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THE WEB





THE WEB
A NOVEL
BY
FREDERIC ARNOLD KUMMER

NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
1919


Ahaag 6..5.25
Harvard College Library :
A, r.23,1921
Dy exchange
Copyright, 1919, by
THE CENTURY CO.
Published, January, 1919





THE WEB





THE WEB
CHAPTER I
“M R. HOFFMAN," said the man across the
V table, “you are expected to carry out
whatever instructions may be given you, to the
letter. Are you ready to do so?”.
Bob Hoffman hesitated for the fraction of a
second, then nodded.
“I am ready," he replied. "What are the
instructions ?”
“You will communicate, at once, without the
least delay, any military information of which
you may become possessed, to the German se-
cret service authorities." The speaker bent
upon the man before him a pair of intensely
brilliant grey eyes.
He was a short, thickset man, somewhat bald,
with a closely cropped grey moustache that ac-
centuated, rather than hid, the firm, determined
lines of his mouth and chin. He spoke slowly,
deliberately, as one possessing authority, re-
garding the young man opposite him with grave
imperturbability.


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The latter, tall, slender, yet of muscular build,
met his companion's gaze without betraying
the least emotion. He was a handsome man,
clean-shaven, with an indefinable something
about his lean square jaws that suggested the
American.
“In what way am I to obtain the military in-
formation of which you speak?” he presently
asked.
“I will tell you. You are, I believe, well ac-
quainted with Vice Admiral Lord Brooke, of the
Admiralty Naval Staff q”.
“Lord Brooke!” This time the young man
was shaken out of his composure. “Of course
I am. He is my brother-in-law. He married
my sister."
“Precisely. And you are a frequent visitor
at his house!"
"I am."
“Very well. Lord Brooke is given to talk-
ing, at times. He will be indiscreet. He will
occasionally let fall information of the greatest
value. That information you will make use of,
as I have indicated.”
“But-my own brother-in-law!” Hoffman ex-
claimed, with troubled eyes.
“I should perhaps have informed you,”
remarked his companion, “that it is because
of your relationship to Lord Brooke that you


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have been selected for the work in hand.”
The young man mastered his hesitation with
an effort.
“How am I to convey the secrets of which you
speak to the German authorities?” he asked.
His companion shrugged his shoulders.
“That information will be furnished you by
those you will meet upon the Continent."
“Upon the Continent?" Hoffman asked, sur-
prised.
“Yes. You will proceed to Rotterdam in the
morning, and call upon the German consul there.
Explain to him just what you propose to do.
He will instruct you as to your future move-
ments.”
“I see." The young American tossed his
half-smoked cigarette into the fireplace, and
rose. He seemed uneasy, uncertain of his
ground.
“To take advantage of Lord Brooke's friend-
ship, of his relationship to me," he remarked,
coldly, "will be rather a shabby trick."
“Please remember," replied his companion
quickly, “ that you have sworn to carry out
your orders, without questioning them. Vast
interests are at stake. Everything depends
upon your obedience, your devotion. I realize
that the part you are called upon to play is dis-
tasteful to you. It would be distasteful to any


THE WEB
man of honor. But the interests involved are
too great, too important, to admit of any hesi-
tation. You must remember your oath, and
obey blindly. Do you understand?" In the
gravity with which the older man invested his
words there was a note almost of menace.
“Further,” he continued, “I feel that I
should point out to you that the smallest error
on your part is almost certain to cost you your
life. Treachery we will never forgive-mis-
takes will be no less promptly punished by our
enemies. Do I make myself clear?"
Hoffman nodded gravely, with a sudden real-
ization of the dangers of the course upon which
his blind love of adventure had embarked him.
The information just imparted to him had been
so startling, so unexpected, that his brain
whirled.
“Before you go,” his companion remarked,
"you will give me your thumb-prints." He
took a small inked pad and some paper from one
of the drawers of the table and pushed them
toward Hoffman. “It is a necessary precaution,
and may prove valuable to you, in case you have
occasion to communicate with us at this end.
Sign any such communications with the impres,
sion of your right thumb, but write nothing un-
less absolutely necessary. In work of this sort,
verbal messages are the only safe ones." He


THE WEB
folded the sheet upon which Hoffman had left
the print of his thumbs, and placed it in his
pocket. “Do not forget that, in England, you
will be known, not by name, but by the number
424. Fix this number carefully in your mind.
In the mission upon which you are embarking,
there can be no mistakes, no failures. Your
wits must be keen, your nerves of steel. For
the rest, obey your instructions implicitly, and
without question. I think that is all.” Ho
rose, and went toward the door. “Permit me
to wish you good-day.”
Hoffman left the room, his brain in a tumult.
During the six weeks he had spent in London,
he had grumbled unceasingly, because nothing
had happened. Now, at the beginning of the
seventh he felt that he had small reason to com-
plain on that score. .
Six weeks before, he had arrived in England,
with a firm determination to proceed at once to
the front, and from there write a series of arti-
cles about the war for one of the magazines,
which articles, by reason of their brilliancy,
their truth, would make him famous. And in-
stead of going to the front, he had been obliged
to sit idly about London, fuming and fussing,
because his requests to the war office for per-
mission to visit the trenches had been met with
polite but none the less definite refusals.


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· He had supposed that, coming to London as
the brother-in-law of Lord Brooke, he would at
once be permitted to proceed to the firing-line,
but he found himself as far removed from the
goal of his literary ambitions, now that he was
in the English capital, as he had been in New
York. The guns, the men, the fighting, along
the Yser, the Aisne, seemed, if anything, even
more remote, now that he was a scant hundred
miles away from them, than they had seemed
when separated from him by the full width of the
Atlantic. England, it appeared, had no use for
the free-lance correspondent. Lord Kitchener
wanted no literary deadwood in the trenches, no
leaks, however innocent they might appear,
through which news of Britain's vast prepara-
tions might reach the enemy. As a result, Hoff-
man had been reduced to such uninspiring pur-
suits as reading the bulletin boards, and drink-
ing tea with the Brookes, two occupations very
far removed from the great purpose which had
brought him across the ocean. He longed to go
to France, to Germany, to see actual fighting, to
witness at first hand the terrific cataclysm that
was rocking the foundations of the world. For
six weeks nothing whatever had occurred, and
then had begun the remarkable series of inci-
dents which had culminated in the interview
through which he had just passed.


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11
work. We believe you to be a man who would
carry out his orders blindly, implicitly, without
regard for the consequences; realizing that
those consequences are in the hands of others,
playing a game you could not understand. I
regret that I cannot speak more frankly. Sig-
nify your willingness to accept my offer, and
the matter will be explained to you in greater
detail.”
“Do you wish me to obtain information, to
act, in other words, as a spy?" Hoffman asked,
flushing.
The man shook his head.
“Not that, exactly. Rather to give informa-
tion, than to obtain it. But I cannot go further
into the matter, without violating my instruc-
tions. All I can say is, that an opportunity is
offered you to render certain interests a great
service. You can take advantage of this oppor-
tunity or not, as you please. We do not urge it
upon you. But I must have your answer at
once."
“If what I am to do involves nothing dishon-
orable,” Hoffman replied, fearful lest this
chance to reach the front might be snatched
from him, “I will go."
“Very well. Suppose we see my superior at
once. If you find anything in the undertaking
that violates your sense of what is honorable, I


12
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advise you not to attempt it. You alone must
be the judge.”
An hour later, Hoffman was closeted with the
grey-eyed man whose instructions he was now
about to follow. The task this gentleman had
outlined to him had been so bold, so amazing in
its ramifications, that he listened to it in aston-
ished silence. Only after he had given his con-
sent, and sworn himself to absolute secrecy, did
he realize the nature of the service in which he
was now enrolled. The prospect of what was
to come alternately pleased and terrified him.
He returned to his hotel, not quite sure, as yet,
whether he was in reality fully awake.
On his arrival, a letter was handed to him.
He recognized Lady Brooke's crest, upon the
seal. His sister suggested, quite informally,
that he drop in that afternoon for tea.


CHAPTER II
"DAD news!” exclaimed Alan Brooke, as
he went up to his wife. “Good God! I
should say so!”
“What is it, Alan?" asked Lady Brooke, a
quick pallor replacing the color in her cheeks.
“Not-Herbert?"
Her husband nodded, and flung himself into a
chair. “Yes—Herbert."
Lady Brooke glanced across the table, and
met the eyes of the young man who was seated
opposite her, pretending to be interested in a
book. He was a tall man, with clear grey eyes,
and a smile, whimsical, yet determined, very like
her own.
“Can Bob know?” she asked, turning to her
husband.
Alan Brooke looked up quickly. The young
man put down his book and rose.
“If you two want to be alone"-he began.
“Nonsense. Sit down, Bob. No reason why
you should n't hear what I have to say to Nelly.
It will all be in the papers, by morning, anyway.
Cradock's squadron, in the Pacific, you know,
has been defeated by the Germans. My
UWI.
13


14
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younger brother, Herbert, was Lieutenant on
the flagship, Good Hope. She was sunk, with
all on board. I've just come from the Admir-
alty."
Lady Brooke gave a sudden cry.
“Alan!” she gasped. “How awful.”
The young man beside the table extended his
hand to Lord Brooke, but he did not say any-
thing at all. His handclasp, the look upon his
face, fully expressed his feelings.
“God-what a day for England!” Lord
Brooke exclaimed, rising, and beginning to
stride up and down the room.
“I can't believe it," the young man said, at
length. “I understood reinforcements had
been sent—the battleship Canopus."
Lord Brooke turned with a look of interroga-
tion.
“How did you know the Canopus had gone
out?” he asked quickly.
“Why-you told him so yourself," inter-
posed Lady Brooke. “I remember it distinctly.
You need have no fears about Bob. He does n't
talk."
“I have n't any fears about him, Nelly," ob-
served Lord Brooke. "Not in the sense you
mean, at least. But Bob is a writer, and it's
his business to tell the public anything he knows,
or can find out, about the movements of our


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15
fleet. I need scarcely say, old chap,” he contin-
ued, turning to the other, "that anything you
may happen to learn, here'_he glanced about
the splendidly furnished drawing-room-"is
not to be given to the public.”
Hoffman flushed, and straightened his shoul-
ders.
"I quite understand," he replied, his mind
going back to the instructions given him but a
few hours before. Well, at least he had no in-
tention of publishing anything he might learn.
· Lord Brooke observed the young man's em-
barrassment, and hastened to relieve it. Going
up to him, he threw his arm about his shoulders.
“Sorry, Bob,” he exclaimed, with a smile.
“This damned business has completely upset
me. Think of Cradock, gone! And Herbert."
He looked helplessly at his wife. “Who's go-
ing to tell Patricia ?”
Lady Brooke went up to him, her eyes heavy
with tears.
“Let us go to her together,” she said. “Pa-
tricia will be brave. Herbert died for his coun-
try. That is as you, as all of us, would have
wished. And as he would have wished, too.
You'd better wait, Bob. Patricia will want to
see you." A moment later she and her husband
had left the room.
Hoffman tossed his cigar into the fire and


16
THE WEB
began to stride up and down the hearth-rug.
Patricia-he had almost forgotten her in the
startling events of the day. And yet, Patricia
Brooke had been almost as constantly in his
thoughts, during the past few weeks, as his de-
sire to go to the Continent, and that was saying
a great deal.
Patricia was twenty-two, and considered a
great beauty. Hoffman thought her so. In
fact, he was half convinced that he was in love
with her. He would have been fully convinced,
had he dared, but so far no word or action on
the girl's part had given courage to his convic-
tions. She seemed far too deeply occupied,
bringing in slackers, bolstering up the courage
of the timid, living and breathing a vivid patri-
otism, to have time for such matters as love.
At least so Hoffman thought. And now, her
brother Herbert, whom he had never seen, but
whom he well knew Patricia adored, had been
taken from her. The agony that this loss would
bring to the girl's heart lay close to his own.
Now, however, all was changed. He had em-
barked on strange waters. He hesitated to im-
agine what Patricia would think of him, could
she have heard the instructions given him that
morning-instructions that at any moment he
might be called upon to carry out. The whole
thing became horribly distasteful to him, and


THE WEB
17
yet there were reasons why he must not draw
back. He waited impatiently for his sister to
return.
After what seemed to him an interminable
time, someone came through the doorway be-
hind him. Hoffman turned, thinking it to be
Lady Brooke. It was Patricia.
The girl stood for a moment, silhouetted
against the gold and green brocaded curtains
that hung in the doorway. Her eyes, glowing
with a fine fire, were quite free from the tears
that Hoffman had expected to see in them.
Even the pallor of her face was relieved by the
glow from the log fire, the amber tints from the
silk-shaded lamp. Her hair, somewhat disar-
ranged, her defiant carriage, her detached ex-
pression, reminded him vaguely of a picture he
had once seen of Joan of Arc. He bowed, un-
able to do more than utter her name-her first
name, since his sister had, immediately on his
arrival in London, made him one of the family.
She came toward him with a firm and confi-
dent step.
“How do you do, Bob?" she said, very quietly.
“Nelly tells me you know about Herbert and-
and the fleet.” The disaster to the nation
seemed to affect her even more than her per-
sonal loss.
“It-it is terrible," Hoffman murmured. “I


18
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did not know your brother, but I do know what
he meant to you."
The girl sank into a chair.
“Herbert died as he would have wanted to
die,” she said, quietly. “It is a bad day for
England. Someone has blundered."
“Admiral Cradock,” Hoffman ventured.
“No. Not Cradock. He lived up to the tra-
ditions of the service. The fault is at the Ad-
miralty. His ships were outclassed. His re-
inforcements were sent too late. That's the
trouble with us. We do everything too late.
This war can't be muddled through. Our peo-
ple ought to know that, by this time. Now we
must have revenge. Admiral von Spee's squad-
ron must be hunted out-destroyed.”
“Like looking for a needle in a haystack,"
Hoffman observed.
“It will be found—and sunk," the girl re-
plied. “Let us speak of something else. Have
you received any encouragement from the War
Office ?"
“Not the least. They refuse to let me go to
France as a correspondent, at any rate. I
might try the Red Cross, or enlist.” He spoke
rather lightly, and the girl observed it.
“I should think even that would be better
than sitting about doing nothing." Her eyes
sparkled. “A good many of your fellow-


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19
countrymen are driving ambulances in France.
Some are in the Foreign Legion. I should think
that either might give you the opportunity for
seeing things first hand that you want.”
The implied reproach in her words sent the
blood to Hoffman's cheeks. He straightened
his shoulders and his eyes met the girl's defi-
antly.
“I had hoped to write a series of articles
for one of our magazines at home,” he said. “I
could not do that, I am afraid, if I were to enlist,
or even to drive an ambulance, although you
may be quite sure that I should prefer either to
sitting about London doing nothing.".
Patricia rose and went up to him.
“I did not mean to reproach you, Bob," she
said, gently. “Forgive me, if what I have said
has hurt you. I am so accustomed to speaking
to our own young men in that way, that I quite
forgot, for the moment, that you are a neutral.”
Hoffman flushed at her words. He felt that
he was very far from being a neutral. He was
leaving London in the morning, but he could not
tell her so. Absolute secrecy as to his move-
ments, his plans, had been most rigidly de-
manded of him. He regarded his companion
with a look of helpless annoyance.
"I know it." She put out her hand, and
Hoffman took it eagerly.


20
THE WEB
“If you thought for a moment, Pat, that I was
a coward,” he exclaimed, “it would break my
heart.” It was more perhaps than he intended
to say, less than he would have liked to say.
The momentary pause which followed his words
was embarrassing. Then Patricia spoke.
"I know you are not a coward, Bob," she
whispered. “Don't be angry with me. This
has been such a terrible day." Her lips trem-
bled, she sank into a chair and nervously lit a
cigarette. Hoffman saw that the strain had be-
gun to tell on her.
“Never mind about my affairs," he said.
“They are not very important. It's you, I'm
worried about, now. Alan and my sister had
asked me to dinner, but, in the circumstances, I
think I had better not stay. Is there anything
that I can do for you?".
“Nothing." She shook her head. “But I
see no reason why you should not stay for din-
ner, as you had intended. You know how I
loved my brother. Nelly has told you. But
this is not a time for personal griefs. We are
fighting, all of us, for an ideal. If we have to
give one man in every ten, if every family in
England wears mourning, we must still go on
until we have won our fight.”
Hoffman, undecided whether to go or stay,
watched her eager face. A moment later the


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21
curtains before the doorway were thrust aside,
and Lord and Lady Brooke came into the room.
Patricia spoke at once of Bob's wish to leave.
“I have told him not to think of it,” she con-
cluded.
“Quite right,” said Lord Brooke, quickly.
“I insist upon your remaining, Bob. We can
have a talk, after dinner. Will you?”
“Certainly, if you wish it,” Hoffman replied,
glancing at Patricia.
It seemed to him that she thanked him with
her eyes.


CHAPTER III
UT THEN dinner was over, the two men re-
VV tired to coffee and cigars in the library.
Lord Brooke seemed able to talk of nothing but
the disaster to the fleet.
“Think of it,'' he said. “Cradock and all the
others, drowned like dogs. I can't believe it.”
"I confess," said Hoffman, “that I cannot
either. I understood, from what I have seen in
the papers, that the flagship carried nine-inch
guns. That should have given her the range of
the Germans. Von Spee's vessels carried noth-
ing above an eight.”
“It is true,” Lord Brooke replied, “that the
Good Hope had nine-inch guns in her main bat-
tery, but there was nothing aboard any of the
other ships of our squadron of larger calibre
than six-inch. The two German cruisers, the
Scharnhorst and the Gneisenau, are able ships,
and very fast. Our squadron must have been
out-manæuvered, and battered to pieces by the
enemy's eight-inch guns, without being able to
bring their shorter range batteries into action.
England has got to face the bitter truth. Our
Pacific squadron has been defeated.”
22


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23
Hoffman nodded. The instructions of the
morning crowded into his brain. Lord Brooke,
the man with the keen grey eyes had said, was
at times apt to be indiscreet, to talk. He seemed
on the point of doing so, now.
“I suppose you will send out a new squadron,
and hunt down the enemy's vessels,” Hoffman
remarked, carelessly.
“Yes,” his companion assented. “That must
be our object, of course. But it is easier said
than done. We have plenty of vessels avail-
able, older battle cruisers, of the Inflexible, the
Invincible type, with both the guns and the
speed to make short work of von Spee's squad-
ron, but the problem is to find him. The chase
may lead around the world. We know that the
German admiral is off the coast of Chile, at
present, but where will he be next week, the
week after? Even without facilties for dock-
ing, for replenishing fuel, the enemy's ships
are very fast. A stern chase, you know, is a
long one. And after all, we have no knowledge
as to which way they will go. They may turn
north, and strike the San Francisco-Yokohama
route. Or they may turn south, round the Horn,
and be half-way to the African coast, before our
squadron could reach the south Atlantic. What
orders shall we give our commander-to find
von Spee? I confess that, were I to put to sea


24
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with such instructions I should be at a loss to
know what to do.” The Englishman gazed
into the fire, his ruddy face wrinkled in thought.
Hoffman said nothing. The truth of what his
companion had told him was self-evident.
"The worst thing of all,” Lord Brooke went
on, “would be to have the Germans separate.
They would be wise to do so, for in that way they
would be able to play havoc with our commerce
at any number of widely separated points, and
it would take months to hunt down each ship
separately. The Naval Staff has been consid-
ering the problem all the afternoon, from every
possible angle. I am tired out.” He lay back
in his chair, and puffed nervously at his cigar.
Again Hoffman hesitated to speak, although
the opportunity was such a golden one. Lord
Brooke, it appeared, wanted to talk, to confide
his difficulties, his problems, to someone's ears.
Hoffman emptied his demi-tasse.
“Did you arrive at any conclusion?” he
asked, hating himself for the words.
“Yes. In a way. It has been decided to
send out a fast battle-cruiser squadron under
Vice Admiral Sir Frederick Sturdee. His flag-
ship will be the Inflexible. He will set sail a
week from tomorrow, to find von Spee."
Hoffman listened to the words in amazement.
The importance of the information so carelessly


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25
confided to him was evident. The nature of the
pursuing fleet, the name of the flagship, of the
officer in command, the date of departure, were
all in his hands. Priceless information indeed,
to be flashed from Berlin, by devious stretches
of cable and wireless, to the German squadron
off the Chilean coast. Perhaps the result of
this knowledge, on von Spee's part, would be
an order for his vessels to scatter, the very
action most feared by the British naval authori-
ties. Hoffman fixed the words Lord Brooke
had uttered clearly in his memory. When he
reached the continent, he would have something
of value to report.
A moment later, Lady Brooke and Patricia
came in. Both seemed to have put the loss of
Herbert Brooke out of their minds. Patricia
was full of a tragedy that she had observed,
earlier in the day, in one of the poorer sections
of the city, not far from Whitechapel. She had
been doing missionary work to aid the volunteer
enlistments, addressing small gatherings of idle
men, urging upon the slackers the dangers
which threatened the empire.
A young man, who might have been a waiter,
had paused for a moment, on the outskirts of
the crowd. Under one arm he carried a cylin-
drical package, wrapped in newspaper. A
chance word to one of the bystanders had re-


26
THE WEB
vealed, by means of a slight accent, his Teutonic
origin. Someone pointed to the package under
his arm, and suggested that it might be a bomb.
The man, frightened by the demonstration,
started to run, dropping the package as he did
so. One of the crowd picked it up, stripped off
the wrappings and disclosed what appeared to
be a metal cylinder, with a screw cap at one
end. The bystanders, convinced that it was a
bomb, rushed after the fellow with loud cries,
caught him, and before the police could inter-
vene he had been badly beaten. In fact, but for
the arrival of the police, he would certainly have
been killed. The metal cylinder, Patricia said
in conclusion, turned out to be nothing but a
somewhat battered vacuum bottle, containing,
hot coffee. She mentioned the matter to show
how bitter the feeling was against spies and the
like.
“If the crowd had had three minutes more,
the man would have been torn to pieces,” she
said. “Yet, in spite of the terrible danger, it is
well known that London is filled with German
secret agents. Even the movements of the fleet,
the crossing of transports, the location of train-
ing camps, aircraft defenses, munition works,
are known, and reported in some mysterious
way to the enemy. It is certain that there are
several German wireless stations along the


THE WEB
27
southeast coast, and news of the most intimate
character, involving even the decisions of the
Army and Navy staffs, is constantly being
transmitted by means of them. No one knows
how this news gets out, and yet it does. It's
scarcely safe to trust anyone, nowadays."
Hoffman felt the blood rising to his cheeks.
How simple, after all, were the means of which
the girl spoke. He glanced at Lord Brooke,
wondering if Patricia's words would cause him
to remember that he himself had, not ten min-
utes before, been guilty of the very sort of in-
discretion of which his sister now complained.
The nobleman, however, seemed singularly
placid and unmoved. He puffed with content-
ment at his cigar. One might have supposed
that his confidence of a few minutes before had
passed completely from his mind.
And yet, Hoffman argued, his complacency
arose, no doubt, from a firm belief that he had
no cause to doubt the honesty and good faith
of the members of his own family. It was a
silent compliment that made the young man
squirm. Only an amazing bit of knowledge,
that he alone, of all those in the room possessed,
served to bolster up his courage. He would go
through with what he had undertaken, even if it
cost him not only Patricia's friendship and re-
spect, but his life. There were conditions, in


28
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the oath he had taken, that gave to his deter-
mination the strength of steel. Scarcely even
to himself could he admit what those conditions
were.
Patricia spoke again, her face flushed, her
eyes shining.
“I would rather be cut to pieces with knives
or thrown into boiling oil, than be a spy," she
burst forth. "Nothing in the world could be
more despicable.”
“And yet,” Lord Brooke remarked, after a
moment's silence, there are English spies, as
well, my dear, and they risk their lives, just as
those of the enemy do, a thousand times a day,
in the service of their country.”
This aspect of the case seemed not to have
occurred to the girl. She turned to Lord
Brooke with a look of chagrin.
“I'm wrong, I suppose," she exclaimed.
“Everything is fair, they say, in love and war.
But I would rather serve my country in some
other way."
“And yet,” her brother went on, with a quiet
smile, “I am sure, Patricia, that if you were to
learn, tonight, that the German fleet had left
Wilhelmshaven, to attack our transport service
to France, you would not hesitate an instant, to
deliver that information to the war office. In
fact, I fancy, you would take a positive pleasure


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29
in doing so." He smiled, and patted his sis-
ter's hand. “Instead of condemning spies, I
only wish we had a few more, as efficient, as un-
scrupulous, as daring, as those of the enemy.
But let us talk of something else. These war
discussions are becoming tiresome.”
Hoffman, when the conversation turned to his
unfulfilled desires to go to the front, found him-
self unable to join in the discussion. He was
leaving in the morning, yet found his lips sealed.
What would Patricia, what would they all think,
when they learned of his departure? He deter-
mined to write to the girl, from Rotterdam, and
give her some plausible explanation of his sud-
den disappearance. Forbidden, by his instruc-
tions, to speak in advance of his movements,
there existed no reason, he argued, why he
should not refer to them, in retrospect. A little
later he took his leave, pleading as his excuse
some letters that must be dispatched by the
morning's post.


CHAPTER IV
DOB HOFFMAN found no difficulty in ef-
fecting his passage to Rotterdam. His
passports, his credentials, his luggage were ex-
amined with the usual care, but the journey, via
Harwich and the Hook of Holland, was made
pleasantly, and without interruption or incident
of any sort. The boat was not very well filled;
the passengers for the most part apparently
Dutch merchants, Americans of various sorts,
and a number of indescribable persons about
whom Hoffman speculated vaguely, wondering
just what their mission on the Continent might
be. Spies, like himself perhaps, he thought,
then dismissed the idea from his mind. He was
travelling as a magazine writer, a war corre-
spondent, and refused to think of himself in any
other light. Certainly, he argued, he was not
a spy, since he came to give information, not to
obtain it.
In Rotterdam he proceeded at once to the Vic-
toria Hotel, and having secured a room, and dis-
posed of his luggage, set out for his interview
with the German consul.
His thoughts were of Patricia, more than they


THE WEB
were of the work before him. The girl had been
so constantly in his life, during the past few
weeks. He had seen her almost daily. Now
that he could see her no longer, he realized, with
a sinking heart, how much she meant to him,
how barren the world would seem to him, with-
out her.
It was in this frame of mind that he reached
the entrance to the building that had been
pointed out to him as the one he sought. He
was by no means sure that he would find the
consul in his office; the hour was late, the street
lamps already glowed softly through the gath-
ering darkness. He ascended the steps, and en-
tered the door which led to the offices of the
consulate.
A room of fair size was before him, about
which, in chairs, sat a number of men and
women, all apparently waiting to see the official
he sought. Behind a high counter, on a stool,
sat a young man, with bristling blond hair, and
a pink and white complexion.
Hoffman advanced, and addressed him in
German.
“I want to see the consul,” he said.
The young man mechanically pushed a pad
and pencil toward him.
“Your name and business, please," he re-
plied.


32
THE WEB
Hoffman wrote his name upon the pad. His
business he could not describe, so he wrote the
word “Personal.” The blond young man tore
the slip from the pad, and retired to an inner
room, motioning to Hoffman to take a seat.
Presently he came back again, but said nothing.
Hoffman resigned himself to a long wait.
One by one the occupants of the outer room
passed the barrier of the high desk, to return
no more. After almost an hour, Hoffman's
turn arrived. He followed the clerk into an
inner office, plainly furnished, in which sat an
elderly man, heavily bearded, ruddy, stout.
The latter glanced up, on Hoffman's entrance
and spoke in English
"Mr. Hoffman?" he interrogated. “What
can I do for you?" His manner was neither
cordial nor abrupt. He spoke almost mechan-
ically, as though repeating a formular
Hoffman took a chair without being asked,
and fixed his gaze upon the face of the man be-
fore him.
“I am an American, a magazine writer," he
said.
The consul nodded wearily.
“Yes ?” he said, with a rising inflexion.
“I have come to make you a proposition."
If the consul's interest was aroused, he did
not betray the fact. He merely nodded.


THE WEB
33
“My sympathies," Hoffman went on, hur-
riedly, “are all with the Central Powers. I am
of German descent. I think I am in a position
to give you—your government-some valuable
information.”
"So?” The German's eyes betrayed a trifle
more interest. “What sort of information?"
“My sister, in London, is married to Lord
Brooke, who is connected with the Admiralty.
From time to time I learn, through him, valu-
able secrets connected with the movements of
the British fleet. These secrets I am ready to
furnish to your government."
“Why?" The word came, dry and quick,
like the snapping of a whip. Hoffman realized
that his sincerity was in question.
“Because I need the money," he flashed back.
“If I furnish information of value, I expect to
be paid for it."
“Ah!” The consul breathed the word sig.
nificantly. “What is the information you wish
to sell?"
The trap was too palpable. Hoffman refused
to be caught in it.
“When I have arranged, with the proper offi-
cials, for my price, I will disclose the informa-
tion I have. Not otherwise."
The consul gave him a quick glance, then drew
a sheet of paper toward him, and wrote a few


34
THE WEB
lines upon it. Then he folded the sheet, placed
it in an envelope, and sealed it. Upon the enve-
lope he wrote an address.
“Take this to the Military Governor of the
city of Antwerp,'' he said. “Here.” He drew
a printed form from a drawer and began to fill
it out. “You cannot go without a passport.
Give me your full name, please.”
As a result of this interview, the following
morning found Hoffman en route to the great
Belgian city, the capture of which by the Ger-
mans had created such a profound impression
in England but a short time before.
He had no difficulty in locating the office of
the Governor in the Hotel de Ville. The ante-
rooms were filled with waiting persons, but the
letter of introduction furnished by the consul
in Rotterdam proved an open sesame. In less
than half an hour, Hoffman was ushered into
the Governor's presence.
He was a short, thickset man, his iron-grey
hair closely cropped, his heavy moustaches
stained with tobacco, from the large black cigar,
unlit, which he chewed in the corner of his
mouth. He was in full military uniform, and
sat behind a desk so piled with papers and
printed documents that they seemed to form a
veritable barricade. The conversation was in
German.


THE WEB
35
ether heather, his age, pla
“What do you want?” the Governor asked,
brusquely, as Hoffman appeared before him.
The young man repeated the information he
had given to the consul in Rotterdam. This
time, however, his questioner set it all down
very carefully on a sheet of paper, inquiring
particularly as to Hoffman's age, place of birth,
the name of his father, his residence in New
York, whether he was married or single, and a
variety of other things that, so far as Hoffman
could see, were quite unimportant. When these
preliminaries had been completed, the official
turned to Hoffman with a glare of suspicion.
“How do I know you are not an English
spy?” he rasped.
"You will know it," Hoffman remarked,
steadily, "when you hear the information I am
prepared to give.”
“What information? I advise you to speak
frankly.”
"Since my object in bringing this information.
to you is to obtain a good price for it, I nat-
urally cannot divulge what I know, without first
having some understanding as to what I am to
receive in return." He spoke the words coldly,
deliberately, his face impassive. A look of
scorn crossed the Governor's iron visage.
“So. You wish to make a bargain, eh? And
how do you expect me to say what your in-


36
THE WEB
formation is worth, until I know what it is?”
Hoffman was for the moment non-plussed.
The Governor's words certainly contained much
logic.
"It is not so much the particular piece of in-
formation I am able to give you now, your ex-
cellency," he observed, “but that which I may
convey to you in the future, that I have in mind.
My position, as the brother-in-law of Lord
Brooke, will enable me, from time to time, to
furnish your government with naval secrets of
great value. In undertaking this work, I must
necessarily incur certain risks, for which I ex-
pect to be adequately paid.”
“Precisely. You would, in other words, be-
come a member of our secret service, and be
paid a regular salary. That is all very well,
young man, but first you must demonstrate to
us both your devotion to our cause, and your
ability to furnish us with information of value.
Until you are ready to convince us on these two
points, I have nothing further to say." He be-
gan to examine some reports upon his desk, and
Hoffman realized that the time had come to
speak.
“If I put you in possession of an important
military secret now, your excellency, will you
be convinced?” he asked.
: “Perhaps," said the Governor. “Provided,


THE WEB
37
of course, that your information proves to be
correct. What have you to tell me?"
"This." Hoffman glanced nervously about
the small room, and lowered his voice. “A
British squadron, composed in part of battle
cruisers, and commanded by Admiral Sturdee,
will set sail on the 22nd, to destroy the squadron
under Admiral von Spee. His flagship will be
the Inflexible.”
The Governor's eyes gleamed with interest.
He half turned in his chair.
“You are certain of this?” he asked quickly.
“Positive."
“The other vessels ?”
“Battle cruisers of the same type. I do not
know their names."
“Ah!" His excellency made some rapid
notes. “What you tell me is important-highly
important, if it is true. If it is not, so much
the worse for you." He struck sharply upon a
bell that stood on the desk before him, Almost
immediately a secretary appeared. Through
the open door Hoffman glimpsed the helmet of
a guard.
“Becker," said the Governor, in a crisp voice,
"send Lieutenant von Wagner here at once."
The secretary saluted, and withdrew. Hoff-
man began to feel somewhat uneasy. Suppose,
by any chance, the squadron did not sail on the


38
THE WEB
22nd. The Governor's words, “so much the
worse for you,” worried him. He waited in
silence for his companion's next move.
A moment later a middle-aged officer, in the
uniform of the Landsturm, entered the room
with a military salute. The Governor turned
to him, indicating Hoffman with a gesture.
“This person is Robert Hoffman, who claims
to be an American war correspondent. You
will place him in confinement, under guard, until
further notice.”
The lieutenant again saluted, and came to-
ward Hoffman, who had by now risen. The
young man turned to the Governor.
“Your excellency,” he protested. “Why
should I be placed under arrest? I am trying
to serve your interests—"
“Possibly. Possibly not,” the Governor
broke in. “That remains to be seen. On the
22nd I shall know better than I do now, why you
have come to me. Should your information
prove to be correct, we will pursue further the
matter of which we have spoken today. Should
it prove false, I shall assume that your purpose
was to mislead us, in order to inflict disaster in
some way upon our forces. In the latter event,
it will be my painful duty to order you to be
shot.” He turned to his papers with an air of
dismissal.


THE WEB
The officer motioned sternly toward the door,
and Hoffman went out into the corridor. His
heart beat rather more rapidly than usual.
The 22nd was just six days off.


CHAPTER V
M HE six days that Bob Hoffman spent in
1 prison in Antwerp were, to a man of his
temperament, almost unbearable.
He was well enough treated. The room in
which he was confined was fairly commodious,
and reasonably well furnished, with no sugges-
tion of the dungeon cell about it. There was an
unbarred window from which he might have at-
tempted to escape, but for the fact that it was,
in the first place, forty feet from the ground,
that in the second, it opened on a courtyard in
which paced an armed guard, and in the third,
that he had no reason whatever for attempting
to escape in any event.
Meals, not elaborate, but well cooked, were
brought in by an orderly, who glared at him
without speaking. No newspapers were al-
lowed him. His belongings, of every sort, down
to his fountain pen, his finger ring, his scarf pin,
even, had been taken from him. He could not
have communicated with anyone outside, had he
so desired, which, as matters stood, he did not.
A few books in German, product of that period
40


THE WEB
41
in Teutonic literature in which materialism had
not crowded out the idealism of the race, pro-
vided the only means by which he might while
away the tedious hours. For the better part of
six nights and days he alternately read “The
Sorrows of Werther,” and thought of Patricia.
As the days passed, he grew tired of Werther's
sorrows, and spent more time over his own. It
was quite clear, now, that the work he had un-
dertaken was certain to damn him forever, in
Patricia's eyes. And so far as seeing anything
of the war was concerned, he might just as well
be in London as locked in a room in Antwerp,
in spite of all the things of interest he knew
were to be found so short a distance away.
He had not written to Patricia from Rotter-
dam. Something told him it would be better
not to do so. He would doubtless be able to ex-
plain matters satisfactorily, on his return. A
sudden opportunity to visit the war zone, of
course. Certainly, before his return, he would
be able to see something, if only the shell-torn
defenses of Antwerp. All this, of course, pro-
vided he did return. It was a singular thought,
that unless the British fleet set sail as he had
reported it would, he would never return at all.
He began to experience a feeling of uneasi-
ness. Why had not his instructions permitted
him to make himself known, in some way other


42
THE WEB
than by name, to the German authorities? Of
course, they would naturally be suspicious of
him. That was to be expected in any event.
The information he had brought must serve as
his credentials. He could not believe that it
would fail to turn out as he had said.
And if the British fleet did sail, what then?
Would it be attacked, perhaps destroyed ?
Would a thousand, five thousand lives, bé sacri-
ficed, that his own might be saved? He began
to share Patricia's feelings concerning the work
of a spy.
In these moments, a recollection of his oath
consoled him. He would be true to that, in any
event, no matter what happened. At least Pa-
tricia should never be able to reproach him with
cowardice.
On the morning of the sixth day—the day set
for the departure of the British squadron, Hoff-
man finished an early breakfast, and sat down
to await, with the utmost impatience, some mes-
sage from the Governor. He thought that it
might arrive by noon, in case the squadron
Bailed in the early morning, but noon came, and
his mid-day meal, with no summons for him to
leave his prison.
As the afternoon waned, and the early dark- .
ness settled over the city, Hoffman's uneasiness
increased. When his supper arrived, and still


THE WEB
43
no word from the Governor accompanied it, he
attempted to question the man who brought it,
but the latter shook his head in silence, switched
on the electric light that hung over the little
table, and departed.
Hour after hour passed in grim silence.
Hoffman began to feel distinctly alarmed. He
consoled himself, however, with the thought that
the English warships had probably left port
under cover of darkness, in order to be secure
against attack, and that news of their departure
would of necessity require several hours to
reach the German officials. He had just reached
this conclusion, when he heard a distant bell
chime the hour of midnight. At almost the
same moment, there came the sound of footsteps
from the hall, and the door was flung open.
In the entrance stood the Landsturm officer,
Lieutenant von Wagner, flanked by two soldiers
with rifles. The Landsturmer gazed impas-
sively at him.
“You will please follow me at once!” he com-
manded, in crisp tones.
Hoffman rose, put on his hat and overcoat,
and went out into the hall. The Lieutenant
walked at his side. The two soldiers brought
up the rear. The little procession moved on-
ward in silence, and presently emerged into the
dark courtyard. Hoffman glanced quickly


44
THE WEB
about, wondering if his last hour had come.
Instead of the file of soldiers that his imag-
ination had pictured, an automobile drew up be-
fore the door. The officer motioned to him to
enter, and at once took a place beside him. One
of the soldiers seated himself alongside the
chauffeur. The other saluted as the vehicle
drove off, and re-entered the building.
The whole affair seemed very mysterious, but
Hoffman determined to ask no further ques-
tions. Possibly he was being taken to the Gov-
ernor's office, in the Hotel de Ville, although it
seemed improbable that the latter would pro-
long his office duties until after midnight. On
the other hand, he might be going to his execu-
tion, but even that, without some formality in
the way of a trial, seemed unlikely. There was
nothing to do but await in silence the outcome
of events.
After a short drive, the car drew up before
the door of a small house, in a rather dark
street, and the lieutenant motioned to Hoffman
to get out. He did so, and found himself beside
the soldier who had occupied the place on the
VOITUS.
box.
The officer followed a moment later, and going
to the door of the house, threw it open.
“Go inside!” he commanded, in guttural
tones.


THE WEB
45
Hoffman did as he was told, and found him-
self in a small, square, dimly-lighted hall. A
young man in civilian's clothes stood before
him. The officer had retired.
“This way, please," the young man said, and
conducting Hoffman to a door on the opposite
side of the hall, knocked upon it.
“Come in," answered a loud voice in German.
The young man opened the door, and nodded
to his companion, indicating that he should en-
ter. A moment later the door behind him closed
with a click.
Hoffman looked curiously about. The room,
in Flemish style, was apparently a library, for
its walls were lined with books, and at its far
side blazed a wood fire, in a great stone chimney-
place.
Between him and the fire was a desk, behind
which sat a small man, in citizen's clothes,
whose black hair and sombre eyes gave him an
expression sinister and forbidding in the ex-
treme.
He held an open letter in his hand, and was
reading it as Hoffman came in. For a moment
he looked up, then nodding toward a chair, re-
sumed his inspection of the letter, as well as of
some documents that lay upon the table before
him. Hoffman sat down, and waited in silence,
listening to the crackling of the fire, and won-


46
THE WEB
dering, meanwhile, whether he faced judge or
executioner. The sombre aspect of his compan-
ion suggested the latter in no small degree.
His doubts were soon dispelled. The dark
figure suddenly straightened, facing him with
an enigmatic smile.
“You are Robert Hoffman?'' he questioned.
“I am."
“On the sixteenth of the month you gave to
His Excellency, the Military Governor, certain
information regarding the movements of a
British cruiser squadron.”
“I did.”
"Why?"
“I have already explained to the consul at
Rotterdam, to the Military Governor here, that
I desired to sell the information at a good
price."
“Yes-yes! I understand that. You wished,
no doubt, to conceal the fact that others are
behind you, and thus make it appear that you
are operating entirely upon your own responsi-
bility? I quite approve of that course. You
may, however, speak quite frankly to me."
"Who are you?" Hoffman asked.
The dark man fixed upon him a pair of unusu-
ally keen eyes.
“I represent the German secret service," he
said. “Have the goodness to place upon this


THE WEB
47
sheet the impressions of your two thumbs.”
He pushed across the table a square of paper,
and a small pad.
Hoffman did as he was requested. He felt
that he was working in the dark. His ques-
tioner still appeared to regard him with sus-
picion.
Taking the sheet of paper containing the
thumb-prints, the man at the desk placed it be-
fore him, and proceeded to inspect it with the
utmost care, at the same time referring occa-
sionally to the documents that he had been read-
ing when Hoffman came in. Presently he
looked up. The sombreness of his expression
had in no degree relaxed. The American was
quite unable to tell, from where he sat, whether
his companion had referred to a second thumb-
print, or not. He felt uneasy, surprised. A
determination to find out whether the news he
had brought had proven authentic, filled him.
"I trust that you were satisfied with the in-
formation I furnished," he said.
“It was correct, but of little value," the dark
man observed dryly. “You failed to designate
the names of the vessels composing the fleet, the
port from which they were to sail, or their des-
tination.” He regarded Hoffman narrowly.
“Information to be of use to us, must be first,
accurate; second, complete; third, in advance.


48
THE WEB
Failure in any one of these particulars renders
it valueless."
Hoffman felt that some explanation of his
failure was necessary.
“I gave what information I had," he ob-
served. “I was not in a position to ask ques-
tions.”
“Why not?"
“Because, to have done so might have
aroused suspicion."
“On the part of those so closely related to
you as your sister's family? Do you mean to
imply, for a moment, that they could suppose
you a German spy? Absurd.”
Hoffman felt that he must recover from the
false position in which his words had suddenly
placed him. He desired above all things to re-
tain the confidence of this man, who seemed to
be so completely informed concerning his af-
fairs, his connections in London.
“No," he said. “They would under no cir-
cumstances think me a spy. In that respect I
am perfectly safe. But they know very well
that I am a writer, and might readily fear that I
would make use, in that way, of such informa-
tion as I might obtain.”
"Ah! I see.” The dark man seemed satis-
fied. He glanced at the document he still held


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49
in his hands, then raised his head. "What do
you wish to do now?” he asked. “The informa-
tion you brought us, as I have told you, was
valueless. Have you anything else to pro-
pose?"
"Only to say that I am ready to offer you my
services. If you do not wish them, I have noth-
ing further to say." He rose, with a frown of
anger.
His words, his manner, produced an immedi-
ate effect. The man behind the desk waved him
to his seat with a flickering, unhumorous smile.
“Come,” he said, “do not be hasty. Al.
though you have failed, this time, it is very pos-
sible that the next you may do much better. If
so, you shall be well paid for it. Of course, it
is impossible to fix such matters definitely in
advance, but you may depend upon our generos-
ity. In the meantime, an allowance will be
made you, to cover your expenses. What do
you say to five hundred marks a month, to be
paid in advance, in any event, for three months ?
If, during that time, you have proven your
worth, I will propose to you that you regularly
enter our service. That, I understand, is your
wish.” He glanced significantly at the letter
he held in his hands.
Hoffman remained silent for several mo-


50
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ments. He had a feeling that his companion
was testing him. He shrugged his shoulders,
with a grim smile.
“Five hundred marks a month would not in-
terest me in the least,” he said. “I have some
money of my own. I am not penniless."
“What, then, do you desire?”
“I need a large sum. Fifty thousand marks,
at the least.” He eyed the man across the desk
coldly. It annoyed him that anyone would sup-
pose that he, Bob Hoffman, would offer to play
the spy for so trivial a sum as five hundred
marks a month.
The dark little man rubbed his hands. He
seemed rather pleased, than otherwise, at Hoff-
man's reply.
"I would rather pay you fifty thousand
marks, than five hundred, my friend," he whis-
pered. “But you must earn them. Send me
information worth fifty thousand marks, and
you shall have that sum.”
“Would the names of the vesels in Admiral
Sturdee's fleet, or the name of the port from
which they sailed, be worth that much?” Hoff-
man asked.
“No, for we already know both—too late.
Information, to be of value, must, as I have
said, be advance information. If we knew, for
instance, the route the English vessels are to


THE WEB
take, the ports at which they will coal; if you
could tell us, in fine, their destination, their or-
ders, you would render us a service worth fifty
thousand marks, or even double that sum.
Take my advice, young man. Accept the five
hundred marks a month, for your expenses, and
depend on our generosity to pay you adequately
for whatever information you may furnish us."
Hoffman seemed to be weighing the matter
carefully in his mind.
“Very well,” he said, at length. “I will try
it. I will send you such information as I may
secure, from time to time, for three months. If,
at the end of that period, you do not treat me
handsomely, the deal is off. Is that agreed?"
“Yes. Here is your first month's advance."
The man handed him a rouleau of English gold,
and some silver. “Now as to the method of
procedure.".
“You mean, of course, the methods I am to
pursue in order to get the information to you?”
Hoffman asked.
“Precisely."
“I had supposed I would bring it, and deliver
it to you in person."
“You could do that, of course," replied the
other, “but it would be far better for you to be
able to communicate with me more promptly.
Movements of the enemy, important secrets, of


52
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great value today, might be of no value what-
ever by the time you could reach Antwerp. You
must be in direct communication with me at all
times."
“How is that to be effected?” Hoffman asked.
The dark man fixed him with his sombre eyes.
“You live at the Grand Hotel, I understand,"
he remarked, referring to the notes before him.
“Yes. That is, I did. I have given up my
room."
“You will not return there. Instead, you will
take rooms at an address which I will give you.
It is an excellent lodging-house, kept by a wor-
thy woman named Shuttleworth. The rooms
will already have been engaged, in your name,
when you reach London.”
“By whom?'
“That is of no importance to you."
“And after I get there, what? How am I to
communicate with you?”
“In this way. When you have important
news, go at once to your rooms, which are on the
third floor. The sitting room, you will find, is
in the rear, and has a bow window, overlooking
a small garden, beyond which are the rears of
a number of houses. The three windows in the
bow have green holland shades. They are usu-
ally drawn half-way down, during the day, and
all the way down, at night. When you wish to


54
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“Do as you did before. Our consul at Rot-
terdam will provide you with a passport at any
time. He is so instructed.”
Hoffman rose. Another thought occurred to
him.
“Suppose it should become necessary," he
said, “while in England, to suddenly make my-
self known to your agents?".
“Do not be afraid,” Herr Schwartz replied,
in purring tones. “You will be known to
them.” There was a suggestion, a menace, al-
most, in his words, his manner, that was not lost
on the young American. It was evident that
his every move, while in England, would be
closely watched. Clearly, this man did not yet
fully trust him. No doubt this was quite nat-
ural. He had no means of knowing what infor-
mation, if any, had been forwarded concerning
him from London. Herr Schwartz was fully
informed about his affairs, he knew, but after
all, he had given this information to the Mili-
tary Governor, on his arrival in Antwerp, and
the Governor had carefully written it all down:
No doubt the secret agent had received a copy
of the report. He determined to proceed in ac-
cordance with his instructions, leaving it to the
future to show whether or not he had put his
head into a noose.
A moment later, in response to the pushing of


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55
a button on Herr Schwartz's desk, the young
man whom Hoffman had seen in the ball entered
the room.
“Carl,” his superior said, “show Mr. Hoff-
man to the room you have had prepared for him.
He will leave for London, by way of Rotterdam,
early in the morning."
Herr Schwartz, left alone, resumed his seat.
Some time later, the young man he had ad-
dressed as “Carl” re-entered the room. The
secret agent looked up.
“Send Number 16 here,” he said, shortly,
then drew a sheet of paper toward him and
began to write.


CHAPTER VI
M HE twenty-four hours that elapsed, after
1 Bob Hoffman's interview with Herr
Schwartz, passed with the swiftness of a cinema
film. His restless night, at the latter's house,
his early morning drive to the train, in company
with the secret agent's secretary, his vain at-
tempt, in the darkness, to gain even the slightest
impression of Antwerp in war times, his swift
ride to Rotterdam, followed by the almost imme-
diate boarding of the boat for Harwich, all flit-
ted through his mind like the fragmentary im-
pressions of a dream. That the experience had
been real enough, however, was evidenced by
the rouleau of English sovereigns that lay in his
pocket.
It was not until the channel boat was nearing
Harwich that anything happened to rouse his
thoughts from the lethargy that had settled
upon them.
He was standing on deck, in the waist of the
vessel, gazing abstractedly down at the rolling
green water, when he suddenly became aware of
56


THE WEB
57
a young woman, clutching the rail a short dis-
tance away.
The deck was deserted. The cold, the heavy
sea, had driven most of the passengers to the
saloon. Along the side of the vessel upon
which he and the woman stood, were no other
persons, with the exception of an elderly priest,
who, grasping one of the boat davits some fifty
feet away, stood with his back toward them,
gazing off to sea.
The girl-Hoffman judged her to be not more
than twenty years of age, seemed in great dis-
tress, to judge from her heaving shoulders, the
tears which she continually dried with a lace-
edged handkerchief.
She was slender, blonde, of medium size, very
well, although simply dressed, and extremely
good-looking. Hoffman was conscious of a
feeling of sympathy for her, as he regarded her
slender form, pressed tightly against the ves-
sel's rail. She had come up very quietly, and
now stood not more than five feet away.
Suddenly she turned, as though with sudden
determination, and faced him. Her face was
flushed, her expression one of fear.
“Monsieur,” she said, in French, her eyes
seeking his doubtfully. “Are you not Amer-
ican?"
“Yes," replied Hoffman, too astonished by
V
.


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her sudden and unexpected action to say more.
“Ah! I was certain of it. I could see it
from your face, and also, I could see that you
are-kind.”
“Kind?” Hoffman questioned, vaguely. The
word had aroused in him a sudden suspicion.
The girl observed it.
“Ah, monsieur, do not, I beg of you, misun-
derstand me! I am in great distress. I do not
know what to do. I hoped that you might be
willing to advise me, to assist me."
“In what way, mademoiselle? What is trou-
bling you?"
“I will tell you. I am a Belgian. My father
was killed, in the defense of Antwerp. Our
home was destroyed in the bombardment. My
mother has been dead for five years. When the
Germans came, I found myself alone, penniless.
I managed to escape to Holland. But, unfor-
tunately, monsieur, my name, Liebmann, is a
German one. My grandfather came from Al-
sace. Hence I am everywhere suspected of
having German sympathies. But it is not true,
monsieur. I entreat that you will believe me."
She stood gazing at Hoffman with frightened
eyes.
“I can understand your position, mademoi-
selle,” he observed, wondering why the girl had


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59
told him all this. “But in what way can I be
of service to you?”
"I will tell you. In Holland I was every-
where followed by spies. They could do noth-
ing to harm me, of course, on Dutch soil. But
I feel sure that I am being followed still. I
may not be permitted to land. Or if I am, I
may at once be arrested by the English police,
on account of my German name. You see my
terrible position, monsieur. I entreat you to
help me."
Hoffman listened to this curious recital in as-
tonishment. Why had this young woman ap-
pealed to him? Why had she supposed that he
could assist her? Was the whole thing a trap?
Was the girl one of Herr Schwartz's agents,
sent, perhaps, to test him, his loyalty? He real-
ized that, should he interest himself in her case,
by undertaking to assist her, he would be assist-
ing an enemy of Germany, a step on his part
that would be very likely to destroy the confi-
dence which he hoped his new employer reposed
in him. He turned to the girl, regarding her
coldly, yet as his eyes met hers, tearful, fright-
ened, he became almost ashamed of his sus-
picions.
"I do not see in what way I can be of service
to you, mademoiselle,” he presently remarked.


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61
der figure disappear down the companionway.
A moment later, the old priest, who had for
the past quarter of an hour been standing im- .
movable not far away, engaged in silent contem-
plation of the heavy sea, came slowly along the
rail. He did not so much as glance at Hoffman
nor, as he passed, did the latter observe any
movement of the man's lips, and yet there dis-
tinctly came to him these significant words.
“Be on your guard! You are in danger."
Hoffman turned in astonishment. For a mo-
ment he felt inclined to follow the man, to learn,
if possible, what he meant by his warning, but
the reappearance of the girl at the entrance to
the companionway checked this momentary im-
pulse. Hoffman saw at once that he was sur-
rounded by influences of which he knew nothing,
was enmeshed in a web of circumstances the
purpose of which was hidden from him. More
than ever he realized that the slightest false
move on his part might be fatal to him, that the
course upon which he had embarked would re-
quire all his courage and wit.
In a moment the girl rejoined him, holding a
folded paper in her hand. It proved to be the
passport of which she had spoken. She gave it
to him without comment.
Hoffman examined it carefully. It was made
out in favor of one Gretchen Liebmann, spin-


62
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ster, of Rotterdam, and appeared to be, so far
as he could judge, in proper form. The girl was
represented to be a Dutch subject.
“You see, monsieur,” she explained, noting
his momentary hesitation, “I am Belgian, not
Dutch, but this passport was secured for me by
friends, in order that I might appear as a neu-
tral, and thus reach England in safety."
“I should not suppose you would have any
difficulty, mademoiselle," Hoffman remarked,
coldly. "Your papers seem to be in good order.
In any event, I do not see how I can be of serv-
ice to you. I have no influence with the English
authorities."
The girl gave him a quick look.
“Are you not, then, a British sympathizer?"
she asked.
Hoffman parried the thrust with an impassive
countenance.
"I am an American, mademoiselle," he re-
plied, “and consequently my sentiments are en-
tirely neutral."
The girl seemed intensely disappointed.
Suddenly she looked along the deck, then gave a
little gasp of dismay. Her fingers closed con-
vulsively upon Hoffman's arm.
“That man who is coming toward us," she
whispered. “No. Do not turn. He is going
to pass. He is a spy, monsieur. I saw him in


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63
Rotterdam. He followed me everywhere. He
is following me now.” She paused, as the per-
son of whom she spoke went by, without looking
either to the right or the left. Hoffman ob-
served him with astonishment. It was the old
priest.
“What makes you think him a spy?'' he man-
aged to ask, without betraying his astonishment
in any way.
“Because of the way he has followed me-
looked at me. I am certain that I shall be ar-
rested, as soon as I land.”
“But, mademoiselle," Hoffman replied. "If,
as you fear, the man is a German spy, he will be
quite powerless, once you have set foot in Eng-
land. He could not take you back to Belgium.
In fact, you need only to denounce him, to have
him arrested himself.”
“But, suppose he is not a German spy, but an
English one, who thinks, because of my name,
that I am German?”
“In that event, mademoiselle, your safety will
probably depend entirely upon the truth of the
story you have told me. Many of the Belgian
refugees who have sought safety in England
have German names. I see no reason why you
should be subjected to any persecution, if you
are telling me the truth.”
For a moment the woman stood regarding


64
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.
him, irresolute. Then the expression of her
face changed. She spoke rapidly, excitedly,
yet in low tones.
“I have not been telling you the truth, mon-
sieur. I have not dared to. But now I will. I
will throw myself on your generosity. I am a
German. I am coming to England on a secret
mission. It is imperative that I should land.
If you are a British sympathizer, you have only
to turn me over to the police. If your senti-
ments are with Germany you will do as I ask,
you will say that we are old friends, that you
know me to be a Belgian, that you have met me
in America. I need only your help, to insure
my safety. Will you give it to me?” She faced
him, eager, expectant.
This time Hoffman found himself in a diffi-
culty from which there seemed no possible way
of extricating himself. If the woman was in
reality a German spy, an agent, perhaps, of
Herr Schwartz himself, it was his duty, a duty
he did not dare evade, to help her. But should
it prove that she was a member of the English
secret service, engaged in an attempt to trap
him, it would be fatal, he well knew, to interest
himself in her case. The two horns of the di-
lemma extended before him. Upon which must
he impale himself ?
“Before I can tell you anything, mademoi-


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65
selle," he remarked steadily, “I must know
more about you. How can I be sure that you
are what you represent yourself to be?”
She had anticipated the objection, and met it.
“If I were not,” she said, "would I know
from whom you received the five hundred marks,
in English gold, that you now have in your
pocket?"
The proof seemed staggering. Yet Hoffman
remembered distinctly that shortly before the
girl met him, he had taken the roll of gold from
his pocket, and looked at it. After all, if she
had seen this action on his part, her words
might be no more than a shrewd guess. And
the old priest had warned him against her. He
would have given anything to have had a few
minutes' talk with the latter.
“I cannot say, mademoiselle,” he answered,
"whether you would know where the gold you
claim I have in my pocket came from or not.
Do you?”
“Yes. From Herr Schwartz!".
She spoke the words with a significant smile.
Hoffman recognized at once that the sombre
man in Antwerp had not spoken idly, when he
said that his agents would know him. He met
the girl's smile with an expression of relief.
“In that event, mademoiselle,” he said, “I
shall certainly do all in my power to assist you.


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67
arrest you, without my seeming to be in any way
responsible for it."
The girl shook her head, a faint smile played
about her lips.
“Do you think so?” she said. “Evidently
you are not skilled in work of this sort. An
hour after I land in England, Gretchen Lieb-
mann will have disappeared. I have many dis-
guises, monsieur. Even you will never see me,
as I am, again. Any move on your part to be-
tray me would completely fail. And it is a
practice of our service, monsieur, to turn even
our failures to account. Should you prove to
be one of them, you will find that we have not
suffered. But why talk in this strain? I am
fully prepared to believe that you are with us."
“I risked my life to prove it,” Hoffman re-
plied, gloomily. “It seems that your employer
is very hard to convince."
“Of necessity. He cannot afford to take
chances. What you really are will depend upon
your actions from now on. Here comes that
priest again."
“Do you really think he is an English spy?"
Hoffman muttered.
"No." The girl laughed. “I said that only
to test you, to see whether you would take my
part. You were very cautious, my friend; I


68
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congratulate you upon it. For all I know, the
man may be one of the agents of Herr Schwartz
himself.”
“But, would you not know him?”.
“Certainly not. It is only in special cases
that such things are revealed. I saw him in
Rotterdam, it is true, but only as we were board-
ing the boat. I do not think that he has once
looked at me.” She paused, and glanced at the
passport in her hand. “I will replace this with
my other papers,” she said. “We will land in
half an hour. Join me in the saloon, when the
vessel arrives at the dock.” With a nod she left
him. Hoffman observed that the old priest had
resumed his post alongside the rail. Much as
he would have liked to speak to him, he did not
dare to make the attempt. Lighting a cigar, he
made his way to the smoking-room, hoping that
the priest might follow. To communicate with
the man, in some way, as soon as possible, was,
he felt, imperative.
pected. The priest came in, and glancing about
the almost empty room, took a seat at its fur-
ther end. Then, calling the waiter, he ordered
a cup of coffee.
The waiter crossed the room, came up to
Hoffman, and laid a menu card before him, con-
taining a list of the drinkables and other things


THE WEB
SO
"Oon
W Some
served in the smoking room. Immediately he
went away.
Hoffman, glancing idly at the card, saw some
words written in pencil upon it.
“What do you wish to say to me?” the com-
munication read. Immediately he saw that the
priest had his eyes fixed upon him in a most
significant way.
Taking out his pencil, Hoffman rapidly in-
scribed a few words below the other's message.
“The woman is working with me. Help me
to get her ashore.” He signed the message
with the number “424," turned it upside down,
and at a nod from the man opposite, gave it to
the waiter who had by now returned with the
other's coffee. Hoffman saw with satisfaction
that he placed the menu, still upside down, upon
the priest's table along with the coffee he had
brought.
It was quite some time before the old man
turned the card over. Then Hoffman saw him
read the message, and give a quick nod. Unob-
served, he then dropped the menu into his lap,
and later secreted it in one of the pockets of his
great coat. Not once again did he glance in
Hoffman's direction.
The latter rose, and joined Mademoiselle
Liebmann in the saloon. She seemed quite
calm and self-possessed.


70
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“What have you been doing with yourself,
mon ami?” she asked, gaily.
“I had a cigar in the smoking-room," Hoff-
man replied.
“Yes.” She laughed. “I saw you through
the window."
Nothing more was said, and they crossed the
gang-plank to the dock. The examination, so
far as Hoffman and his companion were con-
cerned, was brief and formal. No objection
was made to the credentials presented by either.
The Liebmann woman left him at once, and
he failed to see either her, or the old priest,
on the arrival of the train in London. Taking
a cab, he drove at once to the address in Ex-
mouth Street given him by Herr Schwartz.
The house in Exmouth Street proved to be a
small, old-fashioned place, of unpretentious as-
pect, yet conveniently located, and of a fairly
comfortable and homelike appearance.
The landlady, Mrs. Shuttleworth, was a
cheery-looking Englishwoman of the middle
class, stout and bustling, the last person in the
world that anyone would have suspected of my
being a German secret service agent. Nor had
Hoffman any reason to think that she was.
Herr Schwartz's representatives could readily
have rented the rooms for him, without the
le


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71
woman knowing anything of the reasons behind
their action.
Hoffman went up to the rooms, which he
found to be a comfortable sitting-room, with
bed-chamber adjoining. They were on the
third floor, in the rear of the house, and the bow
window of the sitting-room overlooked a gar-
den, with the rear windows of a number of
houses opposite, just as Herr Schwartz had
said. Having his luggage brought up, Hoffman
made a hasty toilet, and, after securing a light
supper, drove to Lord Brooke's. He had been
away from London eight days. It seemed to
him as many months. He wondered what Pa-
tricia would have to say to him.


CHAPTER VII
M HE Honorable Patricia Burke was a young
1 woman of very decided likes and dislikes.
Also, she had a kind heart. Consequently,
when, one cold night, a woman called to see her
who described herself as a refugee from France,
she affected not to notice the upturned nose of
Patrick, the butler, who referred to the caller
as "a foreign-looking person," and went down
to interview the woman herself.
Crouched on a leather-covered seat in the hall
was a slight, good-looking young girl, with
large, eager eyes, and heavy black hair. Her
clothing was scanty and poor, her shoes worn,
her whole appearance that of one who has suf-
fered much hardship. On the floor beside her
stood a shabby leather bag.
“What can I do for you, my girl?” Patricia
asked, in French.
The woman replied eagerly.
“I am starving, mademoiselle. I have but .
just arrived from Paris. I was there employed,
as seamstress, in one of the great houses which
make the costumes, the gowns. Now there is no
more work. The proprietor has gone with the
72


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73
army. The place is closed. I must live, made-
moiselle, and so I came to your so great city to
find work. I sew very well, mademoiselle.
Can you not perhaps employ me?”
“What is your name?”' Patricia asked, coldly.
“Violette, mademoiselle. Violette Mercier.”
“You have your passport, your credentials ?”
“Oh, but yes, mademoiselle. They are here.
You will look at them, yes?” She hastily
opened her satchel, and taking out a package of
papers, thrust them into Patricia's hand.
The latter examined them with deliberate
care. She felt sorry for this creature, home-
less, alone, cast by the necessities of a senseless
war upon the mercy of strangers. Also, by
some curious fate, it happened that Lady
Brooke's regular seamstress had, but the day
before, announced that she had received a splen-
did offer to accompany a wealthy American
woman to New York, and would her ladyship be
so good as to permit her to go.
Miss Martin, the former seamstress, had been
an efficient and honest servant, but when, with
bulging eyes, she announced the wages that had
been offered her, Lady Brooke had let her go at
once. She thought it rather a shabby trick on
the part of the girl's prospective employer, but
then, being an American herself, she under-
stood.


74
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It did not occur to Patricia's unsuspicious na-
ture, that there could be any connection between
Miss Martin's departure on one day, and the
arrival, so providentially, of Mademoiselle Mer-
cier, also a seamstress, on the next. The coinci-
dence, if it struck her at all, impressed her as
being rather fortunate than otherwise. She
summoned Patrick, ordered him to conduct the
young woman to the servants' hall and give her
something to eat, then, going to the library,
showed the girl's papers, which she had re-
tained, to her brother and his wife.
"You know, Nelly," she said to Lady Brooke,
"we've been wondering where on earth we
could find anyone to take Martin's place, and
now we have a chance to get a real French milli-
ner, who has been making gowns and things at
one of the big Parisian costumers. It's the
luckiest thing in the world, don't you think?”.
"Where is the woman?'' Lady Brooke asked.
“I told Patrick to see that she had something
to eat. She looked half-starved.”
Lord Brooke, meanwhile, had been examining
the papers. They consisted of a passport, in
proper form, and a number of letters from per-
sons in Paris, recommending Mademoiselle Vio-
lette Mercier to the kind attention of any or all
possible employers in England. In addition,


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75
there were one or two personal letters, in a
feminine handwriting, which Lord Brooke did
not read.
“Everything here seems to be all right,” he
said, handing the papers back to his sister.
“But I 'm not in favor of employing strangers,
especially foreigners, no matter how well rec-
ommended they may seem to be. There is al-
ways a chance that they may be spies, you
know."
“But-how could she have these letters, this
passport, if everything were not all right?” Pa-
tricia objected.
“I cannot say, of course, although there are
many ways in which such credentials could be
obtained. I heard of a most interesting case,
only the other day. A fellow came to the house
of one of the biggest men in the Cabinet, and so-
licited a position as chauffeur. He had learned,
in some way, that the former chauffeur had just
been ordered to join his regiment. The man
said he was a Belgian and had a full line of cre-
dentials, recommendations, etc., showing that,
owing to a weakness in the legs, he could not
serve in the army. He was about to be given
the place, when it was suddenly discovered that
the real Belgian to whom the credentials be-
longed had died in the hospital a few days be-


76
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fore. The papers had in some way been stolen,
and the man had assumed the other's name.
He was undoubtedly a secret agent.
“What was done to him?".
“I understand he is in the Tower, awaiting
trial.”
“Then you think we had better send this
woman away?" Lady Brooke asked.
"I believe it would be wiser, my dear."
As he spoke, Patrick, the butler, came to the
door of the room.
“There is a gentleman calling on your lord-
ship. He requested me to give your lordship
this card.”
Lord Brooke took the card, and glanced at it.
Then he rose.
“You will show the gentleman to my study,
Patrick,” he said. “I will join him there at
once.” At the door he turned. “Decide noth-
ing about that Frenchwoman until you hear
from me,” he said.
The two women glanced at each other, then
Lady Brooke picked up the card, which her hus-
band had left on the table.
"Arthur Matthews, Scotland Yard," she
read, glancing at her sister. “It would be
rather remarkable, my dear," she observed,
"would n't it, if your young seamstress should
turn out to be a German spy?"


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77
“I don't believe it for a moment," Patricia
returned, taking up a magazine. “She looked
far too poor and hungry.”
Lord Brooke returned in a very few moments.
There was a peculiar expression upon his face.
“You will engage that young Frenchwoman,
my dear," he said to Lady Brooke. “And I
particularly desire that you should treat her
kindly, and show her every courtesy.”
“But," interposed Lady Brooke with a smile,
"only a few moments ago you were insisting
that she was in all probability a suspicious char-
acter."
"I was mistaken, my dear. I want the
woman here. I cannot tell you my reasons, but
I am sure you will realize that they are good
ones.”
His manner indicated that he did not wish to
discuss the matter further. Accompanied by
Patricia, Lady Brooke went to interview the
new applicant for the position of seamstress.
A few moments later, Patrick again appeared
in the library, and announced that Mr. Hoffman
was calling. Lord Brooke threw down his
newspaper.
“Hoffman!” he exclaimed, jumping to his
feet. “Show him in at once."
The two men met with a certain feeling of
restraint. Hoffman was conscious that he must


78
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offer some explanation of his sudden disappear-
ance. To his surprise, his brother-in-law asked
for none.
"My dear chap!” he cried, extending his
hand in sincere welcome. “I'm delighted to
see you."
“I suppose you've been wondering what had
become of me?" Hoffman remarked, rather
lamely.
“Not at all. In these stirring times, I 'm pre-
pared for anything. As a matter of fact, I con-
cluded that you had realized your ambitions and
gone to the front.”
“No such luck," Hoffman replied, with a
smile. “I went as far as Rotterdam, hoping to
get a sight of some fighting, but I was com-
pletely unsuccessful. Nothing to do but to re-
turn."
“That's too bad. What are your plans
now? To stop in London?”
“Yes. For a while, at least. What's new
here?"
“Nothing much. Sturdee sailed, with his
battle cruisers, two days ago. I suppose the
next thing we 'll hear will be that he has met
the Germans, and sent them to the bottom."
“If he succeeds in finding them,” Hoffman
observed, without particular interest. He had


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79
made up his mind not to ask his brother-in-law
any leading questions.
“He 'll find them, I fancy,” Lord Brooke re-
plied. “We've learned, on reliable authority,
that von Spee has sailed southward, and is
rounding the Horn. Sturdee will make for the
Falkland Islands, joining the battleship Cano-
pus.”
“Is that generally known?' Hoffman asked.
“Lord, no. You don't suppose we'd publish
a thing like that. Our German friends are far
too clever to permit our taking them into our
confidence to such an extent. No one knows
Sturdee's destination, or even that he has sailed
at all. The plan is to rendezvous at Port Wil-
liam, and coal there. The place is fortified, but
the defenses don't amount to much. Then, hav-
ing coaled, they will strike von Spee as he sails
north from the Horn. He won't suspect the ...
presence of battle cruisers in that vicinity, but
will probably be looking for the Canopus. She
carried twelve-inch guns, of course, but is slow
and old. I fancy, if the fast German cruisers
knew where she was, they could make short
work of her. Luckily they don't. Have a ci-
gar, won't you? What's the matter with you,
anyway? You look as pale as a ghost."
He spoke the truth. Hoffman was pale.


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The information that Lord Brooke had just
showered upon him was the very information
that Herr Schwartz most desired. He had said,
quite frankly, that it would be worth to him, not
only fifty thousand marks, but double that
amount. Here it was, ready to his hand, poured
out with a prodigality that to the young Amer-
ican seemed absolutely startling. He was
ready to carry out the instructions under which
he was acting, but he had not expected that Lord
Brooke would render everything so easy for
him. He had been in the latter's presence
scarcely five minutes, when he was furnished
with the very information he came to seek.
Either his brother-in-law was stupidly garru-
lous, or his confidence in Hoffman's integrity
was absolute. In his heart, Hoffman felt that
the latter explanation was the true one.
“I suppose there is plenty of coal at Port :
William,” he remarked, more for the purpose
of keeping up the conversation, than because of
any deep interest in it. Of course there was
coal. The Britsh navy fully understood the
value of coaling stations.
"That's just the point,” Lord Brooke re-
plied. “There is n't. But there will be before
the fleet arrives. At least half a dozen vessels
have been ordered to proceed to the Falklands
from South American ports. By the time the


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81
fleet arrives, they will be on the ground, and the
yards filled. All these matters have been thor-
oughly attended to. The Admiralty is very
wide-awake. We fully realize the gravity of
the situation.”
Hoffman made no reply. He wondered if his
brother-in-law would commit himself further.
It seemed incredible. He sat, revolving in his
mind the singular situation in which the fates
had placed him.
“How's Patricia ?" he suddenly asked.
“Oh, Pat is well enough. Just at present
she 's engaged in securing a new seamstress
a Frenchwoman, just arrived from Paris, with-
out a penny to her name. Poor devil. I told
them to give her a chance."
As he spoke, Patricia appeared in the door-
way. Seeing Hoffman, she started forward
with a pleased smile.
“Bob!” she exclaimed. “Where on earth
have you been for the past week? Nelly and I
thought you must be lost.”
Hoffman took her hand, inwardly cursing the
instructions that had forbidden him from mak-
ing his sister and Patricia acquainted with his
movements.
"I ran over to Rotterdam for a few days,”
he said, “but it did n't amount to anything. I
guess I'm a failure as a war correspondent."


82
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“Nonsense,' Patricia replied, then turned as
Lady Brooke appeared in the doorway, followed
by the new seamstress. “Alan,'' Patricia went
on, “Nelly and I have decided to let you inter-
view Mademoiselle Mercier. She's had her
supper, and feels better. We think, in the cir-
cumstances, that you had better see her, before
she is engaged. You might like to ask her some
questions."
As she concluded, Lady Brooke stepped for-
ward. After her came a dejected figure in
black. “This is Mademoiselle Mercier,” she
said.
Hoffman regarded the young woman with
widening eyes. In spite of her black hair, her
threadbare clothing, he recognized at once the
girl who had spoken to him on the boat from
Rotterdam to Harwich. Mademoiselle Mercier
and Gretchen Liebmann, the self-confessed
agent of Herr Schwartz, were one and the same.
The girl met his gaze without the least sign
of recognition. What was she doing here, he
wondered? She had announced herself, on the
boat, as his assistant. Doubtless she was much
more than that. It was quite clear that Herr
Schwartz did not intend to allow his newly ap-
pointed agent to operate except under the
watchful eyes of his office. And this woman,
whose character he well knew, was on the point


THE WEB
83
of becoming a member of Lord Brooke's house-
hold, to report the daily doings of its members
to her chief at Antwerp. The thought somehow
annoyed him, and yet, she was doing, could do,
no more than he was doing himself. He turned
away, with a feeling of disgust. Patricia had
been right. The position of a spy was a despic-
able one. Unable longer to endure the situa-
tion in which he found himself, he pleaded an
engagement and hurried away. He thought
that Patricia regarded him curiously, as she
bade him good-night, but he was in no mood to
satisfy her curiosity. Bigger affairs called him.
He hastened to his rooms.


CHAPTER VIII
TT was close to ten o'clock when Bob Hoffman
I left his brother-in-law's house. He stood
for a few moments on the sidewalk looking for
a cab. His eyes wandered, from time to time,
back to the house he had just left, as though he
expected someone to join him, but no one came.
The street remained quite deserted.
Because of Lord Brooke's singular garrulity,
to call it nothing worse, he was now in pos-
session of amazing information, information of
the utmost value to his new employer,. Herr
Schwartz. It was clear that he must transmit
it to Antwerp without delay. Yet something
seemed to deter him, some contrary motive
seemed operating to hold him back. A moment
later, seeing a cab slowly approaching through
the darkness, he raised his hand. The cabman
drove up with a flourish.
Hoffman stepped in..
“Drive me to”—he gave the number of the
house in Exmouth Street.
The man nodded, and they started off. Hoff-
man sat quietly, puffing at a cigar. When the
.


THE WEB
85
vehicle had progressed for some ten minutes, he
rapped sharply on the glass, and having at-
tracted the driver's attention, gave him a sec-
ond direction. The man nodded, then went on.
Presently they drew up before an imposing
hotel. Hoffman got out and paid the driver his
fare. “I've decided to get a bit of supper be-
fore I turn in," he said. “You need not wait.”
As he entered the doorway, he glanced back.
The cab was still standing alongside the curb.
Hoffman smiled slightly, and going to the grill-
room, selected a secluded table and ordered a
chop and some ale.
While waiting for them to be brought, he oc-
cupied himself with an evening paper. A close
observer, however, would have seen that he read
it without interest, and that every few moments
he cast a keen and scrutinizing glance about the
place.
It was not long before a slim, dark young fel-
low, with closely cropped moustaches and a
sallow complexion, crossed the room, as though
searching for someone, and presently, espying
Hoffman, went up to him and touched him on
the shoulder.
“Mr. Hoffman?” he inquired, pleasantly.
The latter nodded.
“That is my name,” he said. “But you have
the advantage of me.”


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87
The waiter, arriving with the chop and ale,
brushed the pepper away with his napkin.
Hoffman swallowed the food without relish, dis-
missed from his mind an intention that had been
forming therein ever since his departure from
Lord Brooke's, and proceeded without further
delay to his rooms. The young man's advice
suddenly appeared to him very good.
He went back, in his thoughts, to the instruc-
tions so carefully given to him in Antwerp. To
communicate at night, he was first to see that
the lights in his sitting-room were turned on.
He was then to lower completely the central
shade of the bow window, and raise the two side
shades. He proceeded to carry out these in-
structions at once. Then, there being nothing
else to do, he sat down to wait.
Five minutes passed-ten-fifteen, without
anything happening. Thinking that he might
be expected to watch for some signal from with-
out, he peered cautiously through the unshaded
panes at either side of the bow. The view com-
manded the rear windows of many houses, to
right and left. Some of these windows were
lighted, some dark, but nothing about any of
them attracted his attention in the least. As he
turned once more to the interior of the room,
he heard the sound of someone knocking, and at
once proceeded to open the door.


88
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On the threshold stood a neat serving maid,
whom he had not seen on his arrival earlier in
the evening. She informed him that the cab he
had ordered was waitng for him below. .
The fact that he had not ordered any cab was
unimportant. Throwing on his greatcoat, Hoff-
man picked up a heavy stick and descended to
the street.
A smart-looking motor car was drawn up
alongside the curb. Hoffman saw the driver
regarding him keenly. A moment later he nod-
ded, jumped to the sidewalk, and threw open
the cab door.
“Where are you to take me?” Hoffman asked.
The man shook his head.
“I am instructed to say nothing," he replied.
“You will get in, please.”
Without saying anything further, Hoffman
entered the cab. He felt himself in the grasp
of forces of which he knew nothing—that sur-
rounded him, invisible, yet apparently dogging
his every footstep, reading, almost, his very
thoughts. He sank back on the cushions. The
cab, he observed, was passing through one dark-
ened street after another, at a rapid rate. Be-
fore five minutes had elapsed, Hoffman, unfa-
miliar with the London streets, realized that he
had not the slightest idea of the direction they
were taking.


THE WEB
89
It was clear that those for whom he was
working did not trust him. The presence of the
Liebmann woman at Lord Brooke's, the sallow
young man at the hotel, the uncommunicative
driver of the vehicle in which he now found him-
self, all demonstrated the fact amply. Why
had not one of Herr Schwartz's representatives
come boldly to his sitting-room, and received the
information he had to impart, instead of taking
him to some unknown destination by automo-
bile? Was it lack of confidence in him? Or
was it, perhaps, due to fear that his movements
were in turn being watched by the English po-
lice? He could not tell, but if the latter suppo-
sition were true, there was no doubt that Herr
Schwartz was acting with admirable caution.
The car swung along, at top speed, for nearly
an hour. Presently Hoffman felt, from its
slackening motion, that it was about to stop.
He glanced out of the window, and found him-
self in a deserted street, lined with detached
houses, all looking gloomy and vague in the
darkness.
Near the top of the street was a stone gate-
way, giving entrance to a small park, containing
some shrubbery and trees, their bare branches
black against the brilliant night sky. Hoffman
was just able to discern the bulking mass of a
large house amongst them, when the car drew


90
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up at the door. Through a fanlight came a few
faint rays of light.
Hoffman got out and looked about him. The
darkness was intense. He had not the slightest
idea where he was, nor the least clue whereby
he might identify the place, in case he had any
need to do so.
The driver of the cab had gotten out as well,
and going to the door of the house, beckoned to
Hoffman to follow him. The latter did so at
once. A moment later they found themselves
in a small square vestibule.
The guide knocked, in a peculiar way, disdain-
ing the electric bell at one side of the doorway.
At once the door was thrown open, and a
bearded face appeared.
"All right, comrade," the cab driver said.
“He is here."
"Come in.” The bearded man drew the door
open, and Hoffman went inside, the chauffeur
bringing up the rear. Hoffman had not the
slightest doubt that the hand the latter so care-
fully kept in his overcoat pocket held an auto-
matic pistol.
Once inside the hall, the two men exchanged
a few words in German, then the cab driver
went out again, and the man with the beard
motioned to Hoffman to enter a room at the
rear of the hall.


THE WEB
.
91
00
It was brilliantly illuminated, but Hoffman
perceived at once that no light could penetrate
the windows, heavily shuttered, and covered
with thick dark curtains.
In the center of the room was a square table,
at which sat a young man with some electrical
apparatus before him. He looked up as Hoff-
man entered, but said nothing. The bearded
man motioned to a chair.
“Your name is Hoffman?” he said.
“Yes,” the latter answered.
“Have you anything to report?”
“Yes."
“Good. What is it?".
"The British squadron under Admiral Stur-
dee is bound for Port William, in the Falkland
Islands."
“Yes-yes-go on!” The man made some
rapid notes. His companion put down the work
he was engaged upon, and listened with eager
interest.
“They will join the battleship Canopus there,
and coal. Vessels bringing the fuel are on the
way from South American ports. They will
lie in wait there for Admiral von Spee, who is
reported to have sailed south with the intention
of rounding the Horn.”
“Good! Good!” the older man muttered,
“Is that all?"


92
THE WEB
"That is all. Is it not enough?”.
"Yes. Now we know where they are." He
rubbed his hands, and a glare of anger came into
his eyes. “Coal from South American ports-
just so. Helmuth, you will transmit this to
Antwerp at once.”
The younger man rose, and made a military
salute.
“Shall I use the wireless, or the carrier pig-
eons?'' he asked.
“Both. We can can take no chances. And a
verbal message by Koch as well.”
Again the young man saluted, then left the
room. His companion turned to Hoffman with
a pleased smile.
“You have brought good news, my friend.
Very good news. I have received instructions
from Herr Schwartz to make you a payment.
Here are ten thousand marks, in English bank-
notes and gold.” He went to a safe, at the far
side of the room, and opened it. “You will
receive more, when you next see Herr Schwartz
in Antwerp. He wishes to treat you very gen-
erously.”
Mechanically Hoffman took the banknotes and
gold, and thrust them into his overcoat pocket,
without counting them.
“Where am I?" he asked.
The bearded man frowned slightly.


THE WEB
93
“It is not necessary that you should know."
“But-how am I to return home?”.
“In the automobile, as you came. It is now
waiting.”
“You do not, then, trust me?”
The man shrugged his shoulders.
“I carry out my instructions. See that you
do the same.”
Hoffman saw that nothing further was to be
gained by questioning his companion along these
lines. There was nothing for him to do, but
return home as he had come. It was clear that
not yet did his new employers place any very
great confidence in him. He had been brought
to this house, it was true, but under conditions
that made it quite out of the question for him
to ever locate it again. If they feared, in spite
of the information he so frankly gave them, that
he might have some ulterior motive in doing so,
they had taken excellent precautions. He had
met this bearded man, it was true, and could
doubtless identify him, or his companion, in
case he should ever see either of them again,
but, except as he had seen them now, it was
unlikely that he would be given the chance. And
he wanted no such chance. He was carrying
out, to the letter, the instructions that had been
given him. Nothing more, it appeared, was ex-
pected, or desired. He turned toward the door,


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then stopped, as a new thought occurred to him.
“At the house at which I secured the informa-
tion I have just given you,” he said, “a young
girl has just been employed. Her name-one
of them, at least-is Gretchen Liebmann. She
told me, on the boat coming from Rotterdam,
that she had been sent by Herr Schwartz to act
as my assistant. Is this true? Am I to trust
her?"
The bearded man regarded Hoffman with an
uncomprehending stare.
“I can give you no information," he said.
“I know nothing of any Gretchen Liebmann.
Herr Schwartz has many agents. There are
also many of the enemy, who would like to gain
your confidence. My advice to you is to do your
duty, and pay no attention to others. The least
indiscretion will certainly cost you your life.
Not only would the enemy take swift revenge,
but I am informed that Herr Schwartz himself
never forgives either treachery or stupidity.
Good-night." He threw open the door leading
to the hall.
Hoffman passed out. At once his companion
opened the outside door. The man who had
driven the cab stood outside, like a sentry on
guard. His hand was still in his overcoat
pocket. Without a word he led the way to the
cab, and soon Hoffman found himself being


THE WEB
95
whirled homeward through the darkness at an
even swifter pace than he had come. An hour
later he was again sitting in his rooms in Ex-
mouth Street. But for the arrangement of the
shades, the money in his pocket, the whole thing
might have been a strange dream.
Still one more sensation, however, was re-
served for him, before he went to bed. As he
turned to the sitting-room table for a match, to
light the cigarette he had just taken from his
case, he saw a letter lying upon it.
It was contained in a large, square envelope.
The handwriting, feminine in its character, was
unfamiliar to him. He tore the letter open, and
glanced at its contents. It was from Patricia,
the first he had ever received from her.
“Dear Bob,” it read. “I am troubled great-
ly about a certain matter, and want your advice
and help. Take luncheon with me tomorrow at.
one. Alan and Nelly will both be out. I hope
you will not fail me.
"Patricia Brooke."
Hoffman turned in, but for a long time could
not sleep. In some vague way he felt that the
thing that was troubling the young English girl
had to do with himself and the work upon which
he was engaged.


CHAPTER IX
DATRICIA BROOKE, in spite of her
I brother's insistence that Mademoiselle
Mercier, the little French seamstress, should be
given work, could not shake off a feeling of dis-
trust of the girl. She had not been conscious
of it at first, but throughout the evening the
feeling had persisted-grown. Then, just as
she was about to retire, Patrick, the butler,
came to her where she sat in the library. Her
brother and Lady Brooke had already sought
their rooms. Patrick apologized for speaking;
he had not liked the “French person” from the
first, now he came to say, as perhaps he should
not, that the young woman's first request, after
being shown her room, was for pen and paper,
that she had thereupon written a letter, which
she seemed extremely anxious to post at once.
Patrick explained that he had offered to send it
out by one of the grooms, who slept out, but the
Frenchwoman had refused to part with the let-
ter, and went out to post it herself. Patrick
thought this very queer indeed, and so, it must
96


THE WEB
97
be confessed, did Patricia. The butler's story
increased her suspicions. To say anything fur-
ther about the matter to Alan, or Lady Brooke,
would manifestly be useless. Her brother had
insisted, most pointedly, that the girl should be
retained. What was the reason for this! Alan
was notoriously the least suspicious, the most
generous, of men. Then Patricia thought of
Bob Hoffman. A sudden impulse to confide in
him, to talk matters over with him, came over
her. She asked Patrick if the groom had gone.
Patrick thought not-he would go and find out.
Meanwhile Patricia wrote the letter that Hoff-
man later received. The groom had not gone.
Patricia gave the letter to him, with a shilling,
and asked that it be delivered promptly at the
young American's address.
In response to it, Hoffman appeared at one
o'clock the next day, filled with a great curiosity
to know what the girl had on her mind.
She received him in the drawing-room, her
suspicions of the night before intensified, if
anything, by an incident that had taken place
during the morning.
Her brother and his wife had gone out,
shortly after breakfast, the one, to his duties at
the Admiralty, the other, to attend to some shop-
ping. With the exception of the servants, she
was alone in the house. Mademoiselle Mercier,


98
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the new seamstress, she had given a quantity
of work to do, some new linen to be marked,
some mending, and had left her in the sewing-
room on the first floor, at the rear of the house.
Coming downstairs rather suddenly, about noon,
to get a book from the library, she had seen the
girl in the rear hall, upon which Lord Brooke's
study, as well as the sewing-room, opened. She
was rather nearer the door of the study, than
that of the sewing-room, and Patricia was quite
unable to account for her presence there. Be-
ing a young woman of determination, she had
called the girl and asked for an explanation.
The seamstress supplied one promptly. She
had desired a glass of water, and being unfami-
liar with the house, and not knowing how to
obtain one, had wandered out into the hall, in
the hope of finding one of the other servants.
Patricia had been obliged to accept the ex-
planation, without in the least believing it, and
the Frenchwoman had retired to her work.
Hoffman was conscious of a more rapid beat-
ing of the heart than was usual with him, as Pa-
tricia entered the library. The girl, he thought
to himself, had never seemed so charming. Her
grey morning gown robbed her figure of some of
its accustomed smartness, and gave a more inti-
mate and feminine note to her appearance.
Her hair, loosely arranged, softened the


THE WEB
101
spy, and all that. He even told us a story of a
chauffeur, who had been caught with another
man's papers. Nelly had about decided to
send the girl away.”.
“Why did n't she?".
“Because, at that moment, Patrick brought
up a card, and said that the man who sent it
wished to see Alan at once. He was shown into
the study and Alan saw him there. In a few
minutes Alan came back, and the first thing he
said was that we were to engage the woman, and
treat her with every courtesy.”
Hoffman's eyes lit up with interest.
“That's queer,” he said. “Did n't your
brother offer any explanation?".
“None. But there was an explanation,
nevertheless. The man that called on Alan
came from Scotland Yard."
“Scotland Yard!”. Hoffman leaned eagerly
forward. “Are you sure?”.
“Perfectly."
“Then—why do you think the woman is a
spy? Is n't it far more likely that she is a
member of the English secret service?".
“I thought of that, of course, but if she had
been one of our people, I should certainly think
that the information about her, whatever it was,
that the man brought to Alan would have come
before she was placed here in the house, not


THE WEB
103
Scotland Yard people know that the woman is
here. She is here at their request. At least
it is reasonable to suppose that they know what
they are about.”
“I know. But still I can't help being wor-
ried. Suppose the man who came to see Alan
was n't a Scotland Yard man at all. Suppose
he, too, was a spy.”
“I don't think it at all likely that your
brother would accept suggestions from anyone
he did not know."
“You may be right. But Alan is dreadfully
unsuspicious, and careless, too, at times. The
police can't watch this woman all the time.
There was that letter she posted, last night.
They could n't have stopped that."
:-“They might. She was undoubtedly watched.
The pillar-box in which she placed the letter
could be opened, under proper authority, after
she had returned to the house. And after all,
what information could she hope to get here?”
“That's just the point. As I have said, Alan
is dreadfully careless. Take this morning, for
instance. When I saw that woman in the hall,
not far from Alan's study, I had a sort of feel-
ing that she might have been in there, or at
least on her way there, so I went in. Alan's
desk is always a bit upset. On it-right on top,
there was a piece of paper, with a memorandum


104
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on it—something about a transport. Suppose
that woman is a spy, and went in there and saw
it.” She rose and turned toward the door.
“Come along with me and I 'll show you. I
did n't dare disturb the desk, for Alan has given
strict orders about that. Otherwise I should
have taken the paper away. But I did lock the
study door."
They reached it, as she finished speaking, and
a moment later had entered the room.
“There,” Patricia exclaimed. “Would you
care to have a spy in the house, with a thing like
that lying about?” She pointed to the paper
of which she had spoken.
Hoffman looked at it. It was a single sheet
of note-paper, and it had been laid carefully at
the right hand side of the desk, under a paper-
weight, which, however, covered only its upper
edge, leaving the words upon it fully exposed.
Hoffman read them. “Memo," they said.
“To advise B about transport Aspermoor leav-
ing Southampton day after tomorrow convoyed
by two destroyers."
“You see,” Patricia went on. "Things like
that worry me dreadfully. I don't know what
to do. Alan says he wants the woman here, and
yet, I 'm afraid he does n't realize how careless
he is. What would you advise? I wanted very
much to ask you."


THE WEB
105
“I advise you to lay the whole matter be-
fore your brother,” Hoffman said, as they
made their way back to the library. “After
all, he certainly must know what he is
about."
Patricia sighed.
“I fancy there 's nothing else to do," she
said. “But I mean to do a little spying myself,
just the same."
"I don't think that I should bother, if I were
you,” Hoffman remarked, with a laugh. “You
remember you said, the other day, that such
work was utterly despicable. Better leave it to
the police.”
They said nothing more about the matter at
this time. Patricia informed Hoffman that she
was going to meet Lord and Lady Brooke at a
Belgian Relief meeting at three o'clock, and
asked Hoffman if he would not like to accom-
pany her. The young man agreed at once.
Just to be near Patricia was a great happiness.
She left him in the library, and went upstairs
to change her gown.
The door by which Patricia left the library
opened to the main hall, and Hoffman watched
her as she ascended the staircase, his face eager
and smiling. How lovely she was! How happy
it made him, to see her, to talk to her! He be-
gan to hope that the time might come, when he


106
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would have the right to be with her always.
A sound behind him caused him to whirl
about in sudden alarm. Someone had pro-
nounced his name very softly. At first he did
not see who it was, then, from the small writing-
room which lay between the library and the
morning-room appeared the slender figure of
Mademoiselle Mercier, otherwise Gretchen Lieb-
mann.
“You ?” he exclaimed.
“Speak softly, please," the girl said, frown-
ing, “or we may be overheard. I can stay but
a moment.”
“What do you want?” Hoffman muttered.
“What are you doing here?”
The girl's eyes were fixed steadily on his.
“Did I not tell you, on the boat,” she said,
“that we were to work together?”.
“I have not asked for any help.”
“Nevertheless, those who are superior to you
think that you may need it.”
“How long have you been in there?” Hoff-
man asked.
The girl's smile was enigmatic.
“Long enough to hear about the message in
Lord Brooke's study. I tried to get it, and
failed. Did you succeed?”.
“Yes. Which proves that I scarcely need
your help.”


THE WEB
107
“I'm not so sure of that. Had I not made
the attempt, I do not think you would have had
the opportunity you did have. Where are you
going, now?”
Hoffman flushed. The woman's questions be-
gan to annoy him. Yet something told him he
had better answer her frankly.
“I am going to a meeting with Miss Brooke.
Why?"
“Only this. So far you have done well. Do
not let your interest in that young woman inter-
fere with your duty. I am advising you for
your own good.”
Again Hoffman was sensible of a feeling of
keen annoyance, which he felt it inadvisable to
show.
"I shall attend to what I have to do in all
good time," he replied. “When I have failed,
you can reproach me. As a matter of fact, I
hope to see Lord Brooke at the meeting to which
I am going. The information I have needs
some explanation.".
"You mean to question him about it?" asked
the woman, in astonishment.
“Certainly not. But I hope to find out what
I wish, nevertheless.” As he spoke, he heard
the sound of footsteps upon the staircase.
“Someone is coming," he said. “You had bet-
ter go.”


108
THE WEB
.
The woman slunk back through the curtained
doorway behind her.
“Remember what I have said," she whis-
pered.
Hoffman turned to meet Patricia with a feel-
ing of greater uneasiness than he had felt since
he left Antwerp. Undoubtedly this woman had
been sent by Herr Schwartz to watch him.
Why did the latter repose so little faith in him?
And why were his efforts to be complicated,
hampered indeed, by an assistant he did not
want. Danger, even death, he realized, walked
arm in arm with him. The English police knew
of the woman's presence in the house. They
even permitted, encouraged her presence. He
must not imperil the work he had in hand by
compromising himself with her. Matters were
going along far too well for that.
At the relief meeting they found Alan Brooke
and his wife just entering the door. While
waiting, in their seats, for the addresses to be-
gin, Patricia told her brother of her suspicions,
and cautioned him particularly about the mem-
orandum he had so carelessly left on his desk.
“I told Bob all about it,” she said. “And
I've locked the study door. You 'd better be
more careful in future."
Lord Brooke did not appear to be greatly dis-
turbed.


THE WEB
109
“After all," he said, turning to Hoffman
with a smile, “the memorandum did n't amount
to much. We've got a transport at Southamp-
ton that we 're bringing around to Bristol on
Saturday. She 'll be in charge of a couple of
destroyers. I don't imagine the news impor-
tant enough for anyone to try to steal it. Pa-
tricia is right, though. I 'll have to be more
careful about these things. Here's the first-
speaker.” He glanced toward the stage.
It was after five when the meeting was over.
Patricia urged Hoffman to return' with them,
for tea, but he refused. He felt a strong de-
sire to be alone—to think. Bidding them good-
bye, he went for a long walk, and later dined at
a chop-house in the Strand. It was nearly nine
when he got back to his rooms, and the first
thing he did, on entering, was to arrange the
shades in such a way as to indicate that he had
news to communicate. He then sat down, and
began to read a book.
Ten minutes later, he heard a knock at the
door. He threw it open, expecting, as before,
to find the maid standing on the threshold. To
his immense surprise, he was confronted by the
slender figure of Mademoiselle Liebmann.


CHAPTER X
THE suspicions which Patricia Brooke enter-
tained regarding the little French seams-
tress were in no degree lessened by her talk with
Bob Hoffman. Even the incredulous attitude
of her brother, Lord Brooke, did not serve to
dissipate them. She felt certain that her intui-
tions were correct, that Bob Hoffman and her
brother were both being badly taken in, and
that even the police were at fault, unless, in-
deed, the man from Scotland Yard who had in-
duced her brother to let the woman remain had
not been from Scotland Yard at all. She made
up her mind to do a little detective work on her
own account, and if she discovered anything, to
enjoy the satisfaction of lording it over the
two self-satisfied males.
That evening she made it a point to explain
matters to her sister-in-law.
“You know, Nelly," she said. “I feel it my
duty to help Alan in this matter. Think what a
terrible thing it would be, if any of the Admir-
alty secrets were really to get out-and through
110


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connection with the relief and other patriotic
associations to which she belonged frequently
took her out in the evenings alone. She left
in the tiny electric brougham that served her for
getting about the city, and which she drove her-
self.
On this occasion, however, she did not drive
it far. Two doors away there was a large house
which she knew to be unoccupied. In the shad-
ows before it, she turned, drew up, and began to
wait for the seamstress to appear.
The wait was short. In a very few minutes
the girl came through the servants' entrance at
the side of the house and set off down the street.
Patricia followed, rejoicing in the fact that
Mademoiselle Mercier walked very rapidly and
did not turn around. She hoped the girl would
take a cab. It would make following her easier.
As Patricia passed the house, she was so in-
tent upon the woman ahead of her that she
failed to notice a slender, sallow-faced young
man who detached himself from the shadow of
a building across the way, and moved rapidly
along in the direction taken by the Mercier
woman. He, too, hoped that the latter would
take a cab. He did not wish to be seen by Pa-
tricia.
Arriving at the corner, the seamstress paused.
It was plain that she was looking for a convey-


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113
ance. After a time a four-wheeler came along,
and hailing it, she got in. The young man
slipped across the street behind her, but he
failed to reach the other side. Instead, he
sprang to the rear of the vehicle, and climbed
upon the axle. Patricia, coming along some
hundred yards in the rear, did not perceive him,
owing to his black suit, and the war-time dark-
ness of the streets.
In this way the three continued for some
twenty minutes, when Patricia saw the cab
ahead draw up at a chemist's shop, in the neigh-
borhood of Farrington Road. The woman at
once got out, and entered the place. Patricia,
nothing daunted, ranged herself across the
street, and patiently waited. She would have
liked to follow the girl into the shop, but it was
not to be thought of. Mademoiselle Mercier
would of course recognize her at once.
The interior of the place was brightly lighted,
and through the plate glass windows Patricia
saw that the girl purchased what appeared to be
a bottle of toilet water, and some soap; at the
same time she said a few words to the man who
was waiting on her, but they had no extended
conversation. The young fellow who had been
perched behind the cab had clambered down,
and was gazing nonchalantly through the win-
dow. Patricia saw him, but supposed him to


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be merely a passerby. She began to feel
ashamed of her suspicions of the girl. She had
come out, it appeared, to make some purchases
at a chemist's, just as she had said. There was
a certain incongruity in her actions, however.
Why had she taken a cab and driven to the
Farrington Road. There were plenty of chem-
ists' shops nearer at hand. She was a poor girl,
according to her own story, in want. To spend
the cost of cab hire, to come so far, when she
might have walked to a shop close by, seemed
uncalled-for extravagance.
In a little while the woman came out again,
and greatly to Patricia's surprise, paid the cab
man and dismissed him, instead of getting in.
Then she walked rapidly in the direction of the
Farrington Road.
Patricia followed, as did the young man who
had been gazing in at the windows of the shop.
The girl went along the Farrington Road for a
short distance, then turned into a cross street.
It was dark, and there were few pedestrians
about. Patricia drew her car up to the curb
and got out. The seamstress was not more than
a hundred feet ahead of her, walking at a swift
pace. Scarcely had the young English girl be-
gun to follow, when the woman ahead of her
stopped, glanced quickly about, then entered a
dimly lighted house.


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115
Just what to do next, Patricia did not
know. The woman had by now rung the door-
bell and been admitted. Should she follow her
within, demand to see her? Or should she
await her re-appearance? She stood in doubt,
uncertain which course to follow. It was clear,
she concluded, that the work of an amateur de-
tective presented serious difficulties.
She waited, undecided, for some little time.
It was cold and dark. The inactivity annoyed
her. With sudden determination she advanced
quickly to the door of the house and rang the
bell.
A rather dull-looking maid answered the sum-
mons. Patricia had already made up her mind
what to say.
“A friend of mine, a young woman, just came
in,” she observed, in a voice of the utmost as-
surance. “I am to meet her here. You will
please conduct me to her at once.”
The maid seemed embarrassed. Her eyes
met Patricia's uncertainly.
“But-miss-my lady," she stammered.
“It 's quite all right, my good girl. The
lady is expecting me. Please take me to her
at once. I am Patricia Brooke, Lord Brooke's
sister.”
Patricia's manner, no less than her conclud-
ing words, decided the matter. The girl


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gasped, gave a curtsey, and turned to the stairs.
“This way, your ladyship,” she mumbled,
completely overcome, apparently, in the pres-
ence of one of the nobility.
Up the two flights of stairs Patricia toiled,
wondering what on earth she was to say when
she reached the top. After all, circumstances
would have to decide. She pictured the sup-
posed French seamstress as one of a desperate
band of conspirators, and gasped. If she had
only brought with her the little automatic pistol
that lay upon her dressing-table. Then her
courage returned. She was fighting for Eng-
land—for her country. She would be no less
brave than the men in the trenches.
The servant was by now rapping upon a door.
Patricia stood close beside her, determined to
enter as soon as it was opened. A moment
later the door swung back, affording a view of
a well-lighted room. Patricia stepped across
the threshold, then gave a cry of amazement.
In a chair beside the table sat Mademoiselle
Mercier. At the door, holding it open, his face
a picture of utter consternation, stood Bob Hoff-
man.


CHAPTER XI
DOB HOFFMAN, on his return to his rooms
D that night, had made the requisite signal
by means of the window-shades of the bow win-
dow, with a feeling of regret. The adventure
into which he had been so suddenly projected
had begun to bore him. He wished himself
well out of it. The affair seemed sordid, mean,
and to his mind, without purpose. In spite of
the reasons which had caused him to engage in
the matter in the first place, he regretted ever
having done so. As Patricia rightly said, the
work of a spy was despicable.
His thoughts were rudely disturbed by the
unexpected entrance of the woman who had ac-
costed him on the Rotterdam boat, and had
called herself Gretchen Liebmann. What had
she come to his rooms for? Was it in response
to the signals he had just made, or had she
sought him out on her own initiative? The
former supposition seemed scarcely tenable.
The time had been far too short. Scarcely ten
minutes had elapsed since he had arranged the
117


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window shades. How could Miss Liebmann
have been so quickly aware of the signal?
She came in, quite unconcerned, and took a
chair. Hoffman stood regarding her curiously.
“What do you want here, miss?” he presently
asked. His manner was by no means cordial.
The girl glanced at the bow window.
“You have signalled that you have news for
us, have you not?”.
“Yes." He nodded slowly. “I have. But
how did you know that?”.
The girl favored him with a cynical smile.
“The signal was observed—it was reported
to me. As to how this was done, I do not see
that it concerns you. You have been very slow,
today, my friend? Herr Schwartz is aocus-
tomed to more instant obedience.”
“I acted as I thought best,” Hoffman replied,
stiffy. “As I told you this afternoon, I wished
to see Lord Brooke.”
“You saw him?"
"I did."
“Then you have the information complete?”
“Yes."
“You are to give it to me."
"To you? Why?"
“Have I not come, in answer to the signal?
Were not those your instructions?”
“How am I to know that you came in answer


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119
119
to the signal? You might have just happened
in ?"
The girl turned to him with flashing eyes.
“My friend,” she said. “From now on,
please understand that I represent Herr
Schwartz, here in London. You have been sus-
picious of me, from the start, as indeed we have
been of you. The time for all that is ended.
Reflect a moment. I address myself to you on
the Rotterdam boat. I know all your plans. I
arrange to become seamstress at Lord Brooke's,
in order to be on hand to assist you. I know
your address here. I know the signals, confided
to you by Herr Schwartz. If you want final
proof, here it is.” She laid on the table before
him a sheet of paper, containing a photographic
reproduction of a thumb-print. “Compare this
with the original. You may remember that you
gave the impression to Herr Schwartz, in Ant-
werp."
Hoffman quickly compared the photograph
which the girl handed him with his own thumb.
The lines were identical He handed the slip
of paper back to her.
“I am satisfied,” he said.
“Good. You see that I trust you fully, other-
wise I would not put myself in your hands. If
you were inclined to treachery, you would only
have to denounce me to the police, and I should


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be instantly arrested. Of course,'—she paused,
with a hard smile-"that would cost you your
life, for be assured, the arm of Herr Schwartz
is a long one-and his memory is no less long.
Now that we fully understand each other, kindly
let me have the information you secured to-
day."
“By all means. But I'm afraid it is n't
very important. The transport Aspermoor
leaves Southampton day after tomorrow, con-
veyed by two destroyers.”
The girl's eyes gleamed. She took a gold
pencil from her pocketbook, and wrote a few
words upon a card within it.
“Not very important !" she exclaimed. “My
friend, it is invaluable. In spite of all our
efforts, we have been unable to gain any advance
information regarding the English transport
service to France. Our submarines have been
blind. They have not yet succeeded in sinking
a single troop-ship. Think what it will mean,
to send a whole regiment to the bottom!"
Hoffman thought. The idea filled him with
horror. For an instant he was tempted to take
the woman by her slender neck and strangle her.
What was her life, compared with that of thou-
sands? Despicable work, indeed. Then the
knowledge of a great, though to him inexplicable
parpose, rose in his mind. The interview he


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121
had had with the man with the piercing grey
eyes, just before his journey to Rotterdam, re-
curred to him with irresistible force. He had
been told to obey, blindly, implicitly, trusting to
intelligences superior to his own. Even the
sinking of a transport, horrifying as it might
seem to him, was as nothing, compared with
success in what he had undertaken. He com-
posed his features, hoping that his companion
had not observed his momentary weakness.
She, however, was far too much occupied with
her own thoughts, to pay attention to him. An
almost satanic joy shone in her eyes.
“Two days,” she repeated to herself.
“There will be time. The news will be in Ant-
werp before midnight. My friend, within forty-
eight hours the transport Aspermoor will be at
the bottom of the English Channel.”
“Then you think Herr Schwartz will be satis-
fied?” Hoffman asked.
“He will be delighted. If you play your
cards well, you can make your fortune. This
Lord Brooke is a fool. Almost too great a fool,
at times. One is apt to be suspicious of infor-
mation so freely given. But in forty-eight
hours we shall know.”.
"Lord Brooke is certainly not a fool,” Hoff-
man remarked gloomily. “He trusts me, that
is all. Do not forget that I am his wife's


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brother. To him the idea of treachery on my
part would be unthinkable.”
"Yes-yes. That is true. See that you pre-
serve his confidence. It is invaluable to us.
And for that reason, I am fearful of the inter-
est you show in that girl, his sister. Are you
in love with her, my friend?".
"I do not see what my private affairs have
to do with the matter."
“Everything. If you really love the sister,
you will not be so ready to disgrace the brother.
In fact, I cannot reconcile such a feeling on your
part with the work you have undertaken. I
have felt it my duty to report the affair to Herr
Schwartz."
Hoffman regarded the woman with a cynical
smile.
“Has it not occurred to you, my friend," he
said, “that only by pretending a strong feeling
for Lord Brooke's sister can I visit his house
almost daily? Would not such visits appear
highly suspicious, were I to make them merely
to call on my sister? It seems to me that, with
all your experience in work of this sort, you still
have a great deal to learn."
His criticisms did not seem to anger Miss
Liebmann in the least. On the contrary, she
regarded him with undisguised admiration.
“You are splendid !” she exclaimed. “It was


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123
stupid of me not to have guessed your reasons."
A momentary look of tenderness came into her
eyes. “For what you have just told me I am ·
doubly grateful. You and I, my friend, should
know each other better. We have our work
in common. It is possible we might have
something more.”
Her words, accompanied by a look of invita-
tion, her sudden change of manner, left Hoffman
in no doubt as to her meaning. Quite suddenly
he realized the girl's beauty. He placed his
hand tenderly over hers.
“Why not?” he whispered.
It was then that the maid accompanying Pa-
tricia Brooke rapped upon the door.
“See who it is?” the Liebmann girl whispered
in a voice of terror. “And remember, if any.
thing happens to prevent me from leaving here
with that message, you will repeat the signal,
and deliver it yourself.”
Hoffman nodded, and threw open the door.
The amazement he saw upon Patricia's face
was doubly reflected in his own. Why had she
come here: How was he to explain Miss Lieb-
mann's presence? The only plausible explana-
tion, an affair of the heart with the attractive
seamstress, was not to be thought of. He cared
far too deeply for Patricia for that. Yet the
real explanation of the woman's visit to his


THE WEB
125
Miss Liebmann spoke up at once. Her man-
ner was deferential, calm.
“I beg your ladyship's pardon. Mr. Hoff-
man will not remain on my account. I came
here to ask of him a great favor. He has been
good enough to say that he will do for me what
he can.”
“A favor?” Patricia looked from Hoffman
to his companion.
“Yes," the girl went on, easily. “I have
in America an uncle. I do not know his address,
but last year he was maître de hôtel at a great
place on the Broadway—the name I cannot re-
member, but that of the proprietaire I know.
It is Astor, I think. Such a name. I have come
to Monsieur Hoffman to ask the great favor
that he will communicate with his friends in
America, and perhaps find for me my uncle,
Henri Mercier."
Hoffman listened to this calm recital in
amazement. His companion was resourceful,
to say the least.
“Mademoiselle Mercier has told you the
truth,” he said quietly. “I have promised to
assist her in any way that I can. From what
she tells me, I think her uncle may be found at
the Hotel Astor, in New York, or, possibly, at
the Waldorf.”
His manner was frank, his embarrassment


THE WEB
127
"Thank you, Patricia. I will.” In a mo-
ment she had gone.
Miss Liebmann in turn moved toward the
door.
“I think I had better go, too, monsieur," she
said.
The sallow young man, however, apparently
thought otherwise. He quietly closed the door.
"Wait a moment, miss,” he said. “My busi-
ness is with you, as well. Please explain to me
why you came here to see Mr. Hoffman."
“I came to ask him to help me find my uncle,
who lives in America."
The young man smiled.
“The excuse is a poor one,” he said. “I do
not believe it. You are looked upon by the
police as a suspicious character. I am inclined
to think that I had better place you under
arrest."
The girl gave Hoffman a quick and eloquent
glance, full of subtle appeal.
“Mr. Hoffman can vouch for the truth of
what I say,” she exclaimed.
The young man did not appear to be greatly
impressed.
“We know nothing of Mr. Hoffman," he said,
“except that he is an American war correspon-
dent. If I arrest you, I shall consider it my
duty to arrest him as well. He may be working
with you."


CHAPTER XII
IN spite of the hasty excuse given by Patricia
I to Bob Hoffman for her sudden appearance
at his rooms, Lord Brooke was not below, in his
motor car, but quietly reading in his library at
home. It was here that Patricia burst in upon
him, full of the adventures of the evening.
As she told her story, her brother's brow be-
gan to cloud. He seemed very much disturbed.
“How could you ever have done such a foolish
thing, Pat?” he asked, and began striding up
and down the room.
“I don't think it was foolish. The woman
might have been a spy. In fact, the man who
came in just as I left seemed to be of the same
opinion as I was.”
“You left him there?”
“Yes."
“And the seamstress as well?".
“Yes. She tried to go, but the fellow
would n't let her. From the way he acted I
rather think he must have been a special officer
of some sort, possibly from Scotland Yard."
130


THE WEB
131
“Good God!" Lord Brooke exclaimed.
“I'll have to look into this. It would never do
to have Bob locked up.” The thought seemed
to fill him with dismay.
“Why should they lock Bob up?" Patricia
asked. “Of course there may be something sus-
picious about the woman's actions but certainly
they would n't suspect him.”
“Why not, if he were found there with her?
It's the very first thing they would do.
There 's no doubt about it; I'll have to look
into this.” He rang for one of his servants
and ordered his car.
Some twenty minutes later he drew up before
the doorway of a magnificent building on the
Embankment, and after giving a few rapid
orders to his chauffeur, went inside. Some
words scribbled on a card quickly secured him
an audience with a middle-aged, grey-mous-
tached man, who received him with the greatest
consideration, and indicated a chair.
“I'm afraid you locked up my brother-in-
law, Austen,” Lord Brooke remarked. “That
won't do at all, you know."
The man opposite him glanced at a slip of
paper which lay before him.
“A stupid blunder,” he said, “and yet, I
can't blame my man at all.”
“How did it happen?"


132
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“Very simply. One of our inspectors was
detailed to watch your house, on account of that
new seamstress Lady Brooke has engaged.”
“Precisely. But surely he was instructed
not to arrest her-merely to keep her under
constant observation."
“Yes. That is true. Tonight the woman
went out, stopped at a shop, then went to Mr.
Hoffman's rooms. Unfortunately, your sister
undertook to conduct an investigation on her
own account, and followed the woman to Mr.
Hoffman's apartment. Our man considered it
wise to go up and see that nothing out of the
way occurred.”
“He should not have done so.”
“So I told him. A slight error in judgment.
But to resume. As soon as your sister left, the
inspector began to question Mr. Hoffman and
the woman. He could n't well do less, you see,
after having entered the place. While he was
doing so, Mr. Hoffman, who seems to be rather
a hot-headed young man, suddenly tripped the
inspector up, and called to the woman to escape,
which she did. After that, of course, there was
nothing to do but bring him here. The majesty
of the law must be upheld, you know."
“Just so. Had n't you better send for him?"
“By all means." He spoke a few words


THE WEB
133
through his desk telephone. “You can take him
along with you."
“And what about the woman?”.
“We 'll find her again, before long. I fancy
she will not return to your house, but I feel sure
she will communicate with Mr. Hoffman within
the next day or two. Naturally, we will keep
him under observation at all times. Ah!”_he
turned as Bob Hoffman entered the room, in the
care of a constable. He did not seem at all
cast down.
“Hello, Alan!” he exclaimed. “You got
here rather more quickly than I expected.
How did you know?”.
“Patricia told me enough to make me suspect
trouble. Why will you persist in carrying on
love affairs with attractive young seamstresses
from Paris?" He laughed heartily. "And
above all, why assault an officer of the law?
That is rather more serious, young man. I
have done my best with Mr. Austen here, but
I don't know whether he means to let you go
or not. If he does, it will be solely because of
his extreme good nature.”
Hoffman bowed to the grey-moustached man
at the desk.
“I assure you, sir,” he said, very quietly,
“that I acted from the best of motives."


134
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“No doubt, sir, no doubt. To succor young
ladies in distress is doubtless a commendable
action. But still, you have resisted an officer
of the law in the performance of his duty and
that is a decidedly serious matter. As it turns
out, however, no great harm has been done, and
therefore, I have decided to release you in the
custody of our friend, Lord Brooke, who has
undertaken to be responsible for your future
conduct.”
Again Hoffman bowed.
“I am deeply grateful to you, sir, for your
kindness," he said, “and I assure you I shall
do my best to justify it. I am sure you will see
that for the young woman to have been placed
under arrest while in my rooms would have been
a serious blow to her reputation."
“It was on that account, then, that you acted
as you did ?"
“Certainly. The woman had committed no
crime."
“I see. Well, Mr. Hoffman, let this be a
lesson to you, and in the future try to handle
your affairs of the heart with more discretion.
Good-day.”
“Good-day, sir.” Hoffman followed Lord
Brooke to the waiting motor car.
When they had taken their seats and were


THE WEB
135
headed for Exmouth Street, Hoffman turned to
his brother-in-law.
“Why is that young woman being followed
by the police?” he asked.
“Because, my dear fellow, she is suspected
of being a spy.”
"Then why, may I ask, did you permit Nelly
to engage her as seamstress?”
"Simply in order that she might incriminate
herself—and others. By giving her sufficient
rope, we hoped that she might hang herself.”
“I see.” Hoffman considered Lord Brooke's
reply for a long time in silence.
“Am I being watched also ?” he asked at
length.
“My dear fellow, why should the police be
interested in you? Is your conscience trou-
bling you?”
“No. Not that. But since the woman came
to see me at my rooms, they might conclude~"
“They have already concluded that Mademoi-
selle Mercier is young and good-looking. Ex-
tremely good-looking. Your taste, my dear
chap, is excellent.”
Hoffman remained silent. Somehow he felt
that Lord Brooke was not being frank with him.
Yet he could not for a moment believe that his
brother-in-law distrusted him, else why did he


136
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so freely confide in him, in matters of such vital
importance. The intangible web that had en-
meshed him, since his return from Rotterdam,
seemed to be drawing tighter and tighter. He
felt that his every move disturbed some thread,
communicated some intelligence to the secret
powers that for the time being governed his
life. Yet there was nothing for him to do but
go ahead, with supreme confidence in the ulti-
mate good of his work.
When they arrived at Exmouth Street the
hour was very late. Hoffman took leave of his
companion at once, and ascended to his rooms.
The place seemed just as he had left it. He
closed and locked the door, and throwing him-
self into a chair, lighted his pipe, and proceeded
to review mentally the events of the day.
He had scarcely seated himself when he heard
a sound from the bedroom adjoining, and a mo-
ment later a voice, low and distinct, came
through the curtained doorway.
“Please lower the shades," it said.
Hoffman sprang to his feet in astonishment.
The voice was entirely familiar to him. It was
that of Mademoiselle Liebmann. He stared at
the bedroom door in bewilderment.
“You must lower the shades at once,” the
voice repeated.
Hoffman did as he was told, thus preventing


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137
anyone from observing from outside the interior
of the room. As soon as the shades were
drawn, Miss Liebmann came through the cur-
tains before the bedroom door.
“What are you doing here?” Hoffman asked.
“I thought you had left the house."
“I did leave it, but only to go to a chemist's
shop in the next street. Then I came back. I
thought I would be safer here than anywhere
else in London."
“I don't understand,” Hoffman said, vaguely.
“I will explain everything to you quite
frankly, for I know, after what occurred tonight,
that you are heart and soul with our cause.
There is a building in the next street, in which
there is a chemist's shop, kept by one of our
people. His wife, an invalid, occupies a room
on the third floor, from the windows of which
she is able to keep a constant watch upon the
windows of this room. As soon as your signals
were made, she reported the fact to her hus-
band, and arrangements were made to communi-
cate with you. Last night, acting under in-
structions from headquarters, I wrote this man
a letter, telling him that, if you signalled to-
night, I would reply to the signal. I stopped
there, on my way to your rooms this evening,
to ascertain whether you had expressed a de-
sire to communicate with us, and on learning


138
THE WEB
that you had, I came and received your message.
By your prompt action in tripping up the police-
man I was able to escape, and give the message
to our friend, the chemist, who, himself, under-
took to see that it was forwarded at once. It
is undoubtedly in the hands of Herr Schwartz,
by now."
“But—why did you return here!”
“Where else could I go? The police are on
my track. To return to Lord Brooke's house
would have been to play into their hands.
And, now that you have demonstrated beyond
question your fidelity to our cause, my presence
there is no longer necessary. I decided that
here, in your rooms, would be the last place in
which the police would expect to find me tonight.
I came back at once.”
"And—do you expect to stay here the rest
of the night?”
“Certainly. When I came, I fully expected
to be alone. I had no idea that you would be
able to secure your freedom so quickly. How
did you manage to do it?"
“Easily enough. I sent for Lord Brooke. I
implied that you had come here because of an
amour between us. I explained my attack upon
the policeman, on the grounds that I could not
compromise your reputation by having you ar-
rested here in my rooms. Lord Brooke's in-


THE WEB
139
fluence was sufficient to insure my release.”'
“Lord Brooke suspects nothing, then?”
“Not so far as I am concerned. But you, it
appears, are under suspicion."
“I fully expected that, but it makes no differ-
ence. I am not needed in the matter any fur-
ther, at least at present. But one thing I must
tell you. Do not attempt to communicate in
future by means of the window-shade signals."
“Why not?"
“Because it would not be safe. The man who
chemist's shop. He will not believe that I went
there merely to buy a bottle of toilet water.
The place will be watched from now on. I have
advised our friends there to keep very quiet."
“Then how am I to communicate?”
“I do not know. I instructed our people to
transmit to Herr Schwartz, in addition to the
message about the transport, a full account of
the events of the evening. I rather suspect
that you will receive new orders from him.”
“How?"
“I cannot say. He has methods of his own.
But you will hear from him—of that I am sure."
“Then there is nothing more we can do to-
night?"
“Nothing. Not so far as our work is con-
cerned, at least.” She came up to Hoffman


140
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and put her hand on his arm. “I think you are
splendid. When you tripped that constable up,
I-my heart went out to you. I am glad that
the only place of safety for me in London to-
night was with you." She looked up into Hoff-
man's eyes, with an expression of sincere ad-
miration.
“I–I, too, am glad,” he stammered, thinking
of Patricia. Then he motioned to the curtained
doorway leading to the bedroom.
“You'd better turn in, had n't you? It 's
fearfully late. I 'll make myself comfortable
in this chair.”
The girl looked at him with darkening eyes.
“In this chair?” she questioned, her voice,
her manner indicating her disappointment.
“Yes. I trust you will be comfortable.
Good-night." He threw himself into the chair,
and took up his pipe.
“Good-night.” The girl went, almost re-
luctantly, to the bedroom door. Hoffman could
feel her eager eyes upon him, but he did not
turn. Before him rose the figure of Patricia,
the woman be loved. He set his teeth reso-
lutely upon the amber stem of his pipe.


CHAPTER XIII
DOB HOFFMAN did not sleep very well,
D in the chair, in his sitting-room. A con-
fused tangle of dreams filled his mind. He
thought that he had been arrested, that Herr
Schwartz was condemning him to be placed on
the deck of a transport loaded with British
troops, that a submarine arrived quite suddenly
and sank the transport leaving him struggling
in the waves, trying to support the figure of
Patricia, who appeared in the water at his side.
He tossed restlessly about during the remainder
of the night, and at dawn, was again smoking
his pipe, and wondering whether Miss Lieb-
mann, in the adjoining room, was asleep or
awake.
She settled this question very shortly by ap-
pearing through the bedroom doorway, fully
dressed, and wearing her hat and furs. Her
manner was cold, distant, showing none of the
cordiality she had exhibited the evening before.
“Good-morning," Hoffman said, rather lame-
ly. He knew the reason for the girl's coldness
141


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143
“We shall meet again, Mr. Hoffman,” she
said. “Until then, au revoir.” In a moment
she was gone.
Hoffman put down his pipe with a growl of
dissatisfaction. He realized fully that the
woman had made definite advances to him,
which he had rejected. She would hate him for
that. He hoped sincerely that her hatred would
not interfere in any way with the work he was
called upon to do.
After his breakfast had been brought, and
eaten, he made up his mind to go and see Pa-
tricia. He felt that he wanted to talk to her,
after the events of the evening. He wondered
whether Lord Brooke would feel called upon to
tell his sister the reason which the police had
assigned, to account for the visit of the Lieb-
mann woman to his rooms. The thought that
Patricia might believe him guilty of a cheap and
sordid affair with the little seamstress annoyed
him beyond measure.
There was much time to kill, before he could
present himself at Lord Brooke's. To appear
at eight o'clock in the morning was quite out of
the question. He sat down, and occupied him-
self with the morning paper.
Toward nine o'clock, the maid brought him
some letters which the postman had just left.
There were three, two of which were from ac-


144
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quaintances in America. The third proved to
be more interesting.
It was written on cheap paper, and the enve-
lope was addressed in a vague and uncertain
handwriting, and postmarked at London, late
the night before.
There were only a few words on the single
sheet which the envelope contained.
“Mr. S. at Antwerp desires to see you at
once,” the message read.
Hoffman slowly tore the letter into bits, and
threw them into the fireplace. Then, for
greater security, he struck a match and set fire
to the fragments. In a few moments they had
disappeared in smoke.
So Herr Schwartz desired to see him. He
wondered why. The information regarding the
transport had pleased him, perhaps. Hoffman
decided to set out at once.
First, however, he determined to see Patricia,
and as the hour was now half after nine he put
on his coat and made his way to the street.
Patricia received him in the library. She
was alone, and Hoffman thought her manner
somewhat distant. He wondered what Lord
Brooke had told her regarding the events of
the evening before.
“How do you do, Patricia,” he said, extend-
ing his hand.


THE WEB
145
The girl took it, but her smile was not as
spontaneous as usual.
“How are you, Bob,” she said. “Alan tells
me you had rather an unpleasant experience
last night."
“Yes, I was arrested. I wonder what has
become of that Mercier woman. Did she re-
turn here?”
“No. We have n't seen anything of her. It
appears that she was a spy, just as I thought.
I'm glad she's gone. There's no knowing
what she might have found out had she re-
mained here. Have you seen her?”.
“Why should I? I hope you don't think,
Patricia, that I had any interest in the girl?"
"No. I don't think anything about it. You
have a perfect right to feel interested in her, if
you wish. She is very pretty."
“Patricia! Please don't talk like that. How
could a girl like that mean anything to me?
She came, so she said, to ask my help in finding
her uncle."
“Do you think that was her real reason?"
“I don't know. She had only been at my
place a few moments when you came."
"Well, Bob. I confess I don't understand it
at all. I think the story of her uncle was made
out of whole cloth. She must have had some
other reason for coming to you."


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147
happen, that I love you with all my heart-
with all my soul. No,'—he raised his hand as
she began to speak—“I don't want you to an-
swer me, now. When I come back-when the
work I am trying to do is done—I shall tell you
again what I have told you today, and ask you
to marry me, too. But for the present, I ask
you nothing—not even to tell me whether or
not you care. But I just wanted you to know."
Patricia stood, quite still, listening in sur-
prise to his words. She tried twice to speak,
but did not seem able to find the words she
wanted. At last she put out her hand.
“I am not sorry for what you have told me,
Bob,” she said. “When you are ready to say
more, come to me, and—and I—" She hesi-
tated, faltered, grew very red, and turned away.
Hoffman took her hand, and raising it to his
lips, covered it with kisses.
“Thank you, Pat-thank you. I will come,
some time. There are things, now, which even
to you I cannot explain. But promise me this.
No matter what you may hear about me, no
matter how black things may look, don't con-
demn me, until you have heard both sides."
The girl looked at him in wonder.
“Both sides of what?” she exclaimed.
“What could I possibly hear about you, that
was not fine and good? I don't understand you,
Bob."


148
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“I know. And I can't explain. But re-
member what I tell you, and now, I'll say
good-bye."
"Good-bye, Bob. And good luck. I hope we'
shall see you very soon."
"I hope so too, Pat. Good-bye." He
turned, and without saying anything more, left
the room.
He returned at once to Exmouth Street, and
began to make the few preparations necessary
for his journey. He had about completed them
when the maid came to his rooms and informed
him that a gentleman was below, and wished to
see him. He did not give any name. Hoffman
told the girl to send him up.
While he was speculating as to who his visitor
might be, there came a knock on the door.
Hoffman, opening it, gave an exclamation of
surprise. The man who stood before him,
short, bronzed, heavily built, was the one who
had given him those memorable instructions,
some ten days before, that had resulted in his
going to Rotterdam.
The new arrival closed the door carefully
after him, and extended his hand.
“How are you, Mr. Hoffman?” he said.
“Very well. Won't you sit down?"
The man sank into a chair. His piercing
grey eyes took in the contents of the room.


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149
“I see you are going away," he said, eyeing
Hoffman's newly packed suitcase. “Where to,
may I ask?"
"To Rotterdam and Antwerp."
“Why?"
“Herr Schwartz has sent for me."
"Indeed! I trust he is not displeased with
your work.”
“On the contrary, I am informed that he is
delighted. I sent forward some news about a
transport, last night,"
“Oh-you got that, did you?" the man in-
terrupted.
“Yes. I rather think that I have been sent
for to receive congratulations, and perhaps
some new instructions. The existing arrange-
ments were somewhat upset, by the action of
the police, last night. You knew that I was ar-
rested?"
“Yes. It was most unfortunate, but I think
no harm will come of it. We have your brother-
in-law to thank for that. By the way–have
you seen anything of your-assistant?”.
“Yes. She was here this morning. In fact,
she spent the night here."
The older man laughed heartily.
“Good. We looked for her everywhere.
She showed excellent judgment. Did she say
where she was going?”.


THE WEB
151
quite right in effecting the woman's escape.
She had the message, I suppose.”
“Yes. And was charged with getting it to
Antwerp. I could n't afford to take any
chances."
“Quite right. Well, I 'm glad everything is
going so well. Get back as soon as possible,
and go on as before. When I want you, I 'll
send for you. Good-day.”
“Good-day." Hoffman bowed his visitor
out. A little later he took the boat train for
Harwich.
The journey across the channel was entirely
uneventful. Arriving as he did, late in the
evening, he was obliged to postpone his visit to
the German consul until the following day.
When, after a hearty breakfast, he saw the
gentleman, his reception was far more cordial
than it had been on the occasion of his previous
visit. He was ushered into the consul's
presence without the formality of waiting, and
received with enthusiasm.
“You wish to go straight on to Antwerp, not
so?!' the latter asked, when they were seated.
“Yes. I am expected.”
"Just so. Herr Schwartz has sent me word.
How are things in England ?”
“Very quiet. The English do not seem to
realize that they are at war."


152
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“They will realize it before long, the
scoundrels. When it is too late. Here this
is your passport." He passed the document
over to Hoffman. “May I offer you a glass of
schnapps?”
“No, thank you. A little too early in the day
for me. When is the next train?”.
“Not until noon, I think. The schedule is
somewhat irregular, but you can get the neces-
sary information at the railway station."
Hoffman bade the consul good-day, and,
satchel in hand, made his way to the depot.
Here he was informed that he would not be able
to leave for Antwerp until one o'clock. He ac-
cordingly spent the intervening time in looking
about the city.
Early in the afternoon he reached Antwerp,
and, as before, sought an interview with the
Military Governor. Here, as in Rotterdam,
he was very favorably received. The governor
informed him that Herr Schwartz was away,
and would not return for several hours. He
had left word, however, that Mr. Hoffman was
to meet him at six.
“But," Hoffman objected, "where am I to
meet him? Although I have been to his house,
I do not know where it is."
The governor allowed a faint smile to light
up his grim face.


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153
“Our friend Schwartz has no permanent ad-
dress," he said. “You will come here; at the
hour named, Herr Schwartz's secretary will be
waiting for you. Good-afternoon."
Hoffman left his satchel at a nearby hotel,
and proceeded to make an examination of the
shell-torn city For the first time since his de-
parture from America, he had an opportunity
to see some of the actual effects of the war.


CHAPTER XIV
I TOFFMAN'S second interview with Herr
11 Schwartz, the German secret service
agent, took place in a small room, a sort of
study, in a house not far from the Hôtel de
Ville. The agent's secretary, the young man
whom he addressed as “Carl," and who had
seen Hoffman to the train on the occasion of
his first visit, met him in the anteroom of the
Military Governor's offices, at six o'clock; he
greeted Hoffman pleasantly, in excellent
English, and together they proceeded to the
street.
The short walk to the house was made in
silence. Hoffman found himself wondering
whether Herr Schwartz occupied a different
house each day. He had heard, from some
source or other, that such individuals were wont
to appear in many different personalities, and
to change their habitats with amazing fre-
quency, in order that enemy spies might never
be able to locate them.
The entrance to the house was made by means
154


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155
of a narrow passageway, leading to a small
court. From the court, they passed to a long
corridor with a number of twists and turns in
it. When they finally reached the door of the
secret agent's study, Hoffman was quite unable
to tell whether they were in the building facing
on the street from which they had entered, or
another, on an entirely different street. The
man he sought hid himself away like a mole,
safe from all intrusion.
When, in response to the secretary's knocks,
the door swung slowly open, Hoffman glanced
eagerly inside the room. At a small desk,
beneath a green-shaded electric lamp, sat the
man he sought. At first, however, Hoffman did
not recognize him. Instead of the sombre black
of their former meeting, he wore a checked grey
suit, with a colored shirt and brilliant necktie,
and looked like a prosperous and sportily in-
clined commercial traveller. The fur-lined
overcoat and green velour hat on a chair near
the desk, the small leather satchel beside it, in-
dicated that he had just returned from a journey
of some sort. He flicked the ashes from his
cigar, nodded to the secretary, who at once with-
drew, and pointed to a chair. Hoffman sat
down.
“Well, my friend,” he said, in a brisk voice.
“You arrive promptly.”.


156
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Hoffman nodded.
“I was informed that you desired to see me
at once,” he said.
“Precisely. I am glad to see you. I have
an important commission with which I have de-
cided to entrust you”.
“Yes? Then I judge that you are satisfied
with my work, so far."
Herr Schwartz drummed lightly on the table
with his finger nails. Hoffman observed that
they were exquisitely manicured.
“You have done well—yes,” he said. “And
yet, your information has not been of very great
value.”
“Not of great value? The news about the
Falkland Islands? The transport?".
“The transport, it appears, was empty,”
Herr Schwartz replied gloomily. “Our U-47
sank her, early today. There were, un-
fortunately, no lives lost. The crew took to the
boats. The destroyers escaped. The loss of
the vessel inflicts a certain small damage upon
the enemy, it is true, but it was not what we had
expected.”
“I could not know that the vessel was in
ballast,” Hoffman objected. “I gave the infor-
mation as I secured it.”
“It is just there, my friend, that your work
is at fault. It has invariably been correct, but


THE WEB
159
von Spee be ordered to the Falkland Islands."
He paused, regarding Hoffman keenly.
“What condition?" the latter asked.
"That the English squadron is practically
without coal,” he replied, steadily.
“But—the vessels from South America."
“Steps have been taken to delay their de-
parture, even to prevent it altogether. As you
may perhaps know, we have a very efficient
organization throughout Brazil and the Argen-
tine. There will be strikes among the work-
men when the coal is being loaded. The engines
of the vessels will have been tampered with.
Explosive bombs will be placed aboard them,
along with the coal. Compasses will be put out
of order, wireless apparatus disarranged. I
feel safe in saying that not a pound of coal
will reach the Falkland Islands from South
America within the next thirty days. The
British will arrive there in less than fifteen."
“I see,” Hoffman exclaimed, filled with ad-
miration of the wonderful organization that
enabled these people to control events with such
perfect assurance, thousands of miles away.
“Now the point,” Herr Schwartz went on,
“is this. The British, of course, do not know
that we possess any information regarding the
destination of their fleet. They believe their
movements entirely unknown. They will arrive


160
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at the Falklands, with empty bunkers, expect-
ing to refill them from the supply from South
America. That supply not being on hand, they
will of course wait for it. Then will come our
chance. Von Spee will dash into the harbor
in the early morning, catch the British ships
with no steam up, sink them at their anchorages,
and depart, before they realize what has hap-
pened.”
“I see,” Hoffman gasped, almost terrified at
the vision thus presented to him. “You have
them at your mercy.”
“Not quite. We need information on one
point. Without it, we dare not act.”
“What is that?”
“The amount of coal at Port William. A
reliable agent of our government informed us,
six weeks ago, that the supply had then been
reduced to less than a thousand tons, a trifling
amount, when the needs of a large battle
squadron are to be considered. But that was
six weeks ago. Since then, additional supplies
may have been received. We are unable to
obtain any accurate information, although we
have repeatedly made the attempt. Only two
weeks ago, one of our agents who had managed
to reach the islands was arrested and shot,
We believe that the English authorities there
are taking extraordinary precautions to prevent


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that you must make the attempt. If you fail,
there is nothing lost, and von Spee will sail to
the east. If you succeed, it will mean a
glorious victory. I am authorized to pay you,
in cash, for the information I ask, one hundred
thousand marks!”
“It is a large sum!” Hoffman replied. “But
the news will be quite worth it."
“You accept?”' cried Herr Schwartz, regard-
ing him with eager eyes.
“On one condition.”
“Name it."
“That this shall be the last work I do for
you,” Hoffman replied.
“Why do you make that condition?" asked
Herr Schwartz, frowning.
“I will tell you. In the first place, the sum
of money you name will be ample for my needs.
I shall be satisfied with it."
“Yes. Go on. That is not your real reason.
One never has too much money."
“In the second place, the work is distasteful
to me."
“Conscience, eh?” the German sneered. “I
was afraid of that. You Americans are all
alike."
“It is not because I am an American," Hoff-
man retorted. “It is because I am doing a dis-


THE WEB
163
honorable thing. I am taking advantage of a
friend."
“So!” The secret agent gazed suspiciously
at the face of the man before him. “Young
man," he remarked at length, “I know your
real reason, and all I can say is, you are a
fool.”
“To what reason do you refer?” Hoffman
asked, hotly.
"To Lord Brooke's sister, Miss Patricia. I
have known for some time that your feelings
for her are more than those of a friend. The
young woman who is acting with you in London
has already informed me of that danger. She
tested you. She tried to attract you herself-
she in fact offered you her affections, and failed,
in spite of the fact that she has beauty enough
to attract any man who is not in love. In such
matters as this, it is always the woman who
comes in to upset our plans. You have fallen
in love with this English girl, and that is why
you wish to give up your work for us."
Hoffman flushed at the agent's words. He
seemed to be making a violent effort to control
himself.
“Is not what I say true?” Herr Schwartz
flung at him.
“Suppose it is,” Hoffman replied. "I am


THE WEB
165
right. Very well, it shall be as you say. But
on these conditions: First, you will send the
information when you obtain it, to me, by
Mademoiselle Liebmann. No other way will do,
and besides, I wish her to get safely out of
England. In the second place, you will come
here, to Antwerp, to collect your reward. Then
I shall know that you are not trying to play me
false. Also, should anything happen to prevent
Mademoiselle Liebmann from reaching me, I
shall obtain the information from you. In
affairs of such grave importance, we never trust
to a single messenger."
Hoffman considered the matter carefully for
a moment.
“Very well,” he said. “I will bring the in-
formation to you in person, and claim the re-
ward. I will also send it by Mademoiselle Lieb-
mann. Please instruct me as to how I am to
communicate with her, when the time comes."
“You will go to this address,” Herr Schwartz
replied, writing some words on a card. “It is
a tobacconist's shop just off the Strand. You
will ask for a tin of pipe tobacco. The man
who waits on you will ask you what kind. You
will say “Admiralty Mixture.' The man will
then put you in communication with Mademoi-
selle Liebmann."
“I see," Hoffman remarked. “That is all


THE WEB
167
“Nevertheless," he said, “it will do as I have
told you. More than that, you need not know."
Hoffman rose, and slipped the disc into his
waistcoat pocket.
“Very well,'' he said. “If it does n't, it will
be your loss, not mine. I assume that you wish
me to get through.”
“I do, most emphatically,” returned the
secret agent, rubbing his hands. “And you
will. When you get here, report to the Military
Governor, as you did before. I will leave in-
structions which will enable you to find me in-
stantly."
“Is there anything else?” Hoffman asked,
taking up his hat.
“Only this. Try to get the information you
are after at as late a date as possible. While
there may be no coal at Port William today,
some might arrive, from unexpected sources,
next week. I estimate that the English
squadron will not arrive for two weeks more,
at the least. Let your information coincide, as
nearly as possible, with the time of their ar-
rival."
“Very good. I shall report in two weeks.
Good-night.”
A few moments later, Hoffman was engaging
a room at a nearby hotel.


CHAPTER XV
THE next ten days of Bob Hoffman's life
were entirely uneventful, in singular con-
trast with those which had immediately pre-
ceded them. All the intrigue, the danger, the
double-dealing by which he had been sur-
rounded seemed to have vanished. He saw no
more of Mademoiselle Liebmann, he had no
further visits from the police, he sent no
mysterious messages, and received none. In-
stead, he spent the greater part of his time go-
ing about with Patricia Brooke, glad to act as
her escort, to the meetings of various patriotic
societies in the work of which she was in-
terested. It was not very exciting, but Hoff-
'man derived a great deal of happiness from it.
He had met Patricia, on his return, in a some-
what shamefaced way. The situation was
rather absurd. Two days before he had con-
fessed his love to the girl, and had parted from
her as though he did not expect to see her
again, for a long time. He had been obliged
to do that, for, having pretended that he was
going to Rotterdam, in order to, if possible,
168


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169
reach the front, it necessarily followed that
success in his efforts would keep him away from
London for months. He had every reason to
believe, when he left, that his stay would be a
matter of hours only. To explain his quick re-
turn was difficult; he said, in a few words, that
a friend in Rotterdam had tried to get him
entrance to Belgium, but that the effort had
failed. He could say no more—there was, in-
deed, no more to say. The resulting situation
was very much in the nature of an anti-climax.
He was reminded of the King of France, and
his ten thousand men, who marched up the hill,
and then marched down again. Patricia, how-
ever, received his explanations without com-
ment. If the truth were known, she was rather
glad to have the young American back again.
Since his declaration of love for her, Patricia
Brooke's heart had been beating with consid-
erable irregularity, especially when Hoffman's
name was mentioned by her brother or Lady
Brooke.
Neither she nor Hoffman, however, referred
again in any way to this declaration. It had
been made on the eve of parting. In such cir-
cumstances, it was perhaps appropriate. To go
back to it, now that Hoffman had so promptly
returned, was impossible. Both knew that the
time for doing so had not yet arrived.


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Hoffman asserted, with positiveness, that
within two weeks, or three at the outside, he
would be given every facility to go to the
trenches. He would not tell Patricia why he
felt so supremely confident of this. “I can't
explain just now," he told her. “But you will
see that I am right. My plans are being laid
very carefully."
There the matter had ended. They met each
other as dear friends. Hoffman's visits to his
sister's house were frequent; in fact scarcely a
day passed but he and Lord Brooke met. Yet
his lordship vouchsafed him no further con-
fidences. He did not once make the slightest.
reference to the affairs of his office. The fast
battle cruiser squadron under Sturdee seemed
to have passed entirely from his mind.
Hoffman began to feel some anxiety, as the
days wore on, and at last summoned up courage
to ask his brother-in-law a direct question.
“Any news from Sturdee?" he said one day
at tea, in the most off-hand way.
“Not a line,” Lord Brooke had replied, very
promptly. "We shan't hear, you know, until
he reaches his destination."
"Not even by wireless?”.
“No. Too dangerous. The Germans tap
our wireless messages continually. We 'll get
word by cable, when he arrives. There 's a


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171
cable station there, you know. But not before."
Hoffman, realizing that for the present he
could do no more, resigned himself to im-
patiently waiting. But as the end of the two
weeks designated by Herr Schwartz ap-
proached, he began to grow more and more
anxious, and made it a point to spend an hour
or two at Lady Brooke's every day.
Patricia noticed his nervousness, and com-
mented upon it.
“What on earth is the matter with you, Bob?
You are certainly not yourself. Why-over
and over I say things to you, only to find that
you have n't even heard me. This morning I
asked you if you were dreaming, and you said
“Yes,' in the most matter-of-fact way, just as
though you really had been.”
“Perhaps I was," Hoffman replied with a
smile. “I do a lot of it, now-a-days."
“What about?" she teased.
“Oh-plans I have under way, and—you."
“Anyone might suppose, from what you
say, that I had something to do with your-
plans.”
“You have. Everything. I can't explain
them to you, of course, but they concern us both,
vitally. You see, Pat, I have n't forgotten what
I said to you a few days ago, before I left for
Rotterdam. Of course, my coming back so soon


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must have seemed rather silly to you, and all
that. But don't think for a moment that I have
given up. I've got something tremendous
under way. I can't tell you what it is--indeed,
I am afraid, if you knew, you 'd rather hate
me for it, but that can't be helped. I'm going
to the front, just as I've always said I would,
and it won't be long, either, before I start."
“All this is very mysterious," Patricia
laughed gaily. “To hear you talk, anyone
might suppose that you had the weight of
nations on your shoulders."
"Perhaps I have,” Hoffman rejoined,
quickly, then changed the subject.
The fourteenth day after his interview with
Herr Schwartz passed as uneventfully as all the
others had done. He had not seen Patricia
during the forenoon—some shopping, a visit to
the hairdresser's, had occupied her. He ·
lunched alone, and, as was his habit, dropped in
at Lady Brooke's for tea. He had none of the
Englishman's keen love for the beverage, but
the function made of it pleased him. At the
tea hour, business, one's own personal affairs,
were forgotten. The little group that gathered
at Lord Brooke's discussed politics, principally,
and the war. Hoffman listened. It always
surprised him, to hear women, English girls,
such as Patricia, talk of ministers, and cabinet


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173
men
crises, and measures of public safety, with a
freedom and insight quite foreign to the women
of his own country.
On this particular afternoon there were
several guests, women, all but one, an attaché
of one of the Allied legations. Lord Brooke
himself, contrary to his usual habit, was not
present. Perhaps, Hoffman thought, the work
at the Admiralty had been more pressing than
usual. He hoped so, hoped that it concerned
the arrival of the squadron at Port William.
He seemed able to think of nothing else, these
past few days. It was a great relief to him
when, upon the departure of her guests, Lady
Brooke asked him to stay on for dinner.
“I'm worried about you, Bob,” his sister
said. “You look pale, worn, out of sorts.
Why don't you go to Paris for a change? After
all, if the English War Office won't let you go
to the front, there are others. In France, I
am told, they are not so particular. And if you
could n't do more, you might at least visit the
battlefield of the Marne. I read a most in-
teresting account in one of our American
magazines, the other day, of the destruction of
the villages in that section."
Hoffman thanked his sister for her sugges-
tion but showed no inclination to act upon it.
"I have other plans,” he said, shortly. “I


THE WEB
175
cigar? Lieutenant Forbes, who has just re-
turned from the West Indies, has sent me over
some fine ones—real vuelta tobacco. Come
along."
They passed down the hall together, and
entered the study. It was a small, cozy room
at the rear of the drawing- and music-rooms,
from the latter of which it was separated by a
curtained doorway. The curtains were closed,
but the door itself was not. Hoffman knew
that Patricia was in the music-room adjoining,
for he could hear her, playing very softly, on
the piano. Lord Brooke, as he entered the
study, closed behind him the door leading to the
hall.
“Have a chair,” he said, throwing himself
into a seat before the carved Jacobean table,
and taking a box of cigars from one of its
drawers.
Hoffman sat down in an easy chair between
the table and the music-room door. Lighting
his cigar, he waited nervously for Lord Brooke
to speak. He did not dare question him, but
in some intangible way he felt that his com-
panion, over his after-dinner cigar, would re-
sume the frank and communicative mood that
had been so noticeably a feature of their rela-
tions in the past..
"Splendid cigar!” Hoffman observed, allow-


178
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“But do you mean to say there was n't any
stored at Port William?".
“Not a ton. At least not enough to be of any
service. We had counted on the vessels from
South America."
“What can he do, then?”
“Nothing, but trust to Providence, and wait
the arrival of the three coal ships now on the
way."
“Rather a serious situation," Hoffman re-
marked, chewing nervously on his cigar.
“Damned serious. Look here." The Eng-
lishman drew a sheet of paper from his pocket
and laid it upon the desk. Hoffman saw that
it was in the form of a dispatch, written in long-
hand upon the official letter paper of the
Admiralty office. “Here is a transcript of
Sturdee's message,” Lord Brooke went on.
“It was sent in code, of course. Is it any
wonder we are disturbed?” He passed the
document over to Hoffman for his inspection.
The latter read it with breathless interest.
“Arrived at Port William noon today. No
coal at hand. Hurry vessels from mainland.
Am helpless until they arrive."
“And you have heard nothing of the three
vessels for which he is waiting?"
“Nothing. They seem to have vanished com-
pletely. All were equipped with wireless, of


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179
course, but our attempts to pick them up have
failed. Sturdee is in a serious plight.”
“You have done nothing to remedy matters,
I suppose?" Hoffman asked.
“Yes. All that we could. Additional ves-
sels have been ordered to the Falklands, from
the nearest shipping points on the mainland.
But think of the loss of time. It may be two
weeks before the difficulty is remedied. In that
time, the Germans may have escaped, or, what
is worse, they may learn of Sturdee's situation,
and attack. The result would be a tragedy for
the fleet, for the whole nation."
Hoffman made no reply. With tense interest
he gazed at the paper in his hands. Something
told him that, in some way, he must obtain
possession of it. To report the matter, ver-
bally, to Herr Schwartz, would no doubt be
sufficient, but to hand to his employer the
written proof-that, indeed, would be indis-
putable evidence of the truth of his statements.
And just then, as though fate had suddenly de-
cided to play into his hands, one of the servants
came to the door of the study, and informed
Lord Brooke that someone wanted to speak to
him over the telephone.
The instrument was located in an alcove be-
tween the dining-room and the library. Hoff-
man rose, as his companion did, and handed him


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“Where is Alan?” she asked.
“He was called away-to the Admiralty of-
fice. He said he would n't be back until late.”
The girl put her hands to her head, and went
toward the door.
“You must pardon me, Bob,” she said, in a
dull, hopeless voice. “I-I have a terrible
headache. I think I shall go upstairs." Al-
most before Hoffman realized it, she had left
him.
What had happened to so change her manner
toward him? Had she seen him copying the
cable dispatch? That in itself would have told
her nothing; the paper might readily have been
his own. Then he remembered that, but an
instant before, he had deliberately taken that
paper from one of the drawers of his brother-
in-law's desk. If Patricia had seen that, he
could very well understand her agitation. But
had she? He longed desperately to know, yet
his duty lay before him, brooking no delay.
But one thing occupied his mind, to find
Mademoiselle Liebmann, and put her in posses-
sion of the contents of the dispatch as quickly
as possible.
Lady Brooke, coming in at that moment, in-
quired for Patricia. Hoffman told her that the
girl had complained of a headache, and gone to
her room.


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183
“I'm obliged to be off myself, Nelly," he
said.
“What's your hurry?" his sister asked.
“Why don't you stop a while, and talk to me?"
“I'd love to, but really, there's a matter
I 've got to attend to at once. And, Nelly, if
I don't appear, in the morning, tell Patricia
I've been obliged to leave London for a while.”
“Why_where are you going?"
“To Rotterdam, perhaps. After that I can't
say.".
“For long?"
“I can't tell you that, either. You know my
plans."
"Well, Bob. I must say, all this is very sud-
den. You did n't say anything about it at
dinner.”
“No. I've only made up my mind, during
the past half hour. Good-bye. And don't for-
get to tell Pat." He shook his sister's hand,
kissed her quickly on the cheek, and was gone.
Lady Brooke, with a quiet smile, went up to in-
quire after Patricia. Hoffman, on his part,
made his way as quickly as possible to his
rooms.


CHAPTER XVI
TT was not an aching head that sent Patricia
1 Brooke so precipitately to her room, there
to burst into sobs upon the pillows of a couch.
Rather it was an aching heart. She had softly
drawn aside the curtains between the music-
room and her brother's study, knowing that
Hoffman was sitting there alone, and meaning
playfully to surprise him. As matters turned
out, it was she herself who was surprised. Just
as the opening between the soft folds of velvet
became large enough for her to perceive the
interior of the study, Hoffman leaned forward,
drew open one of the desk drawers and took out
the despatch. With eyes wide from amazement
and horror, Patricia saw him take out his note-
book and begin to copy it. She glimpsed the
official heading of the document, realized that it
pertained to Admiralty business, then fell back
with a gasp as Hoffman turned toward her.
That he had not seen her, she knew, and for
this she was thankful. Whatever he had done,
it would have been infinitely worse for him to
have realized that she had detected him in his
theft. Caring for him as she did, she in vain
184


THE WEB
185
strove to find some palliation, some excuse, for
his deceit. She could discover none. The
paper belonged to her brother. Hoffman had
deliberately taken it from the desk drawer, and
stolen its contents, if not the document itself.
And it referred to official business—business,
perhaps, entailing the utmost secrecy. In all
her life Patricia Brooke had never experienced
so bitter a shock. To think that the brother
of her sister-in-law, and, more than all, the
man she loved, could have descended to so base,
so contemptible an action! It was incredible.
Almost she began to doubt the reality of what
she had seen. There must be some explanation.
If she could only have talked with her brother.
But Lord Brooke was at the Admiralty, where
he could not be disturbed, hence even that con-
solation was denied her. Her anger, her cha-
grin, her humiliation, found vent in sobs.
It was thus that Lady Brooke came upon her,
and presently extracted from her an account of
what had happened.
The older woman at first refused to believe
what Patricia told her. It was too grotesque,
too absurd. Her brother, Bob Hoffman, was
incapable of such an action; she knew him better
than that. But when Patricia reiterated her
story, with all its incriminating details, she be-
came convinced that Patricia had at least seen


186
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what she described, whatever explanation of
the circumstances might come later on to relieve
Bob of the stain upon his character. She sat
down beside the girl, and tried to evolve some
plausible theory for her brother's action, but
she could find none. In fact, the more she
thought about the matter, the worse it seemed.
“Patricia,” she whispered, in an agonized
voice to her sister-in-law, “Bob, when he left,
asked me to say good-bye to you. He said he
might not see you again for a long time.”
“Why not?” The girl sat up, drying her
eyes. "Is he going away?”
“Yes. He said he expected to leave for
Rotterdam immediately."
Patricia rose to her feet, her face white.
“Nelly,” she cried. “I hate to say such a
thing, but don't you see what this sudden de-
parture means? Don't you see the reason for
it? There was no such reason, at dinner. But
after dinner, your brother finds—steals, not to
mince matters, an important paper from Alan's
desk. Suppose that paper contains informa-
tion of value to the enemy. Would not its
possessor go to the Continent at once, in order
to dispose of it?"
Lady Brooke, with flushed cheeks, turned
angrily upon her companion.
“Patricia !” she cried. “How can you say


190
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don't know when I shall be back. I'm going
to find Bob Hoffman, if it takes me all night."
With flushed cheeks and flying hair she rushed
to the hall below and ordered her electric car
to be brought out at once.
Lady Brooke no longer attempted to dissuade
her. The horror of the situation had almost
broken her heart. In spite of the attempts she
made to defend her brother, she was forced to
admit to herself that the evidence was sorely
against him. And still she could not bring her-
self to believe that Bob was capable of such
treachery. In a state of utter dejection she
awaited her husband's return.
Patricia departed in stony silence, and at top
speed drove to Exmouth Street. She scarcely
hoped to find Bob there, but it was necessary for
her to make the attempt. A sense of hope-
lessness swept over her. Suppose he was not
there. What could she do then? She drove
her motor at greater speed, realizing that at
Exmouth Street lay her only hope.
The street was dark and gloomy, and as she
swept into it from the Farrington Road, she
reduced her speed, and proceeded slowly along
the curb. The houses on the other side were
silent, and for the most part unlighted. She
stopped her car opposite the one in which Hoff-


THE WEB
191
man had his rooms, and tried to make up her
mind what to do next.
She could wait for a time, of course, in the
hope that he might come out. But, if by chance
he had already left the place, she might sit
where she was indefinitely, without accomplish-
ing anything. Clearly it was necessary to
determine, at once, whether or not Hoffman was
within. She had just reached this decision, and
placed her hand upon the catch of the door
of the car, when a sudden light in the entrance
of the house opposite made her pause. Then
she caught a glimpse of Hoffman, carrying a
satchel, leaving the place. The sudden closing
of the door behind him, shut off the light. Only
a dim figure in the gloom of the street remained
to indicate that she had really seen anyone at
all.
Patricia's first impulse was to jump from the
car, to call to him, to tax him at once with the
theft of the paper and demand an explanation.
Then she realized the hopelessness of such
action on her part. Hoffman would, no doubt,
offer some plausible excuse, pretend to be hurt,
angry, and leave her, with nothing actually ac-
complished. She felt that it would be better,
could she find out what he was about to do-
to confront him in some compromising situation.


192
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Was he, perhaps, on his way to meet Mademoi-
selle Mercier, the former seamstress? A feel-
ing of jealousy arose in the girl's heart. She
did not open the door of the car, but instead,
turned and proceeded up the street some
hundred or more feet in Hoffman's rear.
At the corner, the young American jumped
into a cab. Patricia was glad of this, as she
was able to follow without attracting his at-
tention. After about a quarter of an hour, the
cab ahead of her stopped before a small tobacco
shop, just off the Strand. Patricia saw Hoff-
man get out, enter the place, and purchase a
tin of tobacco. This he proceeded to open;
then, having filled and lighted his pipe, he re-
entered the cab and drove off.
Again Patricia followed, this time for nearly
half an hour. When at last the pursuit ended
before a small detached house in a gloomy and
to her quite unknown square, she saw Hoffman
dismiss the cab, and quickly enter the place.
Patricia's heart was in her mouth. Here, she
instinctively felt, was to be found a solution
of the ghastly problem that had been torturing
her soul for the past hour.
As she saw Hoffman get out of the cab, and
enter the house, she at once made up her mind
to follow him. She waited for a moment, until
the door had closed, and then, leaving her car,


194
THE WEB
set in a mask, hard as flint, she hurried through
the gate and began to look for a policeman.
The search did not take long. Scarcely had
she gained the sidewalk when she saw an officer
approaching from the direction of the corner,
attracted, no doubt, by the presence of her
motor in this quiet square. It did not take
her long to explain to the man who she was,
and why she desired his help.
“A valuable paper, containing government
secrets, was stolen from my brother's study
this evening. Lord Brooke was not at home,
at the time. The man who committed the theft
is in this house, delivering the paper to a
woman who, I have reason to believe, is a Ger-
man spy. I followed him here. They must
both be arrested at once."
The officer perceived, from her excitement,
that she was thoroughly in earnest. Without
further parley, he entered the gateway, and
proceeded to the door of the house, with
Patricia at his heels.


CHAPTER XVII
W ITH the copy of the cablegram from
V Admiral Sturdee safely in his coat
pocket, Bob Hoffman left his sister and pro-
ceeded at once to his rooms in Exmouth Street.
He was rather glad that Patricia had pleaded
a headache, and left him, since explanations of
his hasty departure were thus rendered un-
necessary.
There were several reasons for his going
at once to his rooms, not the least of which was
the necessity of packing his satchel. He deter-
mined, in seeking Mademoiselle Liebmann, to
take his luggage along with him, since he had
no means of knowing where she might be,
whether in London, or out of it, and it was
clearly the part of wisdom to be prepared to
leave for Antwerp at the earliest possible
moment.
The operation of packing did not take very
long. He glanced once more at the despatch
he had thrust into his pocket, then placed it
195


196
THE WEB
carefully in an inside compartment of his
pocketbook, along with the mysterious brass
disc given him by Herr Schwartz. A mem-
orandum of his instructions, the address of the
tobacconist, he re-read, in order to refresh his
memory, then burnt in the fireplace. Half an
hour after entering the house, he was ready to
set out again.
Perhaps one of the strongest reasons for his
determination to take his satchel with him, and
not return again before leaving for Antwerp,
arose from a very definite fear that Lord
Brooke might discover the loss of the despatch,
and come to him in search of it. Such a con-
tretemps must, he realized, be avoided at all
costs. Picking up his satchel, and turning off
the lights, he slipped noiselessly downstairs
and left the house.
The tobacconist's shop being some distance
away, Hoffman hailed a cab. He did not ob-
serve the small electric brougham that turned
the corner just as he drove off. In fact, his
mind was far too deeply concerned with the
business of the moment, to render him very
observant of external things. He had before
him a perilous adventure, one that might very
readily cost him his life. He sat back in the
cab, his eyes closed, revolving in his mind the
problem that confronted him.


THE WEB
197
It seemed but a few moments before the
cab drew up in front of the tobacconist's shop.
Hoffman, leaving his satchel in the cab, entered,
and glanced curiously about.
There were two men behind the counter, one
a young fellow, with watery blue eyes and light
hair, the other a heavy dark man, perfectly
bald and wearing a huge pair of spectacles with
rims of tortoise shell. The dark man was busy
over his books, and his assistant came to take
Hoffman's order.
“I'd like a tin of pipe tobacco," Hoffman
said, in a loud voice.
“Yes, sir. What kind, sir?” the young man
asked with an ingratiating smirk.
“Admiralty Mixture," Hoffman responded,
his eye on the man with the spectacles.
“Admiralty Mixture!” the clerk exclaimed.
"Never heard of it, sir. We can give
you"
“I'll wait on this gentleman, Arthur,” the
proprietor said, rising quickly from his stool
and fixing Hoffman with a look of keen interro-
gation. “We have n't the brand you want,
sir,” he went on, "but we put up a very fine
mixture of our own." He reached into a
drawer below the counter and took out a four
ounce tin. “Here is something that I can
recommend most highly, sir. I am sure it will


198
THE WEB
be exactly what you want.” He gave a
significant wink.
Hoffman gravely took the can of tobacco,
and paid for it. Then he drew his pipe from
his pocket, and opened the can. Upon the top
lay a slip of paper, some two inches long and
perhaps an inch wide. He noticed that there
was writing on it. Thrusting it into his over-
coat pocket, he proceeded to fill and light his
pipe, and at once left the shop.
When he had entered the cab, he took the
slip of paper from his pocket, and examined
it by the light of a match. It contained nothing
but an address. Leaning out, he communi-
cated this to the driver of the cab, who at once
started off.
In half an hour the cab drew up at a small
detached house, at one side of a dejected look-
ing square. There was an iron railing in front
of the place, and the house stood some distance
back of it, in a little patch of ground now
covered with dirty snow. Satchel in hand,
Hoffman stepped to the sidewalk, and having
dismissed the cab, made his way to the front
door of the house.
There was no sign of a bell, but a rusted iron
knocker was affixed to the door. He lifted the
knocker, and gently allowed it to fall.
For several moments there was no response.


THE WEB
201
“And what about you?” asked the girl, her
eyes on the young American's face. “Are you
to cross, too?"
“Yes."
“I'm glad of that.” She rose, and coming
over to Hoffman, stood looking down at him
with an eager expression. “In fact, I hope
that you will not be able to return to England
again."
“Why?"
“Don't you know?" A faint flush suffused
the woman's features. “I do not expect to re-
turn, either. It is my hope that we may be
able to see each other-often—when this is
over."
Hoffman realized for the second time that
the girl was showing more than a professional
interest in him. He felt embarrassed, a bit
afraid. Was this, also, a test?
“I hope so, too,” he said, pretending a satis-
faction he did not feel. “We shall be good
friends, shall we not?”.
"Friends!" Miss Liebmann put out her
hand, and Hoffman took it. “More than
friends, I trust, Mr. Hoffman,” she whispered,
pressing his fingers in hers. “But we are
losing time." She glanced at the watch on her
wrist. "What message am I to take to Herr
Schwartz?"


THE WEB
203
paper into her bosom. “I shall leave at once.
Wait here, until I get my hand satchel. I shall
not be a moment.” With a smile she ran from
the room, and ascended the stairs.
Hoffman sat in deep thought, awaiting her
return. Once or twice a grim smile crossed his
face. All about him was silent. He could
hear nothing but the faint patter of his com-
panion's footfalls, as she crossed the room over
his head.
Suddenly a more distinct sound vibrated
against his consciousness. It was the clang
made by the closing of the iron gate before
the house. Almost immediately he heard the
clatter of footsteps approaching the front door.
With a cry of dismay he sprang to his feet.
Mademoiselle Liebmann had heard the
sounds as well, for she came precipitately down
the stairs, her coat over her arm, a small
leather bag in one hand.
“What is it?" she gasped. “What has hap-
pened?"
As though in answer to her question, there
came a heavy pounding on the front door.
“What shall we do?" Hoffman whispered.
“It won't do to open it.”
“No-no. Let me think!” The girl stood
leaning against the newel post of the staircase,
her face white with terror.


204
THE WEB
UOUI.
“Shall I ask who is there?” said Hoffman,
going toward the door.
Scarcely had he spoken, when there came
a crash as of a battering ram against the door,
its fastenings gave way, and a burly police-
man, truncheon in hand, burst into the hall.
Behind him Hoffman perceived the figure of
Patricia Brooke. For a moment, so great was
his surprise, he was unable to speak.
Mademoiselle Liebmann acted more quickly.
She turned like a flash and started toward the
rear of the hall.
“Give me two minutes,” she cried, "and I
can get away. Hold them-hold them!”
The policeman and Patricia both perceived
that their quarry was about to escape.
“Bob!” screamed the latter. “Help us!"
The officer wasted no time in idle requests.
“Get out of my way!” he roared, and sprang
forward, truncheon raised.
Hoffman sprang at him with equal deter-
mination. There was no time to be lost.
Lowering his head, so as to escape the coming
blow, he plunged with outstretched arms at the
policeman's legs. It was a manœuver not un-
familiar to him, since he had practiced it many
a day, on the football field at home.
The policeman's truncheon descended harm-
lessly upon his back. At the same time, grasp-


206
THE WEB
“Oh-don't!" the girl looked down at the lat-
ter's blood-stained head. “He's badly hurt."
“Good enough for him," the policeman
muttered. “Get up here, young fellow!" He
jerked Hoffman, who had begun to revive, to
his feet. Patricia turned away.
The blow on his head had been a stunning
one, but it had done no more than cut open the
skin and flesh. The skull itself was not frac-
tured. The policeman grasped his prisoner by
the arm.
“Come along with me," he said, going
toward the door. “I'll put him. in charge,
miss, as soon as I get some help. The house
has got to be searched.”
Patricia led the way to the street. Her heart
was broken. It seemed to her, after what had
just occurred, that she did not care whether
she lived or died.


CHAPTER XVIII
M ADEMOISELLE LIEBMANN had made
IVT her plans for leaving London with the
utmost care. The proprietor of the tobacco
shop near the Strand, from whom Hoffman
had secured her address, owned a fast motor
car. It was not paid for from the proceeds of
his tobacco business, which indeed, was a blind,
as was his name, Lascelles, and his alleged
French nationality. On the contrary, the ex-
penses to which he was put, in the matter of mo-
tor cars, and many other things, were defrayed
by funds supplied by the far-reaching hand of
Herr Schwartz.
This fast motor car had been waiting for
two days, in readiness for instant departure,
in a small private garage maintained by the
tobacconist a short distance from the house
in which Mademoiselle Liebmann and Hoffman
met. It was, in consequence, a simple matter
for the former, after making her escape through
the rear gateway of the place, to reach the
207


208
THE WEB
garage, and at once begin her flight. Before
the overthrown constable had so much as
reached the rear door by which she had
escaped, the girl was on her way out of
London.
The vehicle was a closed one. In a card-
board box on the rear seat were a wig, a hat
and veil, a pair of eye-glasses. A rough
· travelling coat lay beside it. By the time the
motor had progressed the distance of a mile,
the woman who sat in the tonneau had so
changed her appearance that while she might
have been taken for a middle-aged school
teacher, she certainly bore no resemblance to
the young and handsome girl who had dashed
into the garage so short a time before.
The chauffeur asked for no instructions.
He had apparently been well schooled in his
part. With set face, and an expression of
calm determination he threaded the dark
London streets, and, when the outskirts of the
city had been reached, set off at high speed
toward the southeast. He had made the trip
many times before. The modest Mr. Lascelles,
proprietor of a small tobacco shop, still main-
tained a summer cottage near Deal. Being
extravagantly fond of the water, he also
possessed a fast, sea-going motor boat. Just
at present it lay, idle for the winter, in a small


210
THE WEB
imperturbable, had not spoken since the boat
left Deal.
At the expiration of some four hours, and
just as the dawn was beginning to break, the
little craft ran swiftly alongside a deserted
pier at Ostend. There was a sentry at the
dock, but a few whispered words from the
woman sent him flying for his superior officer.
A conference of some moments with the latter
resulted in Mademoiselle Liebmann landing,
while the motor boat turned its nose seaward.
Late in the forenoon the girl descended from
a railway carriage at Antwerp. Her entire
journey had not occupied over twelve hours.
She sought Herr Schwartz at once, and
found him at his office, close to the Hôtel de
Ville. Carl, the secret agent's secretary,
greeted her with a smile. Then he went in
to announce her arrival to his superior.
“No. 16 has just arrived from London," he
said.
Herr Schwartz muttered an exclamation of
satisfaction.
“Show her in at once,” he said. When
Mademoiselle Liebmann entered the room, his
features had resumed their impenetrable mask.
“Sit down," he said, indicating a chair.
“You bring good news?”
“Yes."


THE WEB
213
getting anything through that we want. In
disguised code, of course,” he added, as he
turned toward the telephone instrument which
stood at his elbow.
Mademoiselle Liebmann felt, rather than
saw, that the interview had reached an end.
She rose.
“My money,” she said. “I have spent all
that I had."
“H-m!” The secret agent grunted.
“Make up your account of expenses and give
it to me in the morning. Your salary, too, will
be paid at the same time. Report here at nine
o'clock. I may want you to go to Paris."
“Paris!" the girl exclaimed.
“Why not? You still have the papers of
Mademoiselle Mercier, have you not?"
“Yes."
“Very well. Bring them with you. That is
all, for tonight."
Mademoiselle Liebmann at once withdrew.
As for Herr Schwartz, after a long conversa-
tion over the telephone he rose and put on his
hat and coat.
“Carl," he said to his secretary, folding up
the document that Mademoiselle Liebmann had
brought him and placing it carefully in his
pocket. “I am obliged to leave for a few
hours, but I shall return before midnight.


214
THE WEB
Leave word with Becker, at the office of the
Military Governor, that if the American, Hoff-
man, arrives, he is to be detained until I send
for him. That is all.”
“Very good!” The secretary bowed. “You
will want me to wait, of course?".
“Of course. But Heinrich and the others
may go. With the exception of Hoffman, I
shall see no one tonight.”


THE WEB
217
he said, “I want this message taken to the
address written upon it."
The surgeon took the paper and looked at
it.
"Some friend of yours?” he asked, sus-
piciously.
“Never mind about that. All I ask is, that
while I am waiting here, this message be de-
livered. It is vitally important. I can say no
more."
The surgeon glanced at the constable, who
stood close by.
"Any objection to this being sent?” he asked.
“Not as I know of," the other replied,
6seein' as it contains nothin' but a bloomin'
thumb print and a number."
Hoffman handed him a sovereign.
“This is for the messenger," he said. “I
shan't want any change."
The constable grinned, and went toward the
door.
“I'll attend to the matter, sir,” he said.
“And please ask the messenger to hurry,”
Hoffman called after him. “I want to get an
answer, here, before I leave."
“I fancy you 'll do that all right, my friend,”
the surgeon laughed, dipping his sponge in the
antiseptic solution. “I've got a dozen stitches
to put in your scalp before I 'm through with


THE WEB
219
constable followed, and they presently entered
a doorway, and found themselves in a large,
dimly lighted hall.
At a door some distance down, on one side,
the young man halted, and knocked. A gruff
voice bade them enter. Hoffman's companion
opened the door and, standing aside, allowed
him to pass into the room.
At a large desk a heavily built man sat, writ-
ing. He glanced up with a frown.
“You will wait outside, Northrup,” he said.
“I wish to see this gentleman alone.”
“And the constable?”
“I shall not require him further."
The man addressed as Northrup stood for a
moment in surprise, then left the room, closing
the door carefully after him.
Hoffman took a step forward, regarding the
other occupant of the room with eager interest.
It was the same mysterious person from whom
he had received his original instructions, prior
to his first visit to Antwerp.
"Take a seat,” the man at the desk said,
fixing his piercing grey eyes on Hoffman's face.
The latter sat down, and waited for the other
to continue.
"It seems,” the man with the grey eyes went
on, “that my plans are being constantly upset.
What is the trouble now? Must you always


222
THE WEB
can imagine how bitter a blow it must have been
to her, to realize that one who has been trusted
as I have been could be guilty of such
treachery."
“It cannot be helped,” the older man re-
marked, with a shrug of his shoulders. “The
cause for which you have worked, and your con-
science, must be your justification. When do
you leave for Antwerp?".
“By the first boat from Harwich in the morn-
ing."
“Good. Your frequent passages, recently,
have attracted attention. Be on your guard."
“I shall, sir."
“How about your return?"
Hoffman smiled grimly.
"That is another matter," he said.
The older man looked suddenly grave.
"Is it absolutely necessary for you to go?"
he asked.
“Absolutely. To obtain my reward, if for
no other reason. I have been promised a
hundred thousand marks."
“And you feel that you should collect them?'
“I feel that, should I fail to do so, all my
work will have been for nothing."
The man at the desk smiled comprehend-
ingly.
“Yes—you are right,” he said. “It is


224
THE WEB
a sense of relief that he partook of a hasty
breakfast, and, satchel in hand, accompanied
Mr. Northrup to the train.
His journey to Rotterdam was entirely un-
eventful. On his arrival, he determined to go
to the German consul, as before, and secure a
safe conduct to Antwerp. The round brass
disc furnished him by Herr Schwartz reposed
safely in his pocket-book, but he felt that the
time to use it had not yet arrived.
On reaching Antwerp, he went at once to the
office of the Military Governor, as before.
Becker, the latter's secretary, received him
with an imperturbable courtesy, but, instead of
conducting him to Herr Schwartz, ushered him
into a small room adjoining the Governor's
suite.
“You will wait here," he said, "until Herr
Schwartz sends for you. He is occupied, at
present, but will see you as soon as he is able.
There are some books and papers on the table,
to help you pass the time. But do not attempt
to leave the room. It is forbidden." He
smiled coldly, and went away.
This singular and unexpected turn of affairs.
filled Hoffman with vague uneasiness. Why
had Herr Schwartz not sent for him at once?
Certainly the information he brought was of
sufficient importance, although, he remembered,


THE WEB
225
Mademoiselle Liebmann had doubtless arrived
before him. Possibly the secret agent had left
Antwerp for a conference with military or
naval authorities, in the matter of the pro-
posed attack on the British fleet. Specula-
tion, however, was useless. There was nothing
to do but wait until he was sent for. With a
feeling of dissatisfaction he turned to the books
upon the table, and tried to read.
Some time later, an attendant brought him
a light supper on a tray. There was still no
news from Herr Schwartz, and as the hours
passed, and none came, Hoffman began to
feel distinctly alarmed. Had anything gone
wrong? Was he to remain where he was the
rest of the night? His watch showed him that
it was close to eleven o'clock.
At last, when he had almost given up hope,
and was considering the advisability of at-
tempting a nap on the floor, the door was sud-
denly opened, and Hoffman saw that Herr
Schwartz's secretary, the young man he had
heard addressed as “Carl," stood on the
threshold.
“Herr Schwartz will see you now," he said.
“You will please follow me.”
Hoffman rose at once, and went to the door.
“I was afraid I might have to spend the night
here,” he said, with an attempt at jocularity.


THE WEB
229
III
“Very well. But I think you had better turn
in and rest. You look wretchedly."
The girl paid no attention to this.
"Alan," she said, “Bob-Mr. Hoffman-
stole a paper from the desk in your study this
evening."
“How do you know?” he asked, showing no
great surprise at her accusation.
“I saw him. After that, I followed him to
his rooms. I wanted an explanation. I did
not see him there. He was just coming out,
so I followed him again. He went to meet that
woman who was here—that seamstress. He
gave her the paper. I saw him. Then I called
in the police, but Mr. Hoffman resisted them
and the woman escaped. He is a scoundrel.
I thought you ought to know."
The expression which swept over Lord
Brooke's face showed clearly enough the agi-
tation he felt, but it seemed to Patricia
that it was not exactly of the sort she had
expected.
“You say Hoffman was arrested?” he cried.
“Good God!" He sprang to the telephone.
“I do not think you can get him out this
time,” Patricia said wearily. “He assaulted
the officer, and allowed the woman, who is cer-
tainly a spy, to escape.”
Lord Brooke paid no attention to her. He


230
THE WEB
was speaking in a tense voice over the wire.
In a few moments she heard him utter an
exclamation of relief.
“Thank God!” he said, and returned to the
library, his face flushed, but no longer show-
ing signs of his previous agitation.
“Patricia,” he suddenly blurted out, with
brotherly frankness, "you would have done
better had you minded your own affairs."
This was too much. Patricia rose from her
chair in horror.
“Do you defend him?" she cried.
“Sit down, my child. You simply do not
understand, that is all.”
“Understand what? That Mr. Hoffman is a
thief and a scoundrel?”.
“He is nothing of the sort. As I say, you
simply do not understand what has taken
place."
“Then be good enough to explain it to me."
Lord Brooke drew himself wearily into a
chair.
"I will," he said. “Bob Hoffman has done
everything for which you blame him with my
knowledge and consent."
If a bombshell had suddenly exploded under
Patricia Brooke's feet, she could not have been
more astonished than she was by her brother's
words. That the latter had not only been


THE WEB
231
cognizant of Hoffman's actions, but had aided
and abetted them, left her speechless with
amazement.
“You—you mean—" she stammered, “that
-that you knew it?”
“Certainly."
“Knew that he stole the paper from your
desk?"
“I hoped he would, since I put it there for
that purpose.”
Patricia sank back into her chair. The thing
was too much for her. Yet she could not fail
to perceive that her brother was not only in
full possession of his faculties, but entirely in
earnest.
"Tell me about it,” she said, simply.
“Very well. But in the strictest confidence.
Bob Hoffman has acted like a hero, and your
unexpected interference almost upset every-
thing he has done. The situation is this. When
Admiral Cradock's squadron was destroyed,
off the coast of Chile, some weeks ago, the
Admiralty Naval Staff, assisted by one of the
cleverest men at Scotland Yard, conceived the
idea of decoying the Germans into a battle, by
furnishing them with false information. It
was necessary to find someone, with irre-
proachable papers and credentials, who was at
the same time in a position to secure informa-


THE WEB
233
wa
ing, except that he was serving the Allied
cause, and that absolute obedience would be re-
quired of him. He does not know, even now,
that I am concerned in the matter at all. He
was merely told to convey every bit of infor-
mation I might give him to the enemy.
Naturally he must have suspected that there
was a purpose in all this, but I doubt if he
understands just what the purpose was. He
went to Antwerp and gave the enemy's secret
service bureau information regarding the de-
parture of our fleet under Admiral Sturdee.
They locked him up for six days, to see if what
he told them was true. If it had not been, he
would have been shot.”
“Oh-Alan! You had no right.”
“Just a moment,” Lord Brooke interrupted.
"The fleet did sail, as he said it would, and
from then on, their confidence in him began
to grow. Naturally, he was tested, over and
over. That Mercier woman was a German
spy. She came over to see that everything was
all right, and Hoffman himself assisted her to
land, by orders he gave to another of our men.
Of course the woman did not know this, for
the least suspicion on her part would undoubt-
edly have cost Bob his life.
"We helped along the confidence the German
secret service people felt in him, by furnishing


234
THE WEB
him with correct information regarding the
sailing of a transport, not a loaded one, as it
happens—we were not willing to take that
chance. The transport was sunk. You inter-
fered, on that occasion, and Bob was obliged
to act with decision, in order to get the
woman free, with the message.
“Then we were ready for our final effort.
The paper that Hoffman stole from my desk,
the contents of which I had already told to him,
was a false despatch from Admiral Sturdee,
who is at the Falkland Islands. It stated that
our ships were without coal, and therefore
helpless. That is the message that Bob gave
to that woman tonight. I thank God that noth-
ing interfered, to prevent her from getting
away with it.”
Patricia's eyes were wide with amazement.
Her expression indicated the utmost chagrin.
“And to think I almost spoiled everything,"
she exclaimed. “What a fool he must have
thought me.”
“It seems you did manage to get him a
broken head, but, after all, your interference
had its favorable side."
“How so?"
“It will, I hope, serve to increase the con-
fidence with which Bob is regarded by our
friends, the enemy.”


THE WEB
235
“But I don't understand. What differ-
ence does it make-now."
“All the difference in the world. He will
leave for Antwerp in the morning."
“Leave for Antwerp!” The girl shuddered.
"What for?"
“Don't you see? He has pretended to do
all this for the sake of a large reward-a
hundred thousand marks. If he did not ap-
pear to claim the money, suspicion would be at
once cast upon the whole affair.”
“But-how can he go? He is under arrest."
“I have just been talking with our man at
Scotland Yard. He will be released at once.
It is extremely fortunate that the injury he
received was not more serious. As it is, the
wound required several stitches."
“Poor Bob! Oh–I'm sorry-terribly sorry!
And it was all my fault. Why did you keep
all this from me. Why was I left in the dark?”
“Because the slightest suggestion on your
part, the least indiscretion, might have cost
him his life. An idle word, overheard by those
who were watching him, even a look, might have
been fatal. Your perfectly natural action, to-
night, may have done more for Bob's safety
than anything that has occurred. We were so
extremely careful, in laying our plans, that we
even did not let him know of my complicity in


236
THE WEB
the matter. He was obliged to actually steal
the information from me, just as would have
been the case had he really been an agent of
the enemy. The whole matter has been
handled with the utmost skill and care. I only
hope that the results will be what we expect.”
“And what do you expect? You say Bob
took to Antwerp a false message, saying that
our ships were helpless—without coal. What
then?"
“We hope the enemy will decide to attack.
If they do, they will find out that Admiral
Sturdce is not so helpless as they think!”.
“And you say that Bob has gone to Antwerp,
to claim the reward promised him?"
“Yes. It was unavoidable.".
“But-then” —the girl's cheeks grew ashen
with fear-“then, when the deception is dis-
covered he they will shoot him!” she ex-
claimed.
“I hope not." Lord Brooke's face was very
grave. “He will reach Antwerp tomorrow
afternoon. I do not see how the woman, his
accomplice, can arrive there much before him.
The information they bring must first be sent
to headquarters, for action. If an attack is de-
cided upon, word must be cabled to von Spee,
who is doubtless in touch, through his wireless,
with some point off the South American coast.


238
THE WEB
trust him now. And the cablegram was
written on Admiralty paper. I can't believe
for a moment that they will suspect anything.
Even your interference—the broken head, all
helped. I expect to see Bob back in London
the day after tomorrow, without fail.”
“I pray to God you may be right,” said
Patricia, solemnly, as she went toward the
door.
“Amen!” her brother responded.


240
THE WEB
for a most fortunate chance that enabled me to
effect my escape.”
“So? What was it?"
Hoffman sank into a chair. His throbbing
head had become excessively painful.
“I will tell you. After the policeman had
struck me down, as Mademoiselle Liebmann
has no doubt related to you, e left me lying,
as he supposed, insensible, and ran out in pur-
suit of my companion.”
“Yes.” Herr Schwartz nodded. “So I
have been told.”
"As it happened I was not insensible. I
at once got up. No one was with me, with the
exception of Lord Brooke's sister. I appealed
to her at once to permit me to escape."
“And she did so? It seems incredible.”
“Not at all. There was a most excellent
reason. Not only would my arrest have
brought disgrace upon the entire family, but
Miss Brooke has done me the honor to fall in
love with me.”
“So? Go on."
"That is all. The policeman had gone. I
was alone with Miss Brooke. I told her that,
unless I escaped at once, I should in all
probability lose my life. I pointed out to her
that she could readily tell the policeman when
he returned, that I had dashed out without her


THE WEB
245
en I reacked, he should hould
why I am not yet ready to pay you the hundred
thousand marks.”
“What do you mean?”
“This. Here is the money." He drew a
huge roll of German banknotes from one of the
drawers of the desk, and laid it before him.
“It is yours—when I receive word that the
British fleet has been attacked, helpless, with-
out coal, at Port William. But should I, on
the contrary, receive a different report, should
it turn out, to be perfectly frank, that the in-
formation you have given me was false, you
will not receive the hundred thousand marks.
Instead, you will be taken to the courtyard of
the Hôtel de Ville, and shot without even the
formality of a trial.” He paused, as though
to allow this bit of information to sink into
Hoffman's mind. The latter faced him, as
imperturbable as ever. He shrugged his shoul-
ders as he replied.
“I have done my best. If I have been mis-
taken, it is the fortune of war.”
"There is one way, however, in which your
life may be saved, in case you feel it to be in
any danger,” Herr Schwartz went on, in a
voice smooth as silk. “If you know that the
news you have brought me is false, if you
know that on the strength of it our squadron has
been sent to destruction, nothing on earth can


THE WEB
247
“Are you going to stay here all night?” he
asked.
“Yes. And so are you. I could not sleep,
with such tremendous interests in the balance.
I shall wait here until I receive word from
Berlin, and you will wait with me. The
matters between us must be settled, one way
or the other, before we part." He leaned back
in his chair and gazed anxiously at the clock.
“Eight minutes to twelve. In eight minutes I
must call up Wilhelmstrasse and make my re-
port. The test to which you have just been
subjected was suggested by our chief. He felt,
as I did, that you should fully understand the
penalties which attach to failure, in our work.
There remain still five minutes. Have you
anything to say?"
Hoffman puffed at his cigar, blew the smoke
carelessly toward the ceiling, then stook his
head.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Good. In that event, I am convinced that
you have told us the truth.” He turned to
the telephone, which rested on a bracket at
his right, and gave, in German, some in-
structions concerning the call he was about to
make.
“You are a brave man, Herr Schwartz."
Hoffman said, with a smile.


THE WEB
251
There is also a cold fowl. We will take a little
supper."
The secretary closed the door, and disap-
peared. Herr Schwartz rose cautiously from
his seat, took the automatic pistol from the
desk and slipped it into his pocket. Then, with
a long stare at the sleeping man in the chair,
he went to the closet at the other end of the
room, and took from it two bottles of beer, and
two glasses. Holding these in his hands, he
started cautiously back to the desk.
His eyes never left Hoffman's face, and as
he passed the sleeping man, he turned, watch-
ing him with the utmost vigilance. It seemed
as though he feared the young American might
suddenly rise and attack him. So intent was
his gaze upon the latter's face, that he failed
to see a spasmodic movement which suddenly
convulsed the young man's right leg. Quite
unexpectedly it shot out across the secret
agent's path, and before the latter could turn
his head to see what had impeded his progress,
he tripped and fell, crashing to the floor amidst
a shower of beer and broken glass.
With lightning-like speed Hoffman sprang
upon him, twisting his arms behind his back
with one hand, while with the other he pos-
sessed himself of the automatic pistol. The


252
THE WEB
cries of the fallen man died out in a series of
dismal squeaks, as Hoffman threw his hundred
and eighty pounds upon his back, pressing him
to the floor with both knees. Then, while the
little man struggled with the utmost violence,
the American with one hand ripped the leather
belt from about his waist, and with it securely
pinioned the fallen man's arms behind his back.
Then taking him by the throat, to smother any
further attempts to call for help, he stuffed a
handkerchief in a wad between his teeth. The
whole operation had taken less than thirty
seconds.
The secret agent, however, was still kicking
violently about with his feet. Hoffman
snatched from the pocket of his overcoat his
long silk muffler and knotted it securely about
Herr Schwartz's ankles. Then he lifted him
up in his arms, and placed him in a chair at
the further end of the room, out of sight of the
door.
An examination of the mechanism that con-
trolled the opening and closing of the two doors
next occupied Hoffman's attention. On the
floor, and directly beneath the desk, were two
electric push buttons, set about eight inches
apart. It was clear that, by pressing upon
them with the foot, an electric connection was


254
THE WEB
“Don't make any noise,” Hoffman said,
crisply, kicking the door to. “And put the
food on the desk.”
“But—Herr Schwartz!” the secretary ex-
claimed, in a tone of mingled amazement and
alarm.
“Herr Schwartz is all right. Do what I tell
you."
The young man carefully placed the two
dishes upon the top of the desk. Hoffman's
revolver was pressed closely against his back,
discouraging any ideas of resistance. With
his free hand the American took from his cap-
tive's pocket another automatic. Then he
backed him across the room, and into the
closet at its further side. It was a deep closet,
built into the stone walls of the building, and
in addition to the bottles of beer and mineral
water on a shelf, it contained several overcoats,
raincoats, umbrellas and hats.
“Go in face first,” Hoffman commanded.
“And don't make any noise, or call for help,
or I will shoot you through the door.” As he
spoke, he closed the heavy oaken panel and
locked it, drawing in front of it, as an addi-
tional precaution, a massive wooden filing case.
Then he went to the push button beneath the
secret agent's desk and removed from it the
paper weight. At once the sliding of the bolts


THE WEB
255
told him that the door was securely locked.
The roast chicken, the bread and cheese,
looked inviting. Hoffman proceeded to make
a very agreeable meal. He seemed to be in no
hurry to leave, and when he had finished, he
pulled the chair in which the secret agent sat
out into the middle of the room, and himself
took Herr Schwartz's place behind the desk.
“My friend,” he said, presently, lighting a
cigar. “I am going to stay here and keep you
company for quite a while, yet. It would be
most unfortunate were the orders which have
been given to your South Atlantic squadron to
be in any way upset. Of course you have your-
self told me that no messages could be gotten
through, after midnight, but you might find a
way. So I think I shall remain for an hour or
two longer.
“In spite of the admirable precautions with
which you have surrounded yourself, I have, as
you see, so far overcome them. When I leave,
I intend, after opening the bolts of the door,
to cut the electric wires controlling them.
Thus, when I close the door on leaving, the bolts
will snap, and even should you or your secre-
tary manage to free yourselves, you would be
unable to open either door, until those con-
nections had been re-established. In fact,
since you will have no means for re-establish-


260
THE WEB
anything should happen to him. And mean-
while, the hours passed on wings of lead.
On the afternoon of the second day her
nervousness became almost unbearable. She
walked up and down the floor of the library,
starting at every sound, hoping that it might
herald the young American's arrival. When
at last she did hear someone at the front door,
she feared to go out into the hall, lest it might
be news of the sort she most dreaded.
A moment later Lord Brooke burst into the
room. He was in a prodigious state of excite-
ment.
“Patricia l" he cried, “we have just received
word from Sturdee, at the Falkland Islands.
He has met the enemy's vessels and destroyed
them. Think of it."
The girl collapsed softly into a chair.
“Oh!" she gasped. “So soon.”'
“Why-yes. Is n't it splendid? And we
have Bob Hoffman to thank for it."
"I hope you will be able to thank him,"
Patricia replied, in a low voice. "You said
he would have two or three days in which to
make his escape-in which to get away from
Antwerp. Perhaps, as matters have turned
out, he was n't able to get away at all.”
“By Jove! I had n't thought of that. This
splendid news quite took my breath away.


262
THE WEB
not already out of German territory. She sat
quite still, while Lord Brooke explained what
had happened to his wife, who had just come
into the room.
“I told Patricia all about it, night before
last,” he concluded. “I felt that you both
ought to know."
Lady Brooke felt some of the indignation
that Patricia had already expressed.
“You ought not to have let him do it," she
exclaimed. “It would have been different, had
he been an Englishman. It would have been
his duty, then. But as an American, he should
have kept out of it.”
“Do you feel the same way about all the
other Americans who are risking their lives in
France?” her husband asked quietly.
“That is different. They are doing honor-
able work. I quite agree with Patricia. This
underhanded spying and treachery is n't good
enough for Bob.”.
“You may be right, my dear," Lord Brooke
returned, “but after all, Bob went into it with
his eyes open. I made no attempt to persuade
him. In faot, I had nothing to do with it at
all.”
“Then why did he do it?".
“I will tell you. His first reason was, that
in return for what he has done, he is to be sent


CHAPTER XXIII
THEN Bob Hoffman made his escape
VV from the study of Herr Schwartz, there
was one circumstance that might lead to his
capture, and he knew it. If either of the two
men should, in any way be able to reach the
telephone, and make use of it to call for help,
the news of his escape would soon become
known, and his capture would be inevitable.
He took this chance with his eyes open, since
he well knew that had he cut the telephone
wires, as he had thought for a moment of doing,
the breaking of the circuit would attract atten-
tion at the central exchange, and someone
would at once be sent to the secret agent's office
to find out the cause of the trouble. There-
fore he decided to stake his chances of freedom
against the strength of the oak door which im-
prisoned the secretary in the closet. Only by
forcing this door, he very well knew, could the
young man escape and reach the telephone.
The little hall in which he now found himself
was closed at its further end by a wooden door.
264


THE WEB
265
This door was bolted on the inside. It was
the work of only a moment to open it, and Hoff-
man stepped out into the deserted street.
The sky was clear, with brilliant stars, and
a cold wind swept down from the north. His
watch showed him that it was a quarter to four.
There were three hours, at least, before day-
light. Quite unfamiliar with the streets of
the city, the young American on reaching an
open square a short distance away, looked up,
and locating without much difficulty the north
star, set out in the direction thus indicated.
He knew, in a general way, that the city was
under martial law. He also knew that regula-
tions, in such cases, prohibited the inhabitants
from being abroad in the streets at this hour
of the morning. It was certain that the very
first soldier or gendarme he met would in-
stantly place him under arrest. This would
not only be extremely awkward, but might re-
sult in his being lodged in jail until morning, by
which time Herr Schwartz's plight would doubt-
less have been discovered by the other members
of his staff, and the alarm given. Hoffman
quickly made up his mind to accost the first
soldier he might meet, and insist on his con-
ducting him to his superior officer. He re-
membered the instructions that had accom-
panied the circular brass disc, that when shown


THE WEB
267
In a few moments they reached the building
to which Hoffman had several times come, in
the past, to visit the offices of the Military Gov-
ernor. It was to these same officers that his
captor was now conducting him. A sleepy
captain was in charge. When the soldier had
stated the case, Hoffman turned to the officer,
who was regarding him with suspicion.
“May I speak to you privately?” he said.
The officer withdrew for a few steps.
“What do you want?” he said.
“I desire an immediate passage across the
frontier," he said.
“Across the frontier? What for? It is not
permitted. Who are you?" His questions
rattled about Hoffman's ears like the firing of
a machine gun.
The latter took from his pocket the passport,
given him the day before by the Consul at
Rotterdam.
“Here are my papers,” he said.
The officer glanced at them without interest.
“They may be quite correct,” he said, “but
it makes no difference. No one can leave the
city before daybreak.”
"It is imperative that I should do so,"
Hoffman insisted. "In fact, I desire you to
permit me to secure a conveyance, and to see


270
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assure you it will not be a light one. My orders
are to proceed to Rotterdam withont the least
delay.”
Still the officer hesitated.
“I cannot understand why Herr Schwartz
did not arrange for this matter himself,” he
said. “I shall telephone to the Military Gov-
ernor."
This time the results, so far as Hoffman was
concerned, were more favorable. The officer
turned from the telephone instrument with a
look of relief.
“The general knows you," he said, “and
authorizes me to assist you by any means in my
power.” He turned to the soldier.
“Ask Lieutenant Giessner to step here," he
said.
The man saluted, and went out into the cor-
ridor. Hoffman glanced at his watch. It was
ten minutes past four.
A few minutes later, a tall, heavily built man
with a blond head, came into the room and
saluted.
“You sent for me, Captain,” he said.
“Take this gentleman, by automobile, to the
frontier at Esschen. Inquire there for orders.
If you receive none to the contrary, you will
allow him to pass into Holland.”


274
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he shouted. “Has Lieutenant Giessner re-
ported there yet? He is arriving by auto-
mobile."
“No," the answer came. “Wait a minute.
A car has just driven up.".
“Instruct the Lieutenant not to permit the
man with him to cross the frontier, but to re-
turn with him to Antwerp at once.” With a
growl of satisfaction he put down the receiver.
The journey of Hoffman and his companion
had been a swift and uneventful one. When
they drove up before the military headquarters
at Esschen, the young American was already,
in anticipation, safely on his way to Rotterdam
and London. Yet, when he saw a dark figure
in uniform standing in the lighted doorway of
the building his heart gave a thump of dismay.
His companion turned to the driver, as the
car came to a halt, and spoke a few rapid words
in German.
“Wait here,” he ordered. “If the man at-
tempts to escape shoot him.” In response, the
driver fingered the automatic pistol at his belt.
There was not a moment to be lost. In ten
steps, the Lieutenant would receive his instruc-
tions. Something, some intuitive fear, told
Hoffman that they were not in his favor. Be-
fore him stretched the road into Holland. He
could see the frontier posts, the barbed wire


CHAPTER XXIV
W HEN Bob Hoffman walked into the
drawing-room at Lady Brooke's he
saw but one thing, and that was the flushed and
tearful face of Patricia Brooke. This was the
more true, since Patricia, after a gasping
“Bob,” Aung herself at him and put her arms
about his neck, to the utter scandalizing of
Patrick, the butler, who at once withdrew below
stairs to discuss the matter in private with
the cook.
When the new arrival had been duly wel-
comed, and the excitement caused by his re-
turn had somewhat subsided, Lord Brooke went
up to him and put out his hand.
“Congratulations, Bob,” he said, simply.
“Everything has worked out perfectly."
“What do you mean?” Hoffman asked, with
a look of surprise.
“We have just received word at the Ad-
miralty that Sturdee's squadron has won a
brilliant victory."
Hoffman stared at his brother-in-law in
amazement.
276


278
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Patricia looked at him with undisguised ad-
miration.
"I think you are just about the bravest man I
ever knew,” she said.
“Nonsense. Everybody is brave in this war.
There have been heroes by the thousand on
both sides that nobody has ever heard of. I
did my best, that was all.” He turned to Lord
Brooke. “I'm glad that you are satisfied.”
“Rather. And you may be sure, in return
for what you have done, that the War Office
will carry out its end of the bargain, and see
that you are permitted to go to the front at
once."
“Good!” Hoffman laughed. “I've been
trying hard enough to get there."
“More danger," Patricia observed, with a
somewhat anxious smile.
“My dear girl," Lord Brooke observed,
“Bob can sit in the front trenches, out there,
and be in less danger than he will be right here
in London."
“Why so?" asked the girl.
“Alan is quite right," interposed Hoffman.
“My friend in Antwerp, Herr Schwartz, is
likely to have a very bad quarter of an hour,
on account of the way I managed to take him
in. I don't imagine he is going to forget me,
very soon, or what I did to him. I should n't


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279
give two cents for my life, if I ever fell in with
him or any of his people. The front is the
safest place I know of, in my particular case,
just now."
Lady Brooke went toward the door.
“I'm going to order tea,” she said. “Alan,
come along. I have something I want to say
to you.” She gave her husband a significant
look, which Hoffman intercepted.
“You are a brick, Nelly," he whispered,
pressing his sister's hand.
“What confidences are you exchanging with
Lady Brooke, Bob?" Patricia asked, as the
young American turned to her.
Hoffman went up to the girl, and put his
hands on her shoulders.
"Pat,” he said in a voice that trembled just
a little. “You remember what I said, before
I went away. Well, it's as true now as it was
then. I love you, and, please God, I always
shall love you. Will you marry me when I get
back from the front!"
Patricia looked up into his face with glisten-
ing eyes.
“I will marry you whenever you want me
to," she said. “If you had not come back from
Antwerp, I–I think I should have died.”
Patrick, passing the library door, turned
away his head.


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“Bless my soul!” he muttered to himself.
"What is the h'aristocracy comin' to? A
bloomin' h’American! Cook will be pleased!"
As for Patricia and Bob, they were too happy
even to see him.
THE END


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