Danger!, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle [ebook reader that looks like a book TXT] 📗

in no condition to make Great Britain our permanent enemy. We knew well that we had won the war by circumstances which would never be allowed to occur again, and that in a few years the Island Power would be as strong as ever--stronger, perhaps--for the lesson that she had learned. It would be madness to provoke such an antagonist. A mutual salute of flags was arranged, the Colonial boundary was adjusted by arbitration, and we claimed no indemnity beyond an undertaking on the part of Britain that she would pay any damages which an International Court might award to France or to the United States for injury received through the operations of our submarines. So ended the war!

Of course, England will not be caught napping in such a fashion again! Her foolish blindness is partly explained by her delusion that her enemy would not torpedo merchant vessels. Common sense should have told her that her enemy will play the game that suits them best--that they will not inquire what they may do, but they will do it first and talk about it afterwards. The opinion of the whole world now is that if a blockade were proclaimed one may do what one can with those who try to break it, and that it was as reasonable to prevent food from reaching England in war time as it is for a besieger to prevent the victualling of a beleaguered fortress.

I cannot end this account better than by quoting the first few paragraphs of a leader in the _Times_, which appeared shortly after the declaration of peace. It may be taken to epitomize the saner public opinion of England upon the meaning and lessons of the episode.

"In all this miserable business," said the writer, "which has cost us
the loss of a considerable portion of our merchant fleet and more than
fifty thousand civilian lives, there is just one consolation to be
found. It lies in the fact that our temporary conqueror is a Power
which is not strong enough to reap the fruits of her victory. Had we
endured this humiliation at the hands of any of the first-class Powers
it would certainly have entailed the loss of all our Crown Colonies
and tropical possessions, besides the payment of a huge indemnity. We
were absolutely at the feet of our conqueror and had no possible
alternative but to submit to her terms, however onerous. Norland has
had the good sense to understand that she must not abuse her temporary
advantage, and has been generous in her dealings. In the grip of any
other Power we should have ceased to exist as an Empire.

"Even now we are not out of the wood. Some one may maliciously pick a
quarrel with us before we get our house in order, and use the easy
weapon which has been demonstrated. It is to meet such a contingency
that the Government has rushed enormous stores of food at the public
expense into the country. In a very few months the new harvest will
have appeared. On the whole we can face the immediate future without
undue depression, though there remain some causes for anxiety. These
will no doubt be energetically handled by this new and efficient
Government, which has taken the place of those discredited politicians
who led us into a war without having foreseen how helpless we were
against an obvious form of attack.

"Already the lines of our reconstruction are evident. The first and
most important is that our Party men realize that there is something
more vital than their academic disputes about Free Trade or
Protection, and that all theory must give way to the fact that a
country is in an artificial and dangerous condition if she does not
produce within her own borders sufficient food to at least keep life
in her population. Whether this should be brought about by a tax upon
foreign foodstuffs, or by a bounty upon home products, or by a
combination of the two, is now under discussion. But all Parties are
combined upon the principle, and, though it will undoubtedly entail
either a rise in prices or a deterioration in quality in the food of
the working-classes, they will at least be insured against so terrible
a visitation as that which is fresh in our memories. At any rate, we
have got past the stage of argument. It _must_ be so. The increased
prosperity of the farming interest, and, as we will hope, the
cessation of agricultural emigration, will be benefits to be counted
against the obvious disadvantages.

"The second lesson is the immediate construction of not one but two
double-lined railways under the Channel. We stand in a white sheet
over the matter, since the project has always been discouraged in
these columns, but we are prepared to admit that had such railway
communication been combined with adequate arrangements for forwarding
supplies from Marseilles, we should have avoided our recent surrender.
We still insist that we cannot trust entirely to a tunnel, since our
enemy might have allies in the Mediterranean; but in a single contest
with any Power of the North of Europe it would certainly be of
inestimable benefit. There may be dangers attendant upon the
existence of a tunnel, but it must now be admitted that they are
trivial compared to those which come from its absence. As to the
building of large fleets of merchant submarines for the carriage of
food, that is a new departure which will be an additional insurance
against the danger which has left so dark a page in the history of our
country."


II. ONE CROWDED HOUR

The place was the Eastbourne-Tunbridge road, not very far from the Cross in Hand--a lonely stretch, with a heath running upon either side. The time was half-past eleven upon a Sunday night in the late summer. A motor was passing slowly down the road.

It was a long, lean Rolls-Royce, running smoothly with a gentle purring of the engine. Through the two vivid circles cast by the electric head- lights the waving grass fringes and clumps of heather streamed swiftly like some golden cinematograph, leaving a blacker darkness behind and around them. One ruby-red spot shone upon the road, but no number-plate was visible within the dim ruddy halo of the tail-lamp which cast it. The car was open and of a tourist type, but even in that obscure light, for the night was moonless, an observer could hardly fail to have noticed a curious indefiniteness in its lines. As it slid into and across the broad stream of light from an open cottage door the reason could be seen. The body was hung with a singular loose arrangement of brown holland. Even the long black bonnet was banded with some close-drawn drapery.

The solitary man who drove this curious car was broad and burly. He sat hunched up over his steering-wheel, with the brim of a Tyrolean hat drawn down over his eyes. The red end of a cigarette smouldered under the black shadow thrown by the headgear. A dark ulster of some frieze-like material was turned up in the collar until it covered his ears. His neck was pushed forward from his rounded shoulders, and he seemed, as the car now slid noiselessly down the long, sloping road, with the clutch disengaged and the engine running free, to be peering ahead of him through the darkness in search of some eagerly-expected object.

The distant toot of a motor-horn came faintly from some point far to the south of him. On such a night, at such a place, all traffic must be from south to north when the current of London week-enders sweeps back from the watering-place to the capital--from pleasure to duty. The man sat straight and listened intently. Yes, there it was again, and certainly to the south of him. His face was over the wheel and his eyes strained through the darkness. Then suddenly he spat out his cigarette and gave a sharp intake of the breath. Far away down the road two little yellow points had rounded a curve. They vanished into a dip, shot upwards once more, and then vanished again. The inert man in the draped car woke suddenly into intense life. From his pocket he pulled a mask of dark cloth, which he fastened securely across his face, adjusting it carefully that his sight might be unimpeded. For an instant he uncovered an acetylene hand-lantern, took a hasty glance at his own preparations, and laid it beside a Mauser pistol upon the seat alongside him. Then, twitching his hat down lower than ever, he released his clutch and slid downward his gear-lever. With a chuckle and shudder the long, black machine sprang forward, and shot with a soft sigh from her powerful engines down the sloping gradient. The driver stooped and switched off his electric head-lights. Only a dim grey swathe cut through the black heath indicated the line of his road. From in front there came presently a confused puffing and rattling and clanging as the oncoming car breasted the slope. It coughed and spluttered on a powerful, old-fashioned low gear, while its engine throbbed like a weary heart. The yellow, glaring lights dipped for the last time into a switchback curve. When they reappeared over the crest the two cars were within thirty yards of each other. The dark one darted across the road and barred the other's passage, while a warning acetylene lamp was waved in the air. With a jarring of brakes the noisy new-comer was brought to a halt.

"I say," cried an aggrieved voice, "'pon my soul, you know, we might have had an accident. Why the devil don't you keep your head-lights on? I never saw you till I nearly burst my radiators on you!"

The acetylene lamp, held forward, discovered a very angry young man, blue- eyed, yellow-moustached, and florid, sitting alone at the wheel of an antiquated twelve-horse Wolseley. Suddenly the aggrieved look upon his flushed face changed to one of absolute bewilderment. The driver in the dark car had sprung out of the seat, a black, long-barrelled, wicked-looking pistol was poked in the traveller's face, and behind the further sights of it was a circle of black cloth with two deadly eyes looking from as many slits.

"Hands up!" said a quick, stern voice. "Hands up! or, by the Lord--"

The young man was as brave as his neighbours, but the hands went up all the same.

"Get down!" said his assailant, curtly.

The young man stepped forth into the road, followed closely by the covering lantern and pistol. Once he made as if he would drop his hands, but a short, stern word jerked them up again.

"I say, look here, this