"That is true, Monsieur."

"Could you not find out?"

"I do not think so, Monsieur. Since that last affair of ours there have been too many sentries in the yards, especially at night. It would be impossible to dig anywhere."

"We ought to do something, Dubec."

"Yes, Monsieur?"

"But the job is to know what," Dale struck in. "We can't tunnel underground, I suppose, and get at them that way, so we must find out by spying where the wires are run to--eh, Max?"

"Tunnel?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Max. "That's an idea, Dale. Those old mines we were tracing in the plans the other day! Why not?"

"Why not what?" asked Dale a little testily.

"Why, you know we noticed that one of them ran right up to the outskirts of the city? Well, why shouldn't we continue it secretly, until we get beneath the yards, and then burrow upwards to the workshops? Then we can remove the mine-charges from below, and sit still and hold tight until the great day arrives."

"Hurrah!" cried Dale enthusiastically. "The very thing. Phew! what a coup it will be!"

"We shall, of course, have to get Dubec here and one or two others to arrange it for us. They must go to work in the Durend mines, and take it in turns to spend a night down there. Each man, as his turn comes, must go into the old workings, and continue the gallery fixed upon in the direction of the Durend works. Narrow seams of coal, not worth working, did run in that direction according to the plans, and they will have no difficulty in getting rid of the coal of course. The rock they hew out must be taken away and dumped in remote, abandoned workings, where it is not likely to be found or understood."

"'Pon my word, it sounds like the real thing," cried Dale with fresh enthusiasm. "But it'll take a long time I should think, so we must make a start at once. What do you think, Dubec?"

"Yes, Monsieur, it will take much time. But we will work hard, knowing that we are working for our country. It will make our hearts light again to feel that we are once more of use, and some who might give way will keep on and on, refusing to bend the knee to the German tyrants and to work their will."

"Yes, it may well do that," said Max thoughtfully. "And if any object that they will be helping the Germans by sending coal up to the surface, tell them that I say that the other work they are doing far outweighs that. If we can secure the Durend works intact, ready to make sh.e.l.ls and guns for the Allies when the Germans are driven out, we shall have struck a strong blow--aye, one of the strongest--for our side."

"I will tell them, Monsieur, though I do not think it will be necessary."

"Any money and tools that will be required I will supply. And I will occasionally come down into the mine and correct the direction in which you are driving the gallery. We must be exact, or all our work will be wasted."

After a few days' more planning, and another consultation with Dubec, the details of the scheme were settled to everyone's satisfaction, and the work commenced. The direction of affairs on the spot was left to Dubec, and to him was also left the responsibility of deciding to what men the secret should be imparted. Then Max and Dale left the district and went on with their own special work, satisfied that the last and final stratagem for defeating Schenk was in good hands, and likely, in the course of time, to be brought to a successful issue.

It is not here that we can describe the many adventures that befell Max and Dale while in the British Secret Service. They were numerous and exciting enough, but this tale deals primarily with the fortunes of the great Durend workshops and their influence in the war. A long, tedious period of trench fighting now began on the Western Front. There were no big territorial changes, although there were many attacks on a grand scale at Ypres, at Verdun, on the Somme, and in the plain of Flanders.

But this period, tedious though it was, came to an end at last in the great German retreat. Then came for Max and Dale the crucial period of all their long and patient scheming to outwit their own special enemy, Otto von Schenkendorf, the manager of the Durend works.

When the great retreat began, Max and Dale were at Liege, on the spot.

At the gates of the works they watched the serried ranks of workmen and workwomen as they trudged out in response to the manager's orders that the works must be closed and that all workers of German nationality or sympathies must retire across the frontier. The anger and consternation in their faces were a treat to see, after the long years of their arrogance towards men and women of Belgian nationality. The war was virtually over--so said their faces--and many of them were doubtless dreading lest infamies, similar to those wreaked on the helpless Belgians, might be perpetrated in _their_ towns and villages.

As the crowd thinned, Max and Dale caught sight of the manager, accompanied by a German officer, seated in a great grey motor just inside the gates, apparently waiting for the last workman to file out and away. The guard of soldiers was still there, standing stiffly to attention, and it seemed to Max that there was an air of tension about them all, as though something was about to happen. He could well guess what. Suddenly, in the distance, there came the sound of dropping rifle-shots.

"They've cut it pretty fine, if those shots mean the advance guard of the Allies," remarked Max in a voice tense with excitement. "The works are clear of the workmen; now for the last great act. Then the curtain!"

Herr Schenk--as we shall continue to call him--stood up in his car and shouted to the officer of the guard:

"You have your instructions, Lieutenant. Act upon them now without delay."

The officer saluted, turned about with military precision, and strode into the guard-room.

Herr Schenk resumed his seat, nodded to the chauffeur, and the car moved slowly through the gates into the road. Max thought he was about to leave the works for good and all, but the car stopped at the side of the road a hundred yards or so from the gates, and all in her stood up and gazed back in the direction of the works. In the distance, but nearer now, could be heard a brisk fusillade of rifle-shots, with now and again the brief chatter of a machine-gun.

"Strong cavalry patrols approaching," commented Max. "They are driving in scattered bodies of stragglers or outposts, I should say. Look now at Schenk! He is waiting for the works to go up sky-high."

The moments pa.s.sed, and nothing happened. A minute, two minutes, three minutes. Still there was no change, and the tense att.i.tude of the men waiting in the car relaxed, and they began talking together in low tones. Suddenly the figure of the officer of the guard appeared at the gates, gesticulating excitedly.

Schenk gave a quick order to the chauffeur. The car was turned and moved quickly back to the gates, and there stopped. The officer of the guard ran to it, leaned over the side, and explained volubly. Max and Dale, from where they stood, could hear nothing of what was said, but they knew, almost as well as if they had heard, that the officer was explaining that he had tried to fire the mines, but somehow without success.

With a gesture of rage or impatience Schenk sprang out of the car, and, followed by both officers, ran quickly to the guard-room and disappeared from view.

The dropping shots had approached quite near, and Max believed that the skirmishers could not be more than half a mile away, and were advancing with a speed that indicated that they consisted either of cavalry or armed motors.

"I'd give something to see their faces now--wouldn't you, Max?" queried Dale, who could hardly contain himself in his delight.

Max was busy scribbling on a sheet of paper torn from his notebook, and did not for a moment reply. When he had finished, he folded it up carefully and addressed it on the outside. "Let us walk past the gates, Dale, as though just pa.s.sing. I am going to administer the _coup de grace_ to our friend Schenk."

They crossed the road and slouched along past the gates. As they pa.s.sed the great grey motorcar, Max lightly dropped the note he was carrying on to the seat which Schenk had just been occupying. The chauffeur was looking eagerly in the direction of the guard-room, and did not observe the act or the missive. They slouched on until they turned a corner, and then Max cried eagerly:

"Now back again and in that garden among the bushes. We shall see it all, and see Schenk's face when he reads my note."

"What did you say, old man?"

"Let us get out of sight there, and I will tell you."

In a few moments the two friends were snugly ensconced in a clump of bushes in a garden very near the entrance to the works. The grey car was still occupied only by the chauffeur, but they could tell, by his listening att.i.tude and the expectant looks of the guards, that an altercation of some sort was going on inside the guard-room.

"This is what I said, old man," Max went on in a voice which betrayed his excitement:--

"TO HERR VON SCHENKENDORF, _alias_ OTTO SCHENK,

"I observe that you have at last accepted your dismissal from your post as manager of the Durend works. You are going--hated and despised--back to the land which gave you birth. And at last, in this moment, you must know yourself defeated by those at whom you scoffed as boys. The works you swore to destroy still stand intact, and will, in a short time, be throwing all their weight and power into the cause of the Allies. Adieu.

"MAX DUREND, "JACK DALE."

"Good, old man! That'll make the beggar sit up if anything will. Hark!

cavalry. Ours or theirs, I wonder?"

In a measure they were answered by a sudden move of the soldiers guarding the gates. The lieutenant had shouted an order, and they fell into marching order and strode swiftly away in the direction of the frontier. The officer remained where he was, and was almost immediately joined by Herr Schenk and the other officer. All three walked quickly to the motor and got in.

The manager, as he did so, picked up a letter lying on his seat and glanced at the writing. He gave a start that was visible even to the watchers at the other side of the road, then plucked it open with nervous, jerky movements. He glanced quickly through it and sprang uncontrollably to his feet, his face aflame with pa.s.sion.

The officer at his side shouted to him in alarm and endeavoured to pull him back into his seat.

Suddenly there was a loud clatter of horses' hoofs at the end of the street, and a body of Belgian cavalry debouched into view. The chauffeur of the grey car instantly started and turned his machine, and it moved away with ever-increasing speed, Schenk still standing and gesticulating wildly, with Max's letter clenched in his right hand, and the officer endeavouring ineffectually to drag him back into his seat. As the car pa.s.sed the two watchers, they could not repress their exultation, but jumped to their feet and gave a loud, full-throated British cheer.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE TWO WATCHERS GAVE A LOUD, FULL-THROATED BRITISH CHEER]

The officer whose hands were free drew his revolver and fired viciously at them. The shots went wide, and in a moment or two the car had turned a corner and vanished out of sight.