“If not for any other reasons, Excellenz, the pursuit of the agents of Scotland Yard would have been sufficient. Fortunately, however, I had intended going as the bearer of the Byfield message. And I carried it. You can’t deny that.” “He brought a message, Excellenz,” put in Rizzio quickly. “But what message? There were two messages. One prepared by Captain Byfield--the other prepared by Hammersley.” “I do not deny that. When I discovered that I was likely to have an interesting evening I made a copy of the papers in a package of Riz-la-Croix which I had in my----” Rizzio broke in quickly. “That copy was made not at Lady Heathcote’s that night, but at the War Office or elsewhere the following day. It was prepared for the emergency of capture and, escaping that, for delivery to General von Stromberg.” “General von Stromberg has been told about those papers. I have told him where and when I made the copy.” “And where was that?” asked Rizzio keenly. “In the library at Lady Heathcote’s while you were telephoning to Scotland Yard.” Rizzio struggled for control, and then with dignity to von Stromberg, “I was telephoning to Herr Maxwell, Excellenz.” He turned to Hammersley with a confident smile. “Assuming for the moment that what you say about copying the papers is true, what did you do with the copy?” “I took it out to the motor, where I slipped it down the window sash,” Hammersley laughed. “Surely, Rizzio, the tall man from Scotland Yard must have told you that when I escaped I shouted to him that he had not searched the motor.” General von Stromberg broke in suddenly. “Why did you say that?” Hammersley shrugged. “I had injured their motor, and I knew that I should escape. The bravado of triumph, Excellenz. I was rather happy, for, as a fact, they had given me an uncomfortable evening.” Rizzio leaned across the table. “Excellenz, it was to draw attention from the girl, who had the original message and who had concealed herself in a tree.” General von Stromberg took a small object from his pocket and weighed it lightly in the fingers of one hand. It was the package of Riz-la-Croix. As Hammersley was about to speak, he held up the other hand in demand for silence. “We are not getting very far, _meine Herren_,” he said. “Both of you tell excellent stories of your adventures worthy of the best traditions of the Secret Service Department. If, as Herr Rizzio alleges, Herr Hammersley has substituted other papers for the original ones burned by Miss Doris Mather, Herr Hammersley will be shot. If, as Herr Hammersley alleges, Herr Rizzio was in communication with Scotland Yard, the officers of which attempted the life of Herr Hammersley while he bore dispatches for me, Herr Rizzio will be shot. It is a very delicate matter, _meine Herren_, one which will require much thought, since the one man who could settle the question is in an English prison.” Hammersley started a pace forward. “Oh, then he _is_ taken!”