The first intimation of what was to be their next landing place came in the word "Cuxhaven," passed by one sailor to another. The talk was in rapid German, but Henri caught the drift of the conversation without difficulty. "By George," he whispered to his chum, "Cuxhaven is the place mentioned in Anglin's message." "You mean Ardelle's message," corrected Billy. "That's right," chuckled Henri. "I forgot that Anglin had become the big noise. Yes, it's the very place," he continued, "and it's a great naval base." "It's a safe bet that Roque never hits a trail that isn't warm. Take it from me," and Billy was in great earnest when he said it, "there is going to be something doing." Billy's prediction chanced, in this instance, to be more accurate than are some of the forecasts made by professionals. It was in a dense fog that Christmas eve when the little steamer ceased chugging in the wide mouth of the Elbe, and the harbor lights burned blue. The captain condemned the weather in no uncertain terms, but Roque seemingly had no care for aught but his thoughts, as he leaned against the rail, with moody gaze fixed upon the anchored ships and the dim lines of the city beyond. As he had shaped, not long ago, the famous raid of the German fleet upon English seaports, Roque did not underestimate the ability of his great rival, Ardelle, to open the way for a counter attack. Ardelle was known by the secret service to be on this very soil--and, surely, for some big purpose. Minnows were not sent to stir up a pool of this size. "But they'll find no sleepy towns to blow up here," said Roque to himself. He was all for precaution, however, and his intuition was nothing short of marvelous. When "Dr. Blitz" and his "sons" went ashore it was the foggiest kind of a Christmas morning. A stalwart marine attempted to put the doctor through the question paces, but the real Roque whispered a fierce something into the ear of the would-be questioner that set the latter back-tracking in a jiffy. It was a curious and remarkable fact, but true, that an hour after the eminent secret agent and his young charges had landed in Cuxhaven, Billy's prediction, "that wherever Roque is there's something doing," was verified. Every submarine cable connecting the fortresses of this coast sounded alarm, particularly high-keyed the frantic signal from Helgoland, the fortress island, thirty-nine miles away. Roque dropped his doctor character like a hot potato when he learned the import of the flashes. He tossed his traveling case of surgical instruments into the first open doorway he passed, and the boys were compelled to run to keep up with his long stride. Bombs were falling from aloft, exploding among the shipping behind them, while in front one of the projectiles crashed upon a huge gas tank. "The nerve of the devil mapped this out!" The bitter emphasis of Roque indicated that he laid the blame of this unexpected invasion upon one head--that of Ardelle.