I was out of the office in a trice, flashed my lamp along the corridor, and caught just a glimpse of a woman’s figure as it disappeared through the door at the other end. She fled across the yard, we behind her, and disappeared in the gloom. There was no time to search for her. We had to consider ourselves. We scurried down the ladder and heard the hoarse challenge of the watchman. By this time we were in mid-stream and paddling furiously. It was too dangerous to keep to the canal, and at the first opportunity we found a landing place and reached a street, an ill-favoured, dingy slum, which suited our purpose very well. Ten minutes rapid walking brought us to one of the main thoroughfares where we found a taxi-cab, and in the brief space of time between this discovery and our arrival at the hotel, I gave my instructions to Klein. “She is evidently a member of the secret police,” I said, “and she got to know that we were after the specifications to-night and forestalled us. I think Manchester is a little too hot for you and me, Klein, and we will fade away.” We dismissed the cab at the hotel and walked into the brightly-lighted vestibule, and came face to face with Miss Harrymore! There was no doubt in my mind. There she stood, her face flushed with triumph. I could see the mud on her shoes, I recognized the fur-edged coat, and I realized my danger. She probably had a motor-boat waiting for her and had taken the short-cut back to the hotel in time to confront and denounce us. In that moment all the latent genius of our race came to the surface. We Germans make our decisions quickly, boldly. With such rapidity did I act that I even surprised myself. Extending my forefinger I pointed at Miss Harrymore. “This woman,” I said, “is a German spy. She has in her possession certain specifications and plans of a new and secret weapon.” I said this in a loud voice and a quiet-looking man who had been sitting reading dropped his paper and springing up edged his way through the little crowd which had collected about us. I saw the girl go pale. I knew that she could not betray herself as a secret agent and that, found in possession of the plans, she would not be able to explain how she came by them. The quiet-looking man moved to her side and caught her arm. “I am Inspector Lovell, of the Manchester Detective Department,” he said, “and on this gentleman’s accusation I shall take you to the Central Police Station.” He told us to follow, and led Miss Harrymore out of the hotel. I gave a sign to Klein, and we followed, but not to the station. Our big Mercédès was waiting round the corner and dawn found me in London, so changed in appearance that I doubt if the admirable Inspector Lovell would have recognized the man who had trapped Miss Harrymore. So far this comedy goes and now comes the tragedy. I found in London, waiting for me, a code message from Berlin.