Dixie Mason turned sharply. Harrison Grant must not see her there--it would mean the necessity for explanations--explanations which might not be easily forthcoming. From far away came shouts--the shouts of men approaching through one of the alleys which as yet had been untouched by the flames. Dixie hardly heard. All that she knew was that she must leave the vicinity of the fire as soon as possible--content in the knowledge that her work had not gone for naught after all. Most--if not all--of the horses and cattle had been saved. Imperial Germany had destroyed American property in the shape of barns and pens--but it had at least failed to destroy the lives of the innocent beings against which it had plotted. Almost, aimlessly she turned to the railroad yards to escape the roaming droves of horses and cattle that were swirling everywhere. On she went, crossing track after track, as she sought the streets and the open. The light of the fire flared higher--and with it a slight exclamation came into Dixie's throat at the sight of a man before her. Hurriedly she swerved, leaped between two closing box cars of a flying switch, and then, as the man pursued, jumped across the track upon which was approaching a rapidly traveling train, hurrying on to where her deserted automobile showed its dull form, where it had been abandoned by the fire fiend. Once she looked back--to discern the fact that the man still watched her beneath the long train. Then she hurried on again. Back in her apartment, she reported to her Chief, to give the name of Walter Schleindel and her suspicions against Franz von Rintelen. An hour more went by and the telephone rang to bring the news of Schleindel's arrest, and his confession, of how he had used the bank as a clearing house for German Sodom, stealing the information of the manifests and bills of lading of Allied shipments which came in there for collection by the consignors, then in turn, selling this information to Paul Koenig of the Hamburg American line. Dixie smiled happily. "How about Rintelen?" she asked. A slight ejaculation of disgust came over the wire. "My men failed to find him. Someone must have notified him of the arrest of the auto burners in the railroad yards. At any rate he has left his hotel, without giving an address." All of which was correct. For Franz von Rintelen was at that moment telephoning to Bernstorff, and announcing to him that in future, his name would be E.V. Gates and that his 'business' would be that of a 'purchasing agent,'--but that Imperial Germany's work of destruction would still continue. And meanwhile also, at the Criminology Club, Harrison Grant, tired from his labors of the night, hesitated at the doorway to call an operative. "Bailey," he said, "I want you to take a skirmish around and see what you can learn about a girl named Dixie Mason." "Who is she?" Harrison Grant smiled grimly.