This was strictly true. Dick was as hungry and as grimy as Harry himself. If anything, he was in even worse shape, for his flight through the fields and the brook had enabled him to attach a good deal of the soil of England to himself. So the thick sandwiches and the bowl of milk that were speedily set before him were severely punished. And while he ate both he and Jack poured out their story. Mr. Young frowned as he listened. Although he was a clergyman and a lover of peace, he was none the less a patriot. "Upon my word!" he said. "Wireless, you think, my boy?" "I’m sure of it, sir," said Dick. "And so’m I," chimed in Jack. "You know, sir, I’ve thought ever since war seemed certain that Bray Park would bear a lot of watching and that something ought to be done. Just because this is a little bit of a village, without even a railroad station, people think nothing could happen here. But if German spies wanted a headquarters, it’s just the sort of place they would pick out." "There’s something in that," agreed the vicar, thoughtfully. But in his own mind he was still very doubtful. The whole thing seemed incredible to him. Yet, as a matter of fact, it was no more incredible than the war itself. What inclined him to be dubious, as much as anything else, was the fact that it was mere boys who had made the discovery. He had read of outbreaks of spy fever in various parts of England, in which the most harmless and inoffensive people were arrested and held until they could give some good account of themselves. This made him hesitate, while precious time was being wasted. "I hardly know what to do–what to suggest," he went on, musingly. "The situation is complicated, really. Supposing you are right, and that German spies really own Bray Park, and are using it as a central station for sending news that they glean out of England, what could be done about it?" "The place ought to be searched at once–everyone there ought to be arrested!" declared Jack, impulsively. His father smiled. "Yes, but who’s going to do it?" he said. "We’ve just one constable here in Bray. And if there are Germans there in any number, what could he do? I suppose we might send word to Hambridge and get some police or some territorials over. Yes, that’s the best thing to do." But now Dick spoke up in great eagerness. "I don’t know, sir," he suggested. "If the soldiers came, the men in the house there would find out they were coming, I’m afraid. Perhaps they’d get away, or else manage to hide everything that would prove the truth about them. I think it would be better to report direct to Colonel Throckmorton. He knows what we found out near London, sir, you see, and he’d be more ready to believe us." "Yes, probably you’re right. Ring him up, then. It’s late, but he won’t mind."