Madam Stephan's beautiful face clouded with disappointment as Harrison Grant, bewailing the necessity that forced him to leave the pleasure of her company so early, shortly after made his adieus. The disappointment turned to plain anger as the door closed behind him and she realized that her efforts to gain his confidence had not met with success. Grant's evening had proved more profitable. The letter he had purloined from Madam Augusta's writing desk he read later with obvious satisfaction in his office at the Criminology Club. "Dear Madame," the letter ran, "Fay will be able to obtain what dynamite he needs at the old lighthouse at Marsh's Inlet. C.L. Wettig has promised a quantity of T.N.T. Sincerely, Von Papen." "Wettig!" It was the man who had talked with him early in the week, the explosives agent. It was probable that the Fay referred to was the man of whom Wettig had spoken. It was more than probable. Certainty grew in Grant's mind as he outlined his plans for action. He reached for the push button that summoned Cavanaugh. "Get C.L. Wettig here as soon as you can," he ordered, handing Billy Cavanaugh the card Wettig had left on his recent visit. Billy Cavanaugh made good time. It was scarcely three-quarters of an hour later when he returned with his man. Grant greeted him cordially. "Well Wettig, we have a line on your man. Have you heard anything?" Wettig pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and a card. "Not until today when a man called at my office and told me to deliver the stuff to a boathouse on the Jersey shore tomorrow, to a Robert Fay. Here's the location of the place." A smile of satisfaction crossed Grant's face. "Fay. That was the name." He glanced up. "You haven't delivered the stuff yet, of course?" "No, I was going to see you first. Thought it was too late tonight to get hold of you." "Not us. The Criminology Club never sleeps," Grant smiled. "Tomorrow have the T.N.T. delivered to me. Then get into communication with this Fay and tell him that you are having it sent over by someone he can trust. Someone who is all right. You understand? Tell him that your messenger is a trained mechanic and is anxious to be of help to 'The Cause.'" The last was added with a sardonic smile. Wettig nodded. "I get you. Tomorrow I'll have the stuff delivered. Here's a card that was given me when they first started negotiations. This will help you get by and show them you are the one I mentioned." He held a card, Grant, looking through it toward the light, saw the coat-of-arms of Germany watermarked on it. "Thanks. I'll be able to make good use of it," he said slipping the card into a leather purse. Wettig held out his hand. "Good bye, and good luck." The men shook hands, and a moment later Pat Hennessy was closing the outside door after Wettig.