The Complete Works of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 177 The Last Greeting (20)
"I'd give anything to Altamon. He's done a good job. In his own words, he'll deliver anyway for the money. Besides, he's no traitor. I assure you, with a real Irish The patriotism of our Pan-Germanic Junkers is but a young pigeon compared with Americans of the same blood."

"Oh, an American of Irish descent?"

"If you had listened to him, you would not have doubted it. Must you go? He could be here any minute."

"No, I'm past my stop. We'll be waiting for you in the morning. By the time you get that signal book from the little door on the Duke of York's steps, your work in England will be well over. Yo, Hungarian wine !" he cried, pointing to a tightly sealed and dusty wine bottle, next to which stood two goblets on a tray.

"Will you have a drink before you go?"

"No, thank you. It looks like you're going to drink a lot."

"Altamon likes to drink, especially my Hungarian wine. He has a fiery temper, and little things go his way. I promise, I'll be on my guard." At one end, the Baron's driver stepped on the gas pedal, and the big car shook and rumbled. "I think it's Harwich's lights," said the secretary, putting on his raincoat. "Everything is so calm, and within a week there may be other things, and the English coast is not so peaceful! If Zeppelin agrees Our matter is successfully realized, even heaven will not be peaceful. Hey, who is this?"

A window behind them radiated light.There is a lamp in the room.An elderly woman with a ruddy face in a country cap sat at the table.She was hunched over knitting, occasionally pausing to pet a large black cat on a stool beside her.

"She is Martha, my only remaining servant."

The secretary smiled.

"She's pretty much Britannia personified," he said, "focused and at ease."

"Well, goodbye, Von Bork!" He waved and got into the car.The headlights shot out two golden beams of light, piercing the darkness.Leaning in the back seat of the car, the secretary's mind was full of impending European tragedies.As his car zigzags down a country road, he doesn't notice a small Ford approaching.

After the light from the headlights disappeared, Von Bork slowly walked towards the study.On the way, he noticed that the old butler had turned off the light and gone to sleep.There was silence and darkness in his spacious house, which gave him a feeling that all his family members were safe in this large house.It was a comfort to him to think that, save for the old lady loitering in the kitchen, he had the place to himself.There were a lot of things to sort out in the study, so he started to sort them out, his handsome face was flushed by the light of the burning files.There was a travel bag beside the table, and he began to carefully organize the valuables and prepare to put them in the bag.Just as he was about to carry out this work, the sound of a car in the distance came.He let out a sigh of satisfaction, fastened the straps on his leather bag, closed the safe door, locked it, and hurried out to the steps outside.When he walked up the steps, he happened to see a car stop in front of the door, and a person got out of the car and walked towards him quickly.The driver in the car had a gray beard, but he looked solid.He sat there like he was going to work all night.

"How?" Von Bork hurriedly asked as he greeted the visitor.

The man proudly raised the yellow paper packet in his hand as an answer.

"You'll entertain me tonight, sir," he cried, "I've got a lot to offer after all."

"Is it a signal?"

"That's what I mentioned in the telegram. Everything, signal, light code, Marconi wireless telegraphy--but it's a copy, not the original, and it's too dangerous to ask for the original. But you can rest assured. , These are genuine goods at a fair price." He patted the German on the shoulder enthusiastically.The Germans shied away from such overtures of affection.

"Come in," he said, "I'm alone in the room, and that's what I'm waiting for. The replica is better than the original, and if the original is gone, they'll replace it all with new ones. Do you think the replica is reliable?"

The Irish-American went into the study and sat lazily on the armchair.A tall, thin man in his mid-60s, with a thin face and a small goatee, he looked like a caricature of Uncle Sam.He was smoking a cigar half-soaked with spit.He struck a match and relit the cigar. "Going to move?" he said, looking around. "Hello, sir," he cried, staring at the safe as the curtain was drawn in front of it, "you just put the papers in there?"

"Is there anything wrong?"

"Well, they'll take you for a spy in such a thing. An American bandit could have opened it with a can-opener knife. If only I had known my letter was in such an insecure place." I won’t write you a letter foolishly.”

"No robber can do anything to this safe," replied von Bork. "No matter what tool you use, you can't cut through this metal."

"Where is the lock?"

"Can't open it either. There are two locks. Do you understand what's going on inside?"

"I don't understand," said the American.

"If you want to open the lock, you need to know two combinations." He stood up and pointed to the double-layer disc around the keyhole. "The outer layer is for dialing letters, and the inner layer is for dialing numbers."

"Oh, oh, that's great."

"So it's not as simple as you think. I specially hired someone to make it four years ago. I chose a few words and numbers, what do you think?"

"I don't understand."

"Oh, the word I chose is 'August' and the number is '1914', look here."

The Americans showed surprise and admiration.

"Oh, that's amazing! You've got a wonderful thing."

"Yeah, there are not many who can guess the date. Now you know, but I will wash my hands tomorrow morning."

"Then, you should also settle me down. I don't want to stay in this country alone. I think that within a week, maybe less than a week, there will be big changes here. I might as well just watch the fire from the other side."

"But you're an American."

"So what, Jack James is an American, and he's going to jail in Portland. It's no use telling the British police that you're an American citizen. The police will say: 'This is where British law and order governs.' By the way, speaking of Jack James, sir, I think you failed to protect your men."

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

"You're their boss right? You make sure they succeed, but when they fail, when have you ever saved them? Let's say James..."

"That's James' own fault. You know that. He's too opinionated in his job."

"James is a fool, I admit, but what about Hollis?"

"He's a madman."

"Oh, he was kind of confused in the end. He's always on the lookout for his captors, and that's enough to break a person. But now Steiner . . . "

Von Bork was taken aback suddenly, and his face turned pale.

"What happened to Steiner?"

"Well, they got him, that's all. They ransacked his shop last night, and the man and the papers are in Portsmouth Jail. You're gone, and he's going to have a hell of a time, poor wretch, to save his life." Even if you are lucky. So, I will follow you across the sea."

Von Bork was a stoic and self-controlled man, but the news clearly took him by surprise.

"How did they catch Steiner?" he murmured. "This is terrible news."

"You almost got worse, because I don't think they're going to catch me very far."

"No way?!"

"That's right. My landlady, Mrs. Fratton, was questioned. As soon as I heard the news, I knew I had to hurry. But what I want to know, sir, is how did the police know these things? Since I Since signing to work for you, Steiner is the fifth man you lost. If I don't hurry up, the sixth man will be me. How do you explain this? Watching the people under your command be arrested one by one, you Don't you feel ashamed?"

Von Bork's face flushed.

"How can you talk like that?"

"If I had been a coward, sir, I wouldn't have helped you. But I'll tell you what's on my mind. I've heard that for you German politicians, being an intelligence officer is After his mission, his life is worthless, and you will not feel sorry."

Suddenly Von Bork stood up.

"You actually said that I betrayed my own intelligence agent!"

"That's not what I mean, sir. There's always a big net, or a hoax. That's up to you to find out. Anyway, I don't want to risk any more. I'm going to Little Holland, as soon as possible."

Von Bork suppressed his anger.

"We've been working together for so long that there shouldn't be a quarrel near victory," he said. "You've done a great job and taken a lot of risks, which I won't forget. Try to get to Holland and take a boat from Rotterdam." To New York. During the next week, other routes are in danger. I'll take that and pack it with the others."

The American held the small bag in his hand and made no intention of handing it over to him.

"Where's the money?" he asked.

"what?"

"Remuneration, five hundred pounds in cash. The gunman finally turned his face and refused to accept the account, so I had to promise to pay him another hundred pounds to settle the account, otherwise it would be bad for you and me. He was blackmailing, but this is also human nature. But given this The last one hundred pounds, and the matter is over. From the beginning to the end, it cost me two hundred pounds. Therefore, I am afraid that it is unreasonable to let me stop without paying."

Von Bork smiled wryly. "It seems that my reputation is not high in your eyes," he said. "You mean to get the money before you give me the things."

"Well, sir, let's make a deal."

"Okay, as you say." He sat down at the table, tore a check from the checkbook, wrote a few words on it, but did not hand it to the other party. "Our relationship has come to this, Monsieur Altamont," he said, "and since you can't trust me, I have no reason to trust you. Understand?" he added, turning to look at the man standing behind him. American. "Leave the check on the table. I have the right to inspect your things before you take your money."

The American handed over the package without saying anything.Von Bork untied the rope and opened the two wrapped papers.A small blue book appeared in front of him. He was a little surprised, and sat there staring at the book in a daze."A Practical Handbook of Beekeeping" is printed in gold letters on the cover of the book.The spy chief looked at this strange book that was thousands of miles away from intelligence. At this moment, a hand was firmly stuck to the back of his neck, and a sponge soaked in chloroform covered his crooked face. Face.

"One more glass, Watson!" said Holmes, holding up a bottle of Imperial wine.The beefy chauffeur sitting at the table hastily passed the glass over.

"Good wine, Holmes."

(End of this chapter)