“It is!” Dave insisted. “Remember that picture you took from the wrecked plane? The picture of two young fellows?” “Yes, I remember.” “They were clear enough. You couldn’t make a mistake if you saw one of those men. I saw Nicholas tonight, by the bright light of his own signal torch. I couldn’t be mistaken. In the shoe shop he was always bending over, half hiding his face. Tonight I really _saw_ him.” “Where’s his signal torch?” Brand asked suddenly. “That’s right,” Dave sprang up. “Where is it? In my excitement I might have— “Yes. Here it is.” He drank in a deep breath of relief. “I must have put it down. I—I was afraid he had come back for it.” “He never will,” said Brand. “You can’t be sure,” Dave replied thoughtfully. “Flash went in with him. If Flash escaped, how about Nicholas Schlitz, the spy? After all, there were three blasts. There was some time between the first and last. Who’s going to say whether the first or last made that hole out there?” To this question Brand found no answer. Brand stood up, gazed at the sky, north, south, east and west, listened for a full minute, then said: “Storm’s over. Let’s see if we can’t get them all to go home.” It took little persuading to get Alice and Cherry started. Soon they were all on their way. It was only as they rounded the last curve that brought them in full view of their home that the full significance of Heinie’s work that night burst upon them. They greeted the scene that lay before them in tragic silence. The home that had housed the Ramsey tribe for a dozen generations was a wreck. A bomb had landed on the east end and torn it completely away. Gone was the prim little parlor with its very formal furniture, gone the cozy dining room with its array of ancient willow-ware and rare glass-ware. Gone was the big four-poster bed on which Cherry and Alice had slept since they were tiny tots, and gone all the countless treasures that had adorned their rooms. “Le—t—, let’s have a look.” Brand climbed out of the car. He was trying to be nonchalant about the whole affair and making a bad job of it. Dave climbed out after him. Then, after ten seconds of listening, he flashed on the spy’s powerful light. At once the whole wrecked place stood out in bold relief. By some miracle the great chimney had withstood the shock. The fireplace had been blown clean of ashes. “Dave, you were a gem.” These were Cherry’s first words. “If there had been a spark of fire!” “It’s a miracle that anything is left,” said Applegate. “Of course you’ll all come up to live with us.” “Oh, no.” Alice spoke slowly. “The children would worry Lady Applegate. I—I’m sorry. We still have furniture and cooking things. I’m sure quite enough. And there’s the Hideout up at the foot of the hill. It’s quite large and hidden among the trees. We may,” she hesitated, “may need to borrow a few dishes. We—we don’t seem to have any.”