Giddy Greens, to whom you have already been introduced, was a queer fellow. He was a mixture of Beau Brummel, CÆsar, and Don Juan—one who dressed well, fought well, and kissed gloriously, as a flapper would say. He was also a student, and certainly a daring adventurer. His fine complexion, well-groomed figure, and air of blasÉ indifference, gave to all the idea that he was simply a delightful idiot who hunted women and tippled good wine. But Giddy Greens was something like that hero in 'The Scarlet Pimpernel'—a man who had his strength and ambition under a mask of genial imbecility. He knew English literature upside down, and delighted to rave about the glories of Shakespeare, Milton, and Stevenson. A traveller too, for Giddy [pg 176] Greens had toured the whole world on a ten-pound note. He had done everything from cattle-ranching to that of a super in a third-class Musical Comedy. To women he was ever a hero. His magnetic personality was of a forceful yet charming kind.

Still Greens was a very serious man. Imperialism was his dream; patriotism his ideal and pride. He lived for Britain. In all his wanderings he preached for the flag. In these ramblings, too, he observed things, noted them down, and then startled his friends by his discoveries. The Germans he loathed, and the Germans he had followed from John o' Groats to Timbuctoo. He had dogged German travellers and spies from Tilbury Docks through Egypt, Ceylon, Australasia, Canada, and Japan. Like Sherlock Holmes, he followed quick, yet silent. At the outpost of Empire he had seen the evil work of Prussian hands. It was Greens who discovered "The League of the Fatherland"—that is, a German semi-official and social organisation within the British Empire. He found that it was bossed by their Consuls, and he found nearly all Vice-Consuls to be officers—and spies. He had written to the press and revealed [pg 177] these things, but the luxurious-living public only laughed. They had no time; they had engagements for music halls, football, and golf. The awful dangers, however, stirred this zealot on. He kept at the Teutons' heels and learned more things. These were revealed one night at mess when Greens had declared that the bombardment of Sandtown-on-Sea was the fruitful work of spies.

"Explain, Greens," shouted one of the subalterns.

"Well, I'll tell you. I first discovered the Germans at work on the North-east Coast. Every German waiter, schoolmaster, and tradesman in all the towns from Peterhead to Dundee I found to be spies. They were in "The League of the Fatherland." All were registered by the Consul. In the event of invasion every man would have a part in the job. In the times of peace they studied the coast, the tides, the location of ships and troops, the position of guns, everything, in fact, which would be of use. These things were reported in writing to their Consuls, or verbally, when the League met at the many German clubs and gatherings. I pointed this out.

[pg 178] "In what way?" asked an anxious sub.

"A story which appeared in 'The Daily Owl.' In that romance I let them know what was going on. Yes, I frightened the lackadaisical bounders into a panic. Lunan Bay I pointed out as a landing-place. The coast near St. Andrews I also emphasised as a jumping-off shore, while Dundee was proved to be without a gun or boat to defend it; in fact, the whole coast displayed a general invitation to the Germans to come and shoot."

"What happened?"

"Some official big-wig stopped the story."

"Why?"

"It showed every weakness up, but——"

"What?"

"They got to work. Dundee got a submarine base; Montrose got aeroplanes; Fife was scheduled out for guns, troops, and trenches; Cromarty was seized and fortified; and Rosyth works pushed on."

"You finished then, I suppose?"

"No fear. I went out to the Dominion of Canada to see how things were going."

"And what did you find?"

"A German traveller in every train representing subsidised goods to cut out our [pg 179] British trade. A German club in every town for the general entertainment of spies. German women who were willing to sell their souls to gain the secrets of State, and fools in Canada like our own fools at home, who laughed at it all, who gave trade to these Germans, who toyed with the women designed to lure and rob them of their heritage. Worse, in every coast town on the Atlantic and Pacific there were the same German waiters, the same rascally Consuls, the same old League of the Fatherland. These men knew and had told the War Gods of Berlin that the forts of Halifax, Quebec, and Esquimalt were almost obsolete; that their guns were somewhat ancient; and that the Canadian Militia system was inadequate, loosely organised, and unfit to provide an auxiliary force for a sudden mobilisation to aid our Expeditionary Force at home."

"Prove it," interjected Lieutenant Longlegs.

"Read Bernhardi's book. He got his information from these spies in the Dominion of Canada."

"Well, what did you do?"

"I spoke to the man then at the helm of [pg 180] military matters. I emphasised the dangers, and asked him what he was going to do. 'Young man,' said he, 'we've enough to do. We've got a mighty fine country to develop and people. We can't be pioneers and soldiers too. And we can't get men in this country to soldier for a shilling a day.'"

"What did you say to that?"

"I simply said that there was some truth in his statements, but I also pointed out that Canada, like America, was getting dollar mad. Materialism, I argued, was beginning to be their all in all. Success had made them a little selfish, and I showed him that up till then they had contributed little in the way of ships to guard the Pacific against the coming peril, and aid our merchant destroyers in the time of war. Of course he got angry. Canadians don't like the truth. That was proved by General Fearless, who chucked up his job there rather than command such a system."

"But, you'll agree, they're playing the game now."

"Certainly, and they'll fight the Germans like devils; but my point is this, that if they had had their Pacific Fleet thoroughly organised, we might have been able to avoid [pg 181] disasters and have shortened the war. And, of course, it is only fair to say that their new Defence Minister is nobly trying to remedy the horrible slackness of the past. But politics are the curse of Canada. Politics have retarded Canadian defence. However, things will be better there after this war."

"Are the Australians the same?"

"Not quite. They have done more for true Imperial defence than any other dominion. They have got national service. Every man is a soldier. And, mark you, it was a Labour Government that introduced national service into Australia. Now, that's a wonderful thing, when you consider that Australians used to abhor discipline and stake their all on pleasure. But these labour men realised the growing yellow peril. Again they had plumped for a white Australia, and so they determined to defend a worthy ideal. I grant you that their Fleet is somewhat small, that the armaments of Sydney defences and other harbours need much attention. But they can't do everything in a day. They have only a population of five million to work on, and a great country to develop. What they have done [pg 182] is wonderful, and they deserve the greatest credit."

"Then, have the Germans been working there too?"

"Yes. Australia was permeated with the German system of espionage. Their commercial Huns have collared the metal market there. The North German Lloyd Company have been trying for years to cut out the Orient Line and the P. and O. And, in Sydney itself, I have heard the German Vice-Consul drink to 'The Day,' and curse the Empire which kept his country out of the sun. The Australians, like the Canadians and ourselves, were too busy with other things to hunt out these tools of the Kaiser. However, they have now got the order of the boot."

"Do your remarks apply to New Zealand?" inquired a sub.

"New Zealand," continued Greens, "is a land of patriots. The New Zealanders call it God's country. That is a good name. It flows with milk and honey, and its people have not forgotten how to love. Their temperate climate has preserved all the nobility of our northern temperament, while the general prosperity of the land has [pg 183] eliminated almost every trace of the misery and poverty so characteristic of Great Britain. The beauty of New Zealand is that it is small. Bill Jones of Auckland in the North Island knows Tom Brown in Invercargill (South Island). When Lizzie Smith of Wellington gets married, every townsman and cockey in both islands wires his congratulations. A New Zealand lady can give you the pedigree of every known family in the little Dominion. And every one knew Dick Seddon, just as well as they know Bill Massey, the present Premier of the Dominion. A Governor-General in New Zealand is compelled to be 'At Home' to all—and a good thing too."

"What about defence?"

"Splendid! Their defence system is the same as that in Australia. Every man carries a gun; better still, every one is delighted to carry his gun. Their mounted men are wonderful, and they possess some of the finest field artillery in our Imperial Army. One great mistake they made was the installation of the German Telfunkin system of Wireless. They were too honest, perhaps, to realise the full significance of such a decision. And like Australians, [pg 184] Canadians, and Britishers, they have been foolish enough to be courteous to the parasites who represented the evil materialism of Kaiser Bill."

"You haven't said anything about the women?"

"Oh, charming!" interjected Greens, with a smile which suggested many hours of delight with the ladies of the North and South Island. "And my advice is this—if you want a real fine girl for a wife and chum, marry a New Zealander."

"Cheer oh!" chirped Coronet, inviting all to drink to the girls of Maoriland.

"At the same time, Greens, don't you think that our Secret Service is just as good as the Germans?"

"Well—it's quite good. And its great merit is that it never speaks. While the Germans openly vaunt their wonderful system, our men apply themselves quietly and sternly to their task. Such a service includes men of the most chivalrous and daring kind; it also numbers some of the queer folks. You see they are not officially recognised. If nabbed in the act, they must pay the price. While a thoroughly patriotic service, it is, unfortunately, one which we [pg 185] can never honour in a truly public way. There are skeletons 'neath the soil in all parts of Germany of many noble fellows who have died for the Cause. In German fortresses you can see others who foretold the war, who helped to place our Expeditionary Force in the right spot to meet the great hordes who tried to capture Paris. The work of these men has been accomplished throughout a period when public opinion denied Germany's intentions and refused to affirm the theories of such splendid prophets as the late Lord Roberts. Think of the mental tortures of such patriots. Picture their agony and grief when viewing the careless throng. How cruel! How maddening it must have been! Yet each went on ploughing a lonely and dangerous furrow over the fields of German espionage and defence. You talk about bravery under shrapnel and in face of the bayonets of Huns! But it takes a brave heart to do that job. And, mark you, if Germans are good at the game, the French are as good, and the Russians infinitely better. It may be a sound policy for us to allow the cocksure German spy to buy the faked maps, plans, and news, and to stop the same from [pg 186] going through the post. But public opinion ought to be more firm on the question of naturalised Germans and their families. These are the men who have grown wealthy in our midst, who have married our women, who have been honoured by the greatest of our institutions; yet, all the while, their homes and offices have been the centre of intrigue for the downfall of this land of ours. The real German spy, who is unnaturalised, and risks his life, deserves as much credit as the brave men of the Prussian Guard. But the low swine who would sever the hand that has fed them are the ones we should hound out of our country."

"But I say, Greens," interrupted Captain Coronet, "don't you think we have frightened these bounders?"

"No. They are still working. And they even cover their sins by sending their sons into the commissioned and other ranks of our forces. Many of these boys fight gallantly for us, while their dirty old fathers are playing a double game. I admit we must be generous. A German must remain a German. He is entitled to his patriotism. Still, that is no argument for our stupidity. Our land, our homes, our liberty, and our [pg 187] women are dear to us. By heavens! we have got the finest heritage of all the nations. It's worth fighting for; yes, worth dying for."

"Good old Greens," echoed the thrilled subalterns. Then Longlegs started him off again by the sceptical inquiry—

"Look here, Greens, can you prove what you say? If you can catch a real live spy in Mudtown within the next month, I'll stand champagne all round."

"Done," said Greens, with an emphasis which startled all. "But, I say, it's two A.M. We've been talking for hours. We'd better go to bed. Good-night."

"Good-night, Greens," answered his fellow-officers, remaining a little behind to discuss the wonderful phase of his character which Greens had so well revealed.

"Longlegs," said Coronet, as he turned into his sleeping bags, "you've lost your bet. Greens will keep his word."

"Good luck to him," replied the long subaltern as he also went off into the arms of Morpheus.

For many nights Greens was absent from dinner. This did not surprise those in the [pg 188] know. He was spy-hunting. Though the military and police had terrified many of the fraternity, Greens knew that he would at least catch one. So he lounged carelessly through the streets, casually glancing at every face. Unlike the average policeman, he did not search for the square head, flaxen hair, and soft-footed Teuton. He could tell by their eyes. Strange as this may seem, any Intelligence Officer will substantiate the same. The spy has that peculiar glint of cunning, with a touch of the haunted and hunted, and the shifty movements which always suggest a base intent. Such a keen student of espionage found little difficulty in locating his man. Nevertheless he waited almost a fortnight before he got his chance, and then it came almost unexpectedly. While lounging carelessly in a public place, he was amazed to hear a man using German gutturals behind. This person was inquiring of his friend, in a somewhat casual style, as to the number of troops in the town, where they were located, and what was their job in the event of any attack. Listening intently, he discovered a keen German brain analysing all the replies of the honest and simple-minded citizen. Through a [pg 189] mirror the observant officer studied the face of the spy. Strong, almost English, with firm set lines and a chin suggesting courage of a bull-dog kind. An excellent type for such a mission. His flaxen hair and a slight student cut on the lip were the only outward signs of his race. His English, to an ordinary man, would have passed unobserved, but Greens detected the thick guttural now and again, as well as a furtive glance towards his own person. This German agent was unaware of the keen scrutiny which he was being subjected to through the mirror. Nor did he imagine that the officer who paid his bill and went out would confront him again with his escort of soldiers.

"Who is he?" asked Greens of the proprietor.

"A German, sir."

"Thank you, I'll be back in a minute," and off went the spy hunter to the nearest billet.

There he collared an escort, and marched to the place again. The German was just going out.

"Excuse me, aren't you a German?"

"Yes, sir. Here is my passport, signed [pg 190] by the Foreign Secretary, also my birth certificate," replied the Teuton, pulling out the bonds of safety which a sleepy officialdom gives to the enemies of our country.

"Naturalised?"

"Yes, certainly; my mother and friends are knitting socks for the troops," he answered testily.

"You seem to be interested in our troops here?"

"Everybody is—it's natural at a time like this."

"Perhaps," said Greens, stroking his chin and sizing up his man in case of emergency.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm an agent for iron goods."

"The name of your firm?"

"——, London."

"That's an alien firm."

"A naturalised German. You don't deny us the right to live?"

"No, but I deny you the right to spy."

"You are insolent, and you will be asked to prove your words," said the German in a threatening way.

"Keep cool! Now, look here, this passport shows that you were in Germany at the time of mobilisation. It also shows that [pg 191] you were in France at the time that the advance was made on Paris. Can you explain?"

"Of course, I was on business for my firm."

"The Secret Service, eh?"

"No, sir; again you insult me."

"Very well; quick march."

"I refuse."

"Take him off," ordered Greens sternly to the escort.

"Uh!" was the fierce exclamation of the baffled Teuton, stepping on with his guards. He was quickly placed under lock and key. In his bag Greens found correspondence in code, envelopes from a famous "firm" which always paid well for information, as well as a heap of notes and gold. A simple citizen and the ordinary policeman would have passed this man as innocent, but Greens found a clever Intelligence Officer who labelled this German as an Inspector of the Espionage System. He travelled around for his iron goods. He also called on his local "friends," and paid good cash for "services rendered," as many receipts in his possession showed. In a few words, Greens proved his contention that this man, like [pg 192] thousands more, was a spy, immune from arrest because of naturalisation,—a scrap of paper which ought to be ruthlessly burned and disregarded when found on any of German birth or origin. There was a smile on Greens' face as he entered the mess-room that evening.

"Why that smile?" inquired Longlegs.

"The smile means champagne. Your spy is in the garrison guard-room, and to-morrow, no doubt, will find him interned for many a long day."

"Cheer ho," yelled the subs, gathering round to hear the spy-hunting exploit. That was the last spy caught in Mudtown. The German Secret Service labelled it "Dangerous." If every policeman was as alert as Greens, all of these naturalised scoundrels would be under lock and key to-day.

[pg 193]