Upon the deck of the _Liebenfels_, Harrison Grant and Dixie Mason had arrested the crew and the captain of the liner. Already the boat had begun to list slightly, from the water pouring into the hold from the sea-cocks. And as the small boats went over the side and started toward the shore, carrying the men who were to be accused of attempting to block the harbor of Charleston, the one man who had caused the disaster, stood waist deep in water in the engine room, striving vainly to find some way of escape, dully chattering to himself in his fear. For Heinric von Lertz, German spy, was facing death through his own actions. Gradually and steadily the water rose, while the spy clawed at the tightly fastened door which separated him from the companionways and from safety. Hurriedly he tried to force his way through the rapidly rising water, back to the sea cocks, that he might close them again. But impossible. The rush of water had become so great that there was no stemming it now. He screamed in terror as he fought against the water as though he would force it back with his bare hands. But still it rose. Higher and higher, to his breast, to his shoulders, to his chin--while the henchman of Germany clawed and struggled and fought against his fate, like some maddened animal. Then, at last, a final, spasmodic struggle; the dim form of a weaving figure as it swayed in the water. Then bubbles. Heinric von Lertz, murderer, incendiary, thief, and spy for Imperial Germany, was dead. Dead, while the arch-spies sought him in vain. Dead, while Bernstorff and Albert gathered for their last conference. Dead, while all America thrilled at the thought of war and while the agents of Germany made their final plans for the last concerted blow against America under their personal management. They had come to New York from Washington, after bidding farewell there. At the pier, their baggage had been loaded aboard the _Frederik VIII_, ready for the trip to Germany, via Copenhagen, when Bernstorff looked at his watch, then turned to Albert. "You are sure that every preparation has been made?" he asked. "Quite sure. I was at the shop last night and was told that they would work all night to finish their supply of bombs." "But you have received no report this morning?" "No." Bernstorff walked to the window. "It is a grey, gloomy day," he said. "The red glow of fire would throw quite a reflection against those clouds." "And it would also silhouette the Statue of Liberty quite nicely." "Yes," laughed Bernstorff, "by the way, I wonder what His Highness will do with the Statue of Liberty when we invade America?" "By the time our navy finishes bombarding New York, there will be little of it left," answered Albert tersely. "But you were talking about my bomb-makers."