"Good!" was the appreciative reply. Ober-leutnant Julius von Loringhoven squirmed in anticipation of winning more than a half of the promised guerdon. A share--a considerable share unfortunately--was owing to a certain individual who, acting as an agent of the German Government, had given valuable aid in snaring the proscribed Englishman. His assistance was necessary, of course, but that meant a sensible reduction of the sum of paper money with which von Loringhoven hoped to restore the fortunes of his impoverished house. "Good!" he repeated. "Remove that covering and let me look at the pig." Pfeil obeyed smartly. With a savage jerk he exposed the face of his captive. "Utter idiot!" shouted Andrew Norton in German. "Imbecile! You've blundered and spoilt everything." CHAPTER VII THE RAID OBER-LEUTNANT JULIUS VON LORINGHOVEN recoiled a couple of paces in sheer amazement. The compartment in which he stood was strictly limited in point of size, or he might have stepped back even more, so great was his consternation. For some seconds he stood with his shoulders against the aluminium bulkhead, his small eyes protruding to their utmost capacity. "Von Eitelwurmer!" he gurgled at last. "What does this mean?" "It means," retorted Andrew Norton furiously, "that your men have wrecked everything. It is their duty to wreck everything English, I admit, but they have overreached themselves." "I am sorry," said the ober-leutnant humbly, though the apology needed an effort. "The culprits will be duly punished." "And serve them right," interrupted the kidnapped man. "But that will not mend matters. Our plans are completely upset; Barcroft will take warning; there will be no plausible excuse for my sudden departure--Ach, it is intolerable. Is it possible to set me down?" Von Loringhoven shook his head. "Impossible," he replied. "You must return with us to the Fatherland. Meanwhile I must take steps to justify the presence of this war-machine over the hated country." Siegfried von Eitelwurmer was one of the German super-spies--a class far and above the host of ordinary spies that, in spite of the utmost vigilance on the part of the British government, still continue their activities although in a restricted form. To all outward appearance he was English born and bred. His mannerisms were entirely so. Even in his most excitable moods, for Teutonic stolidity was almost a stranger to him, he would never betray by word or gesture the fact that he was of Hunnish birth and sympathies. When he spoke in English his inflexion was as pure as a typical Midlander; his knowledge of British habits and customs was profound. In short, he was one of the most dangerous type of German agents that ever set foot on British soil.