As they sat there at the table the young American officer noted that the submarine rolled hardly at all. It was plain that the recent gale had subsided, for the slight rocking of the boat indicated only a gentle swell on the surface of the sea. In the doorway appeared Lieutenant von Schellen. In his right hand, steadied by his left, was what looked like an album. Glancing up from a page the junior officer remarked, with quick speech and decided emphasis: "You are the Countess of Denby." By a great effort the Englishwoman turned slowly, glancing at the German. "Ah!" she exclaimed. "You have another woman prisoner? You are bringing her here. I am sorry that she is in your hands." "_You_ are the Countess of Denby!" von Schellen charged again, once more levelling his accusing finger at her. "And you, sir," shifting the direction of his finger to point at the supposed Mr. Launce, "are the Earl of Denby!" "I have risen in the world since I went to sea!" jested the Englishman. "We know who you are, now," von Schellen continued, with brutal bluntness, "and we know as much more about you as we need. We know of the Admiralty office that you visited, and we know the information that you two were expected to gather along the Kiel Canal when you should have entered Germany! Oh, you will soon understand that we have most excellent information from England! You journeyed to Denmark on a poor old tramp steamer, under assumed names and with fraudulent passports furnished by your government. From Denmark you were to work your way to Holland, and thence into Germany, which country you would enter with still other passports furnished you in Holland. We know all about the noble pair of Denby! Of course you will deny this, but save your denials for use before a German court!" Having said which von Schellen turned and left them. The Englishman and woman gave each other a swift, horrified glance, then lowered their eyes. As they looked up again Dave sent them a swift glance of sympathy, but there was a look of defiant pride on the Englishwoman's face. The same thought was in the minds of all three. Von Schellen or some other German had been eavesdropping near enough to hear the whispered conversation that had taken place. That was a fair ruse for use in war-time. Darrin, as he looked at the English pair, felt sure that they really were the Earl and Countess of Denby. From the cabin under the conning tower came a chorus of hoarse laughter. The Englishwoman's swift look said plainly: "They are laughing over the discovery that they have made." After that, gloom fell upon the trio. Darrin had never heard, before, of the Earl of Denby. Later he learned that the Earl had led a recluse's life among books until the war began. About that time he had married a young noblewoman, and the pair had gone promptly into effective war work, though not in ways that caused their portraits to be published in the illustrated weeklies.