. "After all, since we are to be on such terms, Mr. Altamont," said
he, "I don't see why I should trust you any more than you trust me. Do you
understand?" he added, looking back over his shoulder at the American.
"There's the check upon the table. I claim the right to examine that parcel
before you pick the money up."

The American passed it over without a word. Von Bork undid a winding of
string and two wrappers of paper. Then he sat gazing for a moment in silent
amazement at a small blue book which lay before him. Across the cover was
printed in golden letters Practical Handbook of Bee Culture. Only for one
instant did the master spy glare at this strangely irrelevant inscription. The
next he was gripped at the back of his neck by a grasp of iron, and a
chloroformed sponge was held in front of his writhing face.

"Another glass, Watson!" said Mr. Sherlock Holmes as he extended the bottle
of Imperial Tokay.

The thickset chauffeur, who had seated himself by the table pushed
forward his glass with some eagerness.

"It is a good wine, Holmes."

"A remarkable wine, Watson. Our friend upon the sofa has assured me
that it is from Franz Josef's special cellar at the Schoenbrunn Palace.
Might I trouble you to open the window for chloroform vapour does not
help the palate."

The safe was ajar, and Holmes standing in front of it was removing
dossier after dossier, swiftly examining each, and then packing it neatly
in Von Bork's valise. The German lay upon the sofa sleeping stertorously
with a strap round his upper arms and another round his legs.
"We need not hurry ourselves, Watson. We are safe from interruption.
Would you mind touching the bell? There is no one in the house except
old Martha, who has played her part to admiration. I got her the situation
here when first I took the matter up. Ah, Martha, you will be glad to hear
that all is well."

The pleasant old lady had appeared in the doorway. She curtseyed with a

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