The Bomb-MakersBeing Some Curious Records Concerning the Craft and Cunning of Theodore Drost, an Enemy Alien in London, Together with Certain Revelations Regarding His Daughter Ella
tunnel, one of the most important on the line of railway communication running east and west across England, would be blocked for months.”

“That is what those devils intend!” Ella declared. “How can we frustrate them?”

Seymour Kennedy reflected for a few seconds, holding his torch so that its rays fell upon those innocent-looking petrol-tins at the end of the cunningly contrived sap. Then he took up one of them and carrying it said:

“Let’s get back, dear. We know the truth now.”

“It is evident that they intend to blow in the tunnel from below,” declared Ella, as they crept back along the narrow gallery.

“Without a doubt,” was her lover’s reply. “Mr Horton, as he is known, took the house with but one object—namely, to cut the railway-line to the coast—the line over which so much war material for the front goes nightly. Truly, the Hun leaves nothing to chance.”

“And my father is actually assisting in this dastardly work?”

“I’m afraid he is, darling. But so long as we remain wary and watchful, I hope we may be able to combat the evil activities of these assassins.”

“I’m ready to help you always, as you know,” was the girl’s ready reply. “But it grieves me that father is so completely German in his actions.”

“It is but natural, Ella. He is a German. If he were English, and lived secretly in Germany, he would act as an Englishman. All enemy aliens should have been interned long ago.”

Ever and anon, on their way back to the opening, they both stumbled upon the wire, while Seymour, carrying the petrol-tin, evidently filled with some heavy explosive, followed his well-beloved, who held the torch.

At last they emerged from the close atmosphere of the long, tortuous gallery that had been secretly driven to a point exactly beneath the railway-line in the very heart of the hill, and once again stood upright in the shed. Their clothes were muddy, and their hands and faces were besmeared with mud.

At last Kennedy put down the square heavy tin, the cap of which he very carefully unscrewed, and then examined it by aid of his torch, smelling it critically.

Taking from his pocket a strong clasp-knife he went back into the tunnel again for about fifty yards. With a swift cut he severed the lead which 
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