ed order, which we shall have pleasure in
promptly executing,
We are, sir,
Yours obediently,
WILKINSON and ALLBUTT.
MR. JAMES MACDONALD."

That letter, innocent enough upon the face of it, contained dastardly
instructions from the Chief of Police to a German spy! Read by the
alphabetical code supplied to every German secret agent in England, it
ran as follows:

(_Phrase 1_). "Discover without delay secret of new aeroplane."

(_Phrase 2_). "Forward particulars of best plan for blowing up
(1) Portsmouth Dockyard.
(2) Woolwich Arsenal.
(3) Albert Memorial."

(_Phrase 3_). "Be careful of Jack Jacox. He carries a revolver and
an electric torch."

"Ah!" said my friend grimly, "we were only just in time. Had we delayed
longer, England might have knelt at the proud foot of a conqueror!"

"Ha!" I replied briefly.

Next morning we returned to the chambers which we shared together in
London, and were joined by Vera Vallance, the pretty fair daughter of
Admiral Sir Charles Vallance, to whom my old friend was engaged. And, as
he stroked her hair affectionately, I realised thankfully that he and I
had indeed been the instruments of Providence in foiling the plots of
the German spies!

BUT HOW WILL IT ALL END?
WHEN WILL GERMANY STRIKE?

THE HALO THEY GAVE THEMSELVES

[A collaboration by the Authors of "The Broken Halo" and "The Woman Thou
Gavest Me."]

CHAPTER I

SUNDAY MORNING

(MRS. BARCLAY _begins_)

It was a beautiful Sunday morning. All nature browsed in solemn Sabbath
stillness. The Little Grey Woman of the Night-Light was hurrying,
somewhat late, to church.

Down the white ribbon of road the Virile Benedict of the Libraries came
bicycling, treadling easily from the ankles. He rode boldly, with only
one hand on the handle-bars, the other in the pocket of his white
flannel cricketing trousers. His footballing tie, with his college arms
embroidered upon it, flapped gently in the breeze. To look at him you
would have said that he was probably a crack polo player on his way to
defend the championship against all comers, or the captain of a county
golf eleven. As he rode, his soul overflowing with the joy of life, he
hummed the Collect for the Day.

It was exactly opposite the church that he ran into the Little Grey
Woman of the Night-Light. He