"Yes, several," was his brief and rather vague reply. The dead man's discretion was reflected upon him. He never spoke of his activity more frequently than was necessary. In such inquiries silence was golden. "And you really think there are many still at large?" "I know there are, Elise," he declared quickly. "The authorities are, alas! so supine that their lethargy is little short of criminal. Poor Jerrold foresaw what was happening. He had no axe to grind, as they have at the War Office. To-day the policy of the Government seems to be to protect the aliens rather than interfere with them. Poor Jerrold's exposure of the unsatisfactory methods of our bureau of contra-espionage to a certain member of Parliament will, I happen to know, be placed before the House ere long. Then matters may perhaps be remedied. If they are not, I really believe that the long-suffering public will take affairs into their own hands." "But I don't understand what spies have done against us," queried Elise, looking into her lover's face in the furtive light of the street-lamp they were at that moment passing. Her question was quite natural to a woman. "Done!" echoed her fine manly lover. "Why, lots of our disasters have been proved to be due to their machinations. The authorities well know that all our disasters do not appear in the newspapers, for very obvious reasons. Look what spies did in Belgium! Men who had lived in that country all their lives, believed to be Belgians and occupying high and responsible positions--men who were deeply respected, and whose loyalty was unquestioned--openly revealed themselves as spies of the Kaiser, and betrayed their friends the instant the Germans set foot on Belgian soil. All has long ago been prepared for an invasion of Great Britain, and when `the Day' comes we shall, depend upon it, receive a very rude shock, for the same thing will certainly happen." "How wicked it all is!" she remarked. "All war is `wicked,' dearest," was the young man's slow reply. "Yet I only wish I were fit enough to wear khaki." "But you can surely do something at home," she suggested, pressing his hand. "There are many things here to do, now that you've left the City." "Yes, I _will_ do something. I must, _and I will_!" he declared earnestly. A silence again fell between them. "It is a great pity poor Dr Jerrold died as he did," the girl remarked thoughtfully at last. "I met him twice with you, and I liked him awfully. He struck me as so thoroughly earnest and so perfectly genuine." "He was, Elise. When he died--well--I--I lost my best friend," and he sighed. "Yes," she answered. "And he was doing such a good work, patiently tracing out suspicious cases of espionage." "He was. Yet by so doing he, like all true patriots, got himself strangely disliked, first by the Germans themselves, who hated him, and secondly by the Intelligence Department."