They passed the high school, and sure enough, as they came to the next corner, the secret service agent motioned to the German to follow him out. Bob decided to go along. They got off the trolley car and entered the police station. Behind the desk sat the sergeant, a man named Riley, well known to Bob. The detective led his prisoner up to the rail. "I want you to take care of this man for me, Sergeant," he said, at the same time displaying his badge. "Certainly," said Sergeant Riley quickly. "Here, Donovan," he called to a policeman standing near by. "Take this man and lock him up." Officer Donovan beckoned to the German who was standing sullenly by the side of the policeman; his face was white and his eyes gleamed wickedly while he opened and closed his hands nervously. He even started to protest, but before he could say anything Sergeant Riley quickly silenced him. Without further ado he joined the policeman, and together they disappeared through the door leading out to the room where the cells were located. Satisfied that his prisoner was taken in charge, the secret service agent turned and without further ado left the building. Bob was much excited and interested. "Who was that secret service man?" he inquired of the sergeant. "Dunno," said Riley. "I never saw him before." "He didn't even make a charge against the man," said Bob. "I know it," said Riley. "He don't have to." "I thought you couldn't lock up a man unless there was some charge against him," exclaimed Bob. "We have orders to lock up every man them fellers bring in here," said Sergeant Riley. "We keep 'em here until we get word to do something else with 'em. It's not for us to ask questions, you know." "Have you got any more here?" demanded Bob. "That's the first; we have accommodations for seventy-five though." "Whew," exclaimed Bob. "Do you think there'll be much trouble with the Germans here in High Ridge?" "Can't say. Some of them are a crazy lot. At any rate we're ready for 'em. And what are you doing here at this time o' day anyhow? You'll be late for school; your visiting hour here is usually in the afternoon." "I saw that fellow on the trolley," Bob explained. "I wanted to see what happened to him." "Well, you better run along," advised the sergeant. "Come in and see me later." Bob hurried out and ran down the block toward the high school. His mind was not on his lessons, however. War was uppermost in his thoughts, and he still pondered over what his father had said the evening before, and the recent arrest of the German in the trolley car. Probably after all there was something in this scare about spies and plotters.