Despite a desperate resistance the four men found in the upper part of the house were quickly overcome. One grip filled with the doctored coal was seized and on the floor lay the discarded outer clothing of a man. Taking only Stewart with him Grant started in pursuit of the figure which had left the house, a figure which he now felt sure was one of the three men who had come from New York now dressed as a woman. The conspirator because of his acquaintance with the neighborhood had easily eluded the two men who were shadowing him. Grant came upon them hopelessly searching to pick up his trail. Without delaying Grant started, running at top speed, toward the coal shutes. The conspirator was already there and was busy dropping bombs down the shutes. Grant fired one shot, but missed, due to the uncertain light. The man at once fled and sending Cavanaugh and the others in pursuit Grant ran to the nearest shute. Without hesitation he dropped into the yawning black pit of its mouth. A second later, bruised and covered with coal soot, he rolled into the boiler room of the big plants. Springing hastily to his feet, he tore his coat aside to show his Secret Service shield. "Stop, men," he shouted. "Not another shovelful until we have examined the coal." He stooped, for almost at his feet lay a chunk of coal which he recognized as being of the same kind used for making the bombs. It was larger than the ordinary screenings used in the furnaces, but would never have attracted attention for large lumps were frequently found. Picking up the piece that had excited his suspicions, Grant found one side was of black card board. Hastily he peeled it off, and held it up before the astonished stokers, who had been watching him wild eyed, a tube filled with the most powerful explosive known! Orders were given hastily. The firing pits were all emptied and the coal taken away for rescreening. Fresh cars were rushed up to the shutes and before the steam had dropped below the point where it would not drive the engines fresh coal, safe coal, was being poured into the gigantic fire boxes. Grant's work was done and he repaired to town to wash and dress. Hardly had he restored his usual immaculate appearance when his men arrived to report that the spy at the shutes had been captured and was in jail with his fellow conspirators. Then telegrams began to arrive, forwarded from the Criminology Club in New York. They told of raid after raid which had been made, each nipping a plot in its budding, each conducted on information furnished by Madam Stephan. Not one of Imperial Germany's attempts had been successful. Grant's last waking thought that night, was of two women. "Dixie and I must see to it," he murmured sleepily, "that Madam Stephan is given opportunity to appreciate to the full the life of freedom to which she has just awakened."