Frankie's Letter - By Dolores Gordon-Smith Page 0,12

looked bewildered. Further up the quay, Anthony could see a group of soldiers and decided to take the bull by the horns. ‘You there!’ he shouted to the sergeant in charge of the soldiers. ‘Bring Major Stabbert to me immediately. Leave that rope alone,’ he snarled at the dockhand.

A sailor looked over the side of the ship, some fifteen feet above. ‘What’s the delay?’ he called. The dockhand shrugged.

Major Stabbert hurried up, slowing as he saw Anthony beside the ship. ‘You wanted me, sir?’

Anthony looked at him imperiously. ‘I am Oberstleutnant von Falkenhayn.’

‘Von Falkenhayn!’ gasped the major.

Anthony smiled in a wintry sort of way. ‘I bear the same name as my uncle.’

He could see the major gulping. The nephew of the Chief of Staff was not someone to be treated lightly. If he was going to bluff, he might as well make it a good one. ‘I have urgent state business to Korsor. Secret business, you understand? It is important I leave at once. Command the captain to lower the gangplank.’

‘But sir . . .’ stuttered the major.

Anthony glared at him. ‘Are you questioning my orders, Major?’

‘No, sir!’ The major looked up to the ship. ‘You there! Lower the gangplank at once.’

There was a bustle and shouted orders on board.

‘There seems to be a lot of activity tonight,’ Anthony said with gracious condescension as the gangplank came over the side of the ship.

‘Yes, sir. We are looking for an English spy.’

‘Two English spies,’ Anthony corrected. He might as well cover his retreat while he had the chance. ‘I heard something of the matter. He has a companion with him. I trust you will manage to capture him.’

‘We will, sir.’

‘He’s a clever man, Major. You need to be on your guard.’ The gangplank was nearly secured. ‘You know he evaded us once before? The road was blocked and guards posted. He waited until a patrol had gone through, then approached the guards. “After that patrol,” he said. “The spy is with them.” Naturally, the officer in charge sent a detail after the patrol and the spy offered to lead them. I regret to say the spy made good his escape and the officer is an officer no longer. Be careful, Major, if you capture him. He is very plausible.’

‘I will, sir.’

Anthony walked up the gangplank and the major snapped to attention.

‘Cast off,’ Anthony commanded as soon as his feet touched the deck. ‘I will talk to the captain later.’

The steamer pulled slowly away from the quay.

Anthony had to fight a huge desire to laugh. Already they were over a hundred yards away from the quay and the bluff – the outrageous bluff – had worked. He leaned over the ship’s rail and grinned.

Two men, one wearing nothing but a coat and with his bare feet clearly visible, had come on to the quay surrounded by soldiers.

It was partly ordinary common sense, he knew, but there was a streak of sheer mischief which made him cup his hands round his mouth. ‘Major Stabbert! That’s the English spy! Don’t let him get away!’

Von Hagen gave a howl of protest, jabbing his finger at the departing ship.

To Anthony’s intense joy, he saw the soldiers around von Hagen bring their rifles to the ready. Denmark, neutral Denmark, was eight hours away, he was safely on board and von Hagen had been arrested by his own men. There was only one more thing he had to think of. It was unlikely on a ship this size, but . . .

He turned and walked along the deck, stopping the first sailor he saw. ‘You there! Take me to the wireless room.’

‘We don’t have wireless, sir,’ said the sailor.

Anthony hid his delight behind a frown. ‘In that case, I will speak to the captain now.’

‘Yes, sir!’

Really, thought Anthony, the way everyone jumped to his orders was wonderful. The German army might have its faults, but in many ways it was an excellent institution.

THREE

Anthony walked across Trafalgar Square and turned into Cockspur Street. If he hadn’t been so tired he would have enjoyed his walk. For some reason Cockspur Street was the home to most of the steamship companies in London and the destinations on the travel posters in the windows – Melbourne, Valparaiso, Cape Town, Lisbon, Karachi and Bombay – transformed this tall, smoke-blackened row of sandstone buildings into a magical doorway to travel and adventure. Not that, he reflected with a wry smile, his life had been exactly lacking in travel or adventure. In fact, just recently,