“You need not worry. The girl is romantic--an idealist.” “And you are the ideal, you dog!” said I. He twisted his moustache, by no means ill-pleased at the accusation. “Some men have that power of attraction,” he said modestly. “I am rather sorry for the little thing.” “What have you learnt from her?” I asked. Koos did not reply for a moment, then he said: “So far, very little. I am naturally anxious not to alarm her or arouse her suspicions. She is willing to talk and she has access to her father’s study and, from what I gather, she practically keeps all the keys of the house. At present I am educating her to the necessity for preserving secrecy about our friendship and to do her justice, she is just as anxious that our clandestine meetings should not come to the ears of her father as I am.” We walked along in silence. “This may be a very big thing,” I said. “Bigger than you imagine,” replied Alexander; “there is certain to be an exchange of confidential views about artillery between the Allies, and though we have nothing to learn from the English, it is possible that the French may send orders to Woolwich for armament. In that case our little friend may be a mine of information. I am working with my eyes a few months ahead,” he said, “and for that reason I am allowing our friendship to develop slowly.” I did not see Koos again for a week, except that I caught a glimpse of him in the Café Riche with his fair companion. He did not see me, however, and as it was desirable that I should not intrude, I made no attempt to make my presence apparent. At the end of the week we met by appointment, which we arranged through the agony column of a certain London newspaper. I was feeling very cheerful, for Stein, Besser, and Kahn had sent in most excellent reports, and it only needed Alexander’s encouraging news to complete my sum of happiness. “You remember the gun-lathe I spoke to you about,” he said. “My friend--you may regard the blue prints as in your hands.” “How has this come about?” “I just casually mentioned to my little girl that I was interested in inventions and that I had just put a new lathe upon the market in America and she was quite excited about it. She asked me if I had heard about the lathe at Woolwich, and I said that I had heard rumours that there was such a lathe. She was quite overjoyed at the opportunity of giving me information and asked me whether in the event of her showing me the prints I would keep the fact a great secret, because,” he laughed softly, “she did not think her father would like the print to leave his office!” “You must be careful of this girl,” I said, “she may be detected.” “There is no danger, my dear fellow,” said Alexander. “She is the shrewdest little woman in the world. I am getting quite to like her if one can like these abominable people--she is such a child!”