"Very well, Billy Capper. It will be a firing party for two--you and me together. I'll make a frank confession--tell all the information Billy Capper sold to me for three hundred marks one night in the Café Riche--the story of the Anglo-Belgian defense arrangements. The same Billy Capper, I'll say, who sold the Lord Fisher letters to the kaiser--a cable to Downing Street will confirm that identification inside of two hours. And then----" "And your Captain Woodhouse--your cute little Wilhelmstrasse captain," Capper flung back from the window, pretending not to heed the girl's potent threat; "I know all about him, and the governor'll know, too--same time he hears about you!" "Good night, Billy Capper," Louisa answered, with a piquant smile. "And au revoir until we meet with our backs against that wall." Capper's head dropped from view over the balcony edge; there was a sound of running feet amid the close-ranked plants in the garden, then silence. The girl from the Wilhelmstrasse, alone in the house save for the bent old housekeeper asleep in her attic, turned and laid her head--a bit weakly--against the carved standard, where in a florid rosette showed the ivory tip of the hinge for the cheval glass. CHAPTER XI A SPY IN THE SIGNAL TOWER Government House, one of the Baedeker points of Gibraltar, stands amid its gardens on a shelf of the Rock about mid-way between the Alameda and the signal tower, perched on the very spine of the lion's back above it. Its windows look out on the blue bay and over to the red roofs of Algeciras across the water on Spanish territory. Tourists gather to peek from a respectful distance at the mossy front and quaint ecclesiastic gables of Government House, which has a distinction quite apart from its use as the home of the governor-general. Once, back in the dim ages of Spain's glory, it was a monastery, one of the oldest in the southern tip of the peninsula. When the English came their practical sense took no heed of the protesting ghosts of the monks, but converted the monastery into a home for the military head of the fortress--a little dreary, a shade more melancholy than the accustomed manor hall at home, but adequate and livable. Thither, on the morning after his arrival, Captain Woodhouse went to report for duty to Major-general Sir George Crandall, Governor of the Rock. Captain Woodhouse was in uniform--neat service khaki and pith helmet, which became him mightily. He appeared to have been molded into the short-skirted, olive-gray jacket; it set on his shoulders with snug ease. Perhaps, if anything, the uniform gave to his features a shade more than their wonted sternness, to his body just the least addition of an indefinable alertness, of nervous acuteness. It was nine o'clock, and Captain Woodhouse knew it was necessary for him to pay his duty call on Sir George before the eleven o'clock assembly.