I was half-way up the hill when I heard a familiar sound. If you can imagine the rattling of dried peas in a tin canister shaken at irregular intervals, you know the sound that wireless makes, and that a wireless message was being tapped from the cottage on the hill there was no doubt. More than this, the unknown Mr. Brown had taken elaborate precautions to avoid detection. We climbed the hill a little higher and suddenly my foot caught an obstruction. I flashed my electric lamp down and saw that I had snapped a tiny wire. Instantly the “clickety-click” of the wireless ceased. There was a stealthy footstep at the top of the hill and I guessed that the aerial was being taken down and that it would be stowed and hidden, together with the instruments, long before any intruder could reach the cottage. “Go up now,” I whispered to Kahn; “go quickly and reveal yourself.” I handed him the message I had coded and which I had brought with me. “Give him your official number, show him your credentials, and ask the illustrious gentleman to send this message through.” Kahn took the message without a word and began the ascent. I watched him, not moving from my position and presently I heard him challenged sharply. “It is I,” said von Kahn’s voice and, like the bold fellow that he was, he spoke in German. Some one replied in the same language. There was a brief exchange of question and answer, and the three--the Swiss valet was evidently present--disappeared into the cottage, and a few minutes later I saw the red glow of a light from the windows. I was sorely tempted to creep up and listen. After all, there was no reason why von Kahn alone should have an opportunity of meeting this well-born gentleman who might be in a position to speak a favourable word in the highest quarters regarding myself. Then, again, I was not sure that von Kahn would fulfil his mission to my satisfaction. We Germans trust nobody. Probably that is one of the reasons of our phenomenal success in dealing with people of less kultural eminence than ourselves. I determined to risk it, and keeping as much in the shadow as possible, and feeling gingerly for other wire signals, I made my way to the little platform upon which the cottage stood. We had specially put on rubber-soled shoes for the night’s work, and I moved noiselessly. The door was closed, but there was no difficulty in discovering the room to which von Kahn had been taken. I crept nearer to the window. The two men were talking and laughing and, thank heaven! their speech was German. “But how do I know,” I heard Mr. Brown say, “that you are not a member of the British Secret Service?” “For the matter of that,” said von Kahn jovially, “how am I to know that your Excellency is not also of that phantom body?” And they both laughed together. I heard the clink of a bottle on a glass and two hearty “Prosits,” and then Mr. Brown spoke again.