All of which goes to prove how futile is the attempt of one mind to reason as another would. For there had been several reasons why Dixie Mason concealed her connection with the Secret Service. The first and biggest was her order from the Chief that she work herself into the confidence of those highest in Germany's spy system in the United States, and that she tell no one of her connection with the Secret Service. Another very good reason for her not revealing her true status to Grant flashed into her mind as she stood at the switchboard listening to Grant's accusation that she had been instrumental in causing the destruction of the A.T.R. Munitions works. If it had been so simple a thing for Grant to believe, why could she not convince Von Lertz and his German friends that she had done this thing which would mean so much to them, and so lay the foundation for a confidence which would help her obtain their secrets by established right? It was a good idea. The night of her disappearance from the power house she called Von Lertz on the telephone. "Can you come to my apartment, soon? At once if possible. It is very important. And please bring a sharp file with you--yes rather large--I'll explain--Thank you--Good-bye." She hung up the receiver with a triumphant smile. The smile lingered as she deliberated on the events of the evening. She was very tired, but she must bring this latest affair to a successful close. The opportunity was too great to pass by. She heard shortly the sound of Von Lertz's car drawn up to the curb and a few moments later the bell of the apartment rang. She ran to open it herself, and, as Von Lertz entered, she held up laughingly a little hand about whose wrist dangled one manacle of a pair of handcuffs. "Now you know what I wanted the file for. Will you help me take it off?" She seated herself on a low stool beside the great armchair into which Von Lertz threw himself with easy familiarity. "Take it off and I will tell you all about it. It's a long, long story, and I'm tired and when I get through I think you will agree with me that I have a right to be tired." With quick interest Von Lertz bent over the little wrist with its strange adornment, and as Dixie in low tones told her story, Von Lertz filed away at the manacle. "The electrician mistook me for Madam Stephan, I think. I was standing by the power house and he came running past, followed by the chief watchman." She stopped meditatively. "Do you think I look like Madam Stephan?" Von Lertz glanced up impatiently. "Hardly, to one who knows you, you are both dark. But the story. What happened then?"