"So will I, sir. For Schnitzel have I the hurt here." Iggy laid a hand on his heart. "Never have I think he spy. Once fren's. Now him enemy my country, my enemy, too. I am the solder." Saluting, Iggy departed wholly unconscious of the nobility of his little speech. The next day broke in a torrent of rain that gradually slackened to a fine mist that continued to fall all day, bringing on an early dusk. Painfully on the alert, Ignace had watched vainly all day for the "som'thin'." He had had no trouble in avoiding Schnitzel. The latter had not come near the four Brothers. When at ten minutes to six Ignace saw him go down the squad-room stairs, he was in a fever of dread. The time had come and the "so cross major" had done nothing. He had not believed, then, after all. Ignace decided that he would have to take the initiative. He would say he was not hungry. He would not go to mess. He would stay in barracks and watch the rubbish can. If Schnitzel attempted to go near it, he would fight him away from it. Meanwhile Schnitzel was forging along through the mist toward the rendezvous. As he neared the spot, he could see no one. Drawing close to the barrack he waited, eyes and ears trained to catch first sight and sound of Fernando. It was only a moment or two until he heard the swashing contact of running feet with mud. Next a rain-drenched figure made port beside him, flashing a white ray of light upon him. "It is you," spoke a relieved voice in German. "Here is the camera. Take it quickly. I must return. Fail you not. Strike well for the Fatherland!" "Hold it just a second," replied Schnitzel. "I brought a paper for it to guard against the rain." "_Gut_," approved the voice. "_Bitte, schnell!_" "All's well!" Schnitzel exclaimed loudly in English. "Shh! Are you mad that you----" The question was never answered. Forth from the skeleton of the barrack leaped a succession of dark forms. They closed in on the pair with incredible quickness. "Traitor!" came a savage cry uttered in German. "Die then, with your kind!" "Not yet," panted Schnitzel as the supposed colleagues fought desperately for the possession of the camera case, to which Schnitzel clung like grim death. "Got it," he bellowed. "Hold him tight! He's Freidrich, not Fernando! He's a German spy! He poisoned the boys! He tried to blow up the barracks! I swore to run him down! I've done it. Let him die like a dog! Shooting's too good for him!" CHAPTER XXIV CONCLUSION "We're here because we're here!" announced Bob, beaming fatuously on four young men gathered about a round table in a Tremont restaurant. A week had elapsed since Franz Schnitzel had sprung the dramatic dénouement that had rid the world of one more fiend. Johann Freidrich, alias Juan Fernando, had been shot at sunrise of the morning before. Bob whimsically declaring that the event needed celebrating, he had straightway invited his Brothers and Schnitzel to a celebration in Tremont.