Sitting in the farm-kitchen, and eating the farmer's homely fare, Pariset talked a little about the war, and led the way discreetly to the questions he was eager to ask.
"The mill, monsieur? 'Tis twenty years since it was used. I used to send my corn to it, but nowadays I send it to Charleroi, where a steam-mill grinds it more cheaply. The old miller is a good friend of mine, but he retired twenty years ago; he's a warm man, to be sure. That's his house yonder:" he pointed to a cottage half a mile away across the fields. "We often have a gossip over a mug of beer."
"It's just as well he made his money before steam-mills became so common," said Pariset. "I suppose it wasn't worth any one's while to keep the water-mill going?"
"No; there's no money in milling of the old sort now. But it goes to my heart to see the old mill idle. Such a loss, too. But the miller can stand it; he's a warm man, as I told you. And after all, he has made a little out of it lately. But it's a come-down, that's what I say."
"It is idle, you said."
"Yes, to be sure, and always will be. But the miller has let it for two years past. He makes a little out of it, and so do I, not so much as I should like, for the gentleman is only there now and then. He's a Swiss gentleman that keeps a hotel in Namur. A great fisherman, he is; he'll fish for hours in the millpond, and I wonder he has the patience for it, for there's not much to be caught there since the grinding stopped. Still, I don't complain; he buys my eggs and butter when he comes there, two or three times a year perhaps. He's there now, with a few friends of his."
"I should like to have a chat with your friend the miller," said Pariset.
"He'd like it too, monsieur. He doesn't have much company, and he'd like to hear about things from an officer; you can't believe what you read in the papers. I'll take you across the fields."
In a few minutes they were seated in a cosy little parlour, opposite a sturdy countryman, hale and hearty in spite of his seventy odd years. He asked shrewd questions about the war, foresaw great trouble for his country, but, like the farmer, was cheered by the news that "les braves Anglais" were coming once more to her rescue. When Pariset led up to the subject of his mill he became animated.
"Ah! the old mill is a rare old place," he said with a chuckle. "The things I could tell you! There was more than milling in the old days. Times are changed. We're all for law now. But in my grandfather's time--why, monsieur, he's dead and gone this forty years, so it will do him no harm if I tell you he was a smuggler. Many and many a barrel of good brandy used to get across the border without paying duty. Why, underneath the old mill there are cellars and passages where he used to store contraband worth thousands of francs. I used to steal down there when I was a boy, and ma foi! it made my skin creep, though there was nothing to be afraid of. But 'tis fifty years since my old grandfather closed them down, and they've never been opened up since."
"Your present tenant is a hotel-keeper, I hear. He would be interested to know about the smuggling."
"That he was, to be sure. He laughed when I told him about it. 'We can't get rich that way nowadays,' said he. He seems to have plenty of money, though; pays me a good rent. 'Tis strange what whims gentlemen have. A month's fishing in the pond wouldn't feed him for a week. He calls it sport; well, in my young days I liked something more lively. But the fishing is just an excuse; he comes there now and then for a change and quiet, though he's not a solitary, like some fishermen. He has a party of friends sometimes; all Swiss like himself."
"French Swiss?" asked Pariset.
"No, German Swiss. For my part, I've no great liking for German Swiss. They're only one remove from Germans. But his money is good, and it's something to make a little money out of the old mill after all these years."
The old man spoke quite frankly, and evidently had no suspicions about his tenant. Pariset thought it safe to disillusion him.
"Would you be surprised to learn that your fisherman is actually a German?" he said.
"But that is impossible," said the miller. "He would have gone back to Germany, because of the war."
"Unless he is a spy! We have reason to believe that he is, and that he is using your mill for the benefit of the enemy. That is what has brought us here."
"Sacre nom de nom!" the old man ejaculated, and the farmer thumped the table and swore. "Is that the truth, monsieur?"
"We suspect him of intending to blow up the railway bridge at a given signal."
"Ah! the villain! And he will use the underground passages. That is why he pays me a high rent, parbleu! But he has come to the end of his tether. You are here to arrest him?"
"No. We have no men with us. We came to learn whether our suspicions were justified. We are not sure of our man yet."
"Bah!" shouted the old man, red with fury. "It is certain. He has fooled me. I will raise the countryside. We will fall on these Germans. Before night they shall lie in the dungeons of Charleroi."
"Do you think that is the way to go to work?" Pariset asked tactfully. "They would hardly allow themselves to be caught napping; at the first alarm they would no doubt blow up the bridge, and I take it that to prevent that is even more important than to seize the men themselves--though our aim should be to do both."
"It is true, monsieur. I am an old man. This is the day of young men. Oh that I were forty years younger and able to serve my country! But you will not let them go? You will bring some of our brave soldiers here and capture the villains?"
"There may not be time for that. We must meet craft with craft. If we could only reconnoitre the mill we might be able to hit upon a plan. My uniform would give me away, if I approached the place as I am; you could no doubt lend me some clothes to disguise myself?"
"Surely, monsieur; but----"
He broke off, eyeing Pariset's face, with its small military moustache, doubtfully.
At this moment they heard the rumble of a heavy vehicle on the road.
"It is the beer, compère," said the farmer, glancing out of the window.
"Ah! the beer!" repeated the miller. "I might have known they were Germans! Every week they have a barrel delivered from Charleroi, and it is not the local brew, but the Lion brew from Munich."
He had moved to the window, followed by his visitors. A heavy dray laden with beer was lumbering down the road. As it came opposite to the house the drayman hailed the miller, pulling up his horses.
"The Germans are shelling Liége," he said. "Maybe 'tis the last time I shall come this way. Your good tenants had better clear out."
"Good tenants!" cried the old man explosively.
"Quiet!" said Pariset, touching him on the sleeve. "Don't tell him they are Germans."
"Ah! You are right, monsieur. But my blood boils. You are going to the mill?" he asked the drayman.
"Yes. 'Tis only a small barrel to-day--not the big one they usually have. There aren't so many of them, seemingly. I was just loading up the usual nine gallons when the order came from the office to take a four-and-a-half instead."
Pariset glanced quickly at Kenneth.
"They're going to clear out soon," he said in a low tone. "It looks as though we're only just in time."
They drew aside from the others while the miller gossiped with the drayman.
"I say, you talked of disguising yourself," said Kenneth. "Why shouldn't you take the drayman's place and deliver the beer? You could then take stock of the place and the people."
"A capital notion! I must take the drayman into my confidence. Wait a minute," he called out of the window, as the man was about to drive on. In a few words he explained the plan to the miller.
"Parbleu, monsieur, but look at his size!" said the old man.
"Yes, that's a difficulty, I admit," said Pariset ruefully. "He would make three of me. The Germans aren't fools, and if they saw me with his smock flapping about me they would smell a rat."
"And your face and hands, monsieur--no, decidedly you could not pass for a drayman."
Pariset bit his nails in perplexity. Kenneth stared musingly at the dray.
"I've an idea!" he said. "Pretend that the drayman has been called up. The brewer is short-handed, and has to send clerks out of the office to deliver the beer: two clerks equal one drayman. Besides, if I go with you, I may catch sight of that fellow I saw with Hellwig, and make sure he's our man."
"The very thing! Your clothes are all right; I must borrow a suit from the miller. But wait: won't Hellwig's man recognise you?"
"I'll guard against that--smear my face with rust off the cask-hoops, and borrow a slouch hat which I'll keep well down over my eyes. It's worth trying."
Delighted with the plan, the miller furnished them with the necessary garments. In a few minutes Pariset, got up passably as a clerk, went out to the drayman, who was becoming impatient. The man swore when he learnt that his customers were suspected to be spies, and readily agreed to remain in the miller's house and await the issue of the stratagem. Meanwhile Kenneth had rubbed his cheeks and hands with rust, and in the low flopping hat lent him by the miller would hardly have been recognised by his friends, much less, he hoped, by a man who had seen him for only a few minutes.
"I had better drive," said Kenneth; "then I can keep in the background while you are delivering the cask, if you can tackle it alone."
"That will be easy enough. I see there's a ladder or inclined plane or whatever they call it on the dray. I've only to roll the cask down and trundle it to the door. I don't suppose they'll let me carry it inside."
Kenneth took the reins, and drove off, Pariset, who also had smeared face and hands, dangling his legs over the tail of the dray. They jogged down the road, passed under the railway bridge, and came in due course to the mill.
The premises were surrounded by an old and dilapidated wall, but they noticed that along its top ran a row of formidable spikes, apparently of recent date. The front door of the mill-house faced the road. It was stoutly built of oak studded with nails, and was flanked on both sides by barred windows. The smuggling miller who built the place had evidently made himself secure against surprise.
When the dray drew up before the door, Pariset sprang down and jerked the iron bell-pull. From the driver's seat Kenneth saw a face appear for an instant at one of the windows. After a short interval the bolts were withdrawn, the door opened, and a man stood on the threshold. Kenneth tingled; he had recognised him instantly as the man who had been in conversation with Hellwig. He turned his head so as not to show his full face, pulled his hat lower over his eyes, and hoped that the recognition had not been mutual. And he listened anxiously, wondering how Pariset would acquit himself in his novel part, and wishing for the moment that Granger was in his place.
Pariset, however, was cool and collected. He took the bull by the horns.
"I am sorry I am late, monsieur," he said, "but the fact is that all our carters are called up for transport purposes. Being anxious not to disappoint a valued customer, my master has sent us out of the office. We shan't be able to come again, for we're called up ourselves--all through those pigs of Germans, who are said to be across the frontier. We shan't be able to deliver any more beer, I'm afraid. It's a wonder we've any horses left."
The German merely grunted in answer to this.
"We're in for a very bad time," Pariset went on, as he hoisted the end of the cask on to the doorstep. "Hadn't you better go back to Switzerland, monsieur? Pardon the suggestion, but we don't know what may happen. If these German pigs come south----"
"Just roll it into the lobby," interrupted the German. "Here's the money. By the way, have you seen an aeroplane in the neighbourhood?"
"Yes, we saw one an hour or so ago. It was flying north-east. I shouldn't be surprised if it was German. The pigs are capable of anything. But they'll get a reception that will surprise them. Our little army--but there! You know what your own army would do, and your turn may come in Switzerland sooner than you think. Thank you: I am sorry we shan't be able to serve you again, by the look of things."
He laid the cask in the lobby, pocketed the money, and returned to the dray.
Meanwhile Kenneth had seized the opportunity to take a careful look around. It was clear that it would not be easy to take the place by a rush without giving the inmates sufficient time to fire the mine beneath the bridge. The fact that the German had come to the door himself, instead of the deaf old countryman whom he was said to employ as a man-of-all-work, showed that he was on the alert. Nothing would be easier than to overpower the man himself; but if any noise were made in so doing his companions would instantly come to his assistance, and at the first sign that the plot had been discovered the bridge would be blown up. It seemed that the ruse would prove fruitless after all.
In turning the horses for the journey back, Kenneth contrived to bring the dray close against the wall, so that from his high seat he was able to look over. Through the open window of a room giving on the yard he saw a party of four men playing cards at a table. Close to the right hand of each stood a tall beer glass.
"That explains why they are such good customers of the brewery," he thought.
Pariset, sitting at the back of the dray with his face to the door, began to hum a tune, and Kenneth caught the words "En avant!" He whipped up the horses, big Flemish beasts that were evidently unaccustomed to go above a walking pace, and the heavy vehicle lumbered away.
"Why did you want me to hurry?" asked Kenneth, when they were some distance along the road.
"Because that fellow was standing at the door watching us," Pariset replied. "I wonder if he is suspicious?"
"I shouldn't think so. You played your part quite naturally. But we are right, Remi: that's the fellow I saw with Hellwig."
"Ah!" was all that Pariset said then.