"Of course," he said, "I can't pretend I didn't want it to happen; but you won't see it is for the good of the world that your country's got to go down. And so I'm sorry for you, if anything."

"Do you really think it has got to go down?" I asked Wundt, and he said it wasn't so much what he thought as what was bound to take place.

"Either England's got to go, or else Germany," he said, "and as the Teuton is the world-power for religion and culture and everything that really matters, and also miles strongest, England's naturally got to go.

You've had your turn; now it's ours. The Kaiser speaks, Germany listens and obeys."

Booth asked him what day the Germans would be at Merivale, and if he'd got a plan of campaign marked out; and he said about the half-term holiday, or earlier, they would come. And Booth said that would mean a short term, anyway, which had its bright side.

Then Tracey, who is awful sarcastic, though it doesn't generally come off, asked Wundt how he had arrived at this idea, and Wundt said from reading papers that his father had sent him via Holland.

"Your papers are chockful of lies," he said. "If you want the truth, those of you who can read German can see it in my papers."

Of course, some of the Sixth could read German, and they borrowed his papers, and were much surprised that Wundt really believed such absolute rot against the evidence of our papers. But he was simply blind, and went so far as to say that he'd sooner believe the pettiest little German rag than all our swaggerest papers, let alone the _Merivale Weekly Trumpet_, which was fearfully warlike, because the editor had a son who was training for the Front.

But most of all, Wundt hated _Punch_, and, finding this out, we used to slip the cartoons into his desk, and put them under his pillow, and arrange them elsewhere where he must find them. These made him fairly foam at the mouth, and he said he hoped the first thing the Germans would do, when they got to London, would be to go to _Punch_ and put the men who drew the pictures and made the jokes to the sword.

No doubt it was because they were so jolly true.

The masters were very decent to Wundt, especially Fortescue, who saw how trying it must be for him, living in an enemy's country; and when Wundt told me in secret that he felt his position was becoming unbearable, and that he had written and asked if he could be exchanged for a prisoner, or something. He said in a gloomy sort of voice: "I may tell you I haven't wasted my time here, and perhaps some day Doctor Dunston and you chaps will know it to your cost."

Well, though friendly enough to Wundt, I didn't much like that, and told my own special chum, Manwaring, what he'd said; and Manwaring told me that in his opinion Wundt ought to be neutralised immediately. But I knew enough of Wundt to feel certain he could never be properly neutralised, because he had told me that once a German always a German, and that he'd rather be a dead German than a living King of England, and that if he had to stop in England for a million years, he'd still be as German as ever, if not more so. And he'd also fairly shaken with pride because he'd read somewhere that the Kaiser had said that he would give any doctor a hundred thousand marks if he would draw every drop of English blood out of his veins. And when he said it, Tracey had answered that if the Kaiser came over to England, there were plenty of doctors who would oblige him for half the money.

But now I thought, without any unkind feeling to Wundt, that I ought to tell Travers major, as head of the school, of his dark threats; and I did; and Travers thanked me and said I was quite right to tell him, because war is war, and you never know.

Of course, if Wundt was going to turn out to be a spy, it wasn't possible for me to be his friend, and I told him so. And he saw that.

He said he was sorry, if anything, to lose my friendship, but he should always do all that he considered right in the service of his country, and he couldn't let me stand between him and his duty. Which amounted to admitting that he was a spy, or, at any rate, was trying to be one; for, of course, at Merivale a spy was no more use than he would have been at the North Pole. There was simply nothing to spy about, except the photographs of new girls on Brown's mantelpiece.

Then Travers made a move, and he was sorry to do it; but he was going to be a soldier, just as much as Wundt was, and though he never jawed about Woolwich like Wundt did about Potsdam, yet he was quite as military at heart; and though he didn't wear the English colours inside his waistcoat lining, like Wundt wore the German colours, as he admitted to me in a friendly moment, yet Travers felt just as keen about England as Wundt did about Germany, and quite as cast down when we heard about Mons as Wundt was when he heard about the retreat on the Marne. He pretended, of course, it was only strategy, but he knew jolly well it wasn't.

Then Travers major reluctantly decided that, with a spy, certain things must be done. He didn't like doing them, but they had to be done. And the first thing was to prove it.

"You can only prove a chap is a spy by spying yourself," Travers said, and well knowing the peculiar skill of Norris and Booth, he told them to keep a careful lookout on Wundt and report anything suspicious; which they did do, because it was work to which they were well suited by their natures, and they soon reported that Wundt went long walks out of bounds, and evidently avoided people as much as possible. Once they surprised him making notes, and when he saw Booth coming, he tore them up.

Then Travers major did a strong thing, and ordered that the box of Wundt should be searched. I happened to know that Wundt was very keen to get a letter off by post, which he said was important, yet hesitated to send for fear of accidents; and that decided Travers.

So it was done, quite openly and without subterfuge, as they say, because we just took the key from Wundt by force and told him we were going to do it, and then did it. He protested very violently, but the protest, as Travers said, was not sustained.

And we found his box contained fearfully incriminating matter, for he had a one-barrelled breech-loading pistol in it, with a box of ammunition, of which we had never heard until that moment, and a complete map on a huge scale of Merivale and the country round. It was a wonderful map, and how he had made it, and n.o.body ever seen it, was extraordinary. At least, so it seemed, till we remembered that he had been here through the holidays on his own. There were numbers in red ink all over the map, and remarks carefully written in German; and though it is impossible to give you any idea of the map, which was beautifully drawn and about three yards square, if not more, yet I can reproduce the military remarks upon it, which Travers translated into English.

They went like this, and showed in rather a painful way what Wundt really was at heart. And it showed what Germany was, too; and no doubt thousands of other Germans all over the United Kingdom had been doing the same thing, and still are.

After the first shock of being discovered, I honestly believe he was pleased to be seen in his true colours, and gloried in his crime.

These were the notes in cold blood, as you may say:--

1. _A wood. Good cover for guns. In the middle is a spring where a gamekeeper's wife gets water. It might easily be poisoned._

2. _A large number of fields. Some have potatoes in them and some have turnips._

3. _A village with fifty or sixty houses and about two hundred and thirty-five inhabitants, mostly women and children. Presents no difficulties._

4. _A church with a tower. A very good place for wireless or light gun. The pews inside would be good for wounded. Cover for infantry in the churchyard._

5. _A stream with one bridge, which might easily be blown up; but it would not be necessary, as the stream is only six feet across, and you could easily walk over it. Too small for pontoons. Small fish in it._

6. _A large field which was planted with corn, but is now empty. A good place for aeroplanes to land. Can't find out where corn is gone._

7. _A railroad with one line that goes up to main line. Could easily be destroyed, but might have strategic value._

8. _A hill where guns could be placed that would cover advance of troops on Merivale._

9. _The school. This stands on rising ground a mile from the hill, No.

8, and could easily be destroyed by field-guns. Or it could easily be used as a hospital. It contains a hundred beds, and the chapel could easily hold a hundred more. There is a garden and a fountain of good water. Also a well in the house. The playing-field is a quarter of a mile off. Tents could easily be put up there for troops._

10. _A village schoolroom three hundred yards from the church. It has been turned into a hospital for casualties. There are thirteen or fourteen nurses of the Red Cross waiting for wounded soldiers to arrive.

They are amateurs, but have pa.s.sed some sort of examination. The wounded are said to be coming. This place could easily be sh.e.l.led from the hill marked No. 8._

11. _A forest full of game, and in the middle of it a park and the Manor House, belonging to a man called Sir Neville Carew. He has great wealth, and the mansion could easily be looted, and then either used for officers or burned down._

12. _A farm rich in sheep and cattle and chickens, also turkeys. It would present no difficulties._

13. _The sea. This is distant ten miles from here, and there is an unfortified bay, which looks deep. We went there for a holiday last summer, and some of us went out in a boat. I pretended to fish and tried to take soundings, but regret to report that I failed. However, the water was quite deep enough for small battle-craft. The cliffs are red and made of hard rock. There are about twenty fishing-boats, and a coastguard station on top; but I saw no wireless. There is a semaph.o.r.e._

14. _A medical doctor's house with a garage. Would present no difficulties. I saw petrol tins in the yard._

That was all, and Travers at once decided to hand the map and the pistol and cartridges to Doctor Dunston.

"I'm very unwilling to do it," he said, "but this is a bit too thick altogether. It is pure, unadulterated spying of the most blackguard sort. And if I had anything to do with it, I should fine Wundt every penny he's got and imprison him for six months and then deport him."

So he took the evidence of guilt to Dunston, and, of course, Dunston had the day of his life over them. Some of the masters considered it funny, and I believe Peac.o.c.k, who translated the map for Dunston, thought it was rather fine of Wundt; but old Dunston didn't think it was funny, or fine, either. He had the whole school in chapel, and hung up the map on a blackboard, and waved the pistol first in one hand and then the other, and talked as only he can talk when he's fairly roused by a great occasion.

I believe what hurt him most was Wundt saying it would be so jolly easy to knock out Merivale; and to hear Wundt explaining how the school could be sh.e.l.led fairly made old Dunston get on his hind legs. In his great moments he always quotes Shakespeare, and he did now. He said he wasn't going to have a serpent sting him twice, anyway. He also said it was enough to make Kant and Goethe turn in their graves; and, that for all he could see, they had expended their genius in vain, so far as their native land was concerned. And then he went on.

"Needless to say, Jacob Wundt, you are technically expelled. I say 'technically,' because, until I have communicated with your unfortunate father, it is impossible literally to expel you. To be expelled, a boy must be expelled from somewhere to somewhere, and for the moment there is nowhere that I know of to where you can be expelled. But rest a.s.sured that a way shall be found at the earliest opportunity. Indeed, it may be my duty to hand you over to the military authorities, and, should that be the case, I shall not hesitate. For the present you are interned."

Wundt merely said "_Ach!_" but he said it in such a fearfully contemptuous tone of voice that the Doctor flogged him then and there; and Travers major thought Wundt ought not to have been flogged by rights, but treated as a prisoner of war, or else shot--he didn't seem to be sure which.

And as for Wundt, he evidently thought the Belgian atrocities were a fool to his being flogged; and he got so properly wicked that the Doctor had him locked up all night, with nothing but bread and water to eat, and the gardener to guard him.

Then a good many chaps began to be sorry for Wundt; but their sorrow was wasted, for the very next day Dunston heard from his father that Wundt could go home through Holland, with two other German boys who were being looked after by the American Amba.s.sador, or some such pot in London. So he went, and after he had gone, Fortescue asked the Doctor if he might have Wundt's map, as a psychological curiosity, or some such thing, and Dunston said he had burned the map to cinders, and seemed a good deal pained with Fortescue for wanting to treasure such an outrage.

Wundt promised to write to me when he left; but he never did, and, perhaps, if it's true that German boys of sixteen go to the Front, he may be there now. And if he is, and if his side wins, and if Wundt is with the Germans when they come to Merivale, I know the first thing he'll do will be to slay old Dunston, and the second thing he'll do will be to slay Saunders.

But in the meantime, of course, there is a pretty rosy chance he may get slain himself. Not that he'd mind, if he knew his side was on top and going to conquer. Only, perish the thought, as they say.