“They found letters at his rooms.” “_Schafskopf!_ Were there no fires?” Hammersley shrugged. “He is to be tried by court-martial. He will be shot.” Von Stromberg deliberated a moment. “And were you suspected?” “Yes. They followed me to Scotland, but fortunately the Yellow Dove is still a mystery--at least it was yesterday morning, and I got safely away.” Von Stromberg was scrutinizing him keenly. “H--m. What makes you think that you were followed?” “I left London by night train but got off at Edinburgh where my motor met me. But the wire was faster, and they had sent word to stop me. They stretched a rope across the road, but I saw it and went around. They fired at me----” “When was this?” “Three nights ago.” “They didn’t hit you----” “A mere scratch across the arm----” “Let me see it.” Hammersley looked into von Stromberg’s face and laughed. “Really?” he asked. “Yes.” Rather stiffly Hammersley took off his leather jacket and sweater and rolled up the sleeve of his flannel shirt. Von Stromberg examined the wound with interest. “So----” he said. “Put on your coat. And after that?” “I kept away from Ben-a-Chielt and put up for the night at my cousin’s.” “Who is that?” “Lady Heathcote----” “Oh, yes. It was at her house in London that the message passed to you.” “Yes, Excellenz.” Von Stromberg paused a moment and then spoke abruptly. “Why did you not give the papers to Rizzio?” Hammersley’s gaze met the General’s squarely. “They were too important. I could not take the risk.” “But his orders superseded yours.” “I saw--but I could not take the risk.” “Why?” “Because I had reason to believe that Rizzio was acting for the English Government.” Von Stromberg’s burning gaze flickered and went out. He took a few paces across the room, his right hand tapping the back of his left. At last he came and stood before Hammersley, his hands behind his back. “What were your reasons for believing that?” “Maxwell learned it from Byfield.” “Maxwell! You saw Maxwell--when?” “The night I left London.” “Has anything happened to him?” quickly. “I do not know.” The General frowned into the fire. “It is strange,” he muttered. “Very strange. You did not realize then that I suspected you?” Hammersley laughed. “Not at once. I did later. That is your privilege, Excellenz. But I refused to be caught under the circumstances. I preferred to take the risk of failure. After all, you see, I succeeded.” General von Stromberg was not immune from the frankness of Hammersley’s smile. He turned toward the table and scrutinized the papers with great care. “These are the very papers you got from Herr Captain Byfield?” Hammersley’s reply was startling. “Unfortunately, no. The original papers were burned----” “Burned!” cried the General, turning in his chair. “But not before I had made this copy, which I put in a safe place.” “Explain.”