Prompt at eight o’clock, I took my place at the table and ordered an excellent dinner (my waiter was naturally a good German) and a bottle of Rhenish wine. A few minutes after I had given my order Alexander and the girl arrived. She was dressed in a long travelling coat of tussore silk, and carried--as I was careful to note--a shiny brown leather portfolio. This she placed carefully on her lap when she sat down and raised her veil. She looked a little pale, but smiled readily enough at Alexander’s jests. I watched her as she slowly peeled off her gloves and unbuttoned her coat. Her eyes were fixed on vacancy. Doubtless her conscience was pricking her. Is it the thought of thy home, little maid, from whence thou hast fled never to return? Is it the anguished picture of thy broken-hearted and ruined father bemoaning his daughter and his honour? Have no fear, little one, thy treason shall enrich the chosen of the German God, the World Encirclers, Foreordained and Destined to Imperial Grandeur! So I thought, watching her and listening. “Are you sure that everything will be all right?” she asked anxiously. “Please trust me,” smiled Alexander. (Oh, the deceiving rogue--how I admired his sang-froid!) “You are ready to go--you have packed!” she asked. “As ready as you, my dear Elsie. Come--let me question you,” he bantered; “have you all those wonderful plans which are going to make our fortunes after we are married?” So he had promised that--what would the gracious Frau Koos-Mettleheim have said to this perfidy on the part of her husband? “I have all the plans,” she began, but he hushed her with a warning glance. I watched the dinner proceed but heard very little more. All the time she seemed to be plying him with anxious questions to which he returned reassuring answers. They had reached the sweets when she began to fumble at her pocket. I guessed (rightly) that she was seeking a handkerchief and (wrongly) that she was crying. Her search was fruitless and she beckoned the waiter. “I left a little bag in the ladies’ room--it has my handkerchief; will you ask the attendant to send the bag?” The waiter departed and presently returned with two men in the livery of the hotel. I was sitting side by side and could see the faces both of the girl and Alexander, and I noticed the amusement in his face that two attendants must come to carry one small bag. Then I heard the girl speak. “Put your hands, palms upward, on the table,” she said. I was still looking at Alexander’s face. First amazement and then anger showed--then I saw his face go grey and into his eyes crept the fear of death. The girl was holding an automatic pistol and the barrel was pointing at Alexander’s breast. She half turned her head to the attendants. “Here is your man, sergeant,” she said briskly. “Alexander Koos, alias Ralph Burton-Smith. I charge him with espionage.” They snapped the steel handcuffs upon Alexander’s wrists and led him out, the girl following.