"On the contrary, I am giving the police and the Secret Service of this country credit for having a little sense. And if a few others who are working in the interests of Germany would do the same thing there would not be so many failures in our plans. If you could dispose of a little of this egotism with which you all are overburdened you would be of more use. You think because you are Prussian that all the rest of the world are idiots, because your blood does not flow in their veins." Her voice had risen to an uncautious degree but it was cut short by the opening of a door in the room. "You've said enough. Stop it at once!" It was Von Lertz's voice, angry, but low and self-possessed. "Can you not understand that this is no place for----" "But----" Madam Stephan broke in, ineffectively, for Von Lertz brushed aside her expostulation. "--personalities. If the Baroness had failed it is not her fault, nor the fault of the man she sent to do the work. If the plan failed, it failed, and that's all there is to it. Now I have wired him in code to proceed at once on Instruction Number Four. I must ask you to let the greatness of the cause we represent overshadow any private feelings that may arise." "My dear Von Lertz----" but Dixie had slipped the Panelphone from the door and was packing it in her travelling bag. She had heard enough to realize that there were other places at which her services were more needed than here. Hopewell was still in danger. What was this Instruction Number Four which had been telegraphed the spy to proceed on? She must learn, but the conviction that only in Hopewell could she gain this information hurried her to an attempt to reach there as soon as possible. The next train for the little town did not leave until late at night. The distance was short so Dixie decided to make the trip by automobile. With little trouble she rented one. Harrison Grant upon his arrival in Hopewell had taken up the work of tracing the culprit who had so nearly caused the destruction of the plant. Taking up the clue from the spot where the bomb had been found and accompanied by the Captain of the guard he had followed his blood-stained trail steadily to the door of Madam LaVere's Fortune Telling Parlor. "This is the place we want," he announced softly to the Captain. "Don't knock. Just open the door and make a rush for it." The Captain turned the handle of the door. "It's locked," he announced laconically. Grant reached out and rapped sharply. A moment's silence followed and then they heard a slow shuffle growing nearer. The key clicked in the lock and the door was opened by the pasty-faced Minna, the Baroness' maid. She stared at them dully. Grant attempted to step into the hall, but the maid barred the way. "The Madame's not home."