"That armory explosion--did you arrange that?" "I?... Oh no, Herr von Essen! _You_ did." "I! You're crazy." "The records show--our secret records. You have the credit there.... Now, Herr von Essen, will you obey orders?" "No. What do your secret records matter to me?" "If I put information in the hands of the clumsy American agents that Herr von Essen is excessively pro-German and that it might be well to inquire where he was the night of that so-called outrage, they might be interested, eh?... And if it was hinted that a search of your premises would unearth a considerable quantity of explosives, and some extremely novel and effective bombs and infernal machines?... I should hate to do that, Herr." "But I was not where you say on that night--that Friday night." "No, Herr von Essen? Shall I tell you where you were? You were with me. Alone with me, as I took excellent pains to see you would be. Nobody knows where you were but myself--and I would be unable to come to your assistance, of course. I'm afraid there would be evidence directly against you, however. It would look black for you if your chauffeur were to swear that he carried you to a point on the river and saw you meet two other men, and that you had baggage which you carried, oh, so carefully. Eh? And if he saw you cross the river, partly on the ice and partly with boats? It would look bad." Hildegarde heard her father burst into a torrent of imprecation, frightened imprecation. She was even sorry for him. Yet she felt a malicious satisfaction. He was trapped, neatly trapped, and he was being made to suffer. She approved of that. "Well?" demanded the stranger when von Essen became quiet again. "You couldn't.... It wouldn't be safe for you. I should describe you and tell--" "And how long would you continue to live after that? Give a moment's thought to that point." "Is that explosive in this house?" "Plenty of it." Yon Essen groaned. "What do you want me to do?" "Whatever you are told. You'll get over this first nervousness soon--and you'll quite enjoy yourself. Really, there's a satisfaction in our work--when it is successful. Are you going to be reasonable?" Von Essen made some reply unintelligible to Hildegarde, but which evidently was satisfactory to the stranger. "We'll call it settled, then," the latter said. "I'm pleased for your sake. You will get your orders in due time. In the mean while, stand ready at all times to obey. Am I understood?" "Yes," said von Essen, in a voice from which all arrogance, all courage was gone, "I understand."