A Sub and a Submarine: The Story of H.M. Submarine R19 in the Great WarWesterman, Percy F. (Percy Francis)
History
A Sub and a Submarine: The Story of H.M. Submarine R19 in the Great War
Westerman, Percy F. (Percy Francis)
World War, 1914-1918 -- Naval operations -- Submarine -- Juvenile fiction
"Certainly it is for me," admitted the Russian. "But surely,
Monsieur, you have handled this precious parcel very carelessly? Are
you not aware that diamonds greatly deteriorate if exposed to low
temperatures?"
"Hanged if I am," declared Fordyce. "I was certainly not warned to
that effect. But, look here----"
Klostivitch held up a warning finger.
"No harm has apparently been done," he remarked. "In any case, a
brief examination of the diamonds will confirm my belief. If you will
come with me to my testing laboratory we will make a joint
investigation."
Again Fordyce hesitated. He was doubtful whether to tackle the man
straight away or to wait until the Russian himself made the discovery
that the packet contained nothing but broken glass. The mere fact
that the Extremist had finally accepted the statement that the
"diamonds" were for him was sufficient proof that he was in league
with a dangerous secret society in Great Britain. Cornered and
threatened, he would be pretty certain to give the names of his
accomplices and the formula of the ingredients from which the deadly
nitro-talcite was compounded.
The fellow might raise a terrific commotion afterwards, Fordyce
reflected, but the Sub was prepared to risk that. Once he and the
petty officer were clear they would discard their disguise and appear
in their true characters as members of Submarine R19's complement. In
any case, they could take efficient steps to prevent Vladimir
Klostivitch raising an alarm until several hours had elapsed.
"All right; lead the way, monsieur," he exclaimed.
The old man opened the door of the stove and thrust a strip of wood
into the glowing furnace. With this he lighted a cast-iron oil lamp.
"My laboratory is below the ground," he explained, "and owing to the
scarcity of candles, and the failure of the authorities to maintain
the supply of electric light, I am compelled to fall back upon this
lamp. It will be quite enough for the brief examination I propose to
make. Follow me, if you please."
Crossing the stone floor, Klostivitch threw back a thick, faded
curtain that hitherto concealed a doorway under the broad staircase.
A rush of warm air swept from the gloomy opening. In spite of the
otherwise cheerless conditions, the house in Bobbinsky Prospekt was
well heated, even the cellars.
"Be careful," cautioned the guide as he preceded his guests and held
the lamp low in order that its feeble rays might illuminate the worn
stone steps. "It is not often that visitors honour my laboratory with
their presence, otherwise I might have devoted a more accessible
place to my researches."
"It is quite all right," rejoined Fordyce. "At any rate," he
soliloquized, "you are in front of me, so it will go hard with you if
you try any low-down tricks."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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