“All things are possible,” declared a writer in the Paris _Temps_, “for a nation fired with a supreme spiritual zeal like that of the Japanese Samurai. It is simply a question how widely this sacred fire has spread among the American people.” CHAPTER XXIII CONFESSIONS OF AN AMERICAN SPY AND BRAVERY OF BUFFALO SCHOOLBOYS On December 26th I received a cable from the London _Times_ instructing me to try for another interview with the Crown Prince and to question him on the effect that this Boston victory might have upon the German campaign in America. Would there be retaliatory measures? Would German warships bombard Boston from the sea? I journeyed at once to Chicago and made my appeal to Brigadier General George T. Langhorne, who had been military attache at Berlin in 1915 and was now in charge of the Imperial prisoner. The Crown Prince and his staff occupied the seventh floor of the Hotel Blackstone. “I’m sorry,” said General Langhorne, after he had presented my request. “The Crown Prince has no statement to make at present. But there is another German prisoner who wishes to speak to you. I suppose it’s all right as you have General Wood’s permission. He says he has met you before--Colonel von Dusenberg.” “Colonel von Dusenberg?” “He is on the Crown Prince’s staff. In here.” I opened a heavy door and found myself in a large dimly lighted room. “Mr. Langston!” The voice was familiar and, turning, I stared in amazement; for there, dressed as an officer of the Prussian guard, stood the man I had rescued in the Caribbean Sea, the brother of the girl I had seen in Washington, Lieutenant Randolph Ryerson of the United States navy. He had let his moustache grow, but I recognised him at once. “You?” I stood looking at him and saw that his face was deathly white. “Yes. I--I’m in trouble and--I have things to tell you,” he stammered. “Sit down.” I sat down and lighted a cigarette. I kept thinking how much he looked like his sister. “Ryerson, what the devil are you doing in that Prussian uniform?” He turned away miserably, then he forced himself to face me. “I’ll get the worst over first. I don’t care what happens to me and--anyway I--I’m a spy.” “A spy?” He nodded. “In the service of the Germans. It was through me they knew about Widding’s invention to destroy their fleet. It was through me that Edison and Widding were abducted. I meant to disappear--that’s why I joined von Hindenburg’s army, but--we were captured and--here I am.” He looked at me helplessly as I blew out a cloud of smoke. “How is this possible? How did it happen? How, Ryerson?” I gasped in amazement. He shook his head. “What’s the use? It was money and--there’s a woman in it.” “Go on.” “That’s all. I fell for one of their damnable schemes to get information. It was three years ago on the Mediterranean cruise of our Atlantic squadron. I met this woman in Marseilles.” “Well?”