It was natural that when he landed he should seek out his brother-in-law, Walter Scholz, who was working as gardener on an estate in Connecticut. It was natural, too, that when he set about getting supplies for his bombs he should call on Dr. Kienzle, who made clock machinery, for Dr. Kienzle had already written to the German secret service in Berlin recommending just such work as Fay had come to undertake. When he came to require explosives, it was only natural that Kienzle should refer him to his friend Max Breitung, with the result which we have seen, and naturally Paul Daeche, who was a good friend of both Kienzle and Breitung (he had tried to return to Germany with both of them on the _Kronprinzessin Cecilie_ when she put out of New York and put in to Bar Harbor in late July, 1914)--naturally Daeche was interested in Fay’s projects and devices, and helped him with them. Daeche was one of those doubtful Germans who had come to America to “study business methods”--in short a commercial spy, willing to make a living. [Illustration: _Copyright, by Underwood and Underwood, N. Y._ Lieutenant Fay’s Motor Boat] Fay was crestfallen after his arrest. He worried, first, over what his government would think of him when he had left home promising that not a single munitions’ ship would leave New York and reach the Allies; second, because revealing his commission to destroy those ships would place Germany in a bad light with other neutral nations; third, for fear he might implicate the Imperial German Embassy at Washington. He protected the Embassy for a time, and then admitted that his plans had only been waiting a word from von Papen and Boy-Ed for consummation. His mines were all ready to be set, and the attachés, whom he had met, had not given the word. All his clever craftsmanship had gone for nothing.