"It was practically the last entry you made," continued Cumberleigh, "but there are more, apparently written by your subordinate officer. I'll read some:--'5 P.M. Broke surface. Found large barge, X 5, derelict. Took off her as prisoners three English officers'--not four, you'll note. There certainly were four in R.A.F. uniforms. Now again:--'4.10 A.M. Set von Preussen ashore.' It's perfectly obvious that if von Preussen were set ashore twice he must have come on board during that interval. There is no mention of your vessel communicating with the shore between the two times you mentioned. So I put it to you that von Preussen and Fennelburt are one and the same person." The Hun's face grew pale. Beads of perspiration oozed from his forehead. "A curse on von Loringhoven!" he muttered in German. "His lack of caution has spoiled everything." Then in broken English he added: "I call you to make testimony. It vos not I dat betray von Preussen. It vos mein unter-leutnant, von Loringhoven." "That's all we wanted to know," rejoined Captain Cumberleigh quietly. "I might add, however, that it is hardly playing the game to put the blame upon your subordinate. Perhaps it is a way Prussian officers have, so it would not be surprising to hear that, later on, you will blame him for torpedoing the hospital ship _Columbine_ and the unarmed liner _Camperdown Castle_. Think it over." He turned to Lieutenant-Commander Morpeth. "Any further questions you want to ask, sir?" he inquired, with strict formality. "No," replied Morpeth. "Take him away." The sliding door closed on the prisoner. "Tough Geordie" turned to the successful amateur barrister. "By Jove, Cumberleigh," he exclaimed, "you bowled him out this time! But I thought you said that the log-book wasn't up to date." "Neither was it," admitted Cumberleigh, passing his cigarette-case. "I took the liberty of imagining that it was and ascribing the authorship to that little worm of a von Loringhoven." The R.A.F. captain was flushed with pleasure at his triumph. He had vindicated himself concerning his doubts of "Fennelburt's" genuineness. Until he had done so he was considerably uneasy in his mind, for he hated a suspicious nature. "I suppose you can wireless the information to Auldhaig?" he continued. "Goodness only knows what that spy might be up to before he's laid by the heels!" Morpeth shook his head. "Sorry," he replied. "It can't be did. We mustn't get ourselves into the cart over our forthcoming stunt for the sake of putting a stopper on a spy. You see, we don't know who might tap the wireless. Fritz might, and that would make him horribly suspicious." "Is there no other way to communicate with Auldhaig?" asked Cumberleigh.