"He knows he can get me out of the way at any time by denouncing me to the Germans," replied Max in dissent. "No--that will not explain it. But as sure as I live I will wring the truth from him before another hour is gone." Dale gazed in some apprehension at his friend as he strode feverishly along towards the Durend works. He feared that he might, in his anger, do some rash act that would destroy all. But presently, to his relief, he saw that he was regaining control over his feelings, and, by the time they reached the works, he seemed his usual self again. The only evidence of his past emotion was to be found in his somewhat gloomy looks and in lips tightly compressed as though to hold in check feelings that struggled for an outlet. CHAPTER IX The Opening of the Struggle The manager was in his room, and stared in some alarm at Max and his friend as they strode unceremoniously in. Then he touched a bell and his secretary entered. "Remain at the door, Erbo. I shall want you in a moment," he said coolly. It was a declaration of distrust, if not war, and both sides knew it. It robbed Max's words of any circumlocution he might otherwise have used, and he went straight to the point. "You have not sent my mother the money that she instructed you to send, Monsieur Schenk. Why is that?" The manager cleared his throat. "The German commander has forbidden any moneys to be sent out of the country, Monsieur Max, and it is unfortunately now impossible for me to do so." "I have not heard of any such order. But why did you not do it before the Germans entered? You had ample time." "I gave instructions, but the tremendous pressure a day or two before the Germans entered--you know how I worked to cast shells for our armies and the garrisons of the forts--caused it to be overlooked. I regret this very much, but it is now too late to do anything." The manager looked squarely and unblushingly at Max as he boasted of the way in which he had aided the Belgian troops, and the latter was hard put to it to keep back the torrent of wrathful words that rose to his lips. But other and more pressing matters claimed attention just now, and, choking down his indignation, he replied temperately: "It is _not_ too late, Monsieur Schenk. Hand me the necessary moneys or securities and I will convey them to Maastricht. My mother must not be left destitute."