“_Quatsch!_ Sit down, Captain. I suggest nothing. There are merely some phases of the question which puzzle me. Perhaps when he arrives he can explain them.” “He will explain. I will stake my honor on it.” “I trust so. This is hardly a time when my department can afford to make mistakes in the character of those in its employ.” “But, Excellenz, you surely have no cause to doubt the exactness of the information he has furnished you!” “It depends upon what you mean by exactness. Our information, as you know, comes from a number of sources. Some of it has proven valuable--some useless. Herr Hammersley’s has been neither the one nor the other.” “But the British fleet at Cuxhaven----” “Yes, he gave us that, but they came two days earlier than we expected. It cost us the _Blücher_.” “But you knew that the orders were changed--and he sent a wireless----” “The morning the _Blücher_ was sunk,” said von Stromberg dryly. “But, Excellenz, he gave us a clear sea for the raid on Falmouth!” General von Stromberg rose and laid his hand on von Winden’s shoulder. “You are younger than I, Graf von Winden. The Secret Service makes a maxim to believe everyone guilty until he proves his innocence.” “But Herr Hammersley?” “We have reason to believe that the British Government permitted the raid on Falmouth, as a means of increasing the enlistments.” He slowly paced the floor and then said reassuringly, “Oh, I merely question--I merely question----” His words trailed off and Udo von Winden stood silently until he spoke again. “Oh, very well. We shall see--we shall see.” A knock at the door and an orderly entered. “Well?” “Dispatches, Excellenz.” Udo von Winden watched his superior officer as he dismissed the man and broke the seal of a large envelope and read, the lamplight playing on his long bony features, giving his sharp nose a peculiarly vulture-like avidity. The importance of the communication was obvious, for the small eyes under the heavy thatch of brows flamed in sudden interest. The General read the paper through quickly and then slipped it between the buttons of his coat. “That will be all, Herr Hauptmann----” he said, with a return of his military abruptness. “You will go at once to the hangar and await the arrival of Herr Hammersley.” And as the officer moved toward the door: “Also, you will first tell Herr Hauptmann Wentz that I wish to see him at once.” Von Winden clapped his heels together, saluted and went out while the General paced the floor of the room again tapping the back of his left hand with his right. “It is curious,” he muttered to himself. “A coincidence perhaps, but strange. And yet--possible.” While he was reading the document again Captain Wentz entered. He was short, thickly set and dark with a blue chin and heavy eyebrows, the type of a man who rises in the service from sheer ability. He waited at the door, immovable, in the presence of the great man until ordered to approach.