Just as sunset was darkening into night I caught sight of two men coming along the road. Through my small pair of powerful glasses I instantly recognised one of them as the "Italian." The other, no doubt, was Fontan. Their figures showed black and sinister in the last gleam of the sunlight. They were walking quickly, and Fontan, if indeed it was he, carried in his hand a well-filled sack. As they drew near they left the road and made straight for the edge of the cliff, disappearing into the cleft almost beneath the very branches of the big tree. It was now or never for me, and, loosening my automatic in my pocket, I cast all prudence aside and raced at top speed for the cliff. Arriving at the edge, I flung myself flat on my face and peered over. Below, to my intense gratification, I could see assembled on the sands a dozen sailors in German uniforms, while only a few yards from the shore lay a big German submarine, its conning-tower and fore and aft guns showing clear of the long grey hull, which lay almost awash. The crew were being exercised along the sands, while Fontan was handing to an officer a quantity of fresh vegetables, with a packet of letters and telegrams, from the sack. Close by, the "Italian" and another officer, evidently the captain of the U-boat, were in earnest talk. The light was failing rapidly, and soon it became too dark to see more. A lantern twinkled on the beach, and I could plainly hear steps and voices ascending the rough path to the top of the cliff. It was essential I should hear more, therefore I took the desperate course. Swiftly climbing into the tree, I laid myself down at full length on a big branch which jutted out over the path. Preceded by a sailor bearing a lantern, three men came up the path. Two of them I knew to be the "Italian" and the captain of the U-boat. The third was Fontan, at whom I particularly wanted to have a look, for something in his walk reminded me of someone I had failed definitely to recall. As the sailor reached the top of the cliff he turned and swung the lantern so as to show the last few steps of the rugged path. Its rays fell for a second upon the face of Fontan, and I nearly fell from my perch with amazement. Willi Bernhard, by all that was wonderful! One of the Kaiser's most expert spies, who was head of one of the departments of the Koniggratzer-strasse, posing in Santander as a humble boatman. No wonder I had failed to recognise him until I saw his face! "No need for me to come any farther," said the deep voice of the U-boat captain in German. "We shall lie here until midnight to-morrow, and will expect you at sundown with the latest instructions. I only want to make sure the others are ready at their stations. And then," he added, with a cruel laugh, "good-bye, _Athabasca_!" The _Athabasca_ was the liner I had come out to save!