Wallace Intervenes (23 page)

‘There is going to be a little excitement,’ he remarked, indicating the rapidly approaching squadron below them on the port side. ‘You’ll have to get every ounce of speed you can out of this bus, Foster, even if you run us out of petrol in the effort.’

The baroness paled as the significance of his remark and the three aeroplanes dawned on her. Foster grinned happily, his eyes dancing with excitement. He, apparently, was quite convinced of their ability to escape from the German airmen. The needle of the indicator rose until it was pointing at two hundred miles an hour. The aeroplane vibrated tremendously, and all within were being unmercifully shaken. Sensing that something was wrong, Cousins and his captive glanced out of one of the port windows; became at once immensely interested as they saw the three planes, now, beyond doubt, flying rapidly to cut them off. Hanni crouched in her seat in terror. Flying held no joys for her. Dora was shaken into wakefulness, and staggered to the cockpit. Sir Leonard felt her behind him, and looked round. At sight of his face she started.

‘Who are you,’ she queried in astonishment, ‘and where did you get on?’

‘My name is Wallace – Sir Leonard Wallace at your service, fraulein,’ he smiled.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, and added in her usual calm drawl, ‘How you have changed! Are we going to have a battle or something?’

‘Not if I can help it,’ was the reply. ‘They’ll be right ahead of us in two or three minutes,’ he went on to Foster. ‘When I give the word, go into a nosedive.’

The German aeroplanes rapidly came on, their course taking them in a line that was calculated to bring them directly in front of the air liner. Presently they were so close that the fugitives could
see their pilots, looking, in their flying helmets and huge goggles, like grotesque creatures from another world. They also saw the machine guns with the men sitting grimly behind each. Cousin’s captive paled. He realised at that moment that he was to be offered up as a sacrifice by command of the German authorities in order that the others might be destroyed.

‘Are we to do any shooting, sir?’ asked Cousins.

‘No; of course not,’ snapped Wallace then, ‘Hold tight, everybody! Now, Foster!’

At the moment that the German squadron reached the same level, and were little more than fifty yards away, the command came to be immediately obeyed. The huge machine nosedived, descending sickeningly, like a rocket, beneath the others. In a few seconds it was a couple of thousand feet below them, and Sir Leonard ordered his young pilot to flatten out and go ahead. All the time his eyes were searching anxiously for other aeroplanes bent on the same mission as the squadron they had eluded, but to his relief, there were none. The nosedive had shaken the passengers considerably. Dora, who had retreated to the saloon at a word from Sir Leonard, had been torn from her grip and had fallen, bringing down the German pilot. Sophie would have slipped from her seat had not Wallace gripped her. Hanni had managed to retain her seat, but her face had turned green and she clasped a hand now tightly over her abdomen.

A desperate chase ensued, but the giant air liner, admirably controlled by Foster, succeeded in holding her own, the squadron, now frantically pursuing her, being unable to gain on her sufficiently to catch her up and disable her before she crossed the frontier. There was a general sigh of relief, even the German signifying his satisfaction, when Sir Leonard declared that they were over the
border. A minute later Cousins, who had been keeping an anxious watch, strode into the cockpit to announce that the pursuing squadron had turned back.

The remainder of the journey was uneventful. Sir Leonard was rather exercised in his mind concerning the spot in England at which to land. To bring the machine to rest in a military aerodrome was out of the question – such an act would be likely to cause too many complications. To land in a civil airport would be almost as inconvenient; in addition it would give rise to endless conjectures, curiosity, and embarrassment. However, the problem was solved for him. They were approaching the coast of Essex when the petrol began to give out. Wallace sought for and found a long stretch of turf that looked safe and convenient. He ordered Foster to land there. The machine glided down beautifully. The acting pilot could not be said to have made a perfect landing. He bumped rather badly two or three times before the wheels were firmly on the ground. For one moment of suspense they all felt the great aeroplane was going over on her nose, but she righted herself, and came to rest within a few feet of a cattle pond.

‘Well, that’s that,’ exulted Foster. ‘I’ve brought you back in style.’

‘There is style and style,’ commented Cousins caustically. ‘You’re a lucky young devil, Bernard.’

‘Lucky be hanged. You wouldn’t have handled her with such skill.’

‘Not if you call your performance skill. Personally I rather fancy she handled herself in spite of you.’

He had departed in search of a village and a car to convey them to London before the indignant young man could think of an apt retort. Sophie looked up at Sir Leonard with shining eyes as they
stood by the side of the gigantic machine. He guessed what was coming, and hastily interposed.

‘Please don’t,’ he pleaded. ‘It isn’t necessary. There is only one thing I long for now.’

‘What is that?’ she asked softly.

‘Twelve hours of uninterrupted, solid, profound sleep,’ he told her, raising his hand to his mouth to suppress a yawn.

Cousins returned in half an hour seated in a car driven by a phlegmatic individual, who did not seem particularly surprised at sight of the huge air liner standing in the meadow.

The three ladies and Sir Leonard Wallace crowded in, Foster being left to look after the aeroplane and the German pilot. In the neighbouring village the chief telephoned to the Foreign Office, getting a clear line through to the Secretary of State himself. The latter was in a condition of intense excitement. He had received the very important documents sent by Gottfried from Paris. There had already been a Cabinet meeting. Sir Leonard asked that the Ambassador in Berlin should be immediately communicated with and told that he could now raise the question of the detention of Miss Meredith and Foster. The Minister was vastly interested, demanded to know details, but Sir Leonard told him they must wait. The message, however, was to be sent to the Ambassador
at once with instructions to send Miss Meredith home. The Foreign Secretary promised to see that that was done. Wallace then described rapidly the borrowing of the German air liner. He impressed upon his hearer the necessity of its landing being kept as secret as possible and a supply of petrol sent to enable it to return to Germany without delay. This time the astonished statesman forbore to ask questions which he knew would not be answered until Sir Leonard chose. He declared that he would immediately communicate with the Air Minister. Wallace left the telephone satisfied that his work was completed.

Rosemary Meredith arrived by aeroplane from Berlin next day in time to be present at the hastily arranged wedding of Sophie von Reudath to Bernard Foster. Sir Leonard had pulled the necessary strings that made a marriage at such short notice possible. It was a delightfully happy affair but of necessity very quiet. Apart from the bridegroom and the bride, the only people present were Sir Leonard and Lady Wallace, Major and Mrs Brien, Rosemary Meredith, Dora Reinwald, Cousins and Mrs Manvers-Buller. The latter declared herself thrilled and certainly looked it. Sir Leonard gave the bride away, Cousins was Foster’s best man. A reception was held at the Wallace home in Piccadilly after which the gloriously happy couple left for their honeymoon in Scotland. Foster had been given a month’s leave of absence. When they had departed, Sir Leonard went to Downing Street to meet the Cabinet, and give his full report.

He and Lady Wallace were present at another wedding a fortnight later. Colonel Schönewald and Hilda Zeiss arrived in London very secretly from Berlin, and were married by special licence, matters once again being expedited through the influence of the Chief of the British Secret Service. Schönewald had, as had
been expected, fallen into disgrace. His actual part in the escape of Sophie von Reudath and her rescuers from Germany was not suspected, but he was blamed by the Supreme Marshal for letting them get away, even though it was apparent he had had no choice in the matter. Schönewald and his wife were deeply grateful for Sir Leonard’s care on their behalf. They are now living happily in Los Angeles, and frequently communicate with the man for whom they both have such tremendous respect and whom they regard as their dearest friend. They seem to think that their happiness is due in a great measure to him.

‘You used to say I was a matchmaker,’ Lady Wallace remarked to her husband one morning at breakfast after reading a glowing, blissful letter from Frau – now Mrs Schönewald, ‘but you’re just as bad – or good, whichever way one chooses to regard it.’

‘Don’t blame me for the Schönewald affair,’ protested Sir Leonard. ‘I only helped there, Molly, you know.’

‘What about Sophie and Bernard Foster,’ accused his wife with a smile. ‘You certainly were responsible for bringing them together, Leonard.’

‘Yes; I admit that,’ he nodded. ‘Ah, well! Blessed are the matchmakers, for theirs is the pleasure of making others happy – sometimes.’

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A
LEXANDER
W
ILSON
was a writer, spy and secret service officer. He served in the First World War before moving to India to teach as a Professor of English Literature and eventually became Principal of Islamia College at the University of Punjab in Lahore. He began writing spy novels whilst in India and he enjoyed great success in the 1930s with reviews in the
Telegraph, Observer
and the
Times Literary Supplement
amongst others. Wilson also worked as an intelligence agent and his characters are based on his own fascinating and largely unknown career in the Secret Intelligence Service. He passed away in 1963.

The Mystery of Tunnel 51

The Devil’s Cocktail

Wallace of the Secret Service

Get Wallace!

His Excellency, Governor Wallace

Microbes of Power

Wallace at Bay

Wallace Intervenes

Chronicles of the Secret Service