"I have come to invite you to the _petit souper_ at the Inn," Voissard presently said. "There we shall be able to talk for a little. I have some things to relate to you of my nephews whom I saw while away. There is also the old matter of the man whom you described to me. Also there is another matter to be discussed." Cousin Emile's invitation was gladly accepted, and a few minutes later the five men left the barrack for a quaint little inn, to which the aviator conducted them. Seated together at a rear table, the four Brothers were not concerned as to what they ate. They had found one inn to be about the same as another in regard to "eats." All offered eggs, cheese, brown bread, red wine, and not much else. In this instance, however, Voissard held a lengthy consultation with the innkeeper himself, which sent him hustling for the kitchen. "Now while thus we wait I will speak of my nephews first," began the aviator. "Both are now in the Nieuport squad. Each has been out twice, and has a Boche plane to his credit. They send you many good wishes, and are in hopes to see you before long somewhere out here." He went on to tell them further of the doings of the Twinkle Twins, smilingly answering the countless eager queries put to him by the Khaki Boys. While they were still discussing the famous Twinkle Twins, their dinner appeared in the shape of two immense, beautifully browned omelets, with other accompanying delicacies, which made them open their eyes. Cousin Emile, it seemed, knew a thing or two about French inns, which they did not. Directly the meal had been served and the waiter had withdrawn, Voissard reached into a pocket of his sky-blue uniform blouse, and drew from it a small photograph. Handing it across the table to Jimmy, he said simply: "Look well at this." Jimmy looked. His gray eyes flashed as he exclaimed: "It's the same old smile! I mean, it's my tiger man! Then your friend, the Prefect of Police, knew him----" "Very well," finished Voissard. "But not as Charles Black. This man's real name is Adolph von Kreitzen. He is an Austrian, and one of the most villainous creatures of the Central Powers that ever drew breath. Before the war his crimes were many, yet he always eluded capture. During the first two years of the war he did much damage to our cause as a spy. "Suddenly no more was heard of him. It was thought by my friend the Prefect that he had either entered the German army or been ordered to commit suicide by his master, on account of some failure on his part to carry out a mission intrusted to him. This is often the fate of those whose work as spies displeases their finicky war-lord. He graciously rewards their efforts for the Fatherland with disgrace or death.