"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Lieutenant. But you did make life rather hard for Siddons. He was afraid to form close friendships. Poor Hampden was the only one he was ever very close to, and Hampden was as ignorant of the facts as any of you. Siddons had to be careful. He knows that the Germans also have spies. Should they get proof of his duplicity, he would be a doomed man." "Well," McGee sighed again, "he can have my share of that kind of service. I prefer to meet mine without any blindfold over my eyes. I'll make my apologies to him, and admit to his face that he has more nerve than most men I know. But there is one thing I can't get through my head, Major. How could he keep fooling them if he never took them any information?" "He did take them information. But it was always so cleverly false--just near enough the truth that he could hardly be blamed for not having it more accurate--or else it was the real truth but too late to be of any value to them. You can be sure we gained by his work." "One more question from me, Major," Larkin spoke up. "What makes you so sure that Count von Herzmann--" The door was thrown open by a helmeted, muddy doughboy sergeant from the lines. Then into the room, followed by the mud-spattered doughboy and the M.P. detail, walked a smiling, confident, blond young man, attired in the uniform of a member of the British Air Forces. The suddenness and surprise of the movement started the ends of Cowan's moustache to twitching. "Sir," spoke up the muddy infantryman, "here's that bozo we all been lookin' for." Major Cowan arose. "Count von Herzmann, I believe?" he said as calmly as though it were a social meeting. The prisoner lifted his eyebrows in well feigned surprise. "There is some dreadful mistake here, Major," he said with a calm assurance as he took from his pocket a small identification fold, bound in black leather. "I am--" "Just a moment," the Major interrupted. "Permit me first to introduce one of these gentlemen. Count von Herzmann, this is Lieutenant Richard Larkin, whose uniform you are now wearing and whose identification card you hold in your hand. I am sure you are glad to meet him." For the briefest moment von Herzmann's mouth dropped open. He knew the jig was up! Almost immediately, however, he regained the debonair, easy grace of a splendidly poised loser. He bowed to Larkin, who stood with mouth agape and eyes popping out. "I am indebted to Lieutenant Larkin for the use of his uniform," von Herzmann said. "I regret that it will probably be returned to him with bullet holes in it. Oh, well--such is war, eh? Perhaps he can find some satisfaction in keeping it as a souvenir. He can point to the holes and say, 'Count von Herzmann, the German ace and spy, was just behind these holes.'" Every man in the room felt awed and a trifle uneasy. Here was a man whose cool courage they could envy. Not every man can face death with so grim a jest.