The instrument ceased its clatter. Dixie settled back, hopeful--and yet hopeless. Now there was no means of knowing. Her communication had been cut off. She could only wait--wait--with the teeth of anxiety gnawing at her heart. Wait, while all through the northern states, Imperial Germany's reservists were hurrying to their stations. Wait--while out at the main camp, Heinric von Lertz and Madam Stephan were giving orders that would cause rebellion to flare at the first word from Von Papen. But Dixie brightened a bit as she caught at the cheerful thought that Von Papen's message could not come through until the wires were opened--still when the wires were opened, Von Papen's wire might come through and Grant would not be there to stop the resultant activity. Hour by hour dragged endlessly as the night wore on. Dixie sat by the telegraph key, waiting. Call after call sent through Buffalo brought back the answer: "Wire not clear yet. Working on it." The moon dimmed, and the chill air of night made her huddle closer in the chair and shiver. Would the night never end and the call she was waiting for come? As the dawn lightened the dingy interior of the station it showed Dixie Mason with tumbled, towsled head fallen sleepily on one shoulder. The staccato clicking of the telegraph sounder broke into the quiet of the room. It started Dixie from her sleep. For one bewildered moment she glanced at the instrument before her and then on the alert reached for the key to answer the call that was coming through for Exeter. "O.K. Ex." She waited tensely for the answer. Suddenly a shadow fell across the doorway and Dixie started violently. "Here you! What're you doing at that telegraph instrument?" The rough voice of the station agent sent a chill of fear through her. "You don't know nothing about them things. Get out of here!" He pushed her roughly aside and seated himself at the table to take the message that in spite of nervousness and sudden fright seemed to burn itself into her brain. It was for Heinric von Lertz! "Proceed at once!" "F.V.P." Von Papen! Dixie clutched at the station agent's arm as he started for the door with the message. "Don't deliver that!" she begged. "Please--don't deliver it yet." "Don't deliver a telegram?" the agent glared at her uncomprehendingly. "What's the matter with you? Want me to lose my job?" "But if that telegram meant trouble--if it meant danger for our country?" "It's a telegram and it's got to be delivered," he answered stubbornly. Dixie's hand reached for her Secret Service Commission, then dropped. She had seen the station agent with Von Lertz and Dollings on various occasions. If he were an accomplice--which was very likely--her commission would profit her nothing and probably would work harm to her cause. She turned with an effort and laughed. "I was just fooling," she apologized. "Poor way to fool," grumbled the station agent, and slammed the door.