THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO LIBRARY William J. Flynn | Recently Retired Chief of the U. S. Secret Service EAGLE'S EY E/ A True Story of the Imperial German Government's £3 s. Spies and intrigues in America : * : * : * : :". from facts furnished Y WILLIAM J. FLYNN Recently Retired Chief of the U.S. Secret Service NoWELIZED BY | COURTNEY RYLEY goores * m ILLUSTRATED NEW YORK - PROSPECT PRESS, INC. 186-192 West 4th Street Copyright, 1919, by PROSPECT PRESS, INC. Printed in U. S. A. 5633438 *- CHAPTER II. III. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. CONTENTS THE HIDDEN DEATH THE NAVAL BALL CONSPIRACY THE PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET VON RINTELEN—THE DESTROYER THE STRIKE BREEDERs THE PLOT AGAINST ORGANIZED LABOR - • * @ THE BROWN PORTFOLIO THE KAISER's DEATH MESSENGER —ROBERT FAY © THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN THE INVASION OF CANADA THE BURNING OF ' HOPEWELL, SVIRGINIA . • & © e o e THE WELLAND CANAL CONSPIRA- TORS . . . . . . . . , THE REIGN OF TERROR THE MENACE OF THE I. W. W. THE GREAT DECISION PAGE 29 50 71 91 . 113 . 133 . 163 . I92 . 217 246 271 . 297 . 328 . 354 ! “Oh, nothing—oh, Mr. von Lertz, please For Von Lertz had striven to take her in his arms and was pressing his lips toward hers. As she half struggled with him the German smiled in apology and dropped his arms. “I just wanted one teeny-weeny little kiss,” hé announced. “I thought—well, I just thought 29 *- “I’m not in a habit of being kissed,” answered Dixie Mason, pouting. Von Lertz straightened. “Goo’ little girl!” he praised her. “Goo little girl! I am now more fashinated than ever! Good night!” - “Good day,” echoed Dixie Mason, glancing at the light of dawn without. Then as Heinric von Lertz strode forth, she turned quickly to one side. Hurriedly she opened a little memorandum book that she had extracted from the pocket of the |German plotter while she had struggled with him to prevent the kiss that he had sought to implant on her lips. Quickly she scanned the pages, finally to start forward, an involuntary cry breaking from her lips. She glanced hastily down the street toward where Von Lertz's machine was fading in the distance, then ran toward a taxi stand at the corner. “Follow that machine that just left here!” she ordered, as she hurried into the car. Then, tak- 58 THE EAGLE’S EYE ing out her secret service commission and passing it before the eyes of the chauffeur, she ad- monished: “The safety of the Atlantic fleet depends on us! Don’t lose sight of that machine for an in- stant! Where it goes—we're going—and the man who is in it must not know we're following!” “Don’t worry, Lady,” came the quiet answer of the chauffeur. “I’ll keep him in sight.” Dixie Mason leaned back in the machine again. Once more she brought forth the note book. Again she looked at the line which had burned itself into her brain; a line that read: “Examine torpedo before fleet sails.” A half hour later, Von Lertz's machine was on the ferry, crossing to Staten Island, while Von .Dertz himself dozed in the tonneau, little know- ing that just behind him, on the same ferry was another machine containing a person very much awake, Dixie Mason, determined to learn just exactly where he was going and who he intended to see there. So much for the Ally who was working for the said Harrison Grant. And in the meantime, the person upon whom he had really counted was having his difficulties. Far over on Staten Island, the spy whom Dick Stewart had trailed from the Criminology Club PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 59 had turned into thick underbrush, circled, seen the man behind him, lain in wait, and then, with one powerful blow, felled him, hurrying on toward the shack and workers on the torpedo. But that delay, while it had placed Dick Stewart in a position where he could no longer follow the spy from the Hohenzollern Club, had saved Dixie Mason from an embarrassing posi- tion. For that delay had been just long enough for Dixie Mason to see Heinric von Lertz enter the shack, to watch him leave again, then to al- low the little daredevil of the secret service to creep to the shack, ascend an old ladder which she found leaning against the building, and peep through the old trap in the roof. And there she SaW Two men busily engaged upon the torpedo, which they were making ready to lower through the manhole into the sewer. One of them was talking: “Von Lertz looked like he'd been out all night 25 “Yes. That's the way he is most of the time. But that's the way with the ones higher up. They can go out and play—while we do the work. But when the Iron Crosses are distributed, they get them, not us.” A growl from the third. 60 THE EAGLE'S EYE “Shut up. You're better off here than you' would be in the trenches. This is easy work for you. I get tired hearing you reservists kicking on a little easy campaign work over in this country when you might be handling the minne- werfers over in Flanders. But, let's stop this talking. The fleet will sail in a few hours now. We've got to have this torpedo ready to launch at the flagship.” That sentence was enough. Dixie hurried : from her position on the ladder, started down —then winced as she struck the ground. One t foot had struck in a chuck-hole, twisting the ankle | | severely, and slowly and painfully, she limped to ' her car, where it was concealed in the shadow of * a great, dismantled boiler. The driver hurried , forward to her aid, assisting her within. At the '' door of the taxi, Dixie, half turning with the pain #t of her ankle, failed to notice that her reticule '' slipped from her wrist and fell to the ground. , Nor did the driver. He leaped to his place at the |W wheel and turned expectantly. ' “Where to now?” he asked. “A telephone—just as quick as you can make . it!” Dixie answered. Her voice was faint from #. the pain of her sprained ankle. ! ' “How about a doctor for that foot?” the driver: . PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 61 was staring at the expression of agony on the girl's features. “Never mind that. Where’s a telephone.” “In a roadhouse, down the line about three miles.” “Get to it—hurry!” A moment more and the machine was scurry- ing along the lonely road, toward the roadhouse and toward the warning that Dixie sought to send the Secret Service. But as the machine roared its way along through the early morning, the spy from the Hohenzollern club entered the shack on Staten Island, his eyes wide with excite- ment, his voice snapping as he sent the men Scurrying faster than ever in their work. “There's danger! I just knocked a Secret Service man over in the woods. They're after us! Bar that door and barricade it! We’ve got to get this torpedo into place before they catch our trail. Every minute means danger!” Slowly the torpedo swung at its fastenings. The spy from the Hohenzollern Club lifted the cover of the manhole. And as the spies in the employ of Imperial Germany started to lower the torpedo into the sewer, Dixie Mason clung grimly to the telephone at the roadhouse, waiting for the answering voice from the other end of the wire. At last it came—the voice of Chief 62 THE EAGLE’S EYE Flynn who had just entered the office for the day. His voice went keen and bright as the warning from Dixie came over the wire. Hastily he as- sembled the facts as she told them. Then: “A good night's work. Go home to bed. I’ll handle everything.” He lifted another 'phone and called the Crim- inology Club. “Busy” reported Central. For Dick Stewart was at that moment detailing the story of the as- sault upon him and the reasons he had failed in his quest. But Chief Flynn was already work- ing on another angle of the protection of the At- lantic Fleet. A quick call to the Harbor Police. A moment later and with a scurrying rush, the power- launches of the New York Police department, their machine guns ready for instant action, shot forth into the bay. Another call and the Chief gained a clear wire to the Criminology Club. A few crisp orders and Grant and his men were hurrying by motor to Staten Island, to pick up Stewart on the way and rush to the shack that had housed the torpedo. But would they reach there in time? Grant would have given much to know. * Out in the bay, here, there, everywhere, the boats of the harbor police were scattering, up * | . PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 63 toward the great, monstrous forms of the battle- ships, where, flags fluttering, the preparations were being made for the start of the President's review, searching under wharves, around lighters, hurrying to the protection of the Mayflower, whence the President would review the fleet— honeycombing the harbor in their search for sus- picious characters, seeking everywhere for the torpedo that was planned to send a flagship to its doom, block the Great Atlantic Fleet in New York harbor and cripple the defense of the great- est nation in the world. But so far, the torpedo was safe from their search. In the dark confines of the sewer, it had been lowered and shunted to its mouth, where it lay concealed from view under the piling of an old dock. Back in the shack, Schmidt, the electri- cian, labored furiously on the last connection that would make the torpedo available for its deadly use—the wireless controller. Hurriedly he made the finishing touches, while down at the mouth of the sewer, the plotters watched the gathering boats across the way, the waving flags, and bright hued decorations that shone and shimmered with the bright sunlight of morning. From far in the distance came the screaming of sirens and the hoarser-throated sound of hundreds of tugboats, ferries and river 64 THE EAGLE'S EYE craft. The review had started. Aboard the Mayflower, the President of the United States was to see the pride of the navy as it steamed forth to the open sea and— “If Schmidt only gets here with that control- ler,” seethed the spy from the Hohenzollern Club as he watched the fleet in the distance through his binoculars, “If he only gets here!” “How long will it take to attach it?” An- other plotter was staring toward the distance. “Ten seconds. We've got plenty of time in that way— if he only gets here with it!” A sound from the tunnel. It was Schmidt, lugging the controller forward. The spy from the Hohenzollern Club turned with a quick order. “You get back there and guard the shack,” he ordered of the third plotter. “We'll attend to things down here.” The German retreated into the sewer. Schmidt began the placing of the wireless controller in its position. The spy from the Hohenzollern Club looked again through his binoculars. “We'll launch the torpedo just as the flagship rounds the point there. Understand?” “Perfectly!” Schmidt was testing his connec- tions. They looked at each other then—and laughed. America was at their mercy, they thought! For PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 65 they did not know that as they gloated over the coming fate of the flagship, Harrison Grant and his men were forcing their way through the door- way of the shack above them! But only emptiness greeted the members of the Criminology Club as the door crashed open. Harrison Grant glanced about him quickly. “They’re gone—they're already in the sewer!” he exclaimed despondently. “We’ve got just one chance—to head off that torpedo when it starts! You men hurry to Buffan's landing and get the reserve launch there. I’ll investigate here.” “All right,” then Stewart turned. “Here's something I picked up just outside. Should have given it to you before—but my brain's working a little slow since that blow on the head.” He passed a reticule to Harrison Grant who stuffed it in his pocket. The men departed. Grant looked hastily about the shack then veered to a corner at a sound from below. Someone was coming back. There—the sewer manhole moved a little. Then a bit more—then it raised while the figure of a man started upward and through it. Grant crept forward. A quick leap, he seized the plotter by the throat, chok- ing him and at the same time dragging him back on the floor. A moment more and he had bound him, dragged him to a corner and almost thrown 66 THE EAGLE'S EYE him there, then started down the manhole. But as he groped blinking through the darkness, Schmidt and the spy from the Hohenzollern Club sighted the prow of the flagship as it rounded the point below them, swung the torpedo into position and shunted it, seething into the water! A few steps forward and Grant saw what had been done. There were two men, both with their backs to him, one guiding the torpedo with the wireless controller, the other leaning forward, pointing out its course as it made its way, slowly at first, then faster, toward the thundering flag- ship. Everywhere was noise, the screaming of whistles, the booming of guns as the battleships fired their salutes before the Mayflower. Harri- son Grant crept forward unnoticed. Ten feet—then six—then three, while the spies stared outward, unaware of the approach of the , detective. Harrison Grant gathered his full strength. A tremendous kick and he had sent one of the plotters sprawling into the water. A great lunge and he was at the throat of the spy from the Hohenzollern Club, struggling to drag him from his hold at the wireless controller. A struggle that seemed destined to fail. With almost superhuman strength the spy fought him off, still clinging to the key of the controller, PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 67 feinting, dodging, squirming in the grasp of the master detective, biting, kicking, butting—but still holding to that key that was sending the tor- pedo faster and faster through the water, driving it on and on toward the flagship of the great At- lantic Fleet, threatening it with destruction—and the bottling of the entire fleet in the waters of New York harbor. Doggedly they fought. Again and again Grant's hands closed about the throat of the spy, only to be thrown off. Then slowly, steadily, Grant began to bend the plotter in his grasp. Closer, closer—Harrison Grant bent his head toward the wrist of the hand that held the key of the wireless controller. Then, a quick motion and his teeth closed upon the flesh, biting into the sinews and muscles, causing the spy to leap from his post with a cry of anguish. But the fight was not over. “Think you’ve stopped us, eh?” The spy al- most shouted the words. “Well, you haven’t. That torpedo's got speed enough now—it’ll reach that ship all right. It'll—” But Grant had swung him about now and was forcing him to the edge of the sewer platform. Closer—closer—the end was inevitable. But would it avail anything? A glance out into the Narrows and Grant saw that the torpedo was 68 THE EAGLE'S EYE heading straight on its course now, while far in the rear, the reserve launch, containing his men, was striving vainly to summon the speed to over- take it. On and on it was going—a moment more and it would crash into the side of that mas- sive, thundrous battleship, a moment more- All the strength that Harrison Grant pos- sessed sped into the sinews of his arm and back. With a great wrench, he freed the grasp of the spy upon him. Then with a tremendous lunge, he literally raised the form of the struggling man, and threw him, high over his shoulders and into the tremendous currents below! A great leap. Harrison Grant was at the key of the wireless controller. Quickly he reversed it, sending the current crackling out over the Narrows. But would the effect come in time? Would the electric current swerve the course of that torpedo soon enough to save the great battle- ship before it from destruction? Gasping and panting, Harrison Grant watched for the result, his soul agonized, his heart pounding with aching severity. A second—and the torpedo had not moved from its course. Another—Harrison Grant bent forward happily. Out there in the choppy waters of the Narrows, he believed he had seen the torpedo swerve slightly—yes, there it had moved a full three feet from its course— PLOT AGAINST THE FLEET 69 Now ten—look! The men on the reserve launch were waving their arms and clambering to the top of the launch as it sped along. The torpedo had moved more in its course—now it seemed to be turning—it was turning! A great, glad cry broke from the lips of Harrison Grant. The torpedo was making a full semi-circle in the water now—on the roof of the reserve launch a Criminology Club detective was preparing to dive into the water for the desperate purpose of kicking the wireless antennae from the explosive monster and making it useless, while on beyond, there where the guns were booming, where the flags were flying and the bands were playing, the Great Atlantic Fleet, safely, triumphantly, was sailing through the Narrows, out to the freedom of the open sea! Harrison Grant watched happily for a mo- ment, then turned to make his way back through the tunnel and to the interrogation of the cap- tured spy. It was then that he noticed that his brow was covered with a cold perspiration, that his collar was wilted—in spite of the almost cold day—that he was shaking and trembling from the excitement of the chase. He reached for his handkerchief, then hesitated at the touch of the reticule in his pocket. Wonderingly he brought it forth and examined it. 70 THE EAGLE'S EYE “A woman's party chatalaine,” he mused. “Some spy that's mixed up in this thing, I guess. Dropped it coming from the shack. I wonder if there's anything in it to give a clue to her iden- tity.” He pulled open the bag. He stared a moment at the initials of the card case which lay within, then opened it feverishly. The wondering ex- pression of his eyes changed to grimness. His lips resolved themselves into a straight line. Slowly they repeated the name on the card: “Miss Dixie Mason!” The battleships in the distance seemed to fade. The sound of the sirens, the booming guns, all drifted into nothingness. Dully, monotonously, the lips of Harrison Grant framed the words: “Dixie Mason! So she was the one! Dixie Mason—a spy!” CHAPTER IV. WON RINTELEN-THE DESTROYER Months of apparent calm followed the plot against the fleet—a calm, however, which existed only on the surface, for beneath the veneer of friendliness for America, Ambassador von Bern- storff and his aides, Capt. Franz von Papen, Capt. Karl Boy-Ed and Dr. Heinric Albert still were scheming and working for the downfall of America in their insatiable desires to defeat the Allies. More, they had received aid from abroad, in the person of an intimate friend of the Crown Prince of Germany, Franz von Rin- telen, sent to America for the ostensible purpose of promoting friendliness between Germany and America, but in reality with a bank account of more than fifty million dollars, to spend on any form of death and destruction that he might see fit—as long as it harmed the Allies. And wheth- er the harming of the Allies also brought its attendant injury to America, made little differ- ence to Franz von Rintelen or his cohorts. The 71 72 THE EAGLE'S EYE United States had been described by Dr. Heinric Albert as “the American front,” and so they re- garded it—as a battlefield upon which to make their advances and counterthrusts against the Allies, regardless of the consequences to the land for which they professed such friendliness and such regard. So it was, that in the spending of that fifty million dollars, Franz von Rintelen had built himself up practically a separate organization with which he preyed upon shipping, industry and manufacture. River pirates who swarmed the Hudson to scuttle lighters, to start fires in car- goes, to cut hawsers and mangle the steering ap- paratus of tugs that they might crash into each other and sink with their cargoes; so called “Peace Councils,” which strove for the spreading of propaganda on any kind of peace at any price —as long as it was favorable to Germany; al- leged “Embargo Conferences,” the sole object of which was to spread a feeling throughout America that it was wrong for the United States to manufacture arms and ammunition which could be sold to the Allies—all these things lay within the province of Franz von Rintelen, to handle as he chose, with only an occasional confer- ence with Ambassador von Bernstorff at which he told of his progress, and laid forth his expense VON RINTELEN-DESTROYER, 73 accounts for the official signature of the head of Imperial Germany’s spy system in America. And so quietly had his organization been built up, so thoroughly had Franz von Rintelen con- cealed himself behind a cloak of supernumeraries and “straw bosses” that even the cleverest of the members of the Secret Service had failed as yet to gain a clue to his real activities. But there were suspicions—and among those who held them was Dixie Mason. “No Mamette,” she was saying as she stood by the window of her apartment, watching the sunset and talking to her negro maid, “I have no positive evidence against Franz von Rintelen. I doubt if I ever will. I only know that there is something about him which makes me believe that he is at the head of the river pirates and commerce destroyers who have sprung up around the harbor recently. But I can’t be sure.” “How about Mista von Lertz?” Mamette spoke the name with a tinge of hatred. For Mamette, black though she was, could see only three colors, the red, the white and the blue. Dixie smiled at her tone. “I’ve tried—and tried hard. But Von Lertz seems afraid to tell me much about him. The best clues I’ve gotten have been through Agnes Tay- lor, who is working on the switchboard at Von 74 THE EAGLE'S EYE Lertz's apartment. She has reported several conversations between Rintelen and Von Lertz, but they have been generally meaningless. I-” The tingling of the telephone had interrupted. Dixie answered, to hear the voice of Agnes Tay- lor, the operative who had been placed at the switchboard of Von Lertz's apartment house. “Miss Mason?” “Yes.” “Do you know—” the voice was low, guarded - “anyone named Walter Schleindel?” “No—why?” “He works in some bank. Reports to Paul Koenig of the Hamburg American line who pays him for information. From what I can gather he steals information from manifests and bills of lading coming into the bank for payment.” Dixie Mason smiled. “So that's the way they know just when to rob freight cars in the yards and when to sink lighters, is it? I’ll telephone the Chief. How did you learn?” “Some man just called Von Lertz. Told him that Schleindel had reported 3,000 head of horses just received at the Allied barns at Jersey and to go at once to the shack at Crow Crossing—” “I know where it is.” Dixie Mason's eyes had narrowed. “Just above the old rock crusher on VON RINTELEN-DESTROYER 75 the Vernon road. What was Von Lertz to do there?” - “I couldn’t catch all of it—I heard something about the tools and to use the new methods. I couldn’t recognize the voice.” “It wasn't Paul Koenig?” “No, nor Bernstorff, Von Papen or Boy-Ed.” “Then it must have been Rintelen.” “I couldn’t be sure—he changes his voice so often.” - Dixie smiled again. Then she turned from the telephone. “Mamette,” she called. “Get me out a plain dress of some kind—something that I can ‘rough it in.” “Yes, Missy—but Laws, yo' ain't goin’ to stick your head into danger, is yo, Missy?” “I’m going to find out what's happening at Crow Crossing,” said Dixie with quiet deter- mination. “Hurry, please, Mamette.” And while she made her preparations, Harri- Son Grant stood in the dusk, talking to the watch- man of a stevedoring plant on the Jersey side of the Harbor. “I’m from Chief Flynn's office,” he was say- ing, “I received an order to—” “I know all about it,” the watchman answered. “The foreman left instructions for me. We’re 76 THE EAGLE’S EYE crating automobile ambulances for shipment to France. I want to show you something that we found today.” He led the way into the stevedoring shop, there to point out the axle of a great chassis—and to swear quietly as he looked at it. “German spies done it!” he announced. “No- body else would have been so dirty and low. These are ambulances, y'know—ambulances for use on the battlefields. And you know what’d happen if that ever got on a shell-torn field.” He pointed to the axle of the car. There, where the putty had been removed by the work- men who had discovered it, was a great, jagged hole in the steel of the axle, a hole burnt by an acetylene torch, converting the axle into a weak, shallow shell, doomed to break with the first holt- ing strain. Grant frowned as he looked at it. “So that's the game, eh?” he said. “That's why so many ambulances have been breaking down in France! That's why—” He turned sharply, the watchman with him. Far at one side of the opposite dock they had seen the shadow of a man as it slunk along, hid- ing behind the boxes and bales as he made his way from light to darkness. Grant sped for- ward, the watchman beside him. A moment more VON RINTELEN-DESTROYER 77 and the shadow leaped forth, to seek escape in the maze of shipping on the docks. But impossible. Headed off by closed doors, he veered, dodged, swerved in his course and leaped past the guard of an interned liner, seek- ing to spring from it to the next in his effort to escape. An effort that failed. Blocked again, he veered once more, crashed his way through the door of the ship's wireless room, then whirled, a chair lifted high over his head. But the blow did not descend. The tactics of the football field had come into play for Grant—and with a quick motion he had blocked the blow of the spy, dis- armed him and forced him against the wall. Fif- teen minutes later, he was listening to the con- fession, forced in jerky sentences from the spy's lips: “A guy gave me $100. to set fire to the docks,” he was saying. “That's all I know. He was some fellow who worked around the waterfront here. I’d gotten a lot o' money offen him and I wanted more. I belonged to his magneto and axle gang.” “His what?” Harrison Grant bent forward. “His magneto gang. We'd steal the magne- tos offen automobiles that was goin’ to France. 78 THE EAGLE'S EYE He'd give us five dollars for every one we stole- then let us have 'em to sell.” “Another little system of harming ambulances, eh?” said Grant slowly. “What about the axles?” “We burned ’em with an acetylene torch—so they’d break down when they hit the battlefields “So they’d break down, when they were filled with wounded!” The words came from Grant's lips in scathing denunciation. “And you confess to it—you mongrel!” His hands clenched—it was all he could do to keep them from the throat of the craven being before him. “Now you tell your story and tell it quick!” Ten minutes later Harrison Grant turned to the guard of the interned ship, meanwhile eye- ing the detectors, the batteries and sending ap- paratus of the wireless in the room. “This wireless in working order?” he asked sharply. “Yes.” Harrison Grant stepped toward it quickly. A moment more and he was sending forth the code- call of the Criminology Club. For the spy, while not able to tell the names of the directorate of those who engineered the heinous business of dis- abling ambulances, at least had given informa- VON RINTELEN-DESTROYER 79 tion that was more than valuable—the fact that a “burning party” had been scheduled for that night—and naming the location and the freight yards. * Again and again Harrison Grant sent out the call—at last to receive an answer. Then his mes- sage snapped over the airlanes to the city be- yond: “Criminology Club: “Meet me Stevens Point quick. Come armed. “Harrison Grant.” And while Harrison Grant waited, Dixie Mason, her automobile hidden in the shadow of the old rock crusher, crept to the side of the little shack at Crow's Crossing. The sound of voices came from within, low, indistinct. Again and again Dixie strove to hear what was being said— but only failure greeted her. Then— A pine knot, half hinging in its receptacle, caught her glance. Stealthily she wormed it loose, to peer within. Men were there, men who were pouring gasoline into small fuzeed, metal containers, men who were making their prepara- tions for hurried flight, and receiving orders as they did so. Already two of them were at the doorway. “Take the shortcut to the Allied stockyards,” 80 THE EAGLE’S EYE one of them was saying. “We'll burn the barns —you look after the other part of the yards. Now hurry!” They were gone, while Dixie cowered in the shadows. Stealthily she watched them cross the patch of snow and ice before the cabin, then dis- appear, unable to move for fear of detection, her brain seething with plans and hopes. But they were faint! The spies had taken the “short cut” —one that Dixie did not know. The telephone? There was none The police? There was no way to reach them. Only one thing remained for Dixie Mason to do—to scramble as fast as possible to her machine and to race across country to the Allied horsebarns. But would she be able to reach there in time? The battle of wits and courage was on! Over at Steven's Point, Harrison Grant had leaped to the running board of a motor car as it had rounded a corner and shouted to the chauffeur: “Faster, old man! They’re destroying Red Cross supplies in the railroad yards!” Then as the machine spurted forward, the president of the Criminology Club leaned toward his men. “See that your revolvers are in working order. Spies are burning the axles of ambulances. We have every right to shoot to kill!” VON RINTELEN–DESTROYER 81 The men nodded. Cavanaugh opened a new box of cartridges. The machine sped on through the semi-darkness toward the railroad yards. As for Dixie Mason— Veering into the stockyards district of New Jersey, she raised in her machine and waved madly to a crowd of horse wranglers, just com- ing forth from a pool hall. “Quick!” she called, “there's danger at the horsebarns!” Then, driving harder than ever, she sped for- ward, in a last vain attempt to reach the barns before the spies could light their bombs. Before her loomed the shadows of the barns, with their thousands of animals within. And scrambling up a telephone pole toward a window showed the form of a German fire-fiend. Harder than ever pressed the foot of Dixie Mason against the accelerator of her car, while her soul raged within her. Not content with sink- ing the ships that carried innocent horses and cattle to France, not content with filling their oats with steel barbs, painted yellow and de- signed to be eaten by the unfortunate animals, not content with poisoning the water of these beasts who were a part of the war only through the will of others, Imperial Germany now was resorting to worse measures to gain its “vie- 82 THE EAGLE'S EYE tories,” the horror and agonizing torture of fire! Dixie's lips pressed firm. Then, her anger drowning all thought of danger, she skidded her machine until it almost overturned as she veered from the stockyards alley into the areaway of the horsebarns, made her way through the great door- ways, then sent her automobile thundering up the runway to the second floor—there to leap forth and run toward the form that had just entered the haymows. But too late! Already the tool of Imperial Germany had touched a match to the gasoline filled container. Already the fuse was spluttering, while with a great, sweeping motion, the spy threw the bomb far into the loose hay and hurled his gigantic form toward the struggling Dixie. A moment more and he had felled her, then scrambled into her machine, reversing it and sending it at peril- ous speed down the runway and out through the opposite doors, bowling over two of the rustlers as they strove to make their way through the al- ready heavy clouds of smoke, and tearing on toward freedom. And in the loft of the mam- moth barn, Dixie Mason lay unconscious, the fire gaining greater and greater headway all about her, where the gasoline discharge had fired the conflagration everywhere! VON RINTELEN-DESTROYER 83 Imperial Germany had succeeded in a part of its scheme at least. But in another— Out in the railroad yards came the crackle of a revolver shot as Harrison Grant and his men surprised two men in the interior of a box car, hard at their task of burning the axles of an auto with an acetylene torch. A spy fell maimed, while from seemingly everywhere, other spies broke from the cars and sought safety. But safety that was far away. For the mem- bers of the Criminology Club had spread them- selves in the lanes between the great masses of box cars, to leap forth as the spies ran aimlessly about in their search for shelter, to seize them, to shackle them. Atop a box car where he had climbed after the first onslaught, Harrison Grant moved swiftly here and there, shouting his orders to the operatives below. In ten places at once, the battle was mounting to the proportions of a life and death struggle—with the members of the Criminology Club in the ascendancy. But at the horsebarns— Up in the loft, Dixie Mason stirred to con- sciousness as the flames ate closer. Down below, where the maddened animals were screaming and stamping in their fright, came the sounds of shouts, of curses and yells as the horse wranglers, summoned from every part of the yards, strug- 84 THE EAGLE'S EYE gled to release the flame-frightened animals. Through a chink in the frame wall of the build- ing, Dixie could see another red glare, starting in the distance—then the forms of thousands of beasts as they sped forth to safety, freed by the men who had rushed to their assistance the minute the alarm had been given by Dixie. Everywhere was the milling rush to save—save—save, while men risked their lives that the lives of horses and cattle might be spared, while men took risks and men braved death—and while Dixie Mason struggled impotently to fight her way through the ring of fire that seemed to have closed all about her. The smoke ate its stinging way into her cring- ing lungs, choking her, gagging her. She sought to scream—but the screams were lost in the wild conglomeration of noises from below, the shrieks of fear maddened horses, the surging work of rescue. Here, there, back again she struggled, only to face everywhere a wall of fire that inch by inch was eating toward her—a lining, writhing, all consuming circle of death! The flames had eaten their way through por- tions of the roof now and were spreading the flare of their flames against the sky. Over in the railroad yards, Harrison Grant, receiving the re- ports of his men as they checked up the list of VON RINTELEN–DESTROYER 85 captured spies, glanced into the distance, started, then whirled to the members of the Criminology Club. “Shackle those men together!” he ordered sharply. “Leave them in charge of Sisson—he can handle them. Then everyone come with me —there's a fire at the stockyards!” Quickly the orders were obeyed. Quickly the men swept forward under the leadership of Har- rison Grant to aid the hundreds of horse wrang- lers and cattlemen in their maddened efforts to release the flame threatened animals. And as they did so, Dixie Mason was making her last des- perate effort at escape. Death in the flames or death in a leap—Dixie Mason chose the chance of the latter. She had fought her way forward, beating out the flames that caught her dress, smothering her free hand against her nostrils to shut out the paralyzing effect of smoke and gasoline vapors, seeking from the sounds from below to ascertain an area into which she might leap with some oppor- tunity for safety. At last it came. A lull in the milling rush from below. Dixie fought her way to a railing, swung under it, hung there for one, long, trembling instant, then, just as a whirling rush 86 THE EAGLE’S EYE of horses cleared the way beneath her, she drop- ped. The fall stunned her for a second. Then the roaring sound of plunging animals brought her to her senses, just in time to enable her to scramble out of the way of a flame crazed group of horses as they surged past her, then reeling, to seek through the smoke the freedom of the open 3.11". Someway, somehow, she managed to waver to the outer doors of the big barn, there to gasp at the cold, life-giving atmosphere that surged into her lungs—then to run forward whitefaced at the sight before her. Everywhere was fire—fire which raged about the sheds, fire which licked its way along the rail- ings of the cattlepans, which ate at the chutes and connections, fire which seethed and spit and crackled. From far in the distance came the clanging of bells and the hissing of steam—the hastily called fire apparatus of twenty stations, fighting against the flames—but fighting a losing fight. Dixie's hands clenched. - “The cowards!” she exclaimed, “the fiends!” “Look out there, Miss!” It was the friendly shout of a horse wrangler as he pushed her aside. Down the alleway sounded a thundering roar as twenty shouting men drove before them a great VON RINTELEN-DESTROYER 87 r s s mass of wild-eyed, galloping horses. The wrangler shouted happily as they passed him. “That's the end of 'em,” he said heartily, “we were luckier'n we thought.” “The end of them?” Dixie Mason turned hope- fully. “Then you managed to save—” “Most of ’em Miss. We got some help from an unexpected quarter. Bunch of Secret Service men who were over in the yards chased over here and took the load off our minds o' loosenin’ the cattle in the south end. That let us put all our work on the dangerous part of the yards.” “Secret Service men?” Dixie Mason started. “Do you know any of them—” “Nobody. A fellow gave his name as Grant, but—” “Harrison Grant?” “Think S.O.” Dixie Mason turned sharply. Harrison Grant must not see her there—it would mean the necessity for explanations—explanations which might not be easily forthcoming. From far away came shouts—the shouts of men approaching through one of the alleys which as yet had been untouched by the flames. Dixie hardly heard. All that she knew was that she must leave the vicinity of the fire as soon as possible—content in the knowledge that her work had not gone for 88 THE EAGLE’S EYE naught after all. Most—if not all—of the horses and cattle had been saved. Imperial Ger- many had destroyed American property in the shape of barns and pens—but it had at least failed to destroy the lives of the innocent beings against which it had plotted. Almost aimlessly she turned to the railroad yards to escape the roaming droves of horses and cattle that were swirling everywhere. On she went, crossing track after track, as she sought the streets and the open. The light of the fire flared higher—and with it a slight exclamation came in- to Dixie's throat at the sight of a man before her. Hurriedly she swerved, leaped between two closing box cars of a flying switch, and then, as the man pursued, jumped across the track upon which was approaching a rapidly traveling train, hurrying on to where her deserted automobile showed its dull form, where it had been aban- doned by the fire fiend. Once she looked back— to discern the fact that the man still watched her beneath the long train. Then she hurried on again. Back in her apartment, she reported to her Chief, to give the name of Walter Schleindel and her suspicions against Franz von Rintelen. An hour more went by and the telephone rang to bring the news of Schleindel's arrest, and his con- VON RINTELEN–DESTROYER 89 fession, of how he had used the bank as a clear- ing house for German spydom, stealing the in- formation of the manifests and bills of lading of Allied shipments which came in there for collec- tion by the consignors, then in turn, selling this information to Paul Koenig of the Hamburg American line. Dixie smiled happily. “How about Rintelen?” she asked. A slight ejaculation of disgust came over the wire. “My men failed to find him. Someone must have notified him of the arrest of the auto burners in the railroad yards. At any rate he has left his hotel, without giving an address.” All of which was correct. For Franz von Rin- telen was at that moment telephoning to Bern- storff, and announcing to him that in future, his name would be E. V. Gates and that his “busi- ness’ would be that of a ‘purchasing agent,”—but that Imperial Germany’s work of destruction would still continue. And meanwhile also, at the Criminology Club, Harrison Grant, tired from his labors of the night, hesitated at the doorway to call an opera- tive. - “Bailey,” he said, “I want you to take a skirmish around and see what you can learn about a girl named Dixie Mason.” “Who is She?” 90 THE EAGLE'S EYE Harrison Grant smiled grimly. “I’d give a good deal to know. Apparently she's an ex-actress. At least, that's what her friends tell me. Time was too, they say, when she was very communicative and friendly. Now she tells no one of her plans or of her activities. And strangely enough, my path has crossed hers twice in places where only the agents of Imperial Germany could consistently be. She was at the fire tonight.” “At the fire?” Bailey stared. “Are you Sure?” “I have a good pair of eyes.” said Harrison Grant, “I saw her there—not fifty feet away. I chased her—but a train cut me off.” Bailey raised a hand to his hat. “I’ll see what I can find out,” he said quietly and left the building. But Grant continued to stand there, staring at the floor—wondering— wondering what this woman whom circumstance again and again gave the accusation of being a German spy, could have played in this latest evi- dence of Imperial Germany's ghoulish cruelty! 5 s 92 THE EAGLE'S EYE Once he had even gone so far as to send a special report on her to Chief Flynn—a report which the Chief naturally received with a hidden Smile and the announcement that he would have the affair investigated from his office, that Grant allow her activities to pass unnoticed in the chase for big- ger game. But when a man is hovering between love and suspicion, he is not likely to allow every opportunity to slip. Hence the private investi- gation which Grant had ordered to be made by his operative, Bailey, with the resultant report. Half angrily Harrison Grant filed the report in his cabinet and returned to his desk, moody, silent Not knowing, of course, that in a faraway part of the city, Dixie Mason was reading for the twentieth time, an excerpt from the evening paper containing an interview with Harrison Grant, and musing over the visualized features of the man she loved, brought before her eyes by the cold, staring type of the interview. Naturally Grant could not know that—and Dixie could not tell him the secrets that she must tell no one, the secrets that she must hold against the inclinations of her heart, that the battle against Imperial Germany might be won. And that the battle still was imminent, was more than apparent in the stooped, bearded fig- “THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 93 ure of a man who stood fumbling at the lock of an office in one of the biggest buildings of lower New York. He had kept in the shadows on his way to the office. He had shielded his face in the elevator—and for a reason. Franz von Rin- telen, arch plotter for Kaiser Wilhelm, friend of the Crown Prince, and special Emissary to the United States with more than fifty million dol- lars to spend on destruction, was living under an alias. He had shifted his office since the capture of his river pirates by Harrison Grant, changed his name to E. V. Gates, and even had resorted to the melodramatic level of false beards and dis- guises that he might carry on his devastations. And just how far he went in this regard, was exhibited later, when Rintelen sought to flee America on a forged passport, only to be caught at Falmouth, England, and re- turned to the Tombs in New York, where he re- cently was sentenced for his activities against America. In his trunks at that time, were found more than thirty suits of clothing, each designed to give him a different personal appearance, each built in such a way that they would make him seem a different appearing man with every suit he donned. His wigs and beards he left in America, to be discovered by the members of the Secret Service who searched his office. “THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 95 from observation a German scientist, imported by Von Rintelen, had taken his quarters that he might prepare for future disease raids against American workmen in case the plans of Ger- many in other directions failed. With Von Lertz was Madam Augusta Stephan, chief of Ger- many’s women spies in the United States—and together they were plotting the death of Harri- son Grant and his members of the Criminology Club. " “You must remember,” Von Lertz had just said, “the death of any American Secret Service man is a distinct victory for Germany “The Eagle's Eye,’ I think some of these newspaper men have called it—and it has its eye on us too frequently. Now, Meyerson, what's the danger of this affair?” “Danger?” the old scientist looked up with a little smile. “None, that I see. I know enough about germs to take care of myself. All I have to do is to approach the club from the next roof, raise a window an inch or so and inject this. That’s all there will be to it. The circulation of the air will take care of the rest of the plan.” He held up a cotton-plugged tube from which Madam Stephan recoiled. Typed on the tube were the words: “Cholera Bacilli.” 96 THE EAGLE’S EYE Heinric von Lertz smiled cynically. “Good enough,” he announced. “But be care- ful regarding yourself. We may need you in case this 'longshoremen's plot fails.” The old scientist's head bobbed. “I know how to use care,” he answered. “You may count on that.” And while Von Lertz accompanied Madam Stephan to her apartment, the members of the German contingent were gathering for the “im- portant conference” in the office of E. V. Gates. Franz von Papen and Karl Boy-Ed were al- ready there, gathered around the desk with Franz von Rintelen and Dr. Heinrich Albert. Only two more remained to come—Heinric von Lertz and Count Johann von Bernstorff, Ambassador from Imperial Germany to the United States of America. Franz von Rintelen slid forward in his chair. “Why is His Excellency so worried?” he asked. “It's about the 'longshoremen's strike,” an- swered Dr. Albert once more thumbing his tele- gram. “By the way, Rintelen, has there been any progress?” “Nothing but retrogression,” came the answer of the arch-plotter. “From what the papers say tonight, there is danger of failure. All the 'long- “THE STRIKE BREEDERS’ 97 shoremen are very loyal and the paid agitators that I have sent to work among them have ac- complished nothing. They did succeed at one time by working the 'longshoremen up over the cost of living, but that was met by a prompt raise of wages on the part of the shipowners- with the result that all our money spent for agita- tion in that way, went for nothing. However There was a sound at the door. A moment later and Heinric von Lertz entered the office. Then a sudden movement, a sudden circle of bows, a sudden outburst of greetings. Count von Bernstorff had arrived. There was a moment of silence as he faced his assistants. Then slowly he looked toward Rin- telen and held forth an evening paper. “I am sure you will pardon my transgression in your field of endeavor,” he announced, “but this news is exceedingly disconcerting.” “No more to you than to me, Your Excel- lency,” came the smooth answer of Von Rintelen. “I appreciate very much your coming tonight— and I would appreciate even more any sugges- tion that you might be able to make.” “How about bribery?” “Of the Union officials?” Von Rintelen laughed slightly and held up his hands. “I have 98. THE EAGLE'S EYE tried that—with most unfortunate results. Through outside sources, I caused an offer of $10 a week for every striking 'longshoreman, the amount to be paid for five straight weeks. The offer was made to Kelly, Butler and O'Con- nor, the leaders of the 'longshoremen. They also were made to understand that the money would be paid to them—totalling $1,035,000—and that there was no anxiety over what happened to it after it went into their hands—meaning of course, that they could walk away with all of it if they so desired, providing they called the strike.” “Well?” Bernstorff raised his eyebrows. “They reported the matter at once to Secre- tary of Labor Wilson that someone was seeking to cause disruption in the labor ranks. I think that, more than anything else, caused the breach that was being made by my agitators, to be closed more quickly.” Bernstorff took a quick breath. “There wasn't any mention of Germany in all this?” “Certainly not. The offer came through a former 'longshoreman who has carefully con- cealed his pro-German leanings. He let them think that the whole thing was a matter of re- venge on the shipowners and that he had power- “THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 99 ful commercial friends who would be willing to pay for that vengeance.” Bernstorff breathed easier. “Very good,” he announced. “Then that does not hurt our cause—providing we can find some way of creating a strike. And understand,” he clenched a hand and faced his colleagues, “this strike must go through! It means more to Ger- many than a victory at the front! When the 'longshoremen strike, it means that the ports of the East must inevitably be tied up. Not a ship will move. Industries will be paralyzed—and consequently the Allies will be deprived of the necessities of war. Of course,” he added with a quiet smile, “It will be hard on America, but 25 “These idiotic Yankees deserve something like that anyway,” growled Captain von Papen. However, Bernstorff had turned his attention to Rintelen. “You say that agitation has failed. Attempted bribery has failed. Then, some other means must be attempted.” Rintelen was pacing the floor. Suddenly his hands clasped. “I have it.” he announced. “I know the way! There is nothing that angers a man so much as depredation against his property. That's what “THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 101 The crashing detonation of a revolver shot— from upstairs! Then another and another and another! The men turned. They rushed up the stairway and toward a half open window, through which could be seen the figure of a man, writhing in the agonies of death. Old he was and bearded, the nostrils covered by a germ mask, his hands protected by rubber gloves. Beside the convulsing figure lay a “pump-gun” or air-injector, and Grant knew the contents—deadly germs! Out the window went the master-detective, and to the side of the dying man. “Careful now!” he ordered. “Search him— but look out for cultures and bacteria!” A moment later and Harrison Grant was in the possession of the thing he sought—a card, carelessly left in the old scientist's pocket in his Surety of success, a card which gave his name and address and which sent Harrison Grant scurry- ing forth to pick up Billy Cavanaugh, one of his favorite operators, and to hurry across town in search of the laboratory that he felt sure the dead bacteriologist had maintained. But in the meanwhile, things had gone well for Imperial Germany in the office of “E. V. Gates.” Only Franz von Rintelen and Heinric von Lertz remained. The others had gone to the 102 THE EAGLE'S EYE Hohenzollern Club for a last toast to the Kaiser and a quiet chat regarding their plans—too quiet even for the concealed dictograph of the Crim- inology Club to detect. All the work had been left for Rintelen and Von Lertz and they were making plans hastily. Papers were piled high, on the desk of Rin- telen, papers which formed reports from spies everywhere, from the thugs employed by Paul Koenig of the Hamburg American line, from spies scattered among railroad men, among the 'longshoremen, among the workmen of practically every industry in the country. Rintelen was speaking: “From what I can gather by the reports of Schleindel, the bank spy, shipments of automo- biles have been very heavy in the Jersey yards recently. Here is information that a lighter con- taining 150 of them will cross the river tomorrow for shipment to France. I would suggest that you choose that as your part of the plan.” Von Lertz rose. “I know the man who can handle it for me,” he said. “I’ll see him at once. Goodnight.” “Goodnight,” answered Rintelen. Already he was reaching for his coat and hat, even for- getting his inevitable disguise in his hurry to “THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 103 foment another part of the great scheme against New York's 23,000 'longshoremen. But while they plotted and schemed, Harrison Grant and Billy Cavanaugh were making their way up the rickety stairway that led to the bac- teriologist's laboratory in the attic of a ram- shackle building on Avenue A. A quick twisting of the knob and it yielded. Harrison Grant and his operative fumbled a moment in the darkness, then finding the switch of a table light, began their search. Desk by desk, drawer by drawer. Papers, musty old books on the development of cultures, newspaper clippings on the progress of the war, letters from Germany and at last An ejaculation from Harrison Grant. “Just what I thought!” he announced as he opened a small memorandum book. “The at- tempt against us tonight was an afterthought. A sort of a vacation of death, as it were. This man was brought to this country from Germany for one purpose—the propagation of germ cul- tures to be used against American workmen in munition factories, steel-mills, mines and other industries furnishing supplies to the Allies!” “Impossible!” Billy Cavanaugh's eyes went wide with horror. Harrison Grant pointed. “There's the evidence,” he answered as he 104 THE EAGLE'S EYE pointed to the notes of a memorandum book he had brought from the desk. “Let’s see what the rest of it has to offer.” A long silence, except for the crinkling of the pages as Harrison Grant read the notations in the old book. A long silence then “Careful there!” “What's the matter?” Harrison Grant paused with a finger in the air. Billy Cavanaugh reached forward, and taking the finger in his hand, low- ered it. “Nothing—only you were about to touch that to your lips—and there's no telling how many different kinds of germs are on the pages of that book.” Harrison Grant smiled. “Thanks, Billy,” he said softly, then turned to his work again. A moment more and he had risen, his eyes wide, excited. “Get a telephone, quick!” “What's Up?” “A good deal. Wasn't there something in the paper tonight about trouble with the longshore- men?” “Yes—but it's all settled up. That is, the in- dications are that it will be settled. Why?” “Because it's far from settled. Look here!” A finger pointed to a scrawled line in the old I06 THE EAGLE'S EYE find out quick! So hurry to the telephone. The docks are open day and night now, you know. Every member who can spare the sleep must find employment tonight. The rest of them will get jobs in the morning—we'll work in day and night shifts!” But even as Harrison Grant gave the order, Heinric von Lertz was laying his plans for the first blow, as he talked to a furtive eyed spy in the back room of a Hoboken saloon. “Here's the number of the lighter,” he was saying. “I just got it from one of Paul Koenig's men. It will leave the Jersey side about 10 o'clock in the morning.” “Got the number of the freight cars?” “The ones that contain the autos? Yes.” “Better give them to me. I can trace the stuff better that way. That lighter might make an- other load with something else. Don’t guess it makes much difference though—just so we sink some stuff.” “Except,” said Heinric von Lertz, “if we can strike a double blow, it's all the more to our ad- vantage. A hundred and fifty auto ambulances laying at the bottom of the river won’t do France any good, you know. So sink these cars if you possibly can.” Von Rintelen also was busy in his scheme of “THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 107 destruction. Far down in the lower end of New York, the arch-plotter, his hand covering his face as he talked, to prevent recognition by any pos- sible roving Secret Service man or detective, his eyes moving constantly, his whole, hunted being nerved and ready for instant escape, had sought out the German foreman of one of the largest docks in New York and was giving him orders in the name of Imperial Germany. “First of all,” he was asking, “who am I—in case you are caught?” “Gates is the only name I know.” “You don’t know any address?” “No.” “Good. Remember—if forced to it, Germany expects you to confess and to submit to the pun- ishment. But we who direct you must be pro- tected! Understand?” “I am a German reservist,” answered the fore- IIlàI]. - Rintelen bobbed his head slightly at the asser- tion. Then he leaned closer. “Are your men experienced in the loading of a ship?” “No—I’ve been working with practically new crews for the last three or four weeks.” “None of them are especially sharp—as con- cerns the right and wrong way of loading?” I08. THE EAGLE’S EYE “They all follow my orders. Besides, a num- ber of my men are pro-Gêrmans. I imported them for emergencies.” “Good. Be sure they are all at work in the morning. What's the boat at the docks now?” “The Arsulus. Freighter. 2,400 tons.” “Big boat.” Rintelen nodded his head with satisfaction. “How long would it take to load that boat in such a way as to make it capsize?” “Twelve hours 'll do it.” “All right, start in the morning. See that everything heavy is piled on one side, so that it will overturn the minute the hawsers are loosen- ed. Do you understand?” “Perfectly.” “Very well.” Rintelen looked hastily around to see that he was not watched, then rose cau- tiously. “I shall expect you to be working for Imperial Germany in the morning!” But when morning came, there were others at work also, not for Imperial Germany, but for the Stars and Stripes of the United States of America–Harrison Grant and the members of the Criminology Club, seeking to ferret out the trouble they knew to exist about the docks, seek- ing to learn what this German contamination was which they felt sure was gnawing apart the “THE STRIKE BREEDERS” 109 bonds that held the shipowners and the 'long- shoremen in unison. But it was a hard task. More than that, the doomed freight shipments of automobiles already had reached their lighters and were starting down the river, while concealed behind the freight cars were two of Rintelen's paid agents, waiting for the time to strike. And that time came. Far out into the river swung the lighter. The workmen were gathered at the other end of the long, traveling track. Everything was clear. Hurriedly, the spies ran to the end of the freight cars, where they had been blocked and snubbed. Quickly the ropes were loosed. The brakes were released. A few quick movements of a pair of pinch bars and the cars had been started toward the river. And in a moment more— A resounding, crashing splash, which seemed to echo from one side of the Hudson to the other. The boxcars, with their precious autos, had been sent, careening and bobbing, to the bottom of the river, and already a spy was on his way to a tele- phone to report: “Hello, Mr. Gates? Those cars have been ac- counted for.” “Good!” Franz von Rintelen, alias E. V. Gates, hung up the 'phone, then turned to write a scrawling letter which read: II.0 THE EAGLE’S EYE “Say, you shipowners. Either you give us 'longshoremen what we want or you'll get worse than what happened when we turned over those boxcars. The Committee.” Into a mailbox went the letter, to reach the shipowners by special delivery, just as they were considering the granting of every demand of the 'longshoremen. But that letter changed their atti- tude entirely. “Call up Union headquarters and tell them that all negotiations are off,” roared the presi- dent. “If those 'longshoremen think they can bully us, they're badly mistaken. We'll give them nothing!” The message reached Union headquarters. And the reply flashed back over the wire: “We don’t know anything about the sinking of your lighter. But if you can’t take our word for it 92 “We have your word—the confession that you sank the lighter, signed by the men res- ponsible,” was the rejoinder. There was only one answer for the men at Union Headquarters to make, and they made it. “Then our only reply must come in the form of a strike. We are sorry.” Then, throughout the city the word radiated, “THE STRIKE BREEDERS” III the word that the final breach had been reached between the 'longshoremen and the shipowners that a strike had been called and that within en- other twenty-four hours, the docks of the east would be silent, the trucks motionless, industry paralyzed! In a private room of the Hohenzol- lern Club, Von Rintelen, Albert von Papen and Boy-Ed received the information and rose to drink a toast to the success of the strike. Down. at the docks, Harrison Grant paled at the news, then sent his men scurrying about in a last effort to gain some information that would give him a positive clue to work on. But there was none. And in her way, Dixie Mason also was work- ing, for she had met Heinric von Lertz and had gone with him to the Ten Mile House, a fast roadhouse just outside the city where she might ply him with wine and seek to gain the secrets that she knew he carried concealed about him. At Union Headquarters, arrangements were being made for the strike meeting, while other officials were making a last effort to reach the shipowners and to seek to prove to them that the depredation committed against them had not been done by 'longshoremen. But the task was almost hopeless. Besides, Imperial Germany still lurked in the shadows with its greatest blow still unstruck, the i II2 THE EAGLE’S EYE blow that would cost the shipowners millions of dollars, that it hoped would end forever any con- ciliatory relations between the shipowners and 'longshoremen. And when that end came—it meant the stagnation of the industry of all East- ern America! CHAPTER WI THE PLOT AGAINST ORGANIZED LABOR. As the day wore on members of the Crim- inology Club, in their assumed capacity of dock hands, heard with irritating frequency the an- nouncement of the strike meeting called for that night. The sudden change of attitude of the shipowners toward the 'longshoremen was start- ling and puzzling. Harrison Grant confessed his bewilderment to himself even as he tried to dispel it by joining the small groups that gathered here and there, listening for the meager information their conversation contained. The talk was mostly of an argumentative nature, discussion rising magically over the soaring cost of living, their long hours, and the wrongs, fancied or other- wise, heaped upon them by the shipowners. In each little group, Grant noticed, when excite- ment lagged or one more cool-headed than the rest counselled less haste and more caution, less hot-headed talk and more cool thought, that at least one of the group was ready to stir them up II.3 II4 THE EAGLE’S EYE into argument again. But in these troublesome agitators, neither Grant nor his confreres could recognize any of the paid agents of the German government known to them. The sinking of the lighter had become the main topic of conversation. During the noon hour ex- citement and agitation ran high. The 'longshore- men resented being accused of sinking the lighter. Vehemently group after group disclaimed any such guilt. And while one group, hot in its de- nials, still seemed to believe that the shipowners would listen to their denials of guilt, time and again Grant heard references to the sinking of the lighter as though it had been the work of the 'longshoremen and as such was a commendable act in view of the wrongs done them. These agita- tors he knew were a foreign element. The air was permeated with the strike fever, and the fever was fed by remarks, actions, hints, constantly passing among the workmen but none of them traceable to men of known German lean- ings. Passing Billy Cavanaugh, Grant signalled to him to stop a moment, and, while he mopped his perspiring forehead, confided his doubts to him. “Strike meeting tonight and they don’t know the real reason for their strike! And we've got to find out for 'em and put a stop to it today.” PLOT AGAINST LABOR. H 15. Billy stared at him hopelessly. “What are you going to do? Germany is behind this but she is hiding so tight we can’t find her.” The Crim- inology Club could see hidden in this wild maze of misunderstanding the hands of Von Rintelen, Von Bernstorff, Albert, Von Papen, Boy-Ed and Won Lertz as the 'longshoremen could not; they could see the hands, but could not shackle them. The German dock foreman, upon whom Von Rintelen had called the night before, was rush- ing his inexperienced crew. The work of load- ing the Arsulus had gone forward with a rush. Burly laborers, ignorant of the crime in which they were being used as tools, loaded crates and boxes of produce into the hold of the Arsulus Reinforced here and there by men with whom the foreman was familiar, and who were well aware of their share in the crime, driven and roared and cursed at by the foreman, the laborers bent to their task. And the cargo of the Arsulus piled high against the hold on the water-side of the vessel. Her hawsers were pulling at their moor- ings. She creaked and rattled with the wash of the current, and listed slightly in her slip. But in the seething maelstrom of activity these things passed unnoticed. Toward the end of the afternoon, Grant picked up the word that the men at Union Head- 116 THE EAGLE'S EYE quarters had taken up the question of a strike with the shipowners once more. That they were seeking to convince them that there should be one more conference before the strike was called. And at last word came that the shipowners had consented to their pleas and would confer with them. The quitting bell clanged and the men of the day shift dropped their trucks. For a brief space comparative quiet reigned where all had been noise, clatter, ear-splitting crashes, combined with shouts of men in a fever heat of excitement. Grant, Cavanaugh, Sisson and Stewart of the Criminology Club joined the hurrying ranks and wedged themselves into the hall where the Union meetings were held, amid a crowd of perspiring, cursing, excited 'longshoremen. The chairman of the Shipowners Committee was speaking. As his voice was raised a silence fell upon the crowd. “Men, we want to be fair. You say that the 'longshoremen did not sink our lighter. We will grant that there may be some mistake here. We received your letter of last night and acted as we saw best. Your chairman and others here assure us that they sent no letter; if this is the case we will listen to you. Now talk quickly. State your demands.” PLOT AGAINST LABOR. 117 Instantly the hall was a bedlam of noise. Men shouted, trying to make themselves heard. Grant saw the men who had been foremost in spreading agitation among the groups on the docks now striving to add to the confusion and clamor by hurling epithets at the Shipowners Committee and urging the men at their sides to increase their demands. Disgusted, and seeing no solutions here to the problem that absorbed their minds, Grant sig- nalled to Cavanaugh. “Get Stewart and Sisson and get out of here. We'll get back to the docks. This is likely to last all night and then not amount to anything.” Grant slipped out hurriedly, knowing that the others would follow him. Ahead of him slouched two men. As he passed, one stopped to scratch a match against the building. It's flare lighted a face strongly Teutonic, and as the match died down and was tossed away Grant slowed up in the darkness and strained his ear to catch their conversation. They spoke in German. “We did good work at our dock today.” Out of the darkness on the cool night air the words came clearly, though gutturally, to Grant's ears. “Yes? What kind?” “Loading cargo. Dock Fourteen.” II8 THE EAGLE'S EYE They passed out of earshot. A moment later Grant heard the quick steps of Cavanaugh and the other two operatives, and soon they were swinging along to the dock. That there had been a note of pride or at least boastfulness in the voice of the man he had heard speaking by the wall, Grant was not slow to discern. To see that a man of his type, whom Grant classed with the agitators of the day on the docks, would not feel any great pride over the loading of a ship's cargo, did not take great powers of discernment. Grant with a mind trained to pick up the faint- est clue leaped to the conclusion that here was a thread that led to something which could be grasped. Evidently something had taken place that day on the dock which the Criminology Club had overlooked. “Dock Fourteen” he announced briefly to the others and silently they followed him. The great hulk of the Arsulus reared itself into the darkness of the night above the brightly lighted dock. “Wait here unless I call,” said Grant. He scrambled aboard and peered down the hatchway. His eyes swept the dark interior of the hold. One side was black, but in the side toward the water piles upon piles of packing boxes, baskets and clean-crated produce showed dimly. A voice at his elbow startled him. PLOT AGAINST LABOR II9 “Anything wrong here?” To Grant the figure of the dock foreman, shock-headed, heavy-jawed, with heavy arms swinging loosely, was typically bestial. With a quick sense of distaste he straightened. “Wrong? Somewhat! Unless this is a new style of loading a vessel. How long since they have been loading the cargo on one side? Looks like incompetence or—” but the foreman seemed indisposed to listen to Grant's ideas on the mat- ter, for a second later Grant had crumpled under his heavy fist and was sliding down the steep stairway. The foreman leaned forward and surveyed the three figures of the Criminology Club men on the dock. Picking up a balehook he laid it within easy reach, then cupping his hands about his mouth he called in a somewhat subdued but clear- ly audible voice, “Help. Help!” He saw the three men leap forward to the ship's side. He flattened himself against a pile of boxes. A moment more and the men had passed him and were clambering down the hatch. As the last one disappeared he sprang to the hatchway and battened it. Grant, Cavanaugh, Stewart and Sisson were prisoners. The German dock foreman uttered a shrill 120 THE EAGLE’S EYE whistle. It was answered in a moment and a figure joined him hurriedly. - “Wait until I'm off the dock and safe. Then cut the hawsers” It was the foreman who spoke and the other nodded. His huge figure disap- peared down the length of a warehouse. The man he had left reached for an axe which lay on a pile of boxes. There was no sound except a straining and creaking as he hacked at the haw- sers of the Arsulus. Grant and his men inside the hatchway were beating at the door in an ef- fort to break it open. Suddenly they felt the movement of the vessel as it listed sharply. They heard the clattering and crashing of trucks, benches and tools falling from their places sliding over the floor of the hold. The vessel trembled as the last hawser parted and with a sudden lurch the Arsulus capsized, carrying with her to what seemed certain death the four members of the Criminology Club. Perhaps to death, but a death they would fight to the last! Boxes and bales tumbled and crashed about. A porthole on the underside burst under the pressure of water and a geyserlike stream spouted up. The men knew that the water was flowing in, that it was only a matter of a short time before the vessel would be submerged and PLOT AGAINST LABOR. I2]. that to the chill shadows of the hold would be added the shadow of death! Scran bling from one box to another they eluded the ever-rising wave of water. At last they had reached the high- est point of vantage they could find. And for a short time at least the waters seemed at a stand- still. Above them was the cold steel side of the vessel. Below them the churn and rush of water. While Harrison Grant and his friends fought for their lives in the hold of the wrecked Arsulus, the conference at the Headquarters of the Union proceeded. Order was being formulated out of chaos, the 'longshoremen's demands were being gathered into shape, and it seemed that a settle- ment agreeable to all was about to be reached. Suddenly the telephone on the table jangled. One of the Union officials answered it, then turned it over to the Chairman of the Shipowners Committee. “It's for you.” There was a moment's silence while he fumbled with the receiver, his greeting, and then another silence while the voice of the speaker at the other end of the line came to their ears in squeaky ac- centS. As they watched him, the Chairman's face hardened. “Here, say that over again. No! Well they’ve I22 THE EAGLE'S EYE reached the limit. This means the end.” The receiver banged into its socket and the chairman faced the group of tense men at the table. “Gentlemen, the Arsulus has just been sunk at its dock. You were warned that if another de- predation occurred we would lock you out whe- ther you struck or not.” His fist crashed to the table. “That ship was loaded so it would cap- size. A million dollars worth of property has been destroyed. You will see that we can take no other action. Negotiations are at an end. We will fight you now to the finish. I must bid you good evening.” Calmly and coldly he threaded his way through the crowds of 'long- shoremen into whose minds the greatness of this new blow, just struck, was beginning to pene- trate. There was a sudden burst of sound as men tried to make themselves heard, seeking for recog- nition, yelling, shouting. Again and again the gavel crashed to the table for order. Finally, re- luctantly it came. The president of the 'Longshoremen’s Union looked down at the upturned faces of his men. “Boys, this meeting is not of our choice. Strange things have happened. We must re- member, however, in our excitement and resent- ment that in the past the shipowners have treated PLOT AGAINST LABOR. 123 us with a large measure of fairness. Now we must face these new problems. The Chairman of the shipowners’ committee has just announced to us that they will refuse to treat with us 35 “Then let's strike. Give them their answer. Strike!” It was the German dock foreman who had leaped to his feet and was striding up and down the aisle in defiance of the gavel beating for order. One after another the 'longshoremen joined in his cry, hypnotized by his apparent earnestness, eager to follow his evident leader- ship. “Strike, Strike! We'll bring these shipowners to their senses. What have they done for us?” In the overturned hulk of the Arsulus, still fighting the death that seemed imminent, the members of the Criminology Club racked their brains for a means of escape from the waters threatening to engulf them. Grant reached out a hand in the darkness and encountered a clenched fist. “Cavanaugh, is that you?” “Yes,” the reply bordered on a gasp. “Some kind of crating here. I’ve got a bale- hook I picked up somewhere.” “A balehook? Give it to me.” Cavanaugh handed the implement to Grant, 124 THE EAGLE'S EYE who dragged himself to the pinnacle of the debris and began a systematic tapping on the steel hull of the vessel with the handle of the heavy hook. In a moment the operatives deciphered the message he was sending in Morse Code. “Send help! Send help!” he signalled over and over, and when his arm was about to fail, Cavanaugh scrambled to his side and took up the tapping. How long they waited they could not tell. Time dragged and the waters began to rise again while the splashing about of floating boxes, drifting among the debris drowned out the out- side noises. Grant, reaching up with the bale- hook to begin his signalling once more was startled to see a tiny spot of red glowing above his head in the darkness. A moment more and the spot changed to white and he lurched side- ways as a hissing drop of molten steel sung past his ear and dropped into the water with a burst of steam. A greenish flame showed through the steel, the flame of an acetylene torch, lighting the watery, floating hold like a glint of summer lightning. And as they watched it, the hole grew and grew. At last a mass of steel dropped into the water and through the widened hole, Grant caught a glimpse of the stars twinkling in the sky. A shadow fell across the opening and they heard a PLOT AGAINST LABOR I25 voice bellowing to them above the sound of the Water. “Who’s there?” “Harrison Grant, Cavanaugh, Stewart, Sis- son!” Four masculine voices shouted the neces- sary information. “Oh, all right, gentlemen! Hold tight until the edges have cooled. Just a minute now.” Five minutes later the four members of the Criminology Club, bruised and battered, wet and ragged, stood upright on the hull of the capsized vessel, under the bright stars, with the cool breath of the river blowing into their grateful nostrils. The lights from the docks glinted on the buttons and stars which adorned the coats of their res- cuers. Grant leaned forward and peered into the face of one of the patrolmen. “Leary! So you're the one who does the Des- perate Desmond act and rescues gentlemen in distress?” “Yes Mr. Grant. And do you feel like an- swering any questions?” “If they are necessary.” “They’re necessary all right. If you'll just come over here on the dock, please. Muldoon's got a prisoner. Saw him running away from the dock here and tripped him up. He'll confess, all right.” I26 THE EAGLE’S EYE Grant followed the patrolman into the ware- house. Muldoon clutched a cringing form. “That's no one I know, Muldoon. He is prob- ably a confederate.” “He said he did it all, Mr. Grant.” “A favorite tale with these German spies, Mul- doon. Here you!” He grasped the spy sud- denly. “I want you to tell the truth and to tell it quick. Where's the foreman of this dock?” The spy swallowed with evident effort, and then gasped out: “Gone to a labor meeting.” “He gave you orders to cut those hawsers didn’t he?” The spy's eyes wavered, and then, held by Grant's glance, came back: “Yes.” “Why?” The spy shrugged his shoulders. “He had orders to sink the ship.” “From whom?” “I don’t know. He wanted them to think the 'longshoremen did it.” “And bring about a strike? Very simple. Now we'll go over to the labor meeting and you can tell the people you see there this same little story.” The spy with a sudden jerk tried to free him- PLOT AGAINST LABOR 127 self, but Muldoon's burly fist clenched on his shoulder. The 'longshoremen's meeting had reached its climax, and now a quiet had fallen. Human nature cannot keep itself at a high pitch of ex- citement indefinitely. The reaction had come. Silence reigned as Grant and his companions, and the two policemen, leading the ashy-faced prisoner, entered the hall. The voice of the clerk was raised as they took places against the back wall of the room. “And now that the speeches have been finished, it is moved and seconded that a vote shall be taken to determine whether a general strike be called by the 'longshoreman against the ship- owners of—” - A shout from Grant brushed the droning voice of the clerk aside. - “Stop! No vote must be taken until this man tells his story.” As though stirred by a giant hand, the as- semblage recoiled. Men rose from their seats to see the person whose temerity thus interrupted the vote of their Union. Down the aisle the Ger- man dock foreman, whose vociferousness of a short time before had helped to keep the even- ing in an uproar, passed a hand over his face and slid into his seat again. I28 THE EAGLE'S EYE With dragging feet the spy was roughly shoved down the aisle by the two policemen, fol- lowed by Grant. They climbed to the platform and faced the listening mass of men. For a moment Grant looked down on them in silence. Then he spoke: “You men are laboring under a delusion. I am here to prove it to you, and this—gentleman,” he ironically waved a hand toward the spy, “will help me.” He turned to the spy. “Where is the man who gave you orders to turn that boat over? Remember, I know who he is. I want you to tell them.” The prisoner glanced over the audience fear- fully. He lifted a limp hand and pointed. “There!” Halfway down the hall the huge form of the dock foreman rose and started with a rush toward the door. But his path was blocked. Hands shot out to seize his and pinion them, struggling, to his sides. Fighting and cursing they carried him to the platform and faced him toward the spy. Ten minutes of excited talking followed, hot with denials and accusations bandied between the foreman and the spy. Suddenly the dock foreman turned to his audience. - IBO THE EAGLE'S EYE take.” Grant bowed to the president of the Union and stepped down from the platform. The president took the floor. Relief was writ- ten large on his smiling countenance. “Men, we must declare ourselves. This man has confessed that an effort has been made to make us allies of Germany in an attempt to tie up shipping and paralyze American industries. Do you consent to be tools of Imperial Germany or do you prefer to be free Americans?” In a moment the hall resounded with shouts. “Americans! Americans!” The president turned as his secretary touched him on the elbow. He took a slip of paper hand- ed him and raised his hand for silence. “The shipowners announce that because of the removal of this very serious charge against you, they are willing to grant the demands of the 'longshoremen!” It was as though a whirlwind had struck a forest. The mass of men went wild. Shouts re- sounded while men tossed their hats into the air, slapped each other on the back, wrung each other's hands. Grant watched them for a few moments, smiling. Another blow by Germany had been averted. It was worth the horror and danger of the last hour. His work for the night was over. He turned to go. PLOT AGAINST LABOR. 13I With thoughts free from the 'longshoremen and their difficulties settled, his mind reverted to the subject nearest his heart, and one which even in moments of greatest danger and suspense or wildest excitement, he was ever conscious of. Dixie Mason's dark eyes seemed to look wist- fully at him from the darkness. Dixie's little jaunt to the Ten Mile House with Von Lertz had almost proved highly worth the necessity of enduring his attentions for several hours. They had danced and dined and danced again, and Von Lertz had ordered many drinks. As he imbibed drink after drink he be- came with each one a little less careful, a shade more loquacious. But he dropped no word of proceedings that she recognized as of any im- portance. Dixie grew a little discouraged and tired as the time passed. She was about to sug- gest the necessity of returning to the city when a door slammed noisily. In a state of nervous tension, Dixie started, upsetting the small glass of cordial that had been served to her. The bright colored liquid ran in a quick stream toward the edge of the table, toward her. Dixie drew back. “Wipe it up quick! I don’t want it to get on me!” There was no waiter near. Von Lertz whipped 132 THE EAGLE’S EYE out a clean handkerchief from his pocket. Un- noticed by him a small leather-colored booklet slipped from his pocket with the handkerchief and dropped to the floor. Dixie's quick eyes saw it and while she thanked Von Lertz with a grati- tude that, under different circumstances, he would have thought somewhat profuse for the service rendered, Dixie slipped her foot over the little book. The slamming door had admitted two new- comers, a man and a girl. The girl Dixie recog- nized at once as a member of the Secret Service and catching her eye, she signalled to her to come OVer. Von Lertz, ever on the alert for new conquests, lost no time in asking the girl to dance with him. Dixie had known this would happen. As the girl and Von Lertz circled away from the table, she excused herself to the girl's escort, leaned over, picked up the little note-book and left the room. A moment later in the dressing-room she started wide-eyed and with quickening breath at a report in which were jotted down items, all planning death and destruction and horror of a vastness beyond comprehension. CHAPTER VII THE BROWN PORTFOLIO No one passing with the crowds that thronged Fifth Avenue at all hours would have singled out the great stone house that stood flush with the sidewalk near Fifty-second Street. Its great doors with their outer gates of iron bars were flanked on each side by anemic box trees which bravely struggled for a living amid the dust and grime of the city. Its closely curtained win- dows presented an impression of cold aloofness. To the passerby there was nothing to indicate that its air of ancient respectability was but as- sumed. It's door swung into an entrance hall whose gloomy grandeur was lightened by the subdued light of wall brackets with colored shades. Broad stairs led to the upper floors. At one side of the hall beautifully panelled oak doors opened into a long room, whose wall, hung with tapestry and great paintings, and giant fireplace gave to the interior an air of baronial splendor. Amid this quiet luxury and display of royal I33 134 THE EAGLE'S EYE grandeur the German government had estab- lished its headquarters for the system of espion- age it had introduced into a peaceful country. This room was the meeting place of the chief agents of the German government. To it came Von Lertz of the susceptible heart, most recently lost to Dixie Mason; here came Boy-Ed and Von Papen, Von Rintelen of many disguises and Von Bernstorff, the German Ambassador, for conferences with Dr. Albert, paymaster for the Kaiser's spy army in America. And that their movements might be directed with greatest secrecy and expediency wireless messages were received here direct from Nauen, Germany, through the huge antennae which could be stretched upward from the chimney of the house and through the great detectors concealed behind the massive oil paintings adorning the walls. The room was quiet save for the continuous shuffle of papers slipping and sliding into neat piles under the quick hands of Dr. Albert and the crackling of the log in the fireplace, now al- most smoldering into ashes. He laid the reports from spies in all parts of the country into Cne pile. The most important of these were carried in the brown portfolio which lay on the table and which he kept continually in his possession. Now he thrust into it a report from Captain Portfolio secured from Dr. Albert containing documents relating to official German intrigue THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 135 Franz von Papen, suggesting that a shipment of liquid chlorine which had been ordered by the Allies be stopped by blowing up the factories in which it was being manufactured. Thus the Germans would be given a new advantage in the field by an absolute monopoly of this gas. This report was followed by another from the same source calling the doctor's attention to the possi- bility of obtaining the patents of the Wright aeroplane by trickery, cheating the Wright brothers out of the result of years of labor, and cornering the aeroplane market in America. A quietly personal letter from Von Rintelen advis- ing him of the various aliases and describing the disguises under which he intended to travel for the next few weeks; documents regarding the Embargo Conference, with its membership of misguided Americans, conceived and designed to bring political influence to bear upon the muni- tions industry, thus enabling Germany to obtain all the arms it needed and the Allies none; let- ters and reports on crop conditions, telegrams suggesting means by which Germany could handle the various U-boat controversies in a way to blind the Administration and yet commit mur- der on the high seas, plans for buying news- papers and the dissemination of spy propaganda —prospectuses, plans and other matters of im- I36 THE EAGLE'S EYE portance which came daily to the hands of this mysterious, seemingly all-seeing financial agent of the German Government, were slipped into the brown portfolio. He started suddenly as the panelled doors creaked open to admit a visitor. His piercing eyes turned to a person advancing toward him jauntily, but with an air of familiarity that was disarming. In a moment the look of alarm on Albert's face changed to one of relief as he recog- nized his visitor and nodded curtly. “Ah Von Rintelen, glad to see you. In the future kindly have yourself announced.” “As what? Would it make it any easier to have Smith, or Gates or Levinsky or some such personage announced? Would it make this place easier of access to me?” Von Rintelen swung his cane over the back of a chair, hung his hat over the same piece of furniture and stood roll- ing his immaculate chamois gloves from his hands. This done, with a care and precision that seemed to make each movement a ceremony, he removed the brown Van Dyke beard that had adorned his countenance, and stood revealed to his confrere in his true personage. Stepping to Albert's side he said in lowered tones: “You say you are glad to see me; you may feel differently when I tell you the news I bring.” THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 137 Albert turned quickly. “Good or bad?” “Bad,” answered Rintelen. He reached into his pocket and brought out a slip of paper, un- folding it as he held it for Albert to read. Dr. Albert glanced over it, then frowned, in- quiringly. “Well, what of this? Is it not right that Ger- many should place bombs on ships leaving Ameri- can ports? I see here a list of ten or twelve sugar vessels which are now at sea, with bombs in their cargoes due to explode some time today. What of that? These are orders being carried out.” Von Rintelen pointed. “Read the last line again carefully, my friend. The Cragside is listed there and—the Cragside is still in port!” For a moment of tense silence the plotters stared at each other, consternation growing in the expression Albert bent upon Rintelen. “What! And there are bombs in the Crag- side’s hold?” Von Rintelen nodded. “Five of them—sewed into sugar sacks. They are due to explode any time now.” Dr. Albert paced the floor, hands folded be- I38 THE EAGLE'S EYE hind him, a frown deepening the lines of his face. He stopped and looked at Von Rintelen. “And that means that the Cragside will burn at her dock—” Von Rintelen nodded again. “Naturally.” “And there will be an investigation. More of these infernal American reporters asking ques- tions and seeking to find the causes of things. More Secret Service men running about, and with their keen perception, certain to find these things we wished concealed! Who's mistake is this?” Dr. Albert glared at Von Rintelen, an- noyance fast growing into anger as the danger of the situation took hold of him. Von Rintelen, shrugged his shoulders. “No one's mistake. The agents were told to put bombs aboard sugar ships to destroy as many sugar cargoes as possible. They obeyed orders. The Cragside sailed three days ago when the other ships left port. Something went wrong, she returned for repairs, and is now in port as I have just told you. And the bomb in her hold is due to explode today.” Albert stared at Von Rintelen fiercely. The thoughts which struggled for words but were suppressed showed in his face at the nipping in the bud of this well-planned plot. He took refuge in a hard-fought silence, for Franz Von THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 139 Rintelen, special emissary and arch-plotter, owed no recognition to Dr. Heinrich Albert. Von Rintelen had come to America with a fund of fifty millions of dollars at his disposal and was accountable to only one for the success or failures which followed the use of the money for death and destruction and that man was—the Kaiser. . Von Rintelen picked up the beard which had disguised his features and crossing to a low hung French mirror, carefully adjusted it. Picking up his hat and cane and gloves, he turned to Albert. “Sorry,” he said. “Mistakes will occur, you know. Till we meet again,” he bowed jauntily and in a moment the panelled doors closed be- hind him and the great iron barred doors of the front entrance clanged, marking his exit to Fifth Avenue. He was quickly lost in the hurry- ing crowds outside. Albert walked to the fireplace and stared gloomily into its fast dying embers. “A happy day for Germany when he returns home,” he muttered moodily. “Mistakes, mistakes, nothing but mistakes.” The past twelve hours had been filled with puzzling anxiety for Dixie Mason. Since the moment she had read the scribbled page from the notebook of Heinric von Lertz in the dressing 140 THE EAGLE'S EYE room of the Ten Mile Mouse, her efforts had been spent on solving the mystery of its meaning, for all it said, though Dixie was not at all misled by its briefness into confusing brevity with inno- cence, was this: Report for Von Lertz. Fire bombs manufactured . . . . . . . . . . . 400 Fire bombs delivered to agents for com- ing use . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72 Balance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328 That was all. Where the bombs had been placed, when they would explode, where it was intended others should be placed could not be told. It had been with difficulty that Dixie in her preoccupation had retained Von Lertz's at- tention on the ride home from the Ten Mile House the night before. Her mind had been a seething mass of conjectures and forebodings. And with them had been linked her knowledge of the necessity for occupying Von Lertz's atten- tion so that he would not discover the loss of the report book. In this she had been successful, and when he at last deposited her at the door of her apartment, it was with a feeling of relief that she bid him good night. Dixie in the quiet of her room chided herself for not being able to make more of this report. THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 141 She told herself that she had no right to be one of the Secret Service if she could do no better than this, but the information was meager— there was nothing to work on. Her smooth fore- head was furrowed by a frown of anxiety. For the fiftieth time she read the report and then she shook her head. “No use,” she mused. “There's only one thing for me to do with this and that is send it to Har- rison Grant without his knowing who it came from. He can start an investigation.” She folded the page torn from the book and slipped it into an envelope. Then in a painfully dis- guised handwriting she directed it to Harrison Grant, at the Criminology Club. She held up the envelope and surveyed the writing. “He doesn’t know my writing, but if he did he would never guess this was mine. Mamette!” she called sharply. In a moment the curtain of her room was parted and a grinning black face looked in on her. Mamette had been Dixie's maid for years; in spite of her self-selected name smacking as she thought, of all that was French and gay and fashionable, she was pure African. “Mamette,” Dixie repeated, “Take this letter down to the telegraph office in the next block and 142 THE EAGLE'S EYE have a messenger deliver it at once. Be sure not to say who is sending it. Remember!” “Yas'm!” Mamette's dark hand grasped the envelope which was startingly white by contrast, and in a few minutes Dixie heard the door of the apartment slam and knew that the report which she rightfully guessed savored of intrigue boding ill for the peace of the land she served, was on its way to Harrison Grant. It reached him a half hour later by messenger, at his office. It was Jimmy McAdams, shock haired, and dreamy eyed, who ambled in and presented him with the message, and while he waited to see whether Grant wished to send an answer, Jimmy made himself comfortable in the depths of a lea- ther chair with the nickel novel which never left him. Grant frowned over the brief report which had been the cause of Dixie Mason’s dilemma. A triumphant chuckle from Jimmy aroused him. But the chuckle was merely induced by the suc- cessful effort of Old King Brady to capture the last of the counterfeiters as set forth between the lurid covers of Jimmy's nickel thriller. Grant's glance rested on him with tolerant amusement. “Keep on reading that stuff, Jimmy, and you'll be a detective before you know it.” Jimmy pulled himself into his present sur- THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 143 roundings with obvious effort. The eyes that met Grant's were still somewhat dreamy. “What? Aw gee, Mr. Grant. I wish I was a detective! I bet I could be one.” “And yet you don’t know where this myster- ious communication you just brought me came from?” “Aw gee! Mr. Grant. How’d I know it was mysterious? I carry so many messages. How could I guess this one was goin’ to be something different. Anyway that ain’t got nothin’ to do with the kind of detectin’ I want to do. I want to be 22 “Look here Jimmy,” Grant had risen and crossed over to the boy, “Why don’t you stop reading these nickel thrillers and put some of that excess energy into the Boy Scouts?” “Well, Mr. Grant, that ain’t a bad idea. They been tryin’ to get me to join. But I want to be a detective.” Just how close he was to becoming a detective Jimmy did not know. A few moments later he left the Club and betook himself to the “L” sta- tion for the train that would take him back to his office. Jimmy was followed into the car by a well- dressed, dark man of somewhat foreign appear- ance who carried a brown portfolio. There was 144 THE EAGLE'S EYE nothing about him to arouse interest, but because he was the only other person in the car Jimmy stared at him with a bored curiosity which would have been disconcerting had the object of it not been in a somewhat drowsy state. Jimmy watched his head nod, fall forward on his chest, and jerked back only to allow it to go through the same performance again. It was very in- teresting to Jimmy, and he was somewhat sorry when the man jumped to his feet in confusion as the guard called a station and hurried out to the platform. As the train started Jimmy noticed the brown portfolio lying on the seat where the man had left it. He caught it up and thrust his head out of the window. “Hey, hey, mister! You left your valise!” Portfolios, valises—they were all the same to Jimmy, the untravelled. But the “L” train was pulling out. Behind, on the platform Jimmy could see the man wav- ing his arms and gesticulating wildly. “Well you shouldn’t have left it,” Jimmy com- mented philosophically to no one in particular, and immediately unbuckled the strap that held the case closed. He glanced inside. For a moment disappointment was written on his fea- tures, and then his eyes widened. “Papers! German papers! Gosh I wonder if THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 145 he's a spy!” Jimmy hesitated and hurried out of the car. He was strangely deaf to the shouts of the station guard, as he rushed down the elevator steps, the newsdealer who endeavored to stop him at the guard's earnest entreaties, enforced pro- fanities, presented no obstacle at all. A police- man, seeing the commotion, did his best to slacken the pace Jimmy had set for himself but could do nothing but follow the nimble-footed messenger. Fifteen minutes later Jimmy dashed past Pat Hennessy at the door of the Criminology Club and threw himself, panting and wild-eyed at Harrison Grant. “Mr. Grant!” he gasped. “Here’s a whole valise full of German spies—I mean German papers.” And then he turned with a look of despair as the cumbersome form of his pursuer darkened the door. At the sight of Jimmy the ample-pro- portioned guardian of the law stepped forward to lay a heavy hand upon him, but Harrison Grant stopped him quietly. “Just a minute, here, Tom. The boy's all right. I’ll look after him. I think he's got some- thing here we really want. In any event I’ll take care of the bag, whatever it is—and if the boy is wrong I’ll see that it gets back to its owner.” 146 THE EAGLE'S EYE The policeman pondered dubiously. “Well,” he said finally, “I seen the kid running with this brown thing and a man chasing him, and I natur- ally thought something was wrong. But I’ll leave him with you if you say so, Mr. Grant.” Grant nodded and he left the room. Jimmy buzzed at Grant excitedly, like an irri- tating mosquito. “Open it up—please, Mr. Grant. It's full of German papers. A guy left it on the ‘L' train and I picked it up.” Harrison Grant, with thoughts of Jimmy and the Adventures of Old King Brady, looked down at the youngster and laughed. “Jimmy, it's a good thing I know you’re a good boy or ”he had opened the portfolio now and was drawing out its contents. He stop- ped with a quick exclamation as his eyes rested on a letter. “The spy correspondence of Dr. Heinrich Al- bert!” As Harrison Grant was hastily running through the contents of the brown portfolio with which Jimmy had so unceremoniously presented him, the guests lounging about the parlors of the Ritz Carlton were somewhat startled at the sud- den entrance of a tall dark man. Caution almost THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 147 forgotten in the need for instant conference with his fellow plotters, Albert had hailed the first taxi driver in sight and ordered him to drive to the hotel at which Von Bernstorff the ambassa- dor, was stopping, as quickly as possible. Pay- ing the driver as they arrived, he had rushed into the lobby, had himself announced and impatiently fumed while the elevator with a slow elegance unappreciated by the doctor, carried him to the floor of Von Bernstorff's suite. A moment later he was somewhat incoherently pouring his recital of events into the interested ears of Von Bern- storff, Von Papen and Boy-Ed. “I fell asleep. I’ve been doing much night work,” this in a somewhat apologetic tone which won no sympathy from his hearers, “and awoke only when they called my station. I hurried out, forgetting my portfolio. How I did it I do not know. It never leaves my side. That I should have forgotten it now ” Albert threw him- self into a chair and ran his fingers through his hair excitedly. “The boy waved at me from the window of the train,” he went on. “I immediate- ly telephoned to the next station to have him stopped and the bag taken away from him. But they say when he got there he slid past the guard, ran down the steps, tripped up a newsdealer, got away from a policeman and then ran with it.” I48 THE EAGLE'S EYE Jimmy would have been surprised to know what importance was attached to his actions of the past hour. Von Bernstorff frowned. “He’s probably taken it to the Secret Service,” he cut in. “The result will be that sooner or later every scheme outlined in that correspondence will be frustrated. It was careless, Albert, exceedingly careless work. But we must concern ourselves with the necessi- ties of the moment.” A moment's pause ensued. “The consequences of this affair would be staggering if the papers should fall into the right hands.” Von Bernstorff spoke. “Von Rintelen must leave the country at once. He is not an attache or member of the Imperial German Embassy and therefore is not protected by international law.” Von Rintelen bowed assentingly. What Von Bernstorff said was true, and he rose. “Auf weidersehen, Von Rintelen.” Von Bern- storff held out his hand. Von Rintelen bowed and shook the hand of each of the men with whom he had been associated and with hurried expres- sions of farewell, left the room to make prepara- tions for flight from the country, flight that ended for him at Falmouth, England, where he was detained and returned to New York City. In February, 1918, Judge Howe of Vermont THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 149 sentenced him to imprisonment for his activities against the peace of the United States. After Von Rintelen’s exit, Von Bernstorff turned once more to his fiscal spy and Boy-Ed and Von Papen. “As I said, we who are left must concern our- selves with the necessities of the moment which seem to be pressing upon us. Dr. Albert, what was the most important paper in the portfolio you carried?” “Von Rintelen's report of the bombs placed on sugar ships.” Von Bernstorff smiled slightly. “That may give us a clue! Are all the ships at sea?” “Yes.” “Then if the papers are in the hands of the Secret Service 33 “They'll wireless the ships at sea,” broke in Albert. “Exactly.” Bernstorff nodded matter-of- factly. “We can find out speedily if they're in possession of our secrets and arrange our acts ac- cordingly. You, Von Papen, and Boy-Ed, get out the Long Island automobile wireless and catch any messages that Sayville may send out tonight. Where is Von Lertz?” Von Papen shook his head. I50 THE EAGLE'S EYE “I think he has an engagement with Miss Mason.” “Miss Mason? Who is she?” Von Bernstorff glanced up sharply, but without waiting for reply went on, “he will have to break it. He must help you. I will telephone him to get Wolff von Igel and help you.” Von Papen and Boy-Ed, bowing, left the TOOnn. Bernstorff caught up the desk 'phone and rat- tled the hook impatiently. He was answered in a moment, and as he gave the number of Von Lertz's apartment, the girl at the switchboard smiled to herself in the privacy of her corner, and made a double connection for the benefit of Dixie Mason, who had been careful to plant her opera- tives in strategic places. Dixie Mason, listening' quietly, on the 'phone in her own little boudoir heard Bernstorff call for Heinrich von Lertz, and in a moment caught Von Lertz's quiet an- swer. She heard Bernstorff's explanation of his call and the story of the loss of the reports given in a few words. “There is no time to waste, Von Lertz. All messages must be caught. Get Wolff von Igel at once, and you two go out with Von Papen and Boy-Ed in the machine.” “I will be with them in three quarters of an THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 151 hour or sooner, if I can make it,” Von Lertz answered somewhat slowly. Dixie smiled broad- ly and suppressed a girlish giggle. The reason for Von Lertz's hesitancy was not hard to be guessed at. But all hilarity disappeared the moment the receiver of her 'phone slipped gently into its hook. It was lifted very shortly and the voice of Dixie Mason, having called her number, was carried to the ear of the Chief of the Secret Service. A quick conversation followed. “I will have men at Harden’s Corner. Did you get that? Harden's corner,” he spoke in final tones. “Give them the signal I have just told them they would get from you. Everything straight? All right. Good bye.” Dixie pushed the 'phone from her. “Mamette! Hurry! The motor togs!” For the next half hour Dixie was extremely busy, and Mamette's services had to be called upon to assist in the unusual toilette she was making. Although Heinric von Lertz, calling shortly to convey his regrets at the necessity of breaking his engagement with her for the motor trip they had planned, found her entrancingly gowned in a dark negligee, the door had hardly closed behind him, when the entrancing negligee I52 THE EAGLE'S EYE slipped to the floor and disclosed Dixie Mason in motor clothes of an extremely mannish cut. Calling directions into the bemuddled ears of Mamette, donning goggles and cap at the same time, she hurried to the hall and into the elevator. As the machine of Heinric von Lertz, carrying with him Von Papen, and Boy-Ed, crossed the street intersection beyond on their way to Long Island, Dixie Mason's car fairly leaped out of the driveway and on to the road they were taking. Across the city and over the bridge the big car with the small one following at a discreet but never faltering distance, took its way. At the bridge it was joined by the heavy wireless auto- mobile carrying Wolff von Igel and a driver. Then out on the broad Long Island road with the course spreading smooth and straight before them. The spies were looking for a point of vantage in the hills where their wireless could be used to catch the messages going out from Say- ville to the sugar ships in danger. Dixie Mason was looking for a well known intersection of roads, where a road came down from a hill and cut sharply across the high road—a road well hidden except for its intersection. Her sharp eyes travelling beyond caught a glimpse of the white cross formed by the roads. Two long shrill wails followed by three short ones pierced THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 153 the air, above the steady drumming of the heavy cars ahead. The cars containing Von Lertz and Von Papen, Von Igel and his driver dashed past the intersection of the road where a tall signpost bearing the information that this was Harden's Corner reared itself. To the men in the cars the sign meant nothing, but to Dixie Mason it meant success or failure. A moment of suspense for her followed, and then a machine dashed into the road between her car and the cars ahead. Dixie slowed down. Her services were not needed now. The other Secret Service opera- tives would complete her work for her, but hop- ing to see the finish she drove on slowly. The spies evidently not knowing they were fol- lowed had driven their car up into a road leading to a hill overlooking the water. Von Papen and Boy-Ed were making the necessary connection of the wireless that would enable them to catch the messages at sea. Von Igel, with the driver, was standing guard. Suddenly Von Igel uttered a warning shout. Explanations were unneces- sary. A glance below showed that they were dis- covered. Von Lertz, followed by Von Papen, leaped into his machine and swung into the road, followed by Von Igel in the wireless ma- chine. With roaring exhausts they raced for the 154 THE EAGLE'S EYE broad road that led to the city. Behind them, swinging and swerving, thundered the car carry- ing the Secret Service men. Far away Dixie Mason, driving leisurely, heard the sounds of the race. The hills resounded with the heavy echoes of the pounding machines. As she reached the crest of the hill she saw them below her. A small stream which was crossed by a bridge lay at the foot of the hill. As Von Lertz struck the bridge his car leaped into the air, wavered a moment and then crashed ahead, over the bridge and with a grinding of brakes, up the side of the embankment. Then Dixie gave a cry of horror as Von Igel's heavy car following struck the edge of the bridge as Von Lertz's had done, but with less luck, for the car swerved, skidded, swung about, and then striking the heavy cement railing of the bridge, capsized, pinioning Wolff von Igel beneath it. A moment more and a flame shot high into the air as the gasoline tank exploded. Von Lertz and Von Papen worked madly, endeavoring to extricate Von Igel from the wrecked car. She could not see the driver. Dixie peered beyond them. In the distance she could see the car which should have carried her Secret Service co-workers to the successful climax of this affair, stalled, its erst- while occupants working in vain endeavors to THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 155 start it. Dixie groaned. After all, it was up to her. Well acquainted with the character of the men whose schemes she combatted daily with a wit equal to theirs but with less resources to forestall, she summoned her courage and thoughts to do her bidding. Through fate, luck, she knew not what, her plan was endangered. And then this same fate played into her hands. As her car slid slowly down the hill, Von Papen spoke quickly to Von Lertz. “Do you know who this is coming down the hill?” Von Lertz glanced up. “No, but we passed him back in town. Why?” “We can use him—if he is all right. You and Boy-Ed take Von Igel in your machine and get him to a hospital quick. I’ll have to try a rather dangerous stunt—work the Fifth Avenue wire- less. It's risky but—” Dixie had brought her machine to a standstill near the smoking wreck of Von Igel's wireless machine. Her heart pounded madly as Von Papen stepped toward her. Was fate favoring her? It seemed so! She drew her cap down and adjusted her gog- gles more firmly as Von Papen advanced. 156 THE EAGLE'S EYE “We’ve had an accident here,” he said, “I’ve got to get back to town. Can you take me?” Dixie nodded and opened the door. Von Papen stepped in and gave her directions as to where he wished her to drive him—little know- ing that he was giving information to the woman representative of the Secret Service! “Turn into Fifth Avenue at Fifty-second Street and then start up-town. Make it as fast as the law allows!” Captain von Papen was snapping his orders excitedly, but in a low voice. “I’ve got to get there to notify the mother of the boy who has just been hurt. Understand?” Dixie nodded. Her foot pressed the accelera- tor. A moment more and the finger of the speedometer climbed to forty miles, then fifty and slowly to sixty where it stayed until the out- lines of the city began to show against the west- ern sky. Then Dixie slowed down to a speed which would allow her to pass the policemen they began to encounter at intervals without inter- ference. She crossed over to Madison Avenue, and there slowed down. Von Papenglanced out and around the machine nervously. Evidently the way was clear, for he reached into his pocket and drew out a bill which he pressed into the driver's hand. “Drive on, please, no need to wait for me,” he called, hurrying to the sidewalk. THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 157 Dixie nodded and started the machine. She crossed Fifth Avenue. Just beyond the corner she stopped the car and jumped out. Scurrying to the corner she watched Von Papen enter the house. It was Dr. Albert's house, the huge Fifth Avenue mansion that German efficiency had turned into a spies' nest from which to prey upon a country with which it claimed to be on friendly terms and by whom it was trusted. Dixie Mason glanced up at its close curtained windows. Some- where inside was Von Papen, gone there on an errand unknown to her but which she knew had some bearing on the events of the afternoon. What was his mission? In a moment the answer was given her. High up on the roof the slender antennae of a wireless outfit was being raised. Higher and higher with slim tentacles spreading as the machinery inside that controlled it was operated. There was no need for conjecture now. Dixie Mason knew the meaning of Von Papen's mad rush to reach this house. It was to reach another wireless depot from which messages could be caught and stopped. And she had been the means of assisting him to his purpose! Dixie Mason turned and ran to her car. A moment later she was breaking all traffic regulations as 158 THE EAGLE'S EYE she sped toward the Criminology Club with one idea in mind—to reach Harrison Grant. But already the message of warning to the sugar ships far out on the ocean had been flashed from Sayville. The gigantic efforts of the Ger- man spies to stop the messages had been to no purpose. Harrison Grant upon finding the re- port of the bombs placed in the hold of the sugar ships had stopped first to order the warning sent through Sayville, and then calling Cavanaugh, Sisson and Stewart, had hurried with them to the dock to warn the crew of the Cragside of the bomb in her hold, and prevent, if possible, a catastrophe. But as they approached the dock the black clouds of smoke darkening the clear sky told them they were too late. The Cragside was a mass of flames and the dock an inferno of smoke through which the wet rubber coats of fire- men gleamed. Huge streams of water played on the ill-fated vessel, and the shouts and yells of excited dock hands mingled with the roar of flames and water and the weird sirens of newly arriving fire engines. There was little they could do there. Grant, sickened at the appalling waste and the heartless- ness of the crime, which they had been too late to prevent, turned his footsteps slowly back toward the Club. Was there no end to fiendishness I60 THE EAGLE'S EYE now quick action seemed to be the desired thing. He disappeared into the Club to re-appear in a moment with Grant and Cavanaugh and Stewart. Grant peered into the machine at the slim figure of the driver. “Who are you?” he asked sharply. Dixie flashed her Secret Service commission, concealing the name. “What else?” The secret sign of the service was given him as Dixie raised her gauntletted hand. Without further questions he stepped in, followed by Stewart. Cavanaugh clung to the running board. A moment more and Dixie Mason's little car was speeding toward Fifth Avenue, defying all law in general and policemen in particular in her. mad haste to reach the house Von Papen had en- tered. She slowed down at the corner where she had stopped before and pointed to the house. She spoke in a low voice and directed her speech at Stewart. “In that house there, they are working the wireless!” Grant jumped to the sidewalk. He gave his directions in low tones. Dixie watched them seek for admittance at the door. She watched them open the iron barred gate and then with a splintering crash force their way into the house. THE BROWN PORTFOLIO 161 She saw the butler that blocked their path fall under someone's heavy blow. And then they dis- appeared into the darkness of the gloomy recep- tion hall. Grant and his men strode to the panelled door- way opening into the great room in which Dr. Albert received his guests and where the confer- ences of the German plotters were held. From behind the heavy doors came the crackle and splutter of a wireless apparatus. Under the strength of the three men the doors burst inward. Inside of the room, two men work- ing the wireless rushed vainly toward the French windows for escape, only to find themselves pinioned and helpless in the handcuffs slipped on them by Grant and his operatives. Cavanaugh and Stewart soon dismantled the wireless equipment and put out of commission forever one of Germany's most dangerous weap- ons in America, but Grant watching them knew that it was but one of many and that for every blow thus dealt a dozen plots would spring up elsewhere. While this evil festered in their midst the eyes of the Secret Service must never close. . He left the operatives on guard and turned toward the street with his captives. “Good man—that fellow who brought us here,” he mused as they stepped out on the stone I62 THE EAGLE'S EYE doorstep. “He’s worth a special report to the Chief. If it hadn’t been for him—” He stopped. Where the racer with its hooded, gauntletted driver had been was vacancy! His mysterious informant was gone! CHAPTER VIII THE KAISER's DEATH MESSENGER—ROBERT FAY A deathly calm hung over the trenches. After a day made hideous by the thunder of artillery and shriek of shells an unearthly peace had set- tled over the desolate stretch of shell-torn battle- ground. In the German trenches a sergeant leaned against the sandbag fortifications. The light from his cigarette glowed fitfully in the darkness as he puffed at it nervously, while he waited for the men he had chosen to accom- pany him in an attack on the French trenches. Soon he would be crawling out over the shell- pitted stretch of No Man's Land with a haver- sack filled with hand grenades. His proficiency in handling them had brought him fame in the ranks of the Kaiser's army. Fame! He tossed the cigarette butt aside contemptuously and then stamped on its glowing end. Fame! What was it compared to life? Why should he, for the sake of a few days of glory and a name for being successful in carrying out these bombing attacks, 168 I64 THE EAGLE'S EYE risk his life—his life which could be used for stop- ping the whole terrible business and bringing the war to a close in which Germany would be vic- torious? He clenched his fist in the darkness and struck at the sandbag. If his plans could be used he would stop in three months the muni- tions supply of the Allies and soon for want of munitions they would sue for Peace. He reached for his watch. Its faint phos- phorescence pointed the hour to him. He heard the tramp of footsteps. His men were coming. Soon he would be out there crawling through the darkness toward that other line of trenches, dodg- ing wire entanglements, playing possum beneath the light of flares. Perhaps this raid would be his last. Perhaps in a day or so a cross would be raised for him, “Sergeant Robert Fay, Died for Fatherland.” The footsteps drew nearer. The sergeant raised himself in preparation for taking com- mand—and then he stopped. Out of the dark- ness his superior officer's voice came to him in guttural accents: “Sergeant Fay, you are to report at once to Cologne for promotion and other duty.’ Fay received the announcement with the stolid- ity born of long military training, but a moment I66 THE EAGLE'S EYE In an outer office sat Wolff von Igel, Von "Papen's secretary. His knock at the door inter- rupted the conference in the inner office. “Lieutenant Fay wishes to see you.” Von Papenglanced up with a frown. “I can’t see him now. Tell him to come back in an hour.” “I told him you were busy but he has a letter from the General Staff which indicates that his visit may be of importance.” Von Papen hesitated. “Show him in,” he ordered. A moment later Robert Fay erstwhile expert grenade thrower of the German trenches, now promoted to a lieutenancy, saluted the Captain. Von Papen eyed him closely. “Your papers?” Fay handed him a letter. Von Papen read it and handed it to Boy-Ed, his gaze returning again to Fay. “So you are here to help us? How did you make the trip?” “I arrived yesterday on the Rotterdam. My passport was made out to one Kearling from whom I bought it in Cologne. It is a simple mat- ter now to buy a passport. I substituted Kearl- ing's picture for my own. His description fitted mine nearly enough to pass.” # * - . - - - - * - - - - - - - KAISER'S DEATH MESSENGER 167 “But the passport must be stamped,” inter- posed Boy-Ed. “Yes, but that too is simple. The photograph is simply perforated to match the perforations of the stamp already on the passport. You see how easy it is. I am here. I have had no trouble. But now I am Fay, no longer Kearling.” “Very good,” commented Von Papen. “And now your plan.” - “It is to stop the export of munitions to th Allies from the United States for three months and perhaps permanently.” His listeners looked at him somewhat incredu- lously. “I am by profession a mechanic and have had in mind many inventions. My most recent one is a bomb which will not explode until the vessel is three miles out. This, when attached to muni- tion carrying ships, will also cause the munitions to explode. My plan has meet the approval of the German Government to such an extent that they have commissioned me to come to the United States for the purpose of carrying it out. They have generously granted me 20,000 marks to further my plans.” “You will perhaps be kind enough to describe this bomb to us?” Von Papen indicated a chair and they drew close about the table. 168 THE EAGLE'S EYE “You are acquainted with the explosive Trini- trate of Tolual?” They nodded. “What is known at T.N.T.?” Boy-Ed commented. “Exactly. This bomb carries 100 pounds of T.N.T. It is so arranged that it can be fastened to the rudder post of a ship with a wire line run- ning from that to a clamp that fits on the rudder. As the rudder is worked in the movement of the ship at sea, the line will wind up, tightening the clockwork until the spring inside is released. This will send the plunger against two rifle cartridges which will explode the T.N.T. and—” he stopped. There was no necessity for finishing the sentence. A fanatical light shown in his eyes. He clasped and unclasped his hands in an intensity of excitement, and his hearers uncon- sciously absorbed his mood. “Our bomb squads have used T.N.T. effec- tively on various occasions,” said Boy-Ed with a smile at Von Papen. “As the highest powered aeroplane bomb carries only about 80 pounds of T.N.T. we are able to judge quite accurately what 100 pounds can accomplish.” - Von Papen nodded and reaching across the table for a match lighted his cigar. “Lieutenant Fay, does anyone know of your arrival in America?” KAISER'S DEATH MESSENGER 169 “No one,” answered Fay, “except his excel- lency, Count von Bernstorff.” “That is well. You perhaps are not well ac- quainted with conditions here. Our position de- mands that we must not be known as the direc- tors of any movement of espionage against the United States. Germany, of course, is not at war with the United States. To the United States we are a friendly nation.” He flicked the ashes from his cigar with a contemptuous movement. A cynical smile crossed the face of Boy-Ed. It was reflected on the face of Fay. For a few moments a deep silence settled on the room. From far below on Wall Street sounds of traffic drifted up, shouts of drivers, newsboys, fruit venders, each sound echoed and magnified as it rose between the dark walls of the building that bordered the street. Fay stirred uneasily. The even tones of Von Papen once more broke the silence. “In this crusade it is inevitable that many ships will be blown up. If we who are here in public official capacity should become identified in any way with this movement it would lead to our dis- missal from the country—and dismissal at this time would mean the relinquishment of many plans now under way. Therefore, if your plan should fail and you should be arrested we would, 170 THE EAGLE'S EYE of course, be compelled to repudiate you. Like- wise it would be your duty to say that you had tried to see us but that we had denied you an interview. This is clear to you?” Fay smiled imperturbably. “I understand.” “Very well. We are then in a position to be of aid to you as far as possible. You will of course need exposives. It is very difficult just now to obtain these.” “In case you cannot get the T.N.T. at once I will be willing to go on with my work using dynamite until the higher explosive can be secured. But I would rather have the T. N. T. Can I count on you to procure it for me?” “As soon as possible, but it may take some time. As I said, explosives are hard to procure now unless some good reason is given for their need.” Fay arose and pushed his chair back. “This will be agreeable to me. I will put in my time perfecting my bomb case and will report to you by the end of the week, Friday if it is convenient.” In a moment the door closed behind him and they heard his footsteps echoing down the hall. Boy-Ed glanced at Von Papen quizzically. “The procuring of this T.N.T.—it is most im, KAISER'S DEATH MESSENGER 171 portant that he have it, but how can it be brought about?” Von Papen smiled. “Do you remember the doctor that Von Igel brought to the Club one night last week?” Boy-Ed nodded. “He spoke to me of a friend who has access to explosives of all kinds. Through him I am sure I can sup- ply Fay with the material for this wonderful bomb of his.” Friday found Fay again in enthusiastic con- ference with the Captain. “I have rented a garage on Main Street in Weehawken which I will use for an experimental station,” he reported. “To throw off suspicion I rented it, saying I was going to conduct an auto- mobile repair business. I have an old motor car there which I have taken apart to carry out the illusion, but meanwhile I am working on my mine. Have you been able to learn where I can procure some T.N.T.?” “I have worked through several people and have at last arranged for an amount of this ma- terial large enough to enable you to do some prac- tical work, to be delivered to you as soon as I received your address. I will see now that the shipment is made in a day or so.” Von Papen scribbled the address of the garage in Wee- 172 THE EAGLE'S EYE hawken on a memorandum and Fay departed, pleased at the results of his visit. A lull had fallen on the affairs of the crim- inology Club. To its members, always on the alert to stamp out the first fires of intrigue before they spread their destroying flames over the peace of the country, the lull brought no illusions. They recognized it simply as the lull before an- other storm. It was the day of Fay's second visit to Von Papen's office. Pat Hennessy, doorman at the Criminology Club, had just announced a visitor and shown him into Harrison Grant's office. Grant surveyed his visitor quizzically. “My name is Wettig, C. L. Wettig. I am a dealer in explosives,” he announced simply. Grant nodded and motioned him to a chair. “I have something which I think will be of in- terest to you. I have been asked to procure for certain parties a quantity of T.N.T. You are of course acquainted with the nature of this explo- sive and the use it is commonly put to?” A gleam of interest shone in Grant's eyes. “Trinitrate of Tolual? Yes.” Wettig wasted no time in words. He told his story briefly. “I have, in fact, been approached by several people recently, all of whom seemed particularly KAISER'S DEATH MESSENGER 173 interested in obtaining some of it. I thought it best to go ahead with the deal in an effort to gain all the information possible concerning the per- sons who wanted it. Now, however, something has happened which brings me to the need of ad- vice. Today I was told to deliver the T.N.T. as soon as I could get it to a garage in Weehawken. Shortly after I was told that the purchaser had changed his address. I'm afraid he has slipped through my hands.” He surveyed Grant somewhat anxiously but appeared reassured by Grant's decision. “No, I think he is probably playing safe. You will un- doubtedly hear from him in a day or so. Let me know when you do.” Wettig picked up his hat. “We’ll let it stand that way then. As soon as I hear anything I will communicate with you.” A week sped by without further information regarding the personnel of those who wished the T.N.T. Harrison Grant had put the week to good use. A casual acquaintance formed in the past with Madam Augusta Stephan, chief of Germany's women spies in America, had been cultivated with care and subtle intent on his part. Madam Stephan, somewhat blindly, renewed the ac- quaintanceship with the feeling that it was a hea- I74 THE EAGLE'S EYE ven-sent opportunity which would enable her to gain information for the interests she served. At her invitation Grant was spending a most enjoyable evening in her apartment. Madam Stephan was clever. Too clever, he mused as she left the room with a promise to return with “one of those American cocktails,” which she professed to be an adept at mixing. His glance strayed to a little writing desk near the couch upon which he lounged. He could hear the clink of glass in the little kitchenette. With a quick move he slipped the desktop down and noiselessly ran over a pile of letters that lay in full sight. The clink of glasses on a tray grew louder. Madam Stephan was returning. He thrust the top let- ter into his pocket and closed the desk. Madam Stephan's beautiful face clouded with disappointment as Harrison Grant, bewailing the necessity that forced him to leave the pleasure of her company so early, shortly after made his adieus. The disappointment turned to plain anger as the door closed behind him and she realized that her efforts to gain his confidence had not met with success. Grant's evening had proved more profitable. The letter he had purloined from Madam Augusta's writing desk he read later with ob- RAISER'S DEATH MESSENGER 175 vious satisfaction in his office at the Criminology Club. “Dear Madame,” the letter ran, “Fay will be able to obtain what dynamite he needs at the old lighthouse at Marsh's Inlet. C. L. Wettig has promised a quantity of T.N.T. Sincerely, Von Papen.” “Wettig!” It was the man who had talked with him early in the week, the explosives agent. It was probable that the Fay referred to was the man of whom Wettig had spoken. It was more than probable. Certainty grew in Grant's mind as he outlined his plans for action. He reached for the push button that summoned Cavanaugh. “Get C. L. Wettig here as soon as you can,” he ordered, handing Billy Cavanaugh the card Wettig had left on his recent visit. Billy Cavanaugh made good time. It was scarcely three-quarters of an hour later when he returned with his man. Grant greeted him cordially. “Well Wettig, we have a line on your man. Have you heard anything?” Wettig pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and a card. “Not until today when a man called at my of- fice and told me to deliver the stuff to a boathouse 176 THE EAGLE'S EYE on the Jersey shore tomorrow, to a Robert Fay. Here's the location of the place.” A smile of satisfaction crossed Grant's face. “Fay. That was the name.” He glanced up. “You haven’t delivered the stuff yet, of course?” “No, I was going to see you first. Thought it was too late tonight to get hold of you.” “Not us. The Criminology Club never sleeps,” Grant smiled. “Tomorrow have the T.N.T. delivered to me. Then get into com- munication with this Fay and tell him that you are having it sent over by someone he can trust. Someone who is all right. You understand? Tell him that your messenger is a trained me- chanic and is anxious to be of help to ‘The Cause.’” The last was added with a sardonic smile. Wettig nodded. “I get you. Tomorrow I'll have the stuff delivered. Here’s a card that was given me when they first started negotiations. This will help you get by and show them you are the one I mentioned.” He held a card, Grant, looking through it toward the light, saw the coat- of-arms of Germany watermarked on it. “Thanks. I’ll be able to make good use of it,” he said slipping the card into a leather purse. Wettig held out his hand. “Good bye, and good luck.” KAISER'S DEATH MESSENGER 177 The men shook hands, and a moment later Pat Hennessy was closing the outside door after Wettig. For precautionary reasons Robert Fay had moved his headquarters in Weehawken to the boat house, the description of which had been given to Wettig. He worked with the assistance only of a brother-in-law, Walter Scholz, whom he had inveigled into giving up a position in a Con- necticut city to come to Jersey and help him in the manufacture of the bombs which were to play havoc with all shipping in Atlantic ports. The afternoon after Wettig's conference with Grant, Fay, working on the model of the stern of a ship, hastily covered it with canvas as he heard the rumble of wheels outside. A wagon drew up and a moment later a heavy knock shook the weather-beaten boarding of the boat house door. Fay gave a quick glance around the boat house to see that everything was covered. “What do you want?” he called. There was no answer. Fay frowned, and then caught sight of a card slipping through a crack in the door. He pulled it through and held it to the light. The eagle of Germany showed clearly. It was the pass card! Fay opened the door. Outside a laborer, dark, and roughly dressed stood holding in each hand 178 THE EAGLE'S EYE a suit case. Striding into the boat house he laid them carefully side by side. “T.N.T. A hundred pounds even. Danger- ous stuff,” he announced, rubbing his hands to- gether. “They gave me orders to stay and help you.” Fay looked at him. “Yes, I was told.” He hesitated a moment and stirred uneasily. His new assistant watched him calmly. Fay broke the silence. “We who work for Germany are watched constantly. You will therefore under- stand if I appear inquisitive. I must assure my- self that you are entirely in sympathy with what I am working for.” The newcomer laughed easily. “If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be running the risk of getting pinched by carrying around this T.N.T. But if you want credentials I can tell you that I have done a few things myself in connection with the work of the German Government.” Fay looked interested. “Is it so? Then we will work well together.” That his assistant's task had been to land various hired agents of the German Government in federal prisons for stays ranging from two to ten years was something that Fay was not yet destined to know and eager to be back at his work, he put aside further ques- tioning and with the pride of a fanatic who sees * I80 THE EAGLE'S EYE equalled in the annals of her magnificent his- tory!” His assistant glanced at him with a look bor- dering on repulsion, but Fay, in the frenzy of imagination, was blind to it. “And the loss of life? That also does not matter?” “Why should we care,” Fay answered reck- lessly. “Germany will bombard New York any- way—why not now? And the glory of the achievement 99 He was interrupted by a knock at the door, and went outside. The murmur of voices sifted into the boat house. Then Fay reappeared. “It is a message. They are complaining at our slowness. But I was able to tell them that our bomb is finished. And the time for action has come. Tonight our first blow will be struck!” The assistant leaned forward and smiled pe- culiarly. He reached back to his pocket, slowly, carefully. “No it won't.” The words fell strangely in the quiet of the dingy boat house. Fay stared. “It won't! Why not?” “Because I arrest you in the name of the United States of America!” A livid light spread over Fay's face. He stared at the other speechlessly, as though his KAISER'S DEATH MESSENGER 181 vocal organs had suddenly been stricken with paralysis. Then he gasped strangely. “You—Secret Service? You ” he rushed at Grant madly. But Grant whipped his revol- ver around and pressed the trigger. It snapped futiley. Angrily Grant threw it at Fay's oncoming form and retreated to the wall. As Fay reached him Grant raised his foot and planted it squarely on Fay's chest. With a strange inhuman groan, Fay fell backward. His career as a bomb plotter was over. The news of his arrest spread quickly. Marsh’s Inlet, where the boat house was located, was a ren- dezvous for many who came there to enjoy the winter sports. The day after Fay's arrest, IDixie Mason came with Von Lertz to the Inlet. In the crowds she was able to pick out a dozen or more people whom she could identify as being in active sympathy with German interests in America. A short way down the shore was the light- house, long since abandoned though still pic- turesque. Dixie, somewhat wearied from an afternoon of skating had retreated to the shelter house. As she unlaced her skating shoes, she glanced up to see through the window a group of men passing. One of them she recognized as I82 THE EAGLE'S EYE Harrison Grant. For a moment her heart throb- hed wildly and a fear that he had come to the Inlet for the skating and that again she would be seen with Von Lertz, left her weak. But she stifled it. Her own hopes and fears and desires must not influence the work she had set her hand to. She watched with relief the group of figures as they passed on their way toward the light- house. A vague wonder as to their intent flitted through her mind and then was blotted out by a new interest. Madam Stephan had arrived. Dixie saw her glance over the crowd outside, single out Von Lertz and beckon to him with a gesture imperceptible to one untrained to catch the slightest gesture and attach a meaning to it. Von Lertz glided to the shore and stopped be- fore her. They were beside the shelter house and close to the window. Dixie heard Madam Stephan's voice, quiet but ringing with suppressed excitement. “Grant has gone to raid the dynamite depot in the lighthouse.” “Yes?” Von Lertz's interest was instant. “And the trap?” “Set and ready to spring.” A shiver of dread passed through Dixie Mason. What was this trap they spoke of? Grant was KAISER'S DEATH MESSENGER 183 in danger! The man whom Dixie could not for- get nor put out of her mind. The man who oc- cupied her thoughts as no man had done before. She wavered—and then straightened up deter- minedly. She smiled graciously at Madam Stephan, entering the shelter house. And she walked out to where Von Lertz was awaiting her still smiling, but her heart was heavy with anxiety for Harrison Grant. A man skating in long curves glided past and then with a sudden turn faced her. He glanced at her closely as he skated slowly backward. Dixie had seen him several times during the afternoon. She had noticed him eyeing Von Papen and Boy-Ed. A faint hope came to her. Could it be that he was a “forward shadow?”—the man who takes the risks of the Secret Service to aid some other man to gain evi- dence? She caught his eye, and winked quickly, her eyelids making the dots and dashes of the Morse code. “Secret Service?” she signalled. The man nodded. Dixie's heart bounded with hope. She signalled again. “Grant—danger—lighthouse!” She turned to Von Lertz. Looking back she saw the Secret Service man making for the shel- ter house. 184 THE EAGLE'S EYE The two men whom Harrison Grant and his operatives found in the lighthouse submitted to arrest with unusual alacrity. The ease with which they were taken puzzled Grant for a moment but it was forgotten in the interest awakened by the place they had raided. Grant ordered the men to drive to headquarters with the captured spies, deciding to make further investigations himself. The lower room of the lighthouse bore all the evidences of a typical bomb manufactory. The odor of chemicals hung heavy in the air. Tables were loaded with retorts and measuring glasses. Lengths of leaden pipe and great jars of acid were stored on broad shelves. Grant marvelled at the great stores of material on hand, and the indi- cations of preparations being made for wholesale destruction. In one corner of the room were several packing boxes labelled “Dynamite,” and coiled lengths of fusing. Grant, hands in pocket, had taken a mental in- ventory of the contents of the room. It would be necessary to secure further help. The light- house must be guarded until the destructive store of materials it held could be removed to places in which they could put them to better use. He walked musingly to the window. Far down the inlet the crowds of skaters still held away and the late afternoon sun shone brilliantly on the KAISER'S DEATH MESSENGER 185 myriad colored throng. It was very quiet in the room. So quiet indeed that Grant started sud- denly at a muffled but clearly audible “Click!” The sound was a familiar one. It was the click of the hammer of a gun that had failed to fire, and it came from above. For one moment Grant hesitated as a succes- sion of thoughts passed through his brain. Lead- ing to an upper room at one corner was a ladder. His assistant, whoever he was, was in that upper room! Grant made a dash for the ladder—but his onrush was stopped midway as a revolver, thrown with heavy force, caught him above the eye and hurled his body back to the floor, un- conscious. A moment later, with a scurry of footsteps, a man rushed down the ladder. He paused to glance at the body and around the room. An end of fusing lay near at hand. With a quick move- ment he jerked it out and whipping a match from his pocket lighted the end. The other end lay across a box of dynamite—and the unconscious body of Grant lay on the floor. - With a grunt of satisfaction, as the red flame caught at the fuse and then died down to a glow- ing, growing ember that slowly but obstinately ate its way along the fuse, the spy opened the door and was gone. KAISER'S DEATH MESSENGER 187 Inside the lighthouse Grant groped in return- ing consciousness. About him swirled clouds of smoke. The fuse, along which the slowly creep- ing red fire advanced, had ignited a bunch of chemical-soaked excelsior. Choking and fighting for breath Grant essayed to rise. In fitful moments of consciousness he realized his peril and the need for help. Was this to be the end of his endeavors to help his country free herself from the treacherous clutch that was fast choking the breath of free- dom from her? Were all his efforts to be in vain, and was he too, to fall a victim to that iron hand? In a moment more the flames would reach their objective. With a final struggle he relapsed once more into oblivion, as the flames crackled and the smoke rose smotheringly about him. Suddenly the door banged back on its hinges and in the draft clouds of smoke eddied and whirled. “Grant!” It was Stewart's voice. The anxious shout startled Grant into consciousness. He reached out a hand and caught at Stewart's coat. Slipping an arm under him, Stewart stag- gered out into the cool, fresh air with Grant a dead weight, impeding every moment of their precious progress, the progress that must take I88 THE EAGLE'S EYE take them away from that creeping tongue of flame and the dynamite. He dragged him on and on to the edge of the woods that bordered the lake. There he stopped, he could go no farther. As Grant slipped from his grasp to the snow covered ground, a wild roar echoed across the lake and back again, and seemed to split the very heavens. Stewart saw a cloud of smoke and flame shoot up from the lighthouse. The ground about him shook with the blast and great cracks ran crazily out into the ice of the lake. Where all had been solid ice a moment before a broad expanse of black water appeared, and gliding swiftly toward it with a speed that could not be diminished, and a direction that could not be veered, Stewart saw the iceboat with its helpless occupant, Stewart saw his men in the automobile a short distance behind the iceboat. He saw the driver jam on his brakes and saw the machine skid swiftly about in a flurry of ice and snow, just as the iceboat disappeared over the brink of ice into the cold blackness of the waters of the lake. He passed a hand over his face and turned back to Grant, who was staring up at him in be- wilderment. “What are you doing here?” Grant's voice was scarcely a murmur. KAISER'S DEATH MESSENGER 189 Stewart smiled and bent over him. “A girl gave me the tip—Dixie Mason. The girl with Von Lertz, you know.” Grant sat upright and stared at him. “Dixie Mason!” He rubbed his aching head. A wild conglomeration of ideas made his head whirl. Why had Dixie Mason done this? Had she too been working with the Germans for a purpose? Or had she simply allowed kindness to intervene in a plot which otherwise would have meant his death? His aching brain refused to solve the puzzle. Grasping Stewart's hand he rose. “We’d better go back,” he said simply, brush- ing the snow from his clothes, “Fay must be about ready to make a full confession.” They walked to the bank of the lake and waited for the return of the operatives in the automobile. At the club they found Fay ready to make his confession. He had signalled his willingness to do so. “I was given 20,000 marks to come to Ameri- ca,” he said, “I was told to get in communication with German officials here—but they would not have anything to do with me. That is all I can tell you regarding them—” He stopped. The memory of another day had KAISER'S DEATH MESSENGER 191 New York. He told them of his exploits in the trenches, of the fame he had earned for bombing expeditions successfully concluded, of the iron cross that should have been his but had gone to one higher in command, but no other word re- garding those others in this country who were backing him. While the members of the Criminology Club were listening to Fay's confession, two men sat in a room of the Imperial German Embassy at Washington—Count Johann von Bernstorff and one other. Before them was a table littered with blue prints. That the plan they were discussing had been brought to a high degree of practicabil- ity, the blue prints bore evidence. Fay, the pawn in the hands of those higher up, was forgotten, his effort overshadowed by a plan the magnitude of which was beyond his wildest dreams. Bern- storff laid a clenched fist heavily on the table. “It will be the greatest achievement Imperial Germany has yet brought about in America,” he said, and his visitor smiled. “And it will make America our unwilling ally.” CHAPTER IX. THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN The conference over the blue prints in Ambas- sador von Bernstorff's rooms in Washington was followed by months of seeming inaction on the part of Germany’s paid agents. While war held its dreadful sway over Europe and armies bat- tled, some for right and in defense of a broken kingdom, the others for territory and conquest at the behest of a war-mad ruler, the manufac- ture of munitions for the warring nations and es- pecially the Allied armies received an impetus which started their humming with feverish ac- tivity. During this time the A. T. R. Munitions plant was erected near New York. Machinery of the latest type was installed, and experienced and competent labor employed. In the offices of the company, of which L. E. Marquis was president, long conferences were held with representatives of the French Government over plans received 192 THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN. 193 see 3 - 99 * * > .2% from Paris calling for French “75's" and “155's in unstinted numbers. French gold went into the safes of the company and French names were signed to the mortgages and various documents necessary to the fulfillment of contracts involv- ing millions of dollars and indirectly millions of lives. That Imperial Germany was linked with this industry in any way would have been unbe- lieveable, that the A. T. R. Munitions Company could be lending aid to Germany while manu- facturing arms for the French Army was incon- ceivable, to any but those acquainted with the depths of treachery to which it was possible for Imperial Germany to descend. The plans from Paris received the O. K. of the president of the company and its directors. They were given into the hands of one man— true, the company’s secretary—but the man who had conferred with Ambassador von Bernstorff in Washington, months before—J. S. Slakberg, smooth, suave, ingratiating, agent of the Im- perial German Government and its war-crazed Kaiser! A week or so after the final plans of the French Government had been approved by the directors of the Munitions works, Slakberg found occa- sion to call upon Captain Franz von Papen, Mili- tary Attache of the German Embassy in his of- I94 THE EAGLE'S EYE fice at 60 Wall Street, New York. That his visit was not unexpected was indicated by the ob- vious impatience with which the little group gathered in Von Papen's office awaited his com- ing. About the polished table sat Captain Karl Boy-Ed, German Naval Attache, Dr. Heinrich Albert, Von Papen and Ambassador von Bern- storff. Brief greetings were exchanged at Slakberg's entrance. No time was wasted in arriving at the gist of his business. “Your report on the A. T. R. factory?” queried Von Bernstorff. “Work has commenced at the A. T. R. Muni- tions works,” Slakberg'announced. “Yes?” The little group unconsciously awaited the rest of his report in tense silence. The silence of the room was now the silence of consternation. Over Von Bernstorff's countenance a look of anger blotted out the expression of puzzlement that had followed Slakberg's announcement. Von Papen glared at the speaker. “Himmell For the French!” The sinister smile which disfigured Slakberg's face did not waver. “Yes. For the French. I am doing all in my power to see that the shells reach their purchasers THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 195 as quickly as possible. Wait a minute—” He waved a deprecating hand as Boy-Ed pushed his chair back and sprang to his feet angrily. “I have done exactly as I planned to do. I have changed the plans of the shells. Employees of the A. T. R. Munitions works are now laboring night and day to produce shells that will be sold to the French Government—but the shells will fit only German guns!” He glanced around triumphantly. “Is my report approved?” Smiles of satisfaction swept about the group. Von Bernstorff extended his hand. “It is good work, Slakberg, and will mean great things.” Slakberg smiled smugly. “Greater perhaps than your Excellency imagines,” he answered. “In the first place, it will deprive the French of some million shells of various sizes upon which they are depending. In the second place it breaks the entire embargo which the British have placed about Germany.” “But how did you accomplish it?” “As soon as the plans were signed, they were turned over to me for safe-keeping,” he smiled. “I have put them where they will be safe—for- ever, I tore them up. Then I placed in the safe in their stead the plans which were sent me from Berlin, drawn to the scale of German guns of 196 THE EAGLE’S EYE nearly the same calibre. I forged the necessary signatures and acknowledgments. It was very simple. It is impossible that they suspect any- thing wrong. So now,” he concluded, “those shells will be rushed to the French front at the earliest possible dates. They will be hoarded for the big French drive. So I learned in confer- ence. The French drive will turn into a German drive. The French will try to use the shells. They will not fit. They will have to fall back. Our men will rush forward. In the hasty retreat the French will be compelled to leave the am- munition behind. The rest will be simple. Im- perial Germany will bring up her guns to find ammunition of all calibres waiting for them. Ammunition made in America, paid for by France, shipped in spite of British interference and embargoes—for Germany!” Slakberg regarded his audience, complacently, pleased at the evidences of pleasure they dis- played. t During his.recital Von Papen had reached for a check book. And now with its hastily inked signature scarcely dry he handed a check to Slak- berg. “In token of our Fatherland's esteem,” he smiled. The conference, supremely satisfactory to THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 197 those who had shared its secrets, ended. It had a double sequel however. Von Lertz, Germany's unofficial man of all work was still captive to the charms of Dixie Mason and still ignorant that she was of the Secret Service and assigned to the work of gain- ing all information possible by means of her feminine wiles. Von Lertz, with characteristic egotism, failed to realize that he was but a tool in her hands. The afternoon following the con- ference in Von Papen's office, he called upon her. Dixie winsomely made him welcome. Mamette, with white teeth shining out of the dusky black- ness of her face, relieved him of his overcoat. And in his joy at being in Miss Mason's pres- ence once more, Von Lertz carelessly neglected to remove from his overcoat pocket a report he had brought for Dr. Albert. Over his shoulder Dixie nodded meaningly to Mamette, the faith- ful. The negro maid, coached by Dixie, had be- come almost indispensable in the carrying out of Dixie's schemes to successful climaxes, Von Lertz's coat, taken carefully into an alcove off the hall was hung up carefully—after Mamette had removed the report from the pocket. And the report was carefully replaced in the pocket after Mamette in painful scrawls had copied its message. 198 THE EAGLE'S EYE As soon as the door had closed behind Von Lertz, Dixie hurriedly scanned the copy which Mamette proudly handed her. It's notation read: “Report for Dr. Albert. “Everything is working out to our satisfac- tion at the A. T. R. Munitions factory. “J. S. S.” “Oh, Mamette,” Dixie called after studying the report for a moment or two. “Get me out some clothes to wear. I’m going to the A. T. R. Munitions factory to look for employment. Hurry!” German efficiency had.tripped itself again. It had not been enough for Dr. Heinrich Albert to receive in person the report of J. S. Slakberg in the offices of Captain von Papen. It had not been enough that months before he had lost a portfolio containing hundreds of just such papers as this—a portfolio which had allowed the Secret Service to block the schemes of Imperial Germany in a dozen different directions through- out the United States. To the spies of Imperial Germany the Americans were only “Idiotic Yankees,” not capable of understanding or fathoming the machinations of Germany, and so the reports continued to be in writing with the THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 199 result that now Dixie Mason was profiting by one and was preparing to start for the A. T. R. Munitions works in search of employment—and incidentally all the information she could pos- sibly pick up. The calm of the recent months had not de- ceived the Secret Service. To them it was but the treacherous calm of a sea after a storm. Smooth and disarming on its surface, but under- neath the boiling of the undertow. The second sequel of Slakberg's visit to the of- fice of Von Papen was the result of a similar slip by Imperial Germany. Its opening scene was laid in the office of the Criminology Club a day or so after Slakberg's visit. Grant was hastily running over the afternoon paper. Near him lounged Stewart and Cava- naugh. “Anything doing?” asked Stewart lazily, nip- ping the end from a cigar and preparing to light it. Grant shook his head in negation. “Nothing much. The A. T. R. Munitions Company have started work on a big war order for France. J. S. Slakberg, secretary of the company says that all records are to be broken for production.” He paused with a puzzled expression. “Slak- berg” he repeated turning to the operatives. 200 THE EAGLE'S EYE “Have you heard that name before?” “Not I,” said Cavanaugh, from the depths of the leather lounge. “Not guilty,” said Stewart. “Well I have, but I can’t remember now just where.” Grant's reflections were interrupted by a knock on the door. “See who's there will you, Stewart?” The door was opened to admit a young man of business-like appearance. “Good evening, Mr. Grant. I’m the cashier of the Bank.” Grant motioned him to sit down but he de- clined. “No, I won’t stay, my errand will just take a moment. If you will remember, some time ago you asked us to allow you to see any checks that Franz von Papen issued on our bank. Here is one that I think will interest you.” He slipped a check from his pocket and handed it to Grant. “To J. S. Slakberg,” Grant read. “Five thou- sand dollars!” “There's your Slakberg again,” observed Cavanaugh. “Yes,” said Grant, slowly studying the en- dorsement of the check. “Now I’ve got him. Or at least his writing. He's the same merry little forger we trailed all the way from Chicago to 202 THE EAGLE'S EYE electrician stared at him for a moment and then laughed. “Oh you meant the sparker—to blow up the plant?” “Careful,” warned Slakberg, “and only if necessary, always remember that.” “Certainly, I know that, only if necessary,” the electrician repeated as though the words were part of a lesson he had been compelled to memo- ize. “As long as we can keep the plant running along the lines it is running now, everything is fine—that's right isn’t it?” “Quite right, but if anything happens, any trouble blows up and Von Papen says the plant must go, we must be prepared.” “You can count on me.” The electrician held out an instrument resembling the spark plug of an automobile. “This is all we need. I’ve con- nected a dead wire in the loading room to this switch. If the plant is to be blown up, all that will be necessary will be for me to put this plug in a light socket in that room, then come back here and throw the switch. The minute the switch is thrown a streak of fire will shoot out from the spark plug. It will ignite the explosive dust with which the room is filled. The factory will be blown to pieces.” Slakberg smiled appreciatively. A moment " THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 203 later he left the power house. The building in which were the offices stood some distance from the factory. He followed the gravelled pathway to his office and there, after closing the door care- fully, went to the safe and pulled out a roll of blue prints. They were the specifications for the shells now being turned out by the factory. To him they meant the destruction perhaps of the French Army. He started nervously from his revery as an office boy entered. “Mr. Slakberg, Mr. Marquis wants to see you and says for you to bring the plans.” Slakberg picked up the plans and followed the boy slowly out. The request was a little un- usual and a shadow of fear crossed his face as he entered the office of the president. A moment later he was looking into the inquiring eyes of Harrison Grant and the fear had returned to his face to stay. Grant's steely eyes stared into the shifty eyes below him seeking to evade his look. “Do not trouble to introduce us,” Grant said slowly to Mr. Marquis who had risen, “I think Mr. Slakberg and I have met before. In case he does not remember the occasion I will seek to call it to his memory later. Just now, Slakberg, I would like those plans—in the name of the Secret Service.” Slakberg seemed to shrivel up before him. An ashy pallor swept his face. He 206 THE EAGLE'S EYE berg had tossed aside, Dixie from her point of vantage soon was given the opportunity to. Scarcely had the men disappeared around the corner of the building when she saw the electri- cian emerge from the doorway, and pick up the cigar. The act was natural and Dixie ordinarily would have thought nothing of it. Now her gaze hung on him curiously and then brightened into interest as she saw him break the cigar open. Something white appeared as the carefully wrap- ped weed was broken apart. She saw the elec- trician unroll a tiny slip of paper, read it hurried- ly and then crumple it up. Dixie, to all appearances overcome by sudden illness, left the loading room, slipped out of the door and across the yard to the power house. The electrician was gone but where he had stood was a tiny slip of crumpled paper which Dixie snatched at eagerly and read as she hurried out of the building. It contained three words. “Warn Von Papen.” Dixie Mason did not return to the loading room. Instead she took up the trail of the disap- pearing electrician. She saw him enter a saloon. In a nearby drug store she induced the operator to put her on the same line just in time to hear the electrician receive orders to go to the hill on the edge of the town when darkness fell. Dixie 208 THE EAGLE'S EYE and glanced up the track toward the slowly near- ing engine and its string of box cars. Dixie saw him hurry up the track and she guessed his pur- pose. He was about to catch this train back to toWn. The train passed and in the dim light she dis- cerned his figure clinging to the side of a car. Then she hurried to the switch light and picked up the scrap of paper he had thrown aside. By the light she saw a series of Morse code dots and dashes which she translated: “Blow up the factory at once!” This was the message he had been told to re- ceive! And he had gone to carry out its orders! Dixie racked her mind desperately for ideas. She must get back at once, or get a message. But how? There was no telephone near. No means of getting back. The train lumbering off into the darkness was now gaining speed every moment. She remembered passing a motor service sta- tion down the road. If she could reach that she might still be able to interfere with the electri- cian’s orders. She would telephone back to the factory—to Harrison Grant! One idea after another flew through her mind as she hurried over the endless labyrinth of tracks and down the rough road, but when she reached the little build- THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 209 ing, to her breathless inquiries the keeper shook his head. “No telephone here,” he said, “there's one about a mile down the road.” “But I’ve got to get word back to town some- how,” Dixie urged desperately. He shook his head as though dismissing the subject. Then Dixie brought out her Secret Service Commission. - “Let me have a motorcycle, quick,” she ordered. The man visibly impressed hurried in- side. A moment later he had brought out a motor- cycle and was holding it in position. •. Dixie clambered up on it. Slipping a bill into the man's hand she waved good-bye and amid a swirl of dust disappeared down the road. The throbbing of her engine grew steadier as with a set purpose she rushed on in the blackness to her errand of salvation. While Dixie Mason sped over the dark and tortuous passes of the road to town; while the electrician she was seeking to outwit was being carried to the fulfillment of his evil intent by the freight train to which he clung, Harrison Grant and the president of the munitions works were listening to Slakberg's confession, wrung at last from him by a series of cleverly tendered questions. As in the past he had entrapped THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 211 “Good. We must get to the factory at once. The extent of this plot must be investigated. The shipment of shells must be stopped. America shall not be made party to such a crime as this!” The freight train was bearing the electrician to his destination. It had reached the munition factory, and in the darkness he dropped from it and hurried to the power house. Near the door- way on a table lay a pile of electric light bulbs. He picked up a handful and sauntered across the yard and into the main loading room on an er- rand conspicuously innocent in appearance. But in his pocket was the tiny sparker which when affixed meant destruction of lives and property, the death or injury of the hundreds of women who worked about him innocent of the danger that hung over them. He removed a globe from a socket and slipped in another. Several globes were replaced. At last he unscrewed a globe and in its place slipped the little sparker. His actions were unobtrusive. He glanced hastily around. No one noticed him or guessed at his errand, for the shell loaders were all intent on their work and the filling of the great order which had just come. Picking up the remaining globes he passed down the length of the room and out into the cool night air, toward the power house. 212 THE EAGLE'S EYE The buzz of a motorcycle being raced at high speed jarred on the quiet of the yard outside the factory. The electrician cast an annoyed glance in the direction of the rider. The machine stopped in front of the power house and Dixie Mason slipped from the seat. She saw the electrician cast a hurried glance at her over his shoulder and she hesitated. Was she too late to stop him from carrying out his plan whatever it was? Could she stop him? An attempt to stop the spy might fail, but she could at least warn the people of their danger. She ran into the building. Past long lines of workers she dashed screaming in a shrill voice that echoed above the roar of machinery: “Out! Out! Everybody!” The workers, ever conscious of the hazards under which they labored and alert for the slight- est token of danger, left their work tables and rushed for exits, taking up the cry as they passed other workers. Dixie seeing that her warning was being obeyed ran back to the power house. The yard was filled with hurrying, shrieking, excited women. The electrician at the sound of shouting and confusion had stepped to the door. As he saw Dixie rushing toward him, he knew the suc- cess of his plans was frustrated. He turned quickly to the switch. At the same l| i THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 213 moment, Dixie, knowing intuitively that this was his plan of destruction, threw her slight body at him and clung to him with a catlike tenacity, striving to stay the hand that was reaching for the switch. With a curse his great hand closed around her throat. Still she struggled but he held her now at a distance and leaned forward. She heard the switch jammed shut with a crack- ling contact. A second later the darkness with- out was pierced by a wild burst of flames, and the earth heaved and rocked with the impact of an earthquake. But Dixie Mason heard it only vaguely. She had fainted and was lying against the switch, one hand still in unconsciousness clinging to it as though the hope yet lived that she could prevent the awful catastrophe that had fallen. Through the clouds of dust and smoke, through the crowds of injured workers, through debris piled high from which little tongues of flame were shooting, Harrison Grant reached the power house. When Dixie returned to consciousness it was to find him bending over her. For one glad moment she recognized him. She struggled to rise. “You!” she said, but Grant's voice, cold and unfriendly, dispelled the hopes that had risen within her. 214 THE EAGLE'S EYE “Yes. Miss Mason, I'm afraid you will have a somewhat difficult time in explaining your pres- ence here beside the switch that has blown up the factory.” In spite of weakness Dixie straightened up. Her lips parted and she reached involuntarily toward the pocket that held her Secret Service Commission. But the impulse was checked, for the orders she had received months before flashed through her throbbing brain: “Work into the trust of the Germans. Tell InO OI16. “W. J. Flynn.” “Why do you accuse me?” she asked. “Miss Mason, what else could one do? We arrive in time to see the explosion, the workers running out, and 35 Dixie leaned forward. “The workers, are they safe?” she asked eagerly. “Most of them. Some are injured. I am glad you at least warned them.” - “Thank you. Now would you mind releasing my hand?” - Grant looked at her in wonder. Would he ever fathom this mystery girl? Could it be pos- sible that he had made a mistake? But in con- traversion to this thought came the memory of THE MUNITIONS CAMPAIGN 215 her constant association with the Germans most active in promoting the interests of their govern- ment; her frequent appearances with Von Lertz and Madam Stephan. And what possible motive could have brought her to this scene and placed her in such a situation? “Miss Mason, I can say nothing except that a watchman told me of having seen a girl run- ning toward the power house a moment before the explosion came. I must put you under arrest. The evidence is absolute and I can do nothing else.” Dixie opened her lips, but the words were not spoken. The sharp report of a gunshot put an end to their conversation. The sound of a low cry drifted in—then silence. Grant stepped to the door and then hesitated. “I’m very sorry Miss Mason,” he said reaching in his pocket, “but I'm afraid this is necessary.” Something glittered in his hands and Dixie heard the metallic clink of handcuffs. “I must see what is wrong outside—and I must be assured that you will remain here until I return.” Dixie held out her hands in silence. He snap- ped one manacle about her wrist. A strange sort of wonder possessed him that he should be thus shackling the hands of the girl who had so CHAPTER X. THE INVASION OF CANADA Harrison Grant carried home with him that night the vision of a handcuff, its metal seared through by the electric current, hanging empty by the switch in the power house. A potpourri of emotions seethed through his mind. A feeling of distaste that one who was, in all outward appear- ances, so square and true, so refined, should lend her cleverness to the furtherance of German plots, mingled with his feeling of personal dis- appointment. He owned frankly, to himself, that he did not want Dixie Mason to be anything but as good and true as she was beautiful, that he had wanted her so because—he had cared for her. But any such feeling was impossible now. She had proved it. Her apparent friendliness with the German element was born of co-part- nership in their crimes; her interest in Von Lertz had come through the fact that she, too, was a co-worker in Imperial Germany's great game of murder, a co-plotter in the destruction of Ameri- can industries, American peace of mind, Ameri- 217 218 THE EAGLE’S EYE can lives! He could see no alternative but that he should blot out this love for her that had grown in spite of him, and once more register a report against her. Early the next morning he made his report at the chief's office. “We will investigate the charge,” he was as- sured. “You need concern yourself no further with it.” The similarity of the announcement to those following his other reports of Dixie Mason jarred strangely on Grant. He could not fathom the mystery of events unless—a subtle hope sud- denly sprang into existence. Could it be possible that there was some good reason for her activities, other than interest in the Germans? Might it be that the main office was holding information from him that would explain it all? Grant pur- sued this line of reasoning because it held out a hope for him and removed the cause of his dis- trust for Dixie Mason. But once more it brought him up against a blank wall of useless conjec- tures. If Dixie Mason had been in the Secret Ser- vice, she would have told him so in the power house instead of allowing him to think her a Ger- man spy, arrest her, and then put her to the trouble and danger of freeing herself by such precarious means. If the arrest had gone THE INVASION OF CANADA. 219 through, and she had been a member of the Ser- vice, she would have had to tell everything about herself later, so why not in the beginning? More than that, what possible reason could there be for her to conceal her affiliation with the Service —if she were in it? All of which goes to prove how futile is the attempt of one mind to reason as another would. For there had been several reasons why Dixie Mason concealed her connection with the Secret Service. The first and biggest was her order from the Chief that she work herself into the confidence of those highest in Germany's spy system in the United States, and that she tell no one of her connection with the Secret Service. Another very good reason for her not revealing her true status to Grant flashed into her mind as she stood at the switchboard listening to Grant's accusa- tion that she had been instrumental in causing the destruction of the A. T. R. Munitions works. If it had been so simple a thing for Grant to be- lieve, why could she not convince Von Lertz and his German friends that she had done this thing which would mean so much to them, and so lay the foundation for a confidence which would help her obtain their secrets by established right? It was a good idea. The night of her disappearance from the 220 THE EAGLE'S EYE power house she called Von Lertz on the tele- phone. “Can you come to my apartment, soon? At once if possible. It is very important. And please bring a sharp file with you—yes rather large—I’ll explain—Thank you—Good-bye.” She hung up the receiver with a triumphant smile. The smile lingered as she deliberated on the events of the evening. She was very tired, but she must bring this latest affair to a success- ful close. The opportunity was too great to pass by. She heard shortly the sound of Von Lertz's car drawn up to the curb and a few moments later the bell of the apartment rang. She ran to open it herself, and, as Von Lertz entered, she held up laughingly a little hand about whose wrist dangled one manacle of a pair of handcuffs. “Now you know what I wanted the file for. Will you help me take it off?” She seated her- self on a low stool beside the great armchair into which Von Lertz threw himself with easy fami- liarity. “Take it off and I will tell you all about it. It's a long, long story, and I'm tired and when I get through I think you will agree with me that I have a right to be tired.” With quick interest Von Lertz bent over the little wrist with its 222 THE EAGLE'S EYE gazed at her in admiration. If he had any doubts, the handcuff had convinced him. “Poor little girl! But that was great work. Why, you are a little heroine. Ah, if I had only trusted you before, what wonderful things you might have been doing for Imperial Germany with your cleverness and willingness to be of ser- vice.” With a final chilling rasp the file was applied to the steel once more and slipped through the link. “There, that's off. Tomor- row morning we will go to Captain von Papen's office, you and I, and tell him of your wonderful exploit.” Dixie smiled. “It’s very kind of you, and I will be glad to go.” Just how glad she did not go into details to tell him. Her plans were work- ing out too well. Von Lertz called for her very early the next morning. Dixie thrilled with the excitement of the experience she was about to have as his car threaded its way down the long lanes of traffic into lower New York and the canyons of Wall Street where Von Papen's office was located. She found Madam Stephan, Germany's greatest woman spy, there, and Captain Boy-Ed, the Naval Attache. And when Von Lertz had told of her great exploit, had gone over all the details as she had told him the night before, Dixie 224 THE EAGLE'S EYE is reason to believe that such an enterprise would meet with a great measure of success. “I reported to him that our plan included the raiding of all important points of Canada possessing military stores, such as Windsor, Montreal, Winnipeg, Regina, Port Hope and other centers, the demoralization of which would mean great delay in the sending over- seas of large expeditionary forces on the part of Great Britain. “B. asked what had been done and I told him that arms already had been stored in six sections, assembling at Silver Creek, Mich., there to seize the Welland Canal, Wind Mill Point, Mich., Wilson, N.Y., adjacent to Port Hope, Can., Watertown, N. Y., near Kings- ton, Can., Detroit, near Windsor, Can., Corn- wall, N. Y., from which easy possession can be made of Ottawa, Can., and at Exeter. “It is at Exeter, as I explained to B., that everything must be done now, inasmuch as arms and reservists are available for all the other stations. However, as you told me to explain, I showed B. that all efforts must now be centered on Exeter, and that Von Lertz and Madam Stephen should leave at once to represent us in the final work which will im- mediately precede the invasion. THE INVASION OF CANADA 225 “In this connection, might I suggest to you that this be done at once, as more than 100,000 reservists throughout the United States will shortly receive their orders to move toward the border in as inconspicuous a manner as possi- ble, and that everything should be awaiting them when they arrive. Otherwise, we fail. Dr. Albert and myself will attend to the ship- ment of arms by the usual method. “B. E.” Efficiency again—efficiency in the shape of an- other written report from one office to another, in the stolid, plodding desire of Imperial Ger- many to see that every step of its murderous progress was arranged for and made clear to those in whose hands the trend of events lay. This time it had made clear one of its plots to Dixie Mason of the Secret Service! Across the top of the letter, in Von Papen's scrawling hand, had been written: “Von Lertz and Stephan... 10:20, N.Y. C. “N. Y. C.” New York Central, of course, and they were leaving at 10:20 ! Dixie glanced at her watch. It was a quarter after nine. She had wondered at the extreme earliness of Von Lertz's visit. Now she knew. He must catch that train. There were things she must do, too. Suddenly 226 THE EAGLE'S EYE she caught at the window frame and gave a little In 108.11. Von Lertz looked up in time to see her slide limply to the floor in a faint. He rushed to her and picking up her unconscious form laid her on the long leather lounge that stood at one side of the room. “Call a taxi and send her home,” Von Papen ordered sharply, as Von Lertz rubbed her life- less wrists. “No, I'll take her home. She will be all right in a moment. Poor little girl, she had a hard day of it yesterday.” “But the time!” Von Papen looked at his watch. “You have less than an hour and you must get that 10:20 train, and there are matters to be gone over before you leave.” “I’ll be back all right. Don’t worry,” Von Lertz's efforts to bring Dixie back to conscious- ness were meeting with success. With bewilder- ed eyes she sat up and looked around her, then smiling weakly, she staggered to her feet. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologized softly, “I don’t know what made me do such a silly thing. I must have been tired out from everything I did yesterday. Can you take me home?” Von Lertz smiled down upon her reassuringly as he held her coat for her. Dixie bade Von THE INVASION OF CANADA 227 Papen good-bye, very sweetly and graciously. That Von Papen's farewell was somewhat short and a little impatient was due to the fear lurk- ing in his mind that Von Lertz would not make that 10:20 train. But defying all laws defiable and conforming as little as possible to the in- exorable ones, Von Lertz drove Dixie uptown and left her in her apartment a short time later. “And don’t worry about me—please,” Dixie begged giving him her hand in good-bye, “because I'll be all right. If I don't I'll take a little trip, down south maybe, for a week or two.” “I may be out of town myself for a while, so if I don’t call—” “I’ll understand,” Dixie assured him, with per- fect verity. “Good-bye.” As the door closed behind him, Dixie jumped to her feet with a sudden access of energy. “Goodness. I’ll have to hurry like every- thing,” she told herself. She sat down at her desk and began to scrib- ble hurriedly on a scrap of paper. Between lines she called to Mamette. “Mamette! Mamette! Where are you? Hurry!” Mamette appeared in the doorway wiping her hands on her apron. “Yes'm, Miss Dixie.” “I have just about half an hour. I want you THE INVASION OF CANADA 229 ped the card back into its place and stepped toward the button to summon his operatives. In a moment Stewart, Cavanaugh and Sisson joined him. “Boys, there is a chance of heavy work for the Criminology Club very soon. We will have to summon every member possible who can leave his other duties. They must eat here, sleep here, wait here, until certain word comes to us.” Grant glanced down at the message which he still held. “Stewart!” “Yes, sir.” “Will you see what arrangements can be made for a special train to take a hundred men to Exe- ter, Vermont, if necessary? Keep it quiet, of course. Sisson!” Grant looked at the two other men. “And you, Cavanaugh, round up the other members. And if any telegrams come to the club signed Randolph Bruce, find me at once!” After Grant had issued his orders the Crim- inology Club became the scene of action as its members gathered, eager for the service they held themselves in readiness at all times to tender. Hours after Grant had received the message from Operative 324, a train which had left New York at promptly 10:20 that morning, thundered into the station at Exeter. A dirty faced boy in rough clothes jumped from the steps of the day 280 THE EAGLE'S EYE coach and stood at a respectful distance watch- ing those more fortunate ones being assisted with servile obsequiousness from the parlor car. When Heinric von Lertz alighted, followed closely by Madam Stephan, an expression of re- lief flitted across the face of the boy. He watched them curiously as a tall, cadaverous individual stepped up to greet them. Across the dusty road from the station an undertaking shop held sway. That its proprie- tor was J. B. Dollings was signified by the ornate gold lettering across the window, and that the cadaverous individual who greeted Von Lertz and Madam Stephan was none other than J. B. Dollings, was a conclusion not hard to arrive at as the boy watched him conduct his visitors across the road and into the shop. From his vantage point on the platform the boy awaited develop- ments. In a short while Von Lertz and Madam Stephan and their tall host emerged from the shop and entered the car that stood at the curb. The boy watched the car whirl away amid clouds of midsummer dust down the long road that seemed to lead out of the city to the mountains that towered in the distance. The dirty faced boy slipped down from the truck on which he had been sitting and gazed. after them ruminatively. 232 THE EAGLE'S EYE purpose with relentless activity in and around Exeter. She first of all established the fact that the undertaking business of J. B. Dollings was a comparatively new departure. That while he had several assistants constantly in attendance, his establishment was little patronized and he made no efforts to gain patronage. Dixie found that Heinric von Lertz and Madam Stephan made their daily headquarters in a new, roughly constructed building, among the hills at the out- skirts of the village where a small city of tents had sprung up miraculously, housing laborers strangely inactive for a grading outfit. She found that hundreds of men were gathering daily. At night, snuggled close to a great boulder, Dixie watched the activities of the camp and saw wagons loaded to their limit with supplies wind- ing their way along the gorge roads. And she saw the men gathering at the board building for meetings. One afternoon Dixie, attractive in spite of dirty face, towsled mop of hair, rough clothes, ran across the street to J. B. Dolling's shop. “A carload of caskets just came in for you, Mr. Dollings.” Mr. Dollings’ long clawlike fingers clutched the bill in obvious excitement. *. THE INVASION OF CANADA 233 “Where—where are they?” He reached for his hat and hurried around the counter. “The caskets? Over on the first track. I'll show you—” “No, never mind, never mind. The number of the car's on the bill of lading. I’ll find it.” As Dixie lingered outside she heard him calling hoarsely, “Bloedt! Rudolph! Mahlen! The caskets have come. Get teams at once. We must unload them at once. Hurry! Must send a telegram!” Dixie listened speculatively. Mr. Dollings was exhibiting an unheard of amount of excite- ment over a carload of caskets for one who was an undertaker. And a carload of caskets for an undertaking shop that did no business! Her speculations were cut short by the rumble of express wagons. They drove through the yards to the car. One of the men broke the seal while Dollings bustled about, excitedly issuing orders. Dixie found a place where she could watch them without being seen. Carefully the grewsome boxes were unloaded and carried out to the express wagons. She saw two wagons loaded and driven across the street to the shop. Her ruminations over their disposal were cut short by a crash and sound of 234 THE EAGLE'S EYE splintering wood which quickly brought her at- tention back to the unloading process. Dollings' voice was raised in angry expostula- tion. “Donnerwetter! Why didn’t you hold on to that end? Here you, Bloedt cover up that end. Quick! Mahlen, you go too—” Dixie slipped down behind the freight car and peeped under it. She could see plainly the splintered box. And though the men were vainly trying to conceal its contents she could see them. It was no casket that the box contained. Slip- ping out from its broken boards were rifles! Mili- tary rifles! And the car had been filled with scores of boxes similar to this. This was the cause of Dollings' excitement! Here were rifles enough to fit out hundreds of men who were gathering at the bor- ders of Canada waiting the hour to strike. The men at the grading camp were there awaiting these arms. As soon as they were fitted out the time would be ripe for the invasion which the powers above them had planned. Then Dixie remembered the telegram that Dollings had hastened to send as soon as the car had been reported. She hurried back into the station. The sta- 236 THE EAGLE'S EYE get his men to Exeter to stop this invasion? After all, had she followed the right course. Would it not have been better to have stopped the whole thing at its inception, rather than let it attain this amazing growth that threatened to be over- whelming. But time was short. Already Von Papen had received the telegram and she must wire the Chief of developments. Her fingers tapped the keys once more. She had the con- solation of knowing that the Chief's men had covered all other camps along the border. This one camp had depended on her, and Harrison Grant and his men were dependent on her. As soon as the Chief received her wire his message would go back to the other camps ordering in- stant action. But here—at Exeter—no one could foresee the result. The afternoon light was fading in the dim sta- tion as Dixie crept out. She took the road to the gorge, stepping into shadows as wagons lumb- ered past with cargoes that she dreaded to guess at. A great purring car slid past and she heard Madam Stephan's laugh tinkle out on the night air. A sudden activity had sprung into being. Everywhere were wagons, rumbling through the night and men hurrying past on strange and un- wonted errands. From the friendly shadow of a boulder Dixie THE INVASION OF CANADA 237 looked down upon the will-o'-the-wisp lights of the camp and the greater glow of the windows of the main camp building. The shadowy outlines of wagons against the darkness of the night, rumbling into the camp yard, the silhouettes of men at the loading doors, carrying the long boxes filled with rifles for Germany’s army in America! A lump rose in Dixie's throat and she clenched her hands in a passion of earnestness. “Make Grant get here in time!” she prayed. “He must get here in time!” The thought brought to her the need of being on the alert at the station for messages. She rose quickly and leaving the lights of the camp hurried back over the dark road to the little sta- tion. She let herself into the little office and seated herself before the telegraph instrument, signalling for the relay station at Buffalo. She waited impatiently for a moment and then heard the answering call. She tapped her message. “Anything for Ex-x?” The long silence that followed was finally broken by the clatter of the instrument. “Nothing.” Dixie sank back in the chair. Her message had gone through hours before, certainly by this time Grant should have received it and answered. 238 THE EAGLE'S EYE But the instrument was clicking again—call- ing for Exeter. “Ex—ex—exexexex—ex—exexex.” “O. K. Ex—go ahead,” Dixie tapped in an agony of impatience. The sounding key snapped back. “Hello Ex—thought I'd tell you—wire trouble between here and New York. Ought to clear up soon.” The instrument ceased its clatter. Dixie set- tled back, hopeful—and yet hopeless. Now there was no means of knowing. Her communication had been cut off. She could only wait—wait— with the teeth of anxiety gnawing at her heart. Wait, while all through the northern states, Im- perial Germany’s reservists were hurrying to their stations. Wait—while out at the main camp, Heinric von Lertz and Madam Stephan were giving orders that would cause rebellion to flare at the first word from Von Papen. But Dixie brightened a bit as she caught at the cheerful thought that Von Papen's message could not come through until the wires were opened —still when the wires were opened, Von Papen's wire might come through and Grant would not be there to stop the resultant activity. Hour by hour dragged endlessly as the night wore on. Dixie sat by the telegraph key, wait- THE INVASION OF CANADA. 239 ing. Call after call sent through Buffalo brought back the answer: “Wire not clear yet. Working on it.” The moon dimmed, and the chill air of night made her huddle closer in the chair and shiver. Would the night never end and the call she was waiting for come? As the dawn lightened the dingy interior of the station it showed Dixie Mason with tumbled, towsled head fallen sleepily on one shoulder. The staccato clicking of the telegraph sounder broke into the quiet of the room. It started Dixie from her sleep. For one bewildered moment she glanced at the instrument before her and then on . the alert reached for the key to answer the call that was coming through for Exeter. “O. K. Ex.” She waited tensely for the an- SWer Suddenly a shadow fell across the doorway and Dixie started violently. “Here you! What're you doing at that telegraph instrument?” The rough voice of the station agent sent a chill of fear through her. “You don’t know nothing about them things. Get out of here!” He pushed her roughly aside and seated him- self at the table to take the message that in spite of nervousness and sudden fright seemed to burn 240 THE EAGLE’S EYE itself into her brain. It was for Heinric von Lertz! “Proceed at once!” “F. V. P.” Von Papen! Dixie clutched at the station agent's arm as he started for the door with the message. “Don’t deliver that!” she begged. “Please— don’t deliver it yet.” “Don’t deliver a telegram?” the agent glared at her uncomprehendingly. “What's the matter with you? Want me to lose my job?” “But if that telegram meant trouble— if it meant danger for our country?” “It's a telegram and it's got to be delivered,” he answered stubbornly. Dixie's hand reached for her Secret Service Commission, then dropped. She had seen the station agent with Von Lertz and Dollings on various occasions. If he were an accomplice— which was very likely—her commission would profit her nothing and probably would work harm to her cause. She turned with an effort and laughed. “I was just fooling,” she apologized. “Poor way to fool,” grumbled the station agent, and slammed the door. Dixie watched him shuffle across the dusty THE INVASION OF CANADA. 241 road and intercept Von Lertz and Madam Stephan as they left the hotel. She saw a hurried conference over the yellow slip of paper follow. As she watched them the telegraph instrument began to clatter once more. The station agent was across the street. This time she would not be thwarted. “O. K. Ex,” she signalled rapidly, and the answer came through. “Randolph Bruce, “Exeter—(delayed). “Arriving 6:40 “Grant.” Dixie dragged herself weakly out of the of- fice and sat down for a moment. Grant was com- ing at six forty! (It was six ten now. She jumped to her feet. There was no time for un- necessary rejoicing. There was too much to be done. - The station agent shuffled into the station again and seating himself at the table began to take the orders that were clattering in over the wire. Dixie waited no longer. The town boasted one garage. The garage owner, industriously cleaning a thick veneer of dust from a car, started suddenly at a light touch on his shoulder. The boyish figure standing in the doorway was very businesslike. 242 THE EAGLE'S EYE “I want every car you have got.” The garage owner stared, “What for?” “There's a special train coming in at six forty with a lot of men and they will have to have cars.” Dixie slipped a hand into a pocket and brought out her Secret Service Commission. “Here's the reason,” she said. “And listen to me, because I want you to get this straight.” For a few moments she conversed with him in low tones. “It's all right. I’ll have them there,” he as- sured her finally and Dixie hurried away on the road leading to the camp. The special train bearing Grant and his men slid into the station and came to a smooth stand- still, and as the first men jumped to the platform, the garage owner stepped up to them. “I have a message for Harrison Grant.” Grant was pointed out to him. “Mr. Grant,” he said, stepping over to where the detective stood, “A Secret Service man gave me an order a little while ago, he wasn’t any more'n a boy. He says to be sure to raid that undertaking shop across the way and then go on to the main camp in the gorge.” Thanking his informant Grant called his men around him and issued quick, incisive orders. Leaving Cavanaugh and Stewart to oversee the * THE INVASION OF CANADA 243 raiding of the undertaking shop, he selected his men and loaded them into the waiting machines. Soon the streets of Exeter resounded with the roar of speeding automobiles, whirling through in a cloud of dust to the mountains beyond and the camp that lay in the gorge. Time was too short for the Secret Service to catch up all the tangled threads of this plot. While the waiting automobiles whirled Grant's men to the camp in the gorge, the station master was telephoning frantically to Von Lertz. And a short half hour later their big automobile was grinding its way southward carrying Madam Stephan and her partner in intrigue away from the scene of the fiasco. Up on the Canadian border, mounted troops, summoned from twenty barracks by the Chief and Grant, rushed to protect the passes, tunnels and bridges, and throw a line of soldiery along the frontier. Out at the camp the headquarters were sud- denly surrounded and under cover of guns in the hands of Grant's men the reservists were herded together and placed under arrest. Leaving them in the hands of his men, Grant started out to look about the camp. He found the powder house and supply depots hidden deep in the gorge, and as he stood and wondered at the huge- 244 THE EAGLE'S EYE ness of this plot which had been foiled just in time, his gaze wandered from one object to an- other. Suddenly it centered on a little figure lying just below him beside a boulder. It was a boy deep in the sleep of sheer exhaustion. He stepped down the hillside and stopped beside the boulder. “Poor youngster,” he muttered, “I’d better take him in, it's damp here.” As he stooped and lifted the sleeping form, the cap slipped from the boyish head and a mop of curly hair waved loose. Grant gasped. The sleepy dark eyes opened and looked into his. Suddenly a hand sought to pull the coat which had fallen open together. But it was too late. Grant had caught sight of the Secret Service Star. “Dixie Mason!” Grant breathed. “In the Service? Oh Dixie—” and his arms closed about her a little tighter than was necessary although Dixie Mason lay still. While Harrison Grant stood holding Dixie Mason in his arms with the cares of the world, the troubles, the strain, slipping away from him, in the great relief of his discovery, many, many miles away the first seeds were being sown for a plot that equalled the one they had just quelled. In the interior of a fortune telling emporium THE INVASION OF CANADA 245 in Hopewell, Va., sat a woman in the garb of a gipsy fortune teller. Her features were cold and heavy, her eyes piercing, and her voice when she spoke, belied with guttural accents the garb of the southern people she had donned. “Minna,” she called, and as the tapestries that hung the room were pushed aside by a maid, she spoke quickly: “Telegraph Von Papen to send me a good man at once for dangerous work.” The maid bowed. “Yes, Baroness,” she answered, and disap- peared. CHAPTER XI. THE BURNING OF HOPEWELL, VIRGINIA. After all, Imperial Germany possessed a lum- 'bering sense of the theatrical. It had realizd that the little newborn town of Hopewell, Virginia, sheltered hundreds of men drawn from the labor- ing classes, uneducated, ignorant save of the work they were paid for, foreign to a large ex- tent, and among these men were those in whose minds ran the superstitious strain which breeds faith in the occult and fortune-tellers. In the hands of a clever fortune-teller these men might be made to talk, without realizing that they were giving away information to the hidden enemy of America. This was the explanation of the pres- ence of Baroness Theresa Verbecht in Hopewell as arbitress of destinies, in the guise of Madam LaVere, Mystic. In one of the myriad clap- boarded shacks of Hopewell she ladled out the mysteries of the future and the well-known facts of the present with lavish hand, and drank in all the information she could glean by clever ques- 246 BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 247 tioning and suggestion, from the superstitious who passed in never-ending lines through the doors of her emporium of mystery. Hopewell held much of interest for Germany. Little more than a year before its site had been unploughed fields over which the winds blew in broad sweeps bending the green grasses in soft undulations and bobbing the heads of wild- flowers that dotted the fields. Soon with war's shadows growing deeper over Europe the call had come from the Allies for explosives. The fields had been cleared and a great guncotton factory spread its broad stretches over the ground where the wildflowers had bobbed. And about the factory sprang up a town, or rather a half a mile from the factory, for guncotton is a thing to be respected whether in the maw of a cannon or in the making. The town was a hit and miss affair, a similitude of western towns which sprang up over night in the days of gold rushes. Its streets, a crowded mass of unpainted shacks, lean-tos, and tents; cheap hotels, sub rosa gambling places, in fact all the attributes of the town of mushroom growth peopled with the polyglot population of a manufacturing town of America, the melting pot of the races. The day that Madam Stephan and Von 248 THE EAGLE'S EYE Lertz, fleeing from Exeter, realized that the plot which they had maneuvered to what seemed un- questionable success, had failed, Franz von Papen received a telegram from Madam La- Vere. “Everything O. K. Send me good man for dangerous work.” The telegram so tersely worded meant more than words could convey. It meant that after weeks of work Baroness Verbecht had learned as much as possible about the guncotton factory, its orders, its guards, its shipments and its most vulnerable points. A week passed before the Baroness received a reply in any form. Then one morning the tapestry curtains of her fortune telling parlor parted to admit none other than the sanctimoni- ous J. B. Dollings. Dollings had closed up his undertaking establishment in Exeter with what might have seemed undue haste to those unac- quainted with his reasons for seeking other parts. “Captain von Papen regrets the delay in com- plying with your telegraphed request,” Dollings assured the Baroness, who showed a tendency to be a little angered over the time lost. “Canada was engaging his attention to such an extent that he could find no one to send here, but now that BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 249 I have arrived ” he smiled an ingratiating smile, and the frown on the face of the Baron- ess faded a little, “I am ready for anything your Highness may suggest.” “It is well,” she answered briefly, “we will lose no more time.” During the week the ring of conspirators was completed by the arrival of Madam Stephan and Von Lertz in Richmond, upon orders re- ceived from Von Papen that they be at hand and ready to assist in operations in case they were needed in bringing the plot for the destruction of Hopewell to a successful climax. Dixie Mason, returning to her apartment after the strenuous days of activity in Exeter was ap- prised of their presence in Richmond by the dis- covery of a note from Von Lertz. “Dear Miss Mason—” the note ran in Von Lertz's angular hand, “I hope this finds you at home and rested after your southern trip. The "Madame and I are now in Richmond, Va., where I would like to have you join us as soon as pos- sible. It may be that your eager wish to help us, expressed when I last saw you, can be granted here. Von Lertz.” “Lovely!” commented Dixie with a smile. “Dear Von Lertz, you have given me an unex- pected pleasure.” She addressed the far distant 250 THE EAGLE'S EYE agent of Germany with an irony altogether lost. Then she bounced up with an activity purely characteristic. “Mamette, help me pack again. I'm on my way to Richmond.” Mamette appeared in the doorway, an expres- sion of genuine anxiety on her dusky counten- ance. “My land! Miss Dixie! Ain't you ever going to stay home and rest?” Dixie laughed. “No rest for me, with these German agents running around loose through the country. Be sure and put my Panelphone in the bag.” Mamette's eyes rolled till the whites of them gleamed. “You mean that new thing you kin hear through the wall with?’” “That's what I mean, but hardly through the wall, Mamette, just through a door or any high sounding surface. It's simply a super-developed telephone without any wires that the Chief in- vented,” but seeing that this explanation was somewhat over Mamette's head, Dixie stopped abruptly. “Hurry, Mamette, please, if I can catch this train today I’ll be in Richmond tomor- row morning.” The Baroness and Dollings had worked out the plan carefully for the destruction of the gun- cotton factory, although their preparations had of necessity been somewhat hasty. 252 THE EAGLE'S EYE * detonating bomb concealed in his coat, made progress somewhat perilous. He had almost reached the fence. Suddenly his coat caught on an entangling thorn bush. As his next move- ment loosened it the bush cracked back with a distinct snap! Dollings stopped. “Halt!” a challenge rang out in the night. The guard ran toward the sound. There was little chance for escape. He had seen the shadowy form of Dollings skulking through the under- growth. Dollings clambered to his feet in a desperate dash for freedom but the flash of a rifle spat through the darkness and he felt a sharp pain in his leg. Crashing about, stumbl- ing, tripping, fighting his way, he limped on, clinging to the bomb in his coat. The rifle spoke again and this time Dollings dropped the bomb with an oath as the bullet passed through his wrist. A little closer and it would have exploded the bomb and he would have given up his life. Dollings did not want to die yet. He dropped the bomb, dodging and leap- ing, pain fighting at his throat in an endeavor to make him shriek, he plunged into the darkness of the night and escaped. Aroused by the shots the guards were gather- ing at the point of the sudden alarm. The 254 THE EAGLE'S EYE in case I am forced to come in contact with either Von Lertz or Stephan, I can have an alibi.” “The clerk will take the blame,” smiled the proprietor. Very shortly Dixie was installed in a room next to Madam Stephan's. A door connecting the rooms was locked and bolted—on Madam Stephan's side, but this fact was of no concern to Dixie. She had brought out the Panelphone and examined its delicate mechanism; attached the batteries which gave it the telephonic electri- cal connection necessary to the transmission of sound, and then by means of a vacuum cup had fastened it to the door. By this device each sound within the next room would be intensified sufficiently for her to hear every word of any con- versation carried on. She placed the receiver at her ear. The low murmur of voices which she had heard a moment before now was magnified so that each sound reached her with a clarity allowing no chance for mistakes. Madam Stephan was speaking. Her usually well-modulated voice carried an acid quality, an angry sarcasm that conveyed a deep displeasure. “Your little plan of taking my place seems to have failed, Baroness. Your endeavor to worm your way into Von Papen's favor through Von BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 255 Lertz has not met with the success you aspired to.” There was a sudden rustle of a newspaper being straightened out, then the caustic tones of the Madame cut the silence once more. “‘Spy, Fails in Attempt Against Guncotton Plant,” she read. “‘Believed to have been injured by guard!’ A very good start, Baroness, for your operations in America. Three months in Hope- well and this is what you have accomplished!” The deep tones of the Baroness resounded into the little instrument at Dixie's ear. “Perhaps it is as much as you have done.” “Is it? At least I’ve covered my tracks. The newspapers haven’t announced my failures! And suppose they track your spy to your fortune tell- ing emporium? What then?” “You are jumping at conclusions.” “On the contrary, I am giving the police and the Secret Service of this country credit for hav- ing a little sense. And if a few others who are working in the interests of Germany would do the same thing there would not be so many failures in our plans. If you could dispose of a little of this egotism with which you all are overburdened you would be of more use. You think because you are Prussian that all the rest of the world are idiots, because your blood does not flow in their veins.” - 258 THE EAGLE'S EYE way,” and though she attempted to shove the door shut, Grant pushed her aside and followed by the Captain entered the dingy room. The maid watched them in angry silence. “Where's the man that's in this house?” asked Grant suddenly. The maid stared stupidly, “Man? What man?” “Yes, the man who came here wounded. Where is he?” She shook her head and lied ponderously. “I don’t know no—” “Stop your lying. Where is he? There's part of the bandage that was on him.” Grant pointed to a pile of rags in the corner. “Now come through. We haven’t any time to waste.” But the maid shook her head in dogged silence. In an effort to frighten her out of it, the Captain and Grant settled down to a cross-examination, calling patience to their aid and overcoming the exasperation which only de- feated their purpose. It was growing late. Sud- denly Grant raised his head questioningly and glanced at the Captain. At the same time a gleam of satisfaction crossed the face of Minna, the maid. A man had run past the shack shouting. Sounds of confusion drifted in to the dingy BURNING. HOPEWELL, VA. 259 shack, and then Grant sniffed the air with a look of alarm and looked at the Captain. His anxiety was reflected there. A glance down the crooked street confirmed their worst suspicions. The town was on fire! As soon as their knock had come on the door of the fortune telling house, Minna had done a little guerilla work and ascertained that the visitors were none she wished to see. Her assumed slowness and stubborness had given Dollings ample time to escape through the back door of the house where he had taken refuge the night before and down littered alleys despite the handicap of painful wounds. His failure of the night before had left him with a strong determination to make good at the job to which he had been assigned. In his pocket reposed a tiny book of numbered instructions. Instruction Four was marked. It was the one he was to carry out, according to von Lertz's order: “Remember that a north wind will blow a fire toward the guncotton plant and that Hope- well is a town of shacks. If necessary fire the town!” All day a brisk breeze had been blowing from the north. All things were auspicious now as night had fallen and he crept along piles of lum- ber and hid in the shadows. 260 THE EAGLE'S EYE From a nearby shack a lighted lamp shed its glow through an uncurtained window. Dollings sneaked close to the house. The room was empty. In a corner of the plot a clothespile rested against the side of the house. He grasped the unwieldy piece and in a moment more had thrust the pole through the window and knocked the lighted lamp to the floor. A light of triumph glinted in his evil eyes as, not daring to wait to see the result of his handiwork, he hobbled hurriedly away. He heard a scream and look- ing back saw a black cloud of smoke, billow- ing out of the window. In a few moments the thin walls of the shack had burst into bright flame and the hastily formed bucket brigade of Hopewell was laboring in vain to check the rapid progress of the fire. The tent next door caught fire, the wind blew the cinders about and they fell on other shacks and the devouring terror spread rapidly to the southward, fanned by the brisk wind—southward to the guncotton factory. The bright glare of the burning town lighted up the figure of a limping traveller, who stopped now and then to gaze back at it with a grunt of satisfaction. Harrison Grant and the Captain abandoned their cross-examination in the greater need of helping fight the fire that had broken out in BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 261 Hopewell. It took no trained mind to grasp the peril that threatened the town. All its lit- tle population was out and fighting but they were powerless. The elements were fighting against them, and the lack of proper fire pro- tection. - Minna, the maid, was handcuffed and turned over to an officer, while Grant hurried away with the Captain. “Where is the powder house?” he shouted at him above the rising confusion, and the Captain called back, “The nearest one's at the quarry.” “Good, take me to it.” Grant could see that Hopewell was doomed. The flames leaped onward in their work of destruction. While frightened mobs fought at the banks to recover their savings, looters ap- peared, and added their terror to that of the flames as they rushed on to what seemed the inevitable doom of the thing that had given Hopewell its life—the guncotton plant. If the factory could be saved Hopewell might rise again, but if those scorching flames reached the great stores of guncotton there would be no plant, no Hopewell, not even a survivor—only devastation, which would mean success to Imperial Germany's plot. Grant racing toward the powder house with a 262 THE EAGLE'S EYE growing army of men following him, shouted orders as he went. He had reached the door and unlocked it. Appointing several men hastily to accompany him, he rushed in. “Get the dynamite and detonators,” he ordered. With quick precision the men leaped to obey him, and then followed him back again to the scene of conflagration. The flames were gain- ing swift headway. Lives had been lost where people in frantic endeavor to save their few pos- sessions had braved the fiery terror. The down town section of the small city was in ruins. The flames had reached the outskirts and were near- ing the guncotton factory. \ Grant stationed his men in this part. “String those wires here,” he shouted, dash- ing among them as they struggled to obey his orders. “Hurry! That's it,” he called, lending a hand to a man whose fingers worked clumsily, “Now attach them to the detonators. Work fast boys. The fire is catching up to us! How's the dynamite?” Above the roar of the steadily approaching flames the answer came back. “All wired up. Ready to blow up as soon as the plungers are attached.” “Any caps to them?” BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 268 “Fulminate of mercury on every one.” “All right. Rush it. Let me know the minute you're ready!” | A moment of waiting followed, then a man shouted: “All ready, sir!” Grant looked back at the swiftly rushing flames, then turned to the men. “Now boys. Each man to a detonator,” he shouted. “When I say the word explode the dynamite!” There was a rush of dark figures in the glow of light. An order cut the air—then from the distance came a tremendous roar that dwarfed the noises of the night as the outskirts of Hope- well rose into the air. Great masses of wreck- age fell about the men. Clouds of smoke and dust blackened the night air and stifled the on- lookers, then the flames showed through once more—but this time they faced a gaping ditch of earth so wide that they could not cross. The guncotton factory was saved! Harrison Grant turned with a smile to the Captain of the guard, while wild cheers burst from the frantic citizens. Dixie Mason had made good speed toward Hopewell for the greater part of the distance. The car had run steadily until just as she came in sight of the columns of smoke clouds of burn- * 264 THE EAGLE'S EYE ing Hopewell and realized that Instruction Number Four had undoubtedly been carried to a successful conclusion, her heart sank at the sound of a whistling rush of air from the rear wheel. She stopped the machine and jumped down to inspect the hopelessly flattened wheel. With grim determination she dragged out heavy tools from beneath the seat of the machine and set to work to repair the damage as best she could, her mind running mechanically to the dis- aster that had befallen Hopewell. So this was Instruction Number Four! At the sound of crackling in the bushes Dixie turned apprehensively. The haggard figure of a man which dragged itself into a road was one to inspire horror. He stared wildly for a mo- ment and then lurched forward toward her. Dixie instinctively reached for the heavy wrench for protection but he shook his head. “I won’t hurt you,” he called hoarsely. “I’m in trouble. I want you to take me to Richmond, little girl.” Dixie shook her head. “I’m not going to Richmond.” “But you can!” His voice rose in the intensity of his plea. “A hundred dollars if you will get me there. I can’t wait for trains. I’ll raise the * 266 THE EAGLE'S EYE The tire was on the wheel. Dixie rolled out the old tire to place it in position and gave it to Dollings to hold. He leaned on it, his gaze turned up the road toward the burning town. Dixie gazed up toward the rising column of smoke and sparks too, and thought of the de- struction and sorrow and suffering it meant. Then very quietly she crept forward toward Dol- lings. His hands rested close together on the tire. He was not noticing her. She leaned over the tire and with a sharp snap slipped the handcuffs about his wrists. Dollings sprang at her with a snarl but faced the steeling glitter of a revolver. “Put that tire back on the machine!” she ordered tersely. He hesitated. “Go on,” she urged, “And if there is any doubt in your mind about this gun holding real bullets I’ll show you that it does.” He obeyed her grudgingly and with real dif- ficulty. If Dixie felt a tinge of pity shoot through her she had but to let her thought re- vert to Hopewell and Instruction Number Four and Dollings' part in it to stifle it. “Now get into the driver's seat and take the wheel. You can drive. I know it. I’ve seen you drive up in Exeter, you know.” She smiled a little at the bewildered glance he cast on her BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 267 for a moment, then resumed her orders. “Drive to Hopewell! And remember what I said about this gun.” Dollings drove the car into Hopewell with Dixie Mason holding the revolver. Circling through the fire devastated city they reached the group of cheering men just as the ditch had been blown up that saved the guncotton plant. Above the roar of the men Harrison Grant heard a shrill little voice that made his heart! backfire for an instant. \ “Oh, Harrison Grant!” He turned and looked up into the glad eyes of Dixie Mason. “See what I’ve brought you,” she said, pointing at the cringing figure of the now completely cowed Dollings. She was standing on the run- ning board of the car. Grant walked up to the car with a smile at Dixie. Dollings drew back with a snarl of hatred as Grant touched him on the shoulder. “Seems to me you and I have met before,” said the president of the Criminology Club, “But I can’t just place you.” “Don’t you remember?” Dixie laughed, lean- ing toward him. “It’s Dollings, our good- natured undertaker from Exeter. He dealt in caskets up there you know, but the boxes they came in held guns instead of coffins. A very 268 THE EAGLE'S EYE nice man if he had stuck to his trade, but chang- ing it got him into trouble. You’d better search him.” Dollings helpless, cowed, beaten, was beyond resistance. Their careful search revealed that, after all, the destruction of Hopewell was but an item compared with the general plan of which Dollings was an agent. With an exclamation, Grant turned over a paper to Dixie Mason, to read. “Here Dixie, this is your case, and here’s a little lexicon of destruction that may be helpful to you.” Dixie took the paper and studied it, horror whitening her face. On it was written: “Blow up plants at Hopewell Wilmington Chester West Philadelphia Acton Detroit WindSOr.” As she looked into Grant's face, he smiled down at her. “After all, Hopewell has had its advantages,” he said. “How?” she questioned. BURNING HOPEWELL, VA. 269 Grant pointed to Dollings. “It has caused the arrest of this man, and will either cause Im- perial Germany to change all its plans or give the Secret Service a chance to guard against the attempts on the places named on this list. It may do even more—” Dixie looked at him thoughtfully. “If it could only awaken America to the dan- ger that is growing here in her very heart,” she said earnestly, “then indeed the destruction here would not have been in vain.” And though Harrison Grant and Dixie Mason, and all the members of the great organ- ization they represented knew that the danger of Germany’s intrigues was a vast, far-reaching, fast growing one, even they did not know the immensity of it. While they exulted over the partial failure of one of those schemes of de- struction, von Papen, Boy-ed, and Dr. Heinrich Albert were at work on still another—and greater one. In the rooms of the Hohenzollern Club they set in conversation one afternoon. “Von Papen, Count von Bernstorff complains constantly about the regular shipment of troops and supplies from Canada,” said Albert turning to the military attache. “What are we to do 270 THE EAGLE'S EYE about it? He has asked me several times for a plan.” Von Papen blew a line of smoke rings into the air thoughtfully, and broke the ashes from his cigar. Then he spoke. “Make another attempt to blow up the Wel- land Canal, and this time succeed.” The last word broke ringingly on the still air of the room as Albert and Boy-ed leaned toward him ex- pectantly. “And if it does succeed?” Von Papen shrugged his shoulders. “If it does, it will stop one of the great avenues of transportation. It will cause Great Britain to ask America how a military enterprise against Canada was allowed to be set on foot in the neutral territory of the United States. And about that time Germany’s propagandists will start working. And if we can’t stir up a war between the United States and Great Britain out of the muddle, we're almost as stupid as these idiotic Yankees!” Dr. Albert with gleaming eyes reached out a hand to von Papen. “Von Papen, you have a master mind,” he said. CHAPTER XII. THE WELLAND CANAL CONSPIRATORS Between Port Colborne on Lake Erie and Dalhousie, less than twenty-seven miles distant, on the shore of Lake Huron is a straight, nar- row stretch of water which occupies a place in the winning of the world war second only to that of the English Channel. This waterway is the greatest part of the explanation of Canada's ability to keep the stream and volume of troops and supplies pouring steadily across the ocean to England and France. By means of it the troops of the provinces bordering on the Great Lakes, as well as the supplies of those of the TJnited States which are accessible to the inland waterways, have been carried rapidly and cheaply to the ocean port of Montreal, without overtax- ing the carrying capacity of the railroads of the Dominion. It is the Welland Canal, constructed and maintained by Canada to overcome the ob- structions to navigation between Lake Huron and Lake Erie, afforded by the rapids and the famous falls of Niagara River. 271 272 THE EAGLE'S EYE From the early days of the war, from the time when its importance to the mobilization of Can- ada's resources become apparent, the Welland Canal as an objective of an underhanded attack was constantly in the minds of the army of spies and plotters maintained in America by the Imperial German Government. Its locks, con- structed to raise the largest of lake vessels to the 327-foot elevation in the levels of the two lakes, offered a tempting mark for a charge of dyna- mite. The destruction of one of the gates would cripple the canal and render it useless for months, thus impeding greatly the extension of the help which Canada was giving Great Britain. The placing of a charge of explosive in one of the gates would be a matter of but little risk, as it could be easily done from the American side where the Canadian guards, respecters of the rights of neutral nations, could not interrupt the conspirators. Yet there were serious objections to carrying out a plot to destroy the canal, which occurred to Johann von Bernstorff, the shrewd and cau- tious ambassador of the Imperial German Gov- ernment at Washington, and director of the Kaiser's spy army in America. When Captain Franz von Papen first mentioned a scheme for using dynamite on one of the locks of the canal, THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 273 Count von Bernstorff, voiced his objections, and laid down the conditions upon which he would consent to such a plot in these words: “You have impetuously fostered a plan which is fraught with the greatest menace to which our country might be called upon to face, Captain. It is the possibility of the United States enter- ing the war on the side of the Allies. The de- struction of the canal might well lead to serious complications between the United States and the Dominion of Canada in which the national honor of the Yankees might be brought into question. Let such a question be raised and the entry of the United States against Germany in the war would be inevitable. Damage within its own borders the United States will assimilate, but a threatened stain on the national honor of the country will arouse every American to a pitch of fury which nothing can withstand. “The discovery of the perpetrators under such conditions would be a foregone conclusion. With you or anyone of the others you have men- tioned active in the plot, the trail would lead directly to this Embassy and the result would be the making of the one foe Imperial Germany cannot conquer—an aroused America. Come to me when you have explosives acquired through sources which cannot be traced, and when you 274 THE EAGLE'S EYE have men who have never been associated with those who are connected with Imperial Germany. Then, and then only, will you receive the required permission to proceed.” That was early in the fall of 1914. Captain von Papen did not inform his chief that he al- ready had men at Niagara Falls, prepared with explosives and directions, awaiting the word from him to go on their message of destruction. Von Papen had gone to von Bernstorff without the faintest suspicion that the scheme would be refused the sanction of the Ambassador. In- stead, he had expected congratulations for hav- ing conceived such a mighty blow as the first act of the secret warfare which had been decreed for America by the Kaiser's command. So the plan was abandoned, but Captain von Papen kept it in mind as being a scheme which would some day be available for his peculiar talents. That time had now arrived. Caustic com, ments regarding the failure of the Kaiser's forces in America to lessen exports to the Allies, had become frequent in communications received from the Berlin offices. Particular references had been made to the large amount of supplies which were being shipped from Canada, refer- ences so particular in fact, that they might have been construed into a direct order to attack the THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 275 Welland Canal. So it was that at the second time when the Welland Canal was discussed it was von Bernstorff who first mentioned it, but in von Papen he found a ready listener and one eager for the permission which was given. “It is with reluctance that I give you permis- sion to proceed,” said von Bernstorff. “Success will mean a great set-back to the Allies, but I fear the consequences. Supplies are necessary to England and France, but with all the avail- able supplies which America could send to them, Germany would still be the victor. It is the man power of America we must fear.” “Bah! The American tin soldier!” sneered the military attache. “But you need not fear that the explosion will ever be traced to you. Neither Boy-Ed nor myself will take an active part. The necessary dynamite is already in our possession. Trustworthy men who have never been active in the interest of Germany will place it and explode it.” And von Papen, scarcely waiting for the final words of warning from von Bernstorff, hurried out to catch the train for New York. There he sought Paul Koenig, chief of detectives of the THamburg American Steamship Line, the man who had procured the explosives and the men for the Welland plot. After listening to von 276 THE EAGLE’S EYE Papen's jubilant announcement that permission had been granted for the attack on the canal, Koenig broke in: “It is good, I can no longer keep the dyna- mite in my offices. It must be taken some place else tonight. The boxes have been objects of suspicion since the night my men stole them from the barge in the river, and I dare not leave them there longer.” “There is no reason why we cannot take it to the Hohenzollern Club,” answered von Papen. “Four men can easily carry it in suit cases and from your office I will summon Boy-Ed and Heinric von Lertz.” No untoward incident interfered with the transfer of the dynamite. After it had been locked in the club safe the four men sat in the favorite corner of the military and naval aides, listening to a report of the plan for dynamiting one of the locks of the canal, from Koenig. “Two of the men made a minute examina- tion of the locks six years ago,” Koenig said. “The examination was made with the full con- sent of the Canadian Government, at the time,” and Koenig smirked over the thought, “the Hamburg American Line contemplated the es- tablishment of a line of lake boats to be operated in connection with the trans-Atlantic line. I had i THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 277 the honor of forwarding the report, which con- tained much valuable information, to the Im- perial German War Office.” “Back to the subject,” interrupted von Papen, impatiently, “what are the plans?” “These men have selected three points in the canal which should be reached,” continued Koenig, unabashed. “Men, experts in handling dynamite are already in Buffalo awaiting in- structions. It is necessary only for some one authorized to go to them and give the orders to begin. They know what to do.” “In case any of them are captured?” asked Boy-Ed. “They will keep their mouths shut,” said von Papen. “Each one is working for an exemption from military service, for they are all reservists. No punishment which can be inflicted will make them forget the punishment which Germany will mete out to all her slacker sons when the war is over.” “To success for his Majesty,” said von Lertz arising to his feet and reaching for one of the four seidels of beer which a waiter had placed on the table while von Papen had been talking. He turned to face the large oil painting of the Kaiser which hung but a few feet from where he stood while von Papen and Boy-Ed rose to 278 THE EAGLE'S EYE their feet. Koenig, slower and clumsier, stum- bled as he attempted to rise, staggered a few feet and then, regaining his equilibrium, smashed heavily into the frame of the portrait, knocking the picture askew. A ladder was quickly brought, which von Lertz mounted, attempting to straighten the portrait. “His clumsiness has loosened one of the wires,” he announced, then to von Papen and Boy-Ed, “Franz, Karl, catch hold, we will take it down and have it fixed in a minute.” Struggling under the weight of the heavy frame they heard a choked exclamation from Koenig in his native tongue: “Donnenrwetter, eine dictograph!” The trio all but dropped the picture of the Kaiser in their haste to turn and gaze at the little object at which Koenig was pointing—a little instrument fastened to the blank wall which had been covered by the picture which they all knew had made audible, to anyone listening at the other end of wires, any conversation which had been held in the room. Koenig was the first to recover from the dumbfoundment which the discovery occasioned. Despite the clumsiness he had shown but a few minutes before he sprung up the ladder with .THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 279 agility and busily traced the course of the wire, which had been concealed so cunningly behind the molding by operatives of the Secret Service. Then he quickly descended and carrying the ladder with him ran to the adjoining wall of the room where his keen eyes had shown him the wires ran into the plaster. Again he mounted the ladder and ripped angrily at the wire, pull- ing plaster away recklessly, finally tearing as hole large enough to expose the wires running upwards by means of a water pipe. “The plumbers—when they were here for the leak in that wall—must have been Secret Serv- ice,” jerked out von Papen between savage fervid oaths, as the explanation of how the dic- tograph had been installed came to him. “Quick. Upstairs and if you find anyone at the other end kill him before he has a chance to utter a word of what he has heard tonight,” he ordered and then led the way to the stairs lead- ing to the upper floors, a drawn automatic re- volver in hand. Koenig quickly traced the wires to the office room of an untenanted loft in a building adjoin- ing the Hohenzollern Club. The door of the room was locked but gave way easily to the burly shoulders of Koenig. Matches quickly showed conditions which caused a general sigh 280 THE EAGLE’S EYE of relief. Three chairs in the room, the table, the floor and every piece of furniture was cov- ered with undisturbed dust, thick enough to be the accumulation of weeks. “No one has been in here in months,” said Boy-Ed, running his hand over the table and holding it up besmirched. “Here are newspapers five months old,” an- nounced von Lertz, picking up several from a corner and shaking the dust from them that he might read the date lines. The evidence that this plotting of the evening could not have been overheard by the use of the dictograph was so conclusive that they stayed in the musty smelling room but a few seconds and then returned to the more comfortable quarters of the club room they had left so hurriedly. With the portrait of the Kaiser once more restored to its accustomed place, von Papen delivered the final instructions. “Boy-Ed, you will accompany me to Wash- ington so that we can be with Count von Bern- storff as surety to him that we are taking no ac- tive part. Koenig you stick closely to your ac- customed business. Von Lertz you will go to Buffalo and assume charge. For the sake of precautions take Baroness Verbecht, Madam Stephan and Miss Mason with you. I have sug- THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 281 gested Miss Mason because of the impression she has made upon the lucky whelp Harrison Grant, president of the Criminology Club. If he should happen to appear anywhere on the scene, a thing which it not unlikely, due to his infernal luck in being wherever he can harm us most, Miss Mason must do anything to keep him away from the canal the night of the day after tomorrow. The Baroness and Madam can care for any other men who are too intrusive. Ten o’clock of the second night from to-night is the hour for the destruction of the canal. We will be awaiting word of your success at the Im- perial German Embassy in Washington. Good- night.” Koenig and von Lertz accepted their dismis- sal and left the club together, but parted at the door, Koenig to go to the Sixth Avenue elevated station for a train to take him to less refined but more familiar resorts in lower Manhattan, and von Lertz to hurry to the telephone booths in the Hotel Plaza. From a telephone there he pleaded in vain with Dixie Mason for permis- sion to see her but a few minutes at once. He finally accepted her dictum that luncheon the fol- lowing day would be the earliest possible moment at which she could meet him. He could not know that his voice had betrayed the fact to her that 282 THE EAGLE'S EYE another Imperial German plot was pending and that she wanted her meeting with the spy to be in some public place where it would be possible to get word to the Secret Service at once of any information she might acquire. So it was not by accident that Harrison Grant, president of the Criminology Club, was seated in an automobile just outside an entrance to one of Broadway's biggest hotels when Dixie Mason emerged the following day. To the passerby it would have seemed a chance meet- ing, extremely pleasurable to both. “When did you take the dictograph out of the Hohenzollen Club?” she asked as he leaned out of the car to grasp her hand. “Last night,” was his answer. “Last night? Why Heinric just assured me that he knew for a fact that the dictograph that was discovered had not been used in months.” “The impression we want him and the other worthies to get,” responded Grant, and then to appease her curiosity, “since the day we installed it I knew that it might be discovered at any time and prepared for it. It might have nulli- fied a great deal of information if they suspected snyone knew of conversations held in the Club. I was listening last night when Koenig fell against the picture and exposed the receiver. THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 283 Newspapers, six months old, were in the cor- ners of the room prepared for this emergency and we carefully scattered bags of dust which we had there over everything. We were de- scending the fire escape when they broke into the room.” “Then you have all the information I have gathered from von Lertz,” said Dixie well con- cealing the disappointment she felt. “You know that another attempt is to be made to dynamite the Welland Canal, and there is noth- ing I can do to help.” “We still need plenty of help, just of the peculiar kind you can give us,” said Grant. “We only know that an attempt is to be made and that the dynamite has been procured. The canal is nearly twenty-seven miles long and to learn the place where the attempt is to be made would help us. Also an idea as to when the at- tempt is to be made.” “Then I have some information for you,” smiled Dixie. “Heinric has just invited me to go to Buffalo with Baroness Verbecht, Madam Stephan and himself tonight. The Baroness and Madam are to entice any curious men away from their duties and I am to see that you discover nothing in case your luck should guide you to the spot.” r THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 285 ed. Without attracting the attention of the rest of her party, Dixie found an opportunity to stretch the handkerchief out. On the small piece of linen in the centre was written in pencil: “Bearer of this will be constantly with me, and will keep careful watch for any messages from you. H. G.” “A trip to the Welland Canal is really nice in an auto.” It was the voice of von Lertz which broke in upon the pleasant musings which the message had aroused. “If that is intended for an invitation, there is nothing I would like better,” responded Dixie quickly. “Will the Baroness and Madame ac- company us?” “They must remain here, for their work may begin any time,” returned the spy and then es- corted Dixie to a little roadster which he had procured. There was but little conversation on the drive out. At the canal von Lertz drove to three of the locks and carefully surveyed the surround- ing land. As the inspection progressed his spirits rose rapidly. “Good, good,” he chuckled, half to Dixie and half to himself, “Koenig certainly knew what he was doing in selecting the men for this job.” 286 THE EAGLE'S EYE On the return trip he chatted gaily, and seemed to be in no hurry to get back to the hotel, keep- ing the speed of the car well down to the road limit. Despite this, just as they entered the boundaries of Buffalo, a heavily goggled mo- torcycle policeman, blocked the road. “Ten miles an hour's the limit on this road,” he announced gruffly and von Lertz brought the car to a surprised stop. “Ten miles an hour?” demanded the angered spy, “why there isn’t a car built that can stand that sort of a snail’s pace.” “Ten miles an hour” reiterated the officer and Dixie recognized a ring on the finger of the hand extended toward von Lertz. Quickly her hand dropped over the side of the car and for a mo- ment her finger was busy writing in the dust which had collected there, while the now thor- oughly incensed German volleyed a heated tirade at the policeman, who contented himself with repetitions of “ten miles an hour's the limit.” The attitude of the officer suddenly changed as Dixie's hand was withdrawn into the car and lay idle in her lap. “Oh, all right, if you are going to get mad about it,” he said and stepped aside peering in- tently at the side of the car on which Dixie was seated. Plainly written there were these words: THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 287 “Will send message boy by to-night. Watch hotel alley.” As the machine disappeared in the distance the motorcycle policeman raised his goggles and laughed. It was Harrison Grant. But Heinric von Lertz did not know. De- fying the rules of the road he was speeding to- ward the hotel, his good humor of a few minutes before dissipated by the dispute with Grant. Suddenly the speed of the car slackened but a few doors from the hotel. “Do you know those two men?” demanded von Lertz. Dixie Mason turned in the direction he pointed. Baroness Verbecht and Madam Stephan were aiding Cavanaugh and Stewart of the Secret Service, both of them apparently intoxicated, into a taxicab standing at the curb. Stewart no- ticed von Lertz pointing at them and waved a maudlin salute as he ordered the chauffeur to drive to a roadhouse on the outskirts of Buffalo in a thick loud voice. “Do I know them?” retorted Dixie. “Do you know Harrison Grant?” “Yes, the dog,” muttered von Lertz. “Those are his two best men.” “Good,” said von Lertz, smiling happily, “I 290 THE EAGLE'S EYE had found some place. Von Lertz quickly missed her and turned to look at her. “Why you poor child,” he said coming to her, “you appear all unstrung. There is not a thing to worry about.” “I know there isn’t,” responded Dixie with a twisted smile, “but it is almost unbelievable to me that at last we have done something without Harrison Grant knowing of it. I feel apprehen- sive for some reason. Are you sure there is no one in the hallway?” - “Why this is most unlike you, Miss Mason,” responded Von Lertz. “But come see for your- self and relieve your worry.” He threw the door open and gave Dixie's arm a little re-assuring squeeze and she gazed up and down the long empty corridors. “I believe I am making myself nervous with this old string,” she said, ruefully casting it from her onto the floor. “At least you know there is no one spying,” said the German as he turned back into the room. His voice would have lost the confidence it ex- pressed as he continued to pour assuring words into her ears, if he could have known of a hap- pening in the corridor. Scarcely had he drawn the door shut, when the door of the room across the corridor opened and a bell-boy, who a mo- THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 291 ment before had been crouching inside with his eye at the keyhole, emerged. Stooping quickly to pick up the string which Dixie had thrown away he sped noiselessly down the corridor to the elevators. But Von Lertz did not know, and continued to enlarge upon the efficacy of the precautions which had been taken, and how impossible it was for the Secret Service to have learned anything of the present plot. As he was talking a knock came on the door and a bellboy, the same one who had taken Dixie's piece of string from the floor of the corridor, put his head in: “Did you ring, sir?” he asked, “No, sir? I am sorry.” The door was closed but a message had been delivered. To Dixie Mason the appearance of the bellboy at the door meant that her bit of string had reached Grant and had been under- stood. On the string she had tied knots spaced to the dots and dashes of the Morse code spelling out the following message: “Lock fourteen. Ten o’clock. Watch alley.” “In a moment Jacobson will be starting,” said Won Lertz moving toward the window. Dixie accepted his unspoken invitation and moved to his side at the window and gazed down into the rapidly darkening alley. A moment 292 THE EAGLE’S EYE after she had taken her position a figure emerged onto the fire escape, and it did not take the whispered words of the spy standing next to her to identify it as Jacobson. The dynamiter gathered up two large packages which were al- ready on the platform outside his window and’ then made his way gingerly to the ground by way of the frail steel stairway. An automobile crept up to him out of the shadows of the build- ing. Jacobson got in. The car began to move forward out of the alleyway and Dixie Mason became filled with a fearful dread. Suppose her message had not been understood and no watch had been placed on the alley? But, no. A figure suddenly launched itself from the kitchen loading platform onto the run- ning board of the car. A second appeared from the garbage cans, and the glint of a revolver could be seen in his hand, as he vaulted into the vacant seat by the driver. The car came to a sudden halt and a terrific struggle ensued in the tonneau. The struggle was short lived however. A revolver shot, the flash of which showed it to be in the air, and Jacobson was a prisoner. “Look, look, isn’t that Harrison Grant,” gasped Von Lertz clutching Dixie's arm as an- other figure appeared in the alley running toward the car. THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 293 “Anyone hurt here?” It was a call from the running figure which made his identification as the president of the Criminology Club a certainty. Von Lertz who had been cursing fervidly as he gazed into the alleyway suddenly, affrightedly, became aware of his own precarious position. “Quick, we must get out of here,” he uttered hoarsely and led the way through the door to the corridor. There was no one but a bellboy to be seen, bearing a tray with a pitcher of water. Had Von Lertz been less occupied he might have recognized him as the same one who had been to the room a short time before, and had he stopped a little he would have seen that the tray concealed from view a wicked automatic revolver which was clutched tightly in the right hand of the hotel servant. The bellboy gazed blankly past the German spies directly at Dixie Mason who was in the rear. A slight shake of her head caused the boy to step back against the wall to permit free passage for the party. Von Lertz led the women out of the hotel by devious routes which finally emerged into the open through a side door onto a darkened street. “Remain here,” he whispered, “while I get a car.” The three women stood in the shadow of the 294 THE EAGLE'S EYE building, Madam Stephan and Baroness Ver- becht whispering together in frightened voices. Dixie Mason was startled a trifle by a subdued voice from the shadows directly in back of her. “Operative 523, Miss Mason,” said the voice, “shall I arrest the party?” *. “No,” answered Dixie Mason without turning her head, “Von Lertz is of more value to us at large as a means of keeping tabs on the Imperial German spies.” So it was that Von Lertz was not molested when he returned with a high powered touring car driven by a competent looking chaffeur. “I told him Miss Mason and I were eloping,” he whispered, and that you two were friends of hers going along as witnesses. He is willing to drive us clear to New York.” Intent only upon getting away from the Secret Service, Von Lertz forgot for the time be- ing that Count von Bernstorff, Dr. Albert with Captain Von Papen and Captain Boy-Ed were awaiting word from him that the canal had been dynamited successfully. More than an hour had elapsed since the arrest of Jacobson before Von Lertz remembered this matter and he ordered all speed to the nearest telegraph station. There it took him some time to prepare the message and it was nearly midnight before it was delivered at THE CANAL CONSPIRATORS 295 the Imperial German Embassy in Washington. The quartet of the Kaiser's arch conspirators had been waiting impatiently. All of Von Bern- storff's fears in regard to the plot had been aroused when the time passed and no message was received. When the telegram did arrive he was at his private telephone answering a call which had been received a few minutes before. “Why it's from Ithaca,” exclaimed Von Papen who had torn open the yellow envelope, “My God, it says failed. What can it mean?” “It means this gentlemen,” came the cold voice of Von Bernstorff from the doorway, “that at the present moment a demand is being made upon Imperial Germany for your recall from the United States. I have just received information that Jacobson was arrested as he was leaving the hotel, that Koenig's other men were arrested at the canal in the act of placing the dynamite. It means that the Secret Service had full informa- tion of the plot, that you have been outwitted straight through.” “They couldn’t have known,” interposed Von Papen. “It is some more of the infernal luck of Harrison Grant.” “They did know,” said the Imperial German Ambassador, “for already a conference has been called at the State Department. That can mean 296 THE EAGLE'S EYE but one thing—that your part and that of Boy- Ed is known. It is certain that your recalls as attaches of the Embassy will be made. You had been warned. There is nothing I can do. Oh, how could you have made such blunders!” Von Papen did not answer for a moment. Nor Boy-Ed. Nor Albert. Then Von Papen with a growl, turned to his superior. “We did the best we could. That is all anyone can do. And we have not failed yet. We may be recalled, but when we go, I promise you, that we will leave a reign of terror behind such as no country has ever experienced.” CHAPTER XIII. THE REIGN OF TERROR Captain Franz von Papen, and Captain Karl Boy-Ed were spending their last hours in Ameri- ca as attaches of the Imperial German Embassy, in conference with the German Ambassador in the Embassy at Washington. The discovery of their attempt to dynamite the Welland Canal had caused the action by the United States Gov- ernment which Count von Bernstorff had pre- dicted. A demand had been made upon the Ger- man Government for their recall as accredited representatives of the Kaiser, and Imperial Ger- many had no choice in the matter. The request, styled in diplomatic language but in reality a demand which brooked no denial, was acceded to and already Von Bernstorff had received notice of the cancellation of their appointments as mili- tary and naval attaches, respectively, to the Washington Embassy. It was some weeks since they had been in the same room awaiting a telegram from Heinric 297 298. THE EAGLE'S EYE von Lertz who was in charge of the attempt on the Welland Canal. There had been many de- tails to arrange and only that same day had they received their passports and permission from the British Government to safely pass the blockade which had been established around Germany. The safe conduct passes had been a disappoint- ment. They were made out for separate ships and Von Papen and Boy-Ed had planned many enjoyable hours together on their journey home, receiving wireless reports on the success of plans which they were discussing with Von Bernstorff and Dr. Albert. “Von Bopp has proved a wonder at organiza- tion,” said Von Papen speaking of the Imperial German Consul General in San Francisco. “We have made the mistake of failing to employ our entire forces in a general attack. As we have been operating in the past we have engaged in but minor tasks, plans which would have resulted in great damage if successful but minor in the sense that only a small percentage of our forces were engaged. The result has been that the Secret Service has always been able to oppose us with an adequate force, after they have been led to it by the damnable luck of Harrison Grant. We have them hopelessly outnumbered, however, and in the campaign which will open as soon as THE REIGN OF TERROR 299 we have left the country we propose to make good use of our superiority in forces. Briefly the plan is this. To strike with explosives and fires simultaneously over the entire width and breadth of America with a two-fold object—first to cut off the supplies for the Allies by destroy- ing the means for their manufacture and sec- ondly to create such a reign of terror in America that a declaration of war against Imperial Ger- many will be too fearful a thing to even contem- plate. Boy-Ed, will you read the latest report we have received from Von Bopp?” “Naturally it is in code,” responded the naval attache, “but I can give you the sense of it. At- tacks are planned upon the Canadian Pacific Railroad in British Columbia with the main damage inflicted in the Selkirk Mountains where a little explosive will go a long way; the blow- ing up of a number of troop trains, and trains carrying horses and explosives also in western Canada, in fact a general renewal of the plans in Canada which Koolbargen undertook but which resulted so badly for our cause.” “Before you proceed farther,” interrupted Von Bernstorff, “No more money is to be spent upon any schemes in connection with Canada. It is too costly for the result to be accomplished. Canada is practically drained now of all the help 300 THE EAGLE'S EYE she will be able to extend England. Her supply of men is nearly exhausted, and two-thirds of the supplies she is sending are gotten from the United States. We have no one left in Canada to work through and the effort to get agents through the emigration lines is too great for the work that can be done. Instruct Von Bopp to confine his efforts to the United States.” “Exactly my own idea,” said Von Papen, “but Von Bopp is a fanatic in regard to Canada. His plans in regard to Canada are harmless for I never intended that they should be started. What has he to say of this country?” “The docks at Seattle, Vancouver, San Fran- cisco, San Pedro and other coastwise towns have received his consideration. Munition plans which have been suggested to him have also been care- fully investigated and are all available for our general scheme. He only wants orders to begin the work.” “He can wait,” said Von Papen, and then turning to Von Bernstorff and Albert, “you can appreciate the advantage of having affairs di- rected from San Francisco. The Secret Service is paying little or no attention to affairs there. Von Bopp, assisted by Baron Eckhart H. Von Schaack, his vice-consul, Lieutenant Wilhelm von Brincken, and a number of others, has been THE REIGN OF TERROR 301. getting the necessary men, not only for his own territory but for operations in the middle west and in the east and south. Von Lertz will have supervision over everything east of the Rockies but the men who will act for him will receive their instructions before they leave San Fran- cisco. A whole week of explosions and fires in some of the biggest and most rushed plants in the country will be the result. Each night will see its toll taken, with the climax coming with the destruction of the Bethlehem big calibre gun works. In regard to this Von Lertz is entitled to a great deal of credit. The only unprotected portion of the plant is the coal shutes leading di- rectly to the fire rooms. Although the idea was undoubtedly suggested to him Von Lertz was keen enough to realize its worth. Women gather- ing up coal which has been spilled in the unload- ing of cars into these shutes, is an ordinary sight. Workers of ours will go to the shutes, ostensibly to gather waste fuel, carrying lumps of coal which have been hallowed out and filled with trinitite of toluol and will slide these chunks down the shute. Could any sight be prettier than the one which will occur when these are thrown into the fire. boxes? The explosions which will follow will Scatter the fires so far that nothing can save the plant from destruction. If any portion of it does 302 THE EAGLE'S EYE escape it will be useless for the entire plant will be wrecked by the explosions within the fire boxes. Is not this plan alone, without the others worthy of commendation by Imperial Germany?” Totally unconscious of the stamp of fiendish- ness which he had planned upon Germany by asking commendation of a scheme which would inevitably result in horrible deaths by scalding and fire, of stokers whose only offense was the earning of an honest living by hard work, Von Papen paused to see the effect of this announce- ment upon his hearers. Albert clucked his de- light by clicking his tongue against his set teeth. Von Bernstorff smiled evilly: “I might say that Germany is compensated for the loss of your services in America by the splendid work you have planned as your fare- well greeting,” he said. “I have heard enough. You have planned well and wisely. But let me caution you not to become too rash before you leave. Clear your office well for with your de- parture it will lose its sanctity, and nothing must be found. Now for a little service I wish you to perform for me.” He opened a drawer at the table at which he was sitting and after unlocking a compartment within it produced a pair of field glasses. Undo- ing a catch at the side divided the object into THE REIGN OF TERROR 303 two sections showing that the interior had been cunningly arranged as a camera. From it he took two small cartridges of films. “Some pictures which will amuse Hinden- burg,” he said handing the films to Von Papen. “They contain views of the military parade which took place this morning, and as they were taken through two of the finest microscopic lenses in the world enlarged prints will give him much in- formation about the state of training and the equipment of the American army. To me it was an amusing sight, comparable to a chorus in a musical comedy. They make a brave showing on dress parade, but everyone knows that they are few in number, inadequate in equipment, and with absolutely nothing in the way of prepara- tion for a war.” “Tin soldiers who have no conception of dis- cipline or the rudiments of fighting,” commented von Papen. “I doubt if a quarter of a million men could be induced to enter the army if Amer- ica did declare war.” “The number who would respond would make no difference,” said the German Ambassador. “Untrained they would be slaughtered in France and would leave less opposition to us here when ‘Der Tag arrives for America. Four years is the least possible time in which a civilian may be 304 THE EAGLE'S EYE made into a soldier for it takes that time in Germany, working with the most intelligent ma- terial in the world and with the best equipped system. By that time, if training were attempted here, France and England will be subjugated and America on the defense in its own country.” Nods of approval from his three listeners gave assent to the fact that he had but expressed an idea which they all held, in fact, a belief which was held by the entire military party of Ger- many. “And now we must say farewell,” said Boy- Ed, “we will not see you again for you must condone our indescretions and show your revul- sion of our methods by being unfriendly. For were you too friendly toward us, who have be- trayed you, why even the pig-headed Americans might be led to suspect that Imperial Germany condoned, even if it did not sanction, our activi- ties here.” A hearty laugh followed this ironic sally, and then after leave takings, von Papen and Boy- Ed departed to take a train for New York, where many things, in addition to their packing, remained to be done before they sailed and the time was short. Heinric von Lertz, Madam Augusta Stephan, Baroness Therese Verbecht and Wolf von Igel, 310 THE EAGLE'S EYE bassy aides, to act as hostess to the throng which gathered. It was to her liking. She flitted here, there and everywhere throughout the offices, greeting a person here, and bidding adieu to one there, but all the time with her eyes open for any in- formation which might be of value. Only one thing did she find. This was a bill submitted by a telegraph company which von Igel was work- ing upon, checking on the receipt of the message from the office files. To aid himself he had care- fully written on the blank the name of the sender of the message, or the name of the person to wh it had been sent. The frequent repetition of “Von Bopp” on the blank caused Dixie to lucket it for future investigation. Another thing which she noticed was that Boy-Ed was sending most of his personal and private papers into von Papen's rooms, which led to the sur- mise that von Papen had undertaken the task of caring for all the important papers of the office. It was of this she first spoke when she met Harrison Grant after both von Papen and Boy- Ed had been escorted to their separate boats. “It is a shame that we had to observe the rules of civilized nations by letting them take those papers,” she said, “when they themselves have violated overy one.” THE REIGN OF TERROR 3II. I noticed how careful von Papen was of two bags, a portfolio and one trunk,” said Grant, “so I have cabled the British authorities that it might not be amiss to search them for information which might be of comfort to the enemy when the ship touches at Falmouth.” “Oh, good,” exclaimed Dixie. “And now I am starting for San Francisco this afternoon. I think I have a lead worth working on.” Then she told him of her reasons for wanting to watch the movements of Franz von Bopp, the Imperial German Consul General at San Fran- cisco. Grant heartily agreed with her. Then on finding that she had already engaged her train he accompanied her to the station and saw her start on her week's journey. He chafed at the idleness which confronted him. Shadows had been sent on the Baroness, Madam Stephan and von Lertz, as well as others who had been active in previous German activi- ties. Von Lertz was reported as having inter- viewed and retained the services of a large num- ber of publicists whom he had dispatched to vari- ous parts of the country. Grant decided that perhaps acts of violence as a part of the Ger- man propaganda were to end with the departure of the two arch-conspirators, and that von Lertz 312 THE EAGLE'S EYE was directing a campaign of publicity work in an effort to regain American sympathy. Finally through sheer inactivity he began thinking of the letter to Madam Stephan of which he had spoken to Dixie. He finally de- cided that sending it could do no harm, and he dispatched a short note, telling her that it might be wise for her own safety to give up any in- formation she might possess. The note was destined to have a far reaching effect, but not in the way in which Grant thought. Madam Stephan received it and after reading it tore it to small pieces, enraged at the idea that Grant had such a poor opinion of her that he could believe she would turn informer. Baroness Verbecht called a short time later while Madam Stephan was busy with her morning toilet. The Baroness was a natural spy and when she saw the torn bits of letter on the table she gathered them up carefully, and carried them with her when she left. At her own apartment she spent the day piecing them together until the whole note stood revealed. Then she had a hearty laugh at the stupidity of the American who would expect an agent of the Wilhelmstrasse to turn informer and brave the mighty wrath of Imperial Ger- many. * The dispatch published the following day, | THE REIGN OF TERROR 313 however, telling of the seizure of von Papen's papers at Falmouth caused her to think of the letter. A plan whereby she could put Madam Stephan in a position where she could no longer claim the leadership of the women spies of the Kaiser in America occurred to her and she put it into instant execution. She hurried to the former office of von Papen where, as she expected, she found von Lertz seeth- ing with rage at this new disaster to Germany. She had counted upon rage and fear dulling the never too sharp wits of von Lertz, and he was in the mood which she had anticipated willing to believe almost any explanation. “How, how could they have known of those papers, check stubs and everything else which should have been destroyed, instead of being taken to Germany as proof of our fidelity?” he groaned. “Here is your explanation,” said the Baroness extending the note to Madam Stephan from Grant on the letterhead of the Criminology Club. The fact that it was undated made her story plausible. “She received that five days ago and since then I have watched her. She has met Grant four times and was with him four days ago when he sent a long cablegram to England. I could not get the contents of that message but $14 THE EAGLE'S EYE it was without a doubt notification of the papers which von 92 But von Lertz had not waited to hear her fin- ish. He had fallen a ready victim to Baroness Verbecht's scheme for discrediting Madam Stephan and had dashed from the office to con- front the supposed traitor with her perfidy. He was forced to wait at her apartment, for Madam had not yet arisen and as he strode up and down in her study his ragé momentarily in- creased. An open book lay on the table. Hard- ly aware of what he was doing he picked it up and read two or three passages before he even noted the title. “Bah,” he suddenly exclaimed in disgust. “‘A Tale of Two Cities. She has so far forgotten Germany that she turns to English books for entertainment.” Then Madam Stephan entered the room. Enraged at the cool unruffled appearance of the woman he hurled forth a violent denunciation of her as a being unworthy of the respect of any- one, and ending by accusing her of being a traitor to Germany. A finer grained man would have read the falsity of the charge in the effect the accusation of disloyalty had upon Madam Ste- phan. In the moment she was turned from a bright, vibrant, keenly alert woman to a crushed, 316 THE EAGLE'S EYE Knees. As he finished von Lertz disentangled the clutching arms, threw her violently to the floor and hurried from the apartment. Madam Stephan lay still. A faint had quieted for the time being her tortured brain. Von Lertz had spoken truly of being busy. As he re-entered his office von Igel met him. “There was a long distance telephone call,” said von Papen's former secretary. “The mes- sage was “O. K. at Buffalo and also this tele- gram.” Von Lertz grasped the yellow envelope and hastened into the former private office of the military attache. There he took a long list of cities in America from his pocket and put a check after Buffalo. Then he tore open the telegram. “O. K. at Wilmington,” read the printed mes- Sage. And throughout the day similar messages con- tinued to arrive from all parts of the country, each denoting the destruction by fire or explos- ion of American property and in many instances American lives. Many were from the West for Franz von Bopp was busy. As proof after proof came to his hand that the crimes were proceeding unmolested, showing that the Secret Service had been totally unwarned, von Lertz thought of Madam Stephan. 3.18. THE EAGLE'S EYE The effect of the news upon Madam Stephan was startling. She dismissed any hope of being able to prove her innocence to such a man as Heinric von Lertz. She thought of how differ- ent it would be if he were a man of the type of Harrison Grant. Then in a flash the whole truth burst upon her. She realized in a twink- ling the entire falsity, the utter worthlessness of a system which could elevate a man of von Lertz's calibre to the position he occupied. She appre- ciated the vileness of the crimes in which she had participated and gained an understanding of the glorious things for which American ideals stood. With the thought came a decision based upon the fineness of her nature which she had sup- pressed during her entire life. She called for her wraps. It was as a woman new born that she left her apartment. She was a woman arrayed on the side of humanity as against Imperial Ger- many. She made her way straight to the Criminology Club. As she walked she wondered how she could ever have thought that the thing she was about to do was abhorrent, how she could ever have thought of it as anything but her bounden duty to humanity. At the club the announce- ment that she was awaiting him made Harrison Grant start eagerly. THE REIGN OF TERROR 3.19 For two nights he had gone without sleep, working incessantly, trying to get some clew which would expose the whole of the plot. He knew of the messages which were being received by Heinric von Lertz, but the coincidence of each being from a city in which a fire or explosion had taken place was not sufficient evidence to warrant a raid. The news of the raid in San Francisco had not aroused hope, for he had re- ceived a long message from Dixie Mason telling of everything found in the offices and he realized that he still had before him his work of stopping the reign of terror in the East, without aid to be expected from anywhere. So he grasped the outstretched hand of Madam Stephan eagerly. “You came in response to my letter?” he asked. “I had scarcely thought of that,” responded Madam Stephan. “I have come as a true friend of the German people. Mr. Grant, I love my people and my country. Events of the past two days, of which you need never know, have shown me that it is only through the destruction of Im- perial Germany and everything for which it stands, that they, my people and my country, can take the place I want them to have in the world. Misguided as they have been from birth they cannot throw off the yoke. With America's help 320 THE EAGLE'S EYE it can be done. So I am here to aid America. I will be compensated if I bring the day of Ger- many's salvation, the day upon which the horizon of humanity is revealed to the German people, as it has been revealed to me today, one hour nearer.” She then related quickly all that she knew of von Papen's plan for a reign of terror in America. “Heinric von Lertz will not wait until the day set for the destruction of the Bethlehem steel works to attempt it,” she said. “The news from San Francisco will cause him to attempt the climax of the plot planned by von Papen be- fore it is discovered. Even now he may be start- ing on it.” She then gave him the address of the artisan in Harlem who was inserting explosives in the hollow lumps of coal for use at Bethlehem. Grant tarried hardly longer than was required to ex- press his thanks after receiving this information and hurried away. But he and his men arrived too late. Evidence aplenty was found to prove that Madam Stephan's description of the work that was be- ing done had been true. But the three men who had occupied it were gone. “They left but a moment since, sir,” volun- 324 THE EAGLE'S EYE Hastily he peeled it off, and held it up before the astonished stokers, who had been watching him wild eyed, a tube filled with the most power- ful explosive known! Orders were given hastily. The firing pits were all emptied and the coal taken away for re- screening. Fresh cars were rushed up to the shutes and before the steam had dropped below the point where it would not drive the engines fresh coal, safe coal, was being poured into the gigantic fire boxes. Grant's work was done and he repaired to town to wash and dress. Hardly had he restored his usual immaculate appear- ance when his men arrived to report that the spy at the shutes had been captured and was in jail with his fellow conspirators. Then telegrams began to arrive, forwarded from the Criminology Club in New York. They told of raid after raid which had been made, each nipping a plot in its budding, each conducted on information furnished by Madam Stephan. Not one of Imperial Germany's attempts had been successful. Grant's last waking thought that night, was of two women. “Dixie and I must see to it,” he murmured sleepily, “that Madam Stephan is given oppor- tunity to appreciate to the full the life of free- dom to which she has just awakened.” THE REIGN OF TERROR 325 But Madam Stephan had already made the supreme sacrifice. She was lying at that moment in her apartment, dead, a bullet wound in her heart, victim of a system the full extent of which she had not yet realized although she had been a member of it. An hour before her maid had re- quested the evening out and had appeared at the office of Heinric von Lertz. He had scarcely noticed her for message after message had reached him of the frustrations of the various plots of destruction, and he was nearly frenzied. Suddenly he was drawn up taut. The maid had given him the secret sign of the Imperial German spy army. “You, you,” he gasped. “Yes,” she answered without emotion. “Eight years have I served Madam Stephan as personal maid on guard against the moment which has now arrived. She gave information to Harrison Grant at the Criminology Club, and I have come to remind you of your duty.” The heart of Heinric von Lertz became cold with fear. So this was the way Germany trusted her most confidential workers. He wondered of his own valet, of his housekeeper, of everyone whose respect he had thought he held. Me- chanically he put on his coat and hat. He talked aimlessly as they rode toward Madam Stephan's 326 THE EAGLE’S EYE apartment, wondering, thinking of the relentless grip Germany held upon her spies. At the door to Madam's apartment the maid pushed something into his hand. He shuddered as he felt it to be a revolver. “It is her own,” said the maid in a cold lifeless voice, “so it makes no difference which one of you use it. You will find her in the library.” As she was speaking she had slipped her latch key into the lock and had entered. Von Lertz followed in a semi-daze, and walked alone into the library." “Madam Stephan, I have come to claim the debt you owe Imperial Germany,” he said in a voice which he hardly recognized as his own. Me- chanically he thrust the revolver toward her. Madam Stephan started to her feet from the easy chair in which she had been reclining. One look at the pallid, set face of von Lertz con- vinced her of the desperateness of her position. Life had become very sweet to her after her inti- mate talk with Harrison Grant. She made a sudden lunge at von Lertz. She had just reached him when there came the muffled report of a revolver shot smothered in clothing. Von Lertz had reversed the weapon and pulled the trigger. Madam Stephan stag- gered back and then fell full length on the floor, THE REIGN OF TERROR 327 her life blood oozing out through a wound which had penetrated her heart. As von Lertz stood aghast gazing at the re- sult of his handiwork the maid entered. She took the revolver from his nerveless hand and stoop- ing by the body of her former mistress twisted the fingers of the right hand, already cooling in death, about the handle and the trigger. Then she walked to th cable and picking up a book, opened it, and began marking a passage. “This will be absolute proof of her suicide,” she remarked calmly. “It occurred to me this afternoon. You know she had been reading Dickens, expecting to be ordered to England any day for work.” - Von Lertz dully took the book which was ex- tended to him. He recognized it as the copy of “A Tale of Two Cities,” which he had examined but a few days previously. He saw the sentence which the maid had underlined: “It is a far, far better thing I do, than I have ever done, it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.” * He stood motionless as the maid took the book from him and placed it on the table where the message would be the first thing to catch the eye of an investigator. MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 329 conditions was tried. Subtler attacks were em- ployed elsewhere. Tempting offers of employ- ment at their trade in distant cities, with trans- portation paid, were made on condition that a sufficient number of workmen would join the mi- grating colony. Cunningly worded stories of fictitious dangers which confronted workers in various occupations were inserted in printed mat- ter which was designed to reach wives, mothers and sweethearts, but every effort failed, because of the intense loyalty of the unions. “Report anything which may cause two or more workingmen to leave the place where they are employed now,” was the request made by the Secret Service. Members of the special commit- tees, by ever watchful vigilance, detected the ef- forts of Germany at their inception. Complaints against conditions were usually proved groundless by the Secret Service. In cases where the workingmen were not receiving fair treatment, a word to the owner was usually sufficient to correct the trouble, for the manu- facturers had combined with the workers in pre- venting Germany from being successful in its plotting. The ideal positions which existed at distant points were proved to be phantoms. The Hun-inspired stories of dangers existing through the handling of various substances were denied 332 THE EAGLE'S EYE the world. It always proceeded on the lines of anarchism—destruction to anything which im- peded its progress. The cry of higher and better wages attracted a great many workingmen when it was first introduced into this country, but they soon dropped away. The utter absurdity of a theory that a laborer could increase his earnings by insisting that he receive everything that he produced without any thought of the working- men who had produced the tools and the material with which he worked, soon stopped the growth of the membership and then a sudden slump in the number of supporters until only professional agitators could be found in the organization. Even these soon deserted for they agitated only for the money that there was to be acquired and the treasury of the I. W. W. was depleted to a point where it was no longer a shining target for the greed of the professional trouble maker who found more profitable organizations elsewhere. Then the I. W. W. suddenly acquired appar- ently unlimited money from some source. Agita- tors from everywhere flocked to its standards which was the surest sign that the treasury was well filled. There were indications also that some sane person had planned out a definite campaign for the organization to follow under the guise of agitating only the theory for which it stood. 334 THE EAGLE'S EYE working against another German plot in America. Raid after raid was made on local headquarters of the I. W. W. and many prison- ers were made and haled into court on charges of almost every felony on the docket, from mur- der down. Yet the organization continued to flourish. Outbreaks occurred all over America, some serious, others quelled almost before they were started. Grant and Dixie devoted their time to inves- tigation and very seldom were engaged on a par- ticular case when the time for raiding came. They discovered the plotters, an outline of the object toward which they were working, then turned the clearly defined trail over to other less skilled workers to pursue, while they gave attention to other fields which indicated a plot was brewing. Masses of documents teaching sabotage, destruc- tion of all sorts, the making and firing of bombs, sedition and many other things detrimental to the industrial health and strength of a nation were the natural accompaniment of every raid. Sabotage was the most dangerous of all and it was to this branch of the I. W. W. activity to which Grant and Dixie devoted most of their time. Machinery in various plants suddenly broke down, despite the reliability of its manufacturers. MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 335 Grant and Dixie discovered that emery powder had been mixed with lubricating oil, and as a re- sult locks were placed on lubricating cups, and trusted men attended to the duties of oiling, using only oil that had been strained and in- spected and kept under lock and key. There - were epidemics of typhoid in colonies of workers and after their first investigation Grant and Dixie made a report which put every health of- ficer in the country on guard against diverted sewage. Then came the fires in the wheatfields of the country. Grant and Dixie were already on their way to Minnesota when the announcement was made that their fields burst into flames under their own eyes, without another person being in sight. But Grant and Dixie did not accept this explanation. They knew that almost anything was possible where there was money to be ob-. tained and they knew that Germany was supply- ing funds recklessly. Convinced that the fires were of incendiary ori- gin, despite the testimony of the farmers, Grant and Dixie went directly to one of the devastated fields. There was nothing to be seen except acre after acre of charred soil where a few days earlier had stood bushels and bushels of wheat ready for harvest. The farmer pointed out to them the JMENACE OF THE I. W. W. 337. “Can you drive me right into town? I have some work to do.” “Sure,” answered the farmer, impressed by Grant's manner, and then his curiosity prompted the question, “Have you found gold or oil?” “Maybe something more valuable than either to the wheat farmer,” answered Grant. “I think I have found the cause of the fires in the wheat fields, but will know for a certainty by tonight.” The farmer asked no more questions but hur- ried away, soon to re-appear on the road near the field at the wheel of a speedy little roadster. On the way into town several more fields which had been shorn of their yield by fire were passed and Grant stopped at each one of them. He walked over their blackened lengths carefully until evi- dently the thing for which he searched was dis- covered. Then as before he took a sample of the soil and a second sample many yards distant from the first position. By the time the little road- ster drove up in front of the one hotel in the near- est city the pockets of both men were filled with Minnesota soil. They had already made a stop at a drug store where Grant taxed the stock of the proprietor with the demands he made. He succeeded in get- ting everything that he wanted, acids, salts and other things of which the farmer had never heard. 338 THE EAGLE'S EYE Once in Grant's room at the hotel, the president of the Criminology Club spread out a large piece of white paper on the floor. On it he marked several circles in parellel rows. “Empty your right hand pockets on this side, and put the soil from your left hand pockets on this side,” he ordered briefly, and then in re- sponse to the mute request on the face of the farmer he added, “Yes, stay if you want to,” and began emptying his own pockets. With the soil samples from various fields ar- ranged in neat piles on the white paper Grant set to work on matters which were, for the most part, mysterious to the farmer. A Bunsen burner was connected with the chandelier in the room. Small portions of the soil from each pile were placed in separate test tubes. Then each was heated, mixed with small portions of the matter from the various bottles and packages which had been got- ten at the drug store. Each test tube was treated in identically the same way and as he finished with each one Grant entered figures in his note book. He was working on the last tube when a Knock came on the door, and in response to Grant’s “Come” the door opened and Dixie Mason entered. The little Secret Service opera- tive remained silent while Grant finished the test tube. He jotted some figures in his note book, 340 THE EAGLE'S EYE percentage of phosphorus oxide, while the other samples are free from it. Phosphorus oxide is formed by the burning of phosphorus.” “Which makes it very clear as to how the fires started,” commented Dixie. “It may be to you,” interjected the farmer, “but I can’t see what started the phosphorus burning even if some was placed in the field.” “Phosphorus has a peculiar property,” ex- plained Grant. “When it is in a certain degree of solution it unites readily with the oxygen in the air, which is merely another way of saying that it burns. The burning of the wheat fields is an example of the methods of the I. W. W. prompted by Imperial Germany’s desire to keep supplies of food from reaching the Allies. These bogus geologists had small bags filled with dry phosphorus. To accomplish their design it was merely necessary to give the bag a soaking with water and throw it into a field. Several hours afterward when the sun had dried the phosphorus to the degree of solution where it unites with the air it would burst into flame and ignite the wheat.” As a convincing demonstration to the farmer Grant procured a small piece of phosphorus and showed him how it would start burning by merely dropping it into water. MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 341 “You see it floats when placed on water,” said Grant as the farmer watched the little blue flame with changing expressions. “The underpart is too thoroughly saturated while the top part is dry. Between there is a section which is at the proper percentage of solution and hence the burning.” “Let me assure you,” said the farmer finally with a set jaw, “that the wheat lands are going to be a mighty unhealthy place from now on, for I. W. W.'s, German spies or anyone else carry- ing little sacks of anything.” “I can give you the assurance,” said Grant, “that from now on it will be a very risky thing for a person to try to purchase phosphorus any- where in the country unless he can prove a legiti- mate use for it.” Dixie and Grant started back for New York that night, for every moment which they could spare was devoted to Von Bernstorff, Dr. Albert and Heinric von Lertz in an effort to gain the evidence which they knew existed that Germany was supplying the I. W. W. with the funds by which the agitators were spreading havoc throughout the country. But they were destined not to reach there, at least not until several weeks later. A telegram forwarded from the Crim- 342 THE EAGLE'S EYE inology Club was handed to Grant on the train while it was speeding through Ohio. “Will you see me at your earliest convenience.” That was the wording of the message and the fact that it was signed by Mrs. Blank, the wife of an unscrupulous broker who had virtually sold her to Von Bernstorff in return for tips which he might receive which would be profitable on the stock market in case Germany’s plots were successful, caused Grant to alight at the next station and call her on the long distance tele- phone. “Von Bernstorff was here,” came the voice of Mrs. Blank over the wire, “raging about the part I took in the arrest of Baroness Verbecht. He tried to find out if I was allied with the Secret Service and offered me any amount of money to assure my allegiance to him and Germany. In making the offer he drew his wallet from his pocket and banged it down on the table scatter- ing papers right and left. He gathered them up hastily but I saw one, a telegram from Von Lertz, at Old Forge, Pennsylvania. It read sim- ply ‘Progress favorable.’” “Old Forge is a place where they had an excit- ing time with the I. W. W. several weeks ago,” commented Grant, after he had hung up the re- ceiver, to Dixie who had gotten off the train with 344 THE EAGLE'S EYE and now hiding from an American warrant. Dixie Mason excited no suspicion when she regis- tered at the headquarters of the auxiliary. A few days later came the first news of trouble. Dixie Mason hurrying from the women's auxil- iary, sped forward to catch Harrison Grant, just as he was leaving the headquarters of the H. W. W. “There's some trouble going on at the mines,” she announced. “We’ve just gotten orders to hurry there and cause a demonstration.” Grant nodded. “I just got the same sort of a tip. I think it's a blind. I heard orders given to the man just ahead to report as soon as the constabulary was fully engaged there. Come on, we must shadow him.” They started forward. A moment later, from the direction of the mines, came a great sound of crashing timbers, of screams, and the rising of coal dust. Men and women appeared, run- ning forward from every direction. The clatter- ing of hoofs and the constabulary thundered past. Grant leaped to the center of the street. “Someone has released the brakes from a dump train,” he announced, “It crashed back in- to the shaft of the mine. Miners have been in- 346 THE EAGLE'S EYE which they might enter. But there seemed to be none. Here and there were great doors, from which shipping had emanated in other days—but each was carefully locked and bolted now. Grant pressed his ear against one of these—and heard the jabbering and shouting of great numbers of men. He turned, and seeking a foothold, raised himself that he might peer through a corner of a window imperfectly covered from within. “Dixie,” he whispered. “Yes,” the girl was close beside him. “Do you see anything in there?” “Yes. Practically every I. W. W. in town is here. Someone is on the platform, talking to them. I 95 “Can you make out who's there?” “Dembriki's one. Faggi’s another. And Hein- ric von Lertz!” “Von Lertz! Then it means “They’re bringing out parcels of something. Laying them on the platform so that they can easily be reached. Hurry ” Grant turned, his face white. “Get the constabulary—quick! It's dynamite!” In a flash Dixie Mason was pressing every muscle to the utmost as she ran through the lots and back toward the mines that she might sum- mon the members of the mounted police. Grant 32 MENACE OF THE I. W. W. 349 briki, in charge of the dynamite, he felled him with a crashing blow from his fist. Heinric von Lertz took one look and ran through the door that had been left open by the entrance of Har- rison Grant. But the I. W. W. members could only see this one form and could only know that Grant had interfered with their schemes of des- truction. A second of hesitation, then they rushed forward. But Grant was ready for them. A heavy chair stood nearby. He seized it and taking his place near the dynamite, felled the first man who ap- proached. The crackle of a revolver sounded, and a bullet splintered the wood just above his head. Then a shout “Stop that shooting! You're liable to explode the dynamite. No need for that—we'll get him!” Grant whirled. Again he brought the chair crashing downward, and Faggi had been knocked from the platform. The members of the I. W. W. recoiled slightly. Grant, white faced and grim, scowled at them. “I’d advise you not to try to touch this dyna- mite!” he ordered. “I’ll use this chair on any one who comes near—and I’ll swing to kill!” A growl answered him, as a great, heavy shouldered German edged his way forward, and spring toward the platform, Grant kept his word. 350 THE EAGLE'S EYE A second later, the German wavered in his tracks, stumbled and fell, to lay quite still beside the other two men on the floor. Again a recoil– but Grant knew that it was only for a minute. And in that minute, how his ears strained for the sound of galloping horses! How he waited and hoped! Then a sudden rush of men. It seemed that by some common impulse, the whole great hall surged forward—climbing upon the platform, dodging and swirling, seeking to come under the defense that Harrison Grant kept up, ducking the blows of the heavy chair, surging back then coming forward again, striving to corner him, to beat him down - High in the air went the chair to descend again —and to carry with it the form of a plotter. Again—and again—and again. Then Harrison Grant felt the chair wrested from his grasp and thrown far to one side. A screaming voice echoed in his ears “Now we’ve got him! Come on men!” Grant had his back to the wall. Regardless of the danger of exploding the dynamite he brought forth his revolvers. “Stand back there,” he shouted. “The first man who comes at me gets a bullet! Under- stand? Stand back there!” 352 THE EAGLE'S EYE impossible also. Beneath every window waited a member of the constabulary. And at the doors— One after another they yielded, to allow the entrance of the mounted men of the constabulary, riding straight into the meeting hall, their horses vaulting chairs and obstructions as they circled about the big room, rounding up the criminals. Resistance had disappeared. Like sheep they were herded to one end of the hall, the men who but a few minutes before had been obsessed with a mania for destruction. A smile came to Grant's lips as he watched. Then, the whole hall went suddenly black before his eyes, and he fell to the platform unconscious from his hurts. When he became aware of the world again, it was to feel the tender touch of a woman's hand and to hear a soft voice of sympathy. His eyes opened, to look into those of Dixie Mason, bend- ing over him, smoothing the hair from his dis- colored temples, seeking to assuage his wounds and bruises. He smiled in spite of the pain of his injuries. * “It is worth being hurt just to have you nurse me,” he said, then with a sudden remembrance he attempted to rise to his feet. “The Constabu- lary?” he asked. “Did they arrest—” “Everyone who was in the hall except you,” came the answer of Dixie Mason. “But I am THE GREAT DECISION 355 couched in the insolent terms which he knew only the Great One of Germany, himself, would be permitted to use in diplomatic intercourse. Von Bernstorff turned pale at the thought of war with the United States for he, alone, of all the trusted advisers of the Kaiser knew and appreciated the powers of America. “This means war,” was the verdict reached by every American as he read the note in the news- papers, a verdict prompted by the fearless pa- triotic pride which beat in every breast. Then the individual American waited, reading each new development in the diplomatic engagement which followed with bated breath, waited for the decision which they felt was inevitable. But there was no period of waiting for Harri- son Grant, nor the members of the Criminology Club. Dixie Mason and the other members of the Secret Service had no time to wait for the decision. Every other investigating branch of the government worked at high tension, for everyone who had been engaged in the secret warfare with German Agents knew that once war became inevitable the Kaiser's spy army would throw caution to the four winds and make the mightiest efforts to bring wanton destruction in every manner possible. Grant felt that there could be no doubt in the 356 THE EAGLE'S EYE mind of Bernstorff that war would result from the note and the conditions proposed to place upon American commerce. The night it was re- ceived he called a special meeting of the Crim- inology Club, and it was attended by Dixie Mason. “Men, the supreme test of the worth of our organization has come,” said Grant addressing the meeting. “The next few weeks will see the German spy army in the United States striving by every desperate means at their command to kill and destroy everything American. We must not fail in this supreme test. Beginning tonight we must shadow every member of the spy army in the country. His every action must be inves- tigated, every person to whom he speaks must be regarded as a suspicious character. That is all. You will find your assignments in your letter boxes.” Harrison Grant had selected Heinric von Lertz as the spy for whose activities he would be responsible, and Dixie Mason had accepted the post of keeping watch over Baroness Verbecht, who had succeeded in gaining her liberty from the Tombs under bail, after the discovery of the invisible ink messages on her body by Grant and Mrs. Blank. Before either of the spies they were watching had made a suspicious move, re- THE GREAT DECISION 361 is waiting, sir,” said Bernstorff's servant. The arch-spy of Imperial Germany raised his eye- brows. “So soon?” he asked. “Albert—he turned to his privy counselor—“please be sure to remain. And you—” he addressed the servant again— “watch for the signal. I think the gentlemen is bringing me my passports.” And the Ambassador was right. Five minutes later, as Bernstorff stretched forth his hand to receive the passports that meant his explusion from the United States, he apparently accident- ally dropped a handkerchief. And as the white cambric fluttered to the floor, the servant, who had been waiting at the door, turned and hurried away. On the way out, however, he paused, with dis- pleasure written in every line of his wrinkled face. “It is absolutely impossible for the Ambassa- dor to see anyone,” he said somewhat gruffly to the woman who had halted him, “he is extremely busy.” “The Ambassador will see me—or I will know the reason why,” came the cool answer of the woman. “Tell him that Mrs. Blank is awaiting him.” THE GREAT DECISION 363 found in there, the papers that gave the Secret Service the main clue to all our activities. It was easy for them to follow the other plans and plots after that. And so, why should they not accuse us of wrong-doing? Oh, Albert, why were you so foolish? Why did you allow that information to be lost?” “And I suppose,” answered Albert somewhat caustically “you have never given any informa- tion? I—” “I? Certainly not!” “Be careful, Count!” It was a woman’s voice. Von Bernstorff whirled as though struck by a bullet to look into the smiling face of Mrs. Evelyn Blank. The broker's wife came forward. “I really had to come to Dr. Albert's assist- ance,” she cooed. “Really you are not giving yourself proper credit. So I felt impelled to come forth and say in your own behalf that un- doubtedly you have given up more information than he ever had.” Dr. Albert smiled with the corner of his mouth. Von Bernstorff gasped. “Yes,” continued Mrs. Blank, “Dr. Albert had one misfortune, but he never fell in love with the wife of some one else. That should never be done, and above all things you should never THE GREAT DECISION 365 vince the captain that the big liner should be sunk immediately. “Don’t be foolish,” he argued. “What are you afraid of? International law prevents any mem- ber of the Secret Service coming below decks.” “But what will happen when the ship sinks? We will have to go above then—and take to the small boats.” “What of it? It's our ship, isn’t it?” “Yes, but there are laws against the blocking of harbors.” “Chicken heart!” sneered Von Lertz, “help me with these sea cocks!” ‘Captain—captain!” It was a voice outside the door. A second later, the frightened face of a mate showed at the opening. “There are a man and a woman on deck who say they’re from the Secret Service. They’ve got harbor police with them and have arrested all the crew up there. They want to see you—” The Captain whirled and started for the door. Von Lertz caught at him and failed. Then, as the door slammed, the German spy, cursing un- der his breath, turned again to the opening of the sea-cocks. The great water inlets slid open. The green water of the harbor spouted within. Von Lertz shouted in happiness—and started for the door. Then he gasped—the door was 366 THE EAGLE'S EYE locked—battened from without where the fasten- ings had fallen into place as the Captain had run forth! The door was battened and from the sea- cocks the waters of Charleston Harbor were pouring into the ship in an ever increasing flow. Upon the deck of the Liebenfels, Harrison Grant and Dixie Mason had arrested the crew and the captain of the liner. Already the boat had begun to list slightly, from the water pour- ing into the hold from the sea-cocks. And as the small boats went over the side and started toward the shore, carrying the men who were to be accused of attempting to block the harbor of Charleston, the one man who had caused the dis- aster, stood waist deep in water in the engine room, striving vainly to find some way of escape, dully chattering to himself in his fear. For Heinric von Lertz, German spy, was facing death through his own actions. Gradually and steadily the water rose, while the spy clawed at the tightly fastened door which separated him from the companionways and from safety. Hurriedly he tried to force his way through the rapidly rising water, back to the sea cocks, that he might close them again. But im- possible. The rush of water had become so great that there was no stemming it now. He screamed in terror as he fought against the water as though THE GREAT DECISION 369 automobile followed him as he hurried away from the hotel. An hour later, Dr. Albert stood in a ram- shackle building at the outskirts of town, giving his final instructions. “Remember, that as soon as Ambassador Bern- storff and myself are safely on board the Fred- erik VIII, you are to start a bomb campaign in the harbor of New York that will eclipse any- thing ever attempted before,” he said. “Do you understand?” “Perfectly.” “This must be greater even than the Black Tom explosion.” Dr. Albert was insistent upon his point. “There are munitions ships on the Jersey shore. See that each one of them receives a bomb. Their explosion alone should wreck many of the skyscrapers in the business district of New York and cause a panic there. And America must be made to realize that she is fight- ing a stubborn enemy—one that will stop at noth- ing. And you—” he pointed a finger at the cap- tain of the bomb-throwers— “you must be the first to demonstrate the iron will and steel fight- ing spirit that will enable Imperial Germany to conquer the World!” “It shall be done.” “Very well. The Ambassador and myself will THE GREAT DECISION 371 leave America!” he was saying. “No one can ever know the aching that is in my heart that this unpleasantness has arisen between two great countries. It was my dream that we should have remained friends—and it shall always be my de- sire never to see war come between America and Germany. Ah, America—how I hate to leave you!” And in a large measure, Ambassador Bernstorff was telling the truth. For had not America furnished him a most amusing sequence of entertainment? Had not one “performance” after another been staged for him by his hard working spies, ranging from the killing of wo- men and children to the mere destruction of fac- tories, shipping and warehouses, filled with bandages and surcease of pain for the wounded —the stores of the Red Cross? Had he not gained amusement every day in his statements of neutrality and friendliness, as he met the cor- respondents in the Embassy? Yes, it was more than painful for him to leave America. There would be no mass of spy code messages for him to read each morning. There would be no morn- ing copy of the newspaper to gloat over—as its columns told of the destruction wrought by the bomb-planters of the German spy system. “Ah, America,” he whined again, “how it grieves me to say goodby!” 372 THE EAGLE'S EYE Then he turned at the sight of Albert. “Well?” he asked. “Everything is arranged, your Excellency.” “Good!” Then Bernstorff turned and masked his smile with a blinking of his crocodile-tear smeared eyes, as a new shower of flowers was tossed at him from pro-Germans on every side. Suddenly he stared. Harrison Grant of the Criminology Club was facing him, and holding forth a small package. “Since everyone is making presents, Your Ex- cellency,” said the detective with the slightest tinge of sarcasm, “I thought it only right that I should make one also.” He handed the package to the Ambassador. Wonderingly, Bernstorff unfastened the string, and took the paper from the package. Then he stared. “Checkers!” he said wryly. “Yes, Your Excellency,” answered the presi- dent of the Criminology Club, with a laugh, “it’s your move, you know.” And before the Ambassador could reply, Har- rison Grant was gone, to reach the deck of the ship and make his way to the dock. There he saw the hurrying form of Dixie Mason—and rushed to her. “What's wrong?” 3558-197 5E