He shook her off and sounded the bell, which was immediately answered by Udo von Winden. “You will conduct Fräulein Mather to her room upstairs. Lock the door and bring me the key. Then tell Herr Hammersley that I am waiting to see him.” CHAPTER XVII LINDBERG When Hammersley entered the house with von Winden he was immediately aware that a crisis had come in his affairs, for in the hall leading to the living-room stood Captain Wentz and two soldiers, and when he was shown into von Stromberg’s presence, the Councilor stood with his back to the hearth, his long legs wide apart, his hands behind his back and the expression of his long, bony face was not pleasant to see. He smiled and frowned at the same time--a smile which possessed so few of the ingredients of humor that the tangled brows even seemed less ominous. Doris was nowhere to be seen. Hammersley made no sign of his prescience of trouble. He put his pipe in the pocket of his leather jacket, strolled forward into the room and stood at attention. “Search him!” snapped von Stromberg. And when von Winden had finished, “Leave us,” he said to the officer, “and keep within call, I shall need you presently.” He waited until the door was closed and then turned to Hammersley somberly. “Your jig is danced, Herr Hammersley, Fräulein Mather has confessed.” “Confessed what, Excellenz?” questioned Hammersley calmly. “She has told the truth.” “Of course, that was to be expected of her.” “Bah!” roared the General. “There’s no need of more of that. She told me that you were an English spy.” Hammersley started forward, the only expression on his face one of complete incredulity. “Fräulein Mather told you that? Impossible!” “Do you mean to say that you don’t believe me?” Hammersley managed a smile. “It would hardly be good ethics for me to say that. I simply repeat that it is impossible.” “Why?” Von Stromberg sneered. “Because it is morally impossible for her to tell an untruth.” “_Ach_, so. But it is _physically_ impossible for her to keep from _not_ doing so.” He leaned forward, grinning craftily. “In the small games of life, in the things which amount to nothing, women lie with a careless skill that is amazing, but in a game of life and death, their little tricks are negligible. Pouf! Herr Hammersley, did you expect to match mere falsehood and such a tissue of flimsy evidence against a man of my experience? It was a desperate game from the beginning--one which could have had only one end. You have been clever--very, very clever. In time, perhaps, under proper guidance and with the necessary political opinions, you could have succeeded in becoming a very useful helper of the Universe, through the medium of the Secret Service Department of the German Empire. But such cleverness is superficial and quickly burns out in the hotter fire of genius. I would like you to know--”