After a series of digressions which I hope have not led us too far from the path, we may return to the third of the Hindu-German projects in which we of the Bomb Squad were especially interested. Ever since Captain von Papen’s check-book had been captured by the British at Falmouth in January, 1916, students of the German plots in the United States had wondered why two of the stubs bore the entries: “Feb. 2, 1915, German Consulate, Seattle (Angelegenheit) $1,300. “May 11, 1915, German Consulate, Seattle (for Schulenberg) 500.” In December, 1917, Barnitz, Randolph and I had gone to San Francisco to testify in the _Annie Larsen-Maverick_ case. It so happened that a German who was unable to give a satisfactory account of himself had just been picked up at San Jose. His name was Franz Schulenberg, and at the invitation of the San Francisco authorities we assisted in the examination of the prisoner. He testified that in the early months of 1915 he had met Lieutenant von Brincken, of the San Francisco Consulate, who had sent him to the consul at Seattle. There von Papen in person paid him $4,000 to buy fifty guns, fifty Maxim silencers, a ton of dynamite, and deliver it to one Singh, at the border between Sumas, Washington, and Canada. There Singh was to deliver it to a small army of coolies, who would start a reign of terror in the Canadian northwest, dynamiting bridges, railways and shipping, and shooting guards. Schulenberg had actually bought some of the munitions when he received a letter from von Brincken telling him to break off relations with the Hindus. After some time he tried to get more money from von Brincken, but Franz Bopp, the consul, spurned him, and von Brincken sent him to New York, to get it from von Papen. Von Papen refused to pay him further. While Schulenberg was in Hoboken, three men from Paul Koenig’s staff approached him and posing as United States agents offered him $5,000 for any information which would incriminate Count von Bernstorff. Von Papen had had Koenig send them--although Schulenberg did not know this--to test him. One of the three was George Fuchs. The air was getting thick around von Papen’s head at the moment, and he could not afford to have a disgruntled and unpaid henchman gabbling about the saloons in Hoboken. But Schulenberg believed that the three were really American secret service men, and refused to divulge what he knew. The next morning a German whom he had not seen before appeared at his lodging house and gave him a railroad ticket to Mexico. “They’re after you--the secret service,” he said. “Here’s a ticket. Use it.” Schulenberg was half sick anyway, and evidently it did not enter his mind to squeal. He fled to Mexico, and von Papen thus disposed of a troublesome source of information. When we talked to Schulenberg, two years later, he was a sorry reminder of another German failure.