counterplot.

They were, however, in ignorance of what was transpiring within the house.

Truth to tell, Ortmann and Drost were at that moment in one of the servants’ bedrooms upstairs, which had been cleared out, and where, upon a long table, stood a complete wireless set both for receiving and transmission.

“That fellow Kennedy is here!—and with my girl Ella!” gasped old Drost, who had just come into the room. “I’ve been across to the wood. They’re actually here!”

“Kennedy here!” exclaimed Ortmann, his face pale in an instant. “How could he possibly know?”

“Well, he’s here! What shall we do?”

Ortmann stood for a few moments reflecting deeply.

Slowly an evil, sinister grin overspread his countenance.

“Your girl,” he said in German, in a deep voice. “She is your daughter. You wish to protect her—eh?”

“No, she’s English. We are Germans.”

“Excellent. I knew that you were a good Prussian. Then I may act—eh?”

“Entirely as you wish. We must get rid of these watch-dogs,” snarled the old man in a venomous voice.

Ortmann, without further word, descended the stairs and entered the dining-room wherein sat two men, Germans, naturalised as British subjects, by name Bohlen and Tragheim.

To the first-named he gave certain and definite instructions, these being at once carried out.

Kennedy and Ella, both, of course, quite unconscious that their presence had been discovered by the wily Drost, saw a tall man, a stranger, carrying a thick stick, cross the lawn to the gate which gave entrance to the wood, and watched how he remained there for about ten minutes, while presently there emerged a second figure, who crossed to the cow-shed wherein the electric tapping-key remained concealed.

Kennedy glanced at his wrist-watch.

The munition train was almost due to enter the tunnel, therefore the stranger Tragheim, one of Ortmann’s poor, miserable dupes, had been sent forward to 

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