d. Then a line of transports came
into view. Presently the spy appeared at his window, sweeping the
channel with his powerful glasses. For several moments he studied the
passing ships carefully, then withdrew from the window and was lost to
sight. In a very few moments the scouts saw the grocer's boy, with his
basket and a few small packages, enter the house, then hurry away. Roy
trailed him directly to the grocery store, but did not enter.

Henry, meantime, impatient, like Paul Revere, "to mount and ride,"
stood peering out of a tiny window of the garage, awaiting the expected
motor-car. In his eagerness minutes seemed like hours. As time passed
and no motorcar came, he began to believe that none would come, that
the spies had learned of the trap set for them, and that they had
discontinued their work or devised some new plan of operation. So
impatient did Henry become that he could hardly refrain from running
into the street to see if any motor-cars were approaching. At last his
anxiety was relieved. He heard the regular beating of a motor climbing
the hill. Then as he glued his eye to the tiny window the familiar
car, a powerful roadster, with its top raised, rolled by. Again Henry
tried to catch the number and failed. Then he knew that the
dust-covered license number was not dust covered by accident. Quickly
he noted the treads of the tires, and the shape of the wheel hubs,
axles, and springs, so that he could identify the car. Then it passed
from his sight.

And now his anxiety suddenly grew a hundredfold. Always before, the
car had returned the way it came. Suppose that this time it should go
back by another route and he should miss it. He could not endure the
thought. Quickly he opened the door and peered forth. The driver was
just turning his car, as he had always done before. The matter was
settled. He would pass Henry's hiding place on his return. Quickly
Henry shut the door and waited with what patience he could command.

for what seemed like an hour he waited. His pulse beat fast with
excitement. He could hardly compel himself to stand quietly by his
window and wait. The old fear that the motorist had gone away by some
other route returned and began to torture him. He wanted to run out
into the street and assure himself that the car was still in sight.
And then, when it seemed he could endure the suspense not a second
longer, he heard the purring of a motor, and the car he was wa