"Not always," von Herzmann replied. "He brought correct and timely information concerning the movement of that new American pursuit squadron, you will recall. And but for the accursed luck that brought those French Spads upon us at the wrong time, my Circus would have potted half of them." "Luck!" the senior officer retorted, heatedly. "You call it luck! It was luck that we did not lose you and that you got your crippled plane back across the line. But can you be sure that those Spads came upon the scene, at the right moment, by chance?" Count von Herzmann shook his head. "No, _Herr Hauptmann_, in this war we can be sure of only one thing--death, if the war continues. It must be brought to a speedy close. Daily, now, we lose ground. It is because of this that I made the urgent request to be permitted to undertake this mission. But," he smiled expansively, "be not too fearful or alarmed. If I fail, if there be trickery in it, you shall have the privilege of avenging me." "How do you mean, avenge you?" "_Herr Hauptmann_, war is a world-old game, with modern applications. You have read, doubtless, how in the olden times hostages were held?" "Yes, but--" "It is not always effective, but it furnishes the crumb of revenge and retaliation. I am not without some fear for my safety, and because of that I will provide a hostage." "You talk in riddles." "Perhaps, but I give you the answer. Operative Number Eighty-one will come for me in a two-seater just at dark. But he will not be the one to take me back." "_Ach! Himmel!_" "_Das ist ziemlich gescheit!_" Count von Herzmann shrugged his shoulders at the exclamatory surprise and compliment. "Clever? No. Merely an old custom borrowed from old wars. Operative Number Eighty-one will be held at the headquarters at Montfaucon--pending my return. If I do not return in five days, then he too will hold the stage a brief minute before a firing wall. Then, perhaps we will meet beyond the Great Line--where there are no wars or rumors of wars. Is there anything else you have to take up with me now, _Herr Hauptmann?_" "Ach, yes! If you are successful, and return within your scheduled time, how will this operative, held at Montfaucon, make a satisfactory explanation to the Americans regarding his long absence?" Count von Herzmann snapped his fingers. "Poof! That is secondary, and a problem which I leave to the superior mind of _Herr Hauptmann_--and the High Command." CHAPTER XII Wheels Within Wheels 1 Near noon, the following day, a motor cycle with side car snorted to a sudden stop at the newly erected hangar tents of an American Pursuit Group, and McGee crawled stiffly from the bone-racking, muscle-twisting "bath tub." He thanked the mud-splashed, goggled driver, adding, by way of left-handed compliment, that he had been given more thrills in the last five kilometers than he had received in all his months in the Allied Air Service.