"Of course," he remarked, "that complicates matters, but there ought to be a way out of it. Let me think for a moment." The man on the lounge sat still with unchanging face. In his heart he knew that there was no way out of it. The chains which bound him were such as the hand of man had no power to destroy. The arm of his master was long. It had reached him here--it would reach him to the farthermost corner of the world. Nor could Mr. Sabin for the moment see any light. The man was under perpetual sentence of death. There was no country in the world which would not give him up, if called upon to do so. "What you have told me," Mr. Sabin said, "explains, of course to a certain extent, your present indifference to my offers. But when I first approached you in this way you certainly led me to think----" "That was before that cursed _Kaiser Wilhelm_ came up," Watson interrupted. "I had a plan--I might have made a rush for liberty at any rate!" "But surely you would have been marked down at Boston," Mr. Sabin said. "The only friend I have in the world," the other said slowly, "is the manager of the Government's Secret Cable Office at Berlin. He was on my side. It would have given me a chance, but now"--he looked out of the window--"it is hopeless!" Mr. Sabin resumed his chair and lit a fresh cigarette. He had thought the matter out and began to see light. "It is rather an awkward fix," he said, "but 'hopeless' is a word which I do not understand. As regards our present dilemma I think that I see an excellent way out of it." A momentary ray of hope flashed across the man's face. Then he shook his head. "It is not possible," he murmured. Mr. Sabin smiled quietly. "My friend," he said, "I perceive that you are a pessimist! You will find yourself in a very short time a free man with the best of your life before you. Take my advice. Whatever career you embark in do so in a more sanguine spirit. Difficulties to the man who faces them boldly lose half their strength. But to proceed. You are one of those who are called 'Doomschen.' That means, I believe, that you have committed a crime punishable by death,--that you are on parole only so long as you remain in the service of the Secret Police of your country. That is so, is it not?" The man assented grimly. Mr. Sabin continued-- "If you were to abandon your present task and fail to offer satisfactory explanations--if you were to attempt to settle down in America, your extradition, I presume, would at once be applied for. You would be given no second chance." "I should be shot without a moment's hesitation," Watson admitted grimly. "Exactly; and there is, I believe, another contingency. If you should succeed in your present enterprise, which, I presume, is my extermination, you would obtain your freedom." The man on the lounge nodded. A species of despair was upon him. This man was his master in all ways. He would be his master to the end.