gestive of Balaklava. Back to the Bay he traced his route, then
slowly traversed its waters. Past Bayonne, past Bedloe's Island, past
Jersey City, and up the Hudson his pencil slowly moved, as he surveyed
every name and looked at every turn and angle of the shore. Then he
came back to the eastern side of the Narrows and went north along the
Brooklyn shore. Past the Erie Basin, past Governor's Island, past the
Brooklyn Bridge, past the Navy Yard, past Blackwell's Island, past
Ward's Island, past Hell Gate, with its swirling currents, and on into
the Sound, he traveled in imagination, examining every point and word
on the map, but he saw nothing suggestive.

The minutes crept on. Eight o'clock had already struck. Captain Hardy
was in a fever of anxiety. He could no longer sit still, but was
pacing the floor. Lew, utterly hopeless of helping, stood at the
window, looking out over the myriad lights of the harbor.

"There's the _Patrol_," he said. "She's coming back up the Narrows."

"If we only knew where to go, it wouldn't be too late yet," said
Captain Hardy in a tragic voice. "It is awful to think that we have
failed." In an agony of mind he began to pace the floor.

Henry had finished his perusal of the atlas and was thinking
desperately over the problem. "I'd gladly go where the Light Brigade
went," he muttered, "if only it would take us to those spies." And
again he began to quote:

"'Into the jaws of death,
Into the mouth of hell
Rode the six hundred.'"

Hardly had he finished, when Willie gave a loud cry. "Hell Gate!" he
almost shrieked. "That's where they are going to meet."

Captain Hardy stopped abruptly in his walk. The flush of hope crept
into his cheek. "It's far-fetched," he said, "but it may be. It's the
only chance we've got. Can we make it in time? Where's the _Patrol_,
Lew?"

"Right there, sir; almost out of the Narrows."

"Quick, Henry. The wireless."

Henry rushed to the wireless room. Captain Hardy strode after him.
The others followed. With eager, skilful fingers, Henry adjusted his
instrument and began to flash out the call for the police-boat.

Almost at once he got an answer. As Henry wrote down the letters,
Captain Hardy leaned over his shoulder, his eyes fastened on Henry's
pencil.

"Tell them the secret service needs them at the landing at once, Henry.
Tell them to hurry."

Then, while Henry was flashing his message into the night, Captain
Hard