"It might be done," but Hartzmann looked doubtful. "The Harbor Police of New York are vigilant. I fear the warping of a great steamer from her berth would attract instant attention." "Not if properly engineered, Hartzmann." A soft tap at the door interrupted von Fincke. "Come in," he called. "Captain von Mueller," announced the valet, and von Fincke advanced eagerly to meet the newcomer. "Welcome, Herr Captain. I hoped that you would get my note in time." "I found it on my return to the hotel. Hartzmann, well met." Von Mueller returned the older man's firm clasp. "It is some years...." "Years? What are they when old friends foregather," exclaimed Hartzmann. "Let us sit and talk." "Wait, wait," remonstrated von Fincke. "Heinrich," turning to the chauffeur, who stood respectfully waiting, "did you learn the strength of the fleet?" "Of the thirty-five United States battleships, only twenty-one are in commission and ready for emergency," he said. "Of these twenty-one three have broken shafts, and the fourth is a turbine engine battleship, which needs overhauling." "Is this all the fighting strength of the United States navy?" questioned Hartzmann, jotting down the figures in a notebook. "No, Herr Captain; there are seventy fighting craft; but not in commission and all require overhauling. Half of the submarines will not--er--'sub,' so to speak." A ghost of a smile crossed Heinrich's lips. "The complement of torpedo vessels has been reduced from fifteen to twenty-five per cent, and the Atlantic Fleet needs five thousand men." "Interesting data," said von Mueller. "I congratulate you, Heinrich. What of the army?" "Nothing definite to report today, Herr Captain. If rumor speaks truly, discontent will shortly reduce the standing army to a man and a mule." "A mule can fight on occasions," laughed von Mueller. "But not against trained men, backed up by field guns firing in one hour two hundred thousand shells carrying high explosives," boasted Hartzmann triumphantly. "Weapons such as these, von Mueller, alter the face of nature as well as the fate of nations." "Any further news tonight, Heinrich?" asked von Fincke. "No, Baron." The chauffeur saluted. "Any orders?" "A moment," broke in von Mueller. "I will be at the Whitney residence tonight, Heinrich; see that I am admitted," he added, observing the slight change in the chauffeur's expression. "It can be arranged, Herr Captain," hastily. "I was but thinking of Julie--the French she-devil. Should she come ..." "She will not return." Von Mueller spoke with confidence. "I have convinced her that she will better protect Miss Whitney by remaining in hiding, thus directing attention to herself as the criminal." "But will she not read the papers?" touching the _Times_. "No; the landlady will keep them from her." "The police are ransacking the town for her," persisted Heinrich. "They will not find Julie"--von Mueller lowered his voice. "They never investigate Robinson's."