"By golly--no!" Pat clasped a hand to his head. "If it ain't me that's always forgittin'. I ain't fixed the bur-r-rglar trap!" Harrison Grant smiled, then stood watching while Hennessy moved the firing pins of the club's burglar protection into place at the windows. One by one, the triggers of the concealed revolvers were cocked. Then Hennessy, with a little nod, started toward the stairway, Harrison Grant following. A moment later they hesitated at the door, while Hennessy fished for his keys. Then---- The crashing detonation of a revolver shot--from upstairs! Then another and another and another! The men turned. They rushed up the stairway and toward a half open window, through which could be seen the figure of a man, writhing in the agonies of death. Old he was and bearded, the nostrils covered by a germ mask, his hands protected by rubber gloves. Beside the convulsing figure lay a "pump-gun" or air-injector, and Grant knew the contents--deadly germs! Out the window went the master-detective, and to the side of the dying man. "Careful now!" he ordered. "Search him--but look out for cultures and bacteria!" A moment later and Harrison Grant was in the possession of the thing he sought--a card, carelessly left in the old scientist's pocket in his surety of success, a card which gave his name and address and which sent Harrison Grant scurrying forth to pick up Billy Cavanaugh, one of his favorite operators, and to hurry across town in search of the laboratory that he felt sure the dead bacteriologist had maintained. But in the meanwhile, things had gone well for Imperial Germany in the office of "E.V. Gates." Only Franz von Rintelen and Heinric von Lertz remained. The others had gone to the Hohenzollern Club for a last toast to the Kaiser and a quiet chat regarding their plans--too quiet even for the concealed dictograph of the Criminology Club to detect. All the work had been left for Rintelen and Von Lertz and they were making plans hastily. Papers were piled high on the desk of Rintelen, papers which formed reports from spies everywhere, from the thugs employed by Paul Koenig of the Hamburg American line, from spies scattered among railroad men, among the 'longshoremen, among the workmen of practically every industry in the country. Rintelen was speaking: "From what I can gather by the reports of Schleindel, the bank spy, shipments of automobiles have been very heavy in the Jersey yards recently. Here is information that a lighter containing 150 of them will cross the river tomorrow for shipment to France. I would suggest that you choose that as your part of the plan." Von Lertz rose. "I know the man who can handle it for me," he said. "I'll see him at once. Good-night." "Good-night," answered Rintelen. Already he was reaching for his coat and hat, even forgetting his inevitable disguise in his hurry to foment another part of the great scheme against New York's 23,000 'longshoremen.