Finally he gave his whole attention to the men on the deck. He seemed to have put all speculation aside.

"Von Hertzwohl's submersible will soon be along now. We shall see her lights. She will carry lights. She must do so for the sh.o.r.e boat. You have your orders."

"Yes, Excellency. When you have left in this boat the other will be prepared. I shall take a party and board Hertzwohl's vessel, and make myself master of it. Meanwhile, this vessel will lie off with lights out, standing by in case of accidents to pick you up. If all goes well you will return from sh.o.r.e and come aboard Von Hertzwohl's vessel.

Instantly she will submerge and lay a course for Heligoland Bight. It is clear, and should be simple."

"It should be simple. Hertzwohl's vessel _must_ go back with us. She has the U-rays lamp on her." The grey eyes were turned questioningly in the direction where the war-vessel had been lying. The darkness had become such that its outline was scarcely visible. Then he went on.

"This vessel will follow us to the Bight. Ha!" He thrust out a pointing hand. "The lights. Red. Green. White." He turned again, and his eyes were hard and stern in the light of the conning-tower. "Make no mistakes. Your orders to--the letter."

"Yes, Excellency."

Both men moved off down the gently swaying deck towards the break in the rail where the pinnace, with its complement of four men, was waiting. The man with the stone-grey eyes leapt into the boat. The next moment its crew had cast off, and its head had been swung round sh.o.r.ewards in response to the race of its powerful motor.

Suddenly a great beam of light shot athwart the sky. It lowered slowly, and, a moment later, it fell upon the submarine, on the deck of which a number of men had replaced those which had just left. For a moment the officer in charge of them looked up, and his eyes were caught in the dazzle of the blinding light. Then the light was raised and swept away landwards. It described a great arc and fell upon the sh.o.r.e. A moment later it was withdrawn. Again it settled upon the submarine.

The officer waited for it to pa.s.s. A look of deep anxiety began to fill his eyes. He was thinking of his orders, and of the man who had given them. But the light remained focussed full upon his deck, and presently it dawned upon him that the warship was steaming, steaming slowly and almost noiselessly towards him. A feeling of impotence took hold of him. He thought of his torpedo tubes, but the thought pa.s.sed, thrust aside with an impatient remembrance that it was peace and--not war. His impotence grew. He could only stand there helpless and stupid.

The great vessel came on slowly, slowly. Soon its outline became clear, even in the darkness. The silent threat became unnerving. The officer ordered his men to desist from their work. The vessel drew abreast.

Then she hove-to. But the terrible glare of the searchlight remained full upon the long, narrow deck upon which the officer stood.

His eyes sought for a sign. But the blinding light held him. He could see nothing. Just a shadowy, sombre hull. The great guns were not visible to him in the painful light.

There was no alternative. He turned to the conning-tower, and his men were sent below. The next moment the engines were at work, and the vessel submerged. Minutes later a swirl of water a quarter of a mile distant, and a great bulk rose to the surface out of the watery depths.

The steel door of the conning-tower opened again, and the officer looked out. The beam of light from the war-vessel was gliding over the lolling surface of the water. It was moving towards him slowly, as though searching carefully. Again his vessel was caught in its silvery shaft. Again it held. Again the great vessel began to move towards him.

With a bitter oath the officer turned back into the conning-tower and slammed to the heavy steel door.

Vita and her father were standing at the water's edge. A pace or two behind them stood Von Salzinger. None of the three seemed inclined for speech. Von Hertzwohl was gazing out at the narrow opening to the open sea beyond. His thoughts were busy with the unexpected phenomenon he beheld.

A searchlight was playing over the water, moving at intervals, then it would become stationary. The vessel from which it emanated was a long way out, yet its light hovered persistently, as though its whole purpose was riveted upon the definite area which lay in full view from where he stood.

Vita, too, was gazing out to sea. But though the play of the lights caught and held her attention, they had no power to sway the trend of teeming thoughts which were pa.s.sing through her brain. The things she beheld meant nothing to her. They could mean nothing. These were her last moments on the land she loved--the land which was the home of the man who had changed her life from a troubled and anxious existence to a dream of bliss such as she had believed impossible. She had sold herself at the price of life. Life? She had gone back again to existence a thousand times more dreadful than the worst nightmare could have conjured. Yes, her father was safe, her beloved father. All their plans would be the safer for their going. She would be free to witness, in due regularity, the progress of future seasons. She had done her duty, and her best. But oh, what a best!

There were moments as she stood there waiting when she could have flung her arms out and screamed till the echoes of the cove rang again. There were moments when she could have flung herself upon the angular figure she knew and felt to be standing behind her, and impotently torn at his hated flesh. He was her master, her future arbiter, the man to whose caresses she must submit.

Quite suddenly her father raised one thin, pointing hand.

"The boat," he said. And Vita's thoughts were swept aside for the moment, and her comprehending gaze became fixed upon a dim object sweeping through the jaws of the cove. The darkness of the place made it impossible to distinguish its outline. It was a shadow, a mere shadow against the moving lights beyond.

Once it was past the jaws, however, the throb of its engine beat against the rocky walls and echoed again. It was as though half-a-dozen engines were thrashing the water. Now, too, a headlight shone out.

Suddenly Von Hertzwohl caught up the lighted lantern at his feet.

"Ach!" he cried. "The madmen! They are heading here--for this light.

One would think they had never made the spit before." He turned.

"Quick. The spit, or they will drive on the rocks."

He ran along the beach, followed by Vita and Von Salzinger. In a few moments he was standing on the extremity of the rocky spit, waving his lantern and calling instructions.

"Gott in Himmel!" he cried. "Slow, slow. You will break on sunken rocks. Are you mad? This way. Ach! Slower, slower. So. Easy. Bring her nose round. So. Easy. Now!"

The old man stooped, and, with Von Salzinger, a.s.sisted in fending off the pinnace. Vita had taken up the lantern. She was holding it to make the most of its feeble rays. Then of a sudden a sharp exclamation broke from the Prince.

"Four!"

He had counted the men in the boat. Vita heard the exclamation without gathering its significance. A man leapt out of the stern of the boat, and another followed him. The light of the lantern fell full upon the leader's face. A cry broke from the woman, an inarticulate cry. It brought her father to his feet.

Then, swiftly and terribly, was enacted a scene unforgettable to those who beheld it. The wide, fearless eyes of the princely Pole gazed with loathing and hate into the stone-grey eyes of the man who had leapt first from the boat. It was only for one paralyzed moment. Then a harsh, furious voice e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed a name, and Vita's lantern clattered as it fell upon the rocky spit, and went out as it rolled into the lapping water.

"Von Berger!"

It was Von Hertzwohl's voice; and as he spoke he stepped back from the hated proximity. Once, once only his wide eyes swept over the various figures about him. Then, with a lightning movement, one long arm was flung out. There was no word spoken. There was no mercy in either heart of the antagonists. The penetrating crack of an automatic pistol alone awoke the echoes. They were flung from rock to rock, and, blending with them, came the sound of running feet.

But long before the echoes had reached their climax a second shot rang out--a heavier shot; and as it split the air Von Hertzwohl fell. His knees gave under him, and his tall figure toppled almost into the arms of the man who had fired the shot with such deliberate, deadly effect.

To this sound was added swift movement. Vita, standing paralyzed with terror, was seized from behind, and the heavy breath of Von Salzinger fanned the back of her neck. She was supported bodily, and, in an instant, the swaying boat caught her struggling body with brutal force, and for her all sensation abruptly terminated. Then came Von Berger's voice in sharp command, as the shouts of men aroused new echoes in the black arena.

"Quick! Take him! Now cast off!"

The arms of men reached up and caught the inanimate body of Von Hertzwohl. It was dropped urgently into the bottom of the boat. Then, to the accompaniment of scrambling feet, the boat was vigorously propelled backwards into the ebbing tide.

The headlight was extinguished, and the boat vanished like a ghost into the blackness of the gaping cove.

A moment later the racing engine pulsated with a confusion of echoes, and a group of men stood at the water's edge searching for the direction in which the speeding craft was moving. It was hopeless.

Then came a voice--the authoritative voice of a leader.

"Don't fire. Not a shot. You can't be certain who you'll hit. They won't get far."

CHAPTER XXIX

THE CLOSE OF THE WEEK-END

A sensation of dreadful pain swept through an eternity of obscurity, impenetrable to all but a subconscious emotion. Horror floated through a world unseen, unknown. Terror thrilled senses dead to all reality. An abyss yawned on every hand, a black abyss in which stirred, all unseen, a threat so overwhelming that the victim remained pa.s.sive, defenceless; waiting, waiting for the final crushing torture.

The blackness changed. It gave place to a deep, ruddy light. It was a light which inspired a sensation of fierce burning. The scorch of it was devastating, yet the torture went on as if the limit could never be reached.

The ruddy light faded to a grey twilight, through which shot tongues of forked flame, and, with each rift in the grey, pain shot a hundredfold more intense for its broken continuity. A terrified shrinking resulted.

The moments of respite became a period of mental torture greater than the reality of the stabs of blinding light.

It seemed that no suffering could ever equal such agony again. It was living death.

Again it all changed. The bodily suffering no longer broke intermittently. Terror had given place to a grinding physical burden of agony in which something approaching consciousness had place. It came with a hammering upon the straining brain, and beat its way through the body, right down to the very depths of the tortured soul. It was unbearable, yet its burden seemed inevitable, and complaint seemed hushed by an irresistible power.