"If Schmidt only gets here with that controller," seethed the spy from the Hohenzollern Club as he watched the fleet in the distance through his binoculars, "If he only gets here!" "How long will it take to attach it?" Another plotter was staring toward the distance. "Ten seconds. We've got plenty of time in that way--if he only gets here with it!" A sound from the tunnel. It was Schmidt, lugging the controller forward. The spy from the Hohenzollern Club turned with a quick order. "You get back there and guard the shack," he ordered of the third plotter. "We'll attend to things down here." The German retreated into the sewer. Schmidt began the placing of the wireless controller in its position. The spy from the Hohenzollern Club looked again through his binoculars. "We'll launch the torpedo just as the flagship rounds the point there. Understand?" "Perfectly!" Schmidt was testing his connections. They looked at each other then--and laughed. America was at their mercy, they thought! For they did not know that as they gloated over the coming fate of the flagship, Harrison Grant and his men were forcing their way through the doorway of the shack above them! But only emptiness greeted the members of the Criminology Club as the door crashed open. Harrison Grant glanced about him quickly. "They're gone--they're already in the sewer!" he exclaimed despondently. "We've got just one chance--to head off that torpedo when it starts! You men hurry to Buffan's landing and get the reserve launch there. I'll investigate here." "All right," then Stewart turned. "Here's something I picked up just outside. Should have given it to you before--but my brain's working a little slow since that blow on the head." He passed a reticule to Harrison Grant who stuffed it in his pocket. The men departed. Grant looked hastily about the shack then veered to a corner at a sound from below. Someone was coming back. There--the sewer manhole moved a little. Then a bit more--then it raised while the figure of a man started upward and through it. Grant crept forward. A quick leap, he seized the plotter by the throat, choking him and at the same time dragging him back on the floor. A moment more and he had bound him, dragged him to a corner and almost thrown him there, then started down the manhole. But as he groped blinking through the darkness, Schmidt and the spy from the Hohenzollern Club sighted the prow of the flagship as it rounded the point below them, swung the torpedo into position and shunted it, seething into the water! A few steps forward and Grant saw what had been done. There were two men, both with their backs to him, one guiding the torpedo with the wireless controller, the other leaning forward, pointing out its course as it made its way, slowly at first, then faster, toward the thundering flagship.