distant click of a typewriter. At moments, too, looking over
the war pictures in the periodicals, Barres imagined that he heard a
confused murmur as of many voices.

Later it became evident that there were a number of people somewhere
in the house, because, now and then, the porter unlatched the door and
drew the chains to let out some swiftly walking man.

Once two men came out together. One carried a satchel; the other
halted in the hallway to slip a clip into an automatic pistol before
dropping it into the side pocket of his coat.

And after a while Renoux appeared, bland, debonaire, evidently much
pleased with whatever he had been doing.

Two other men appeared in the corridor behind him; he said something
to them in a low voice; Barres imagined he heard the words,
"Washington" and "Jusserand."

Then the two men went out, walking at a smart pace, and Renoux
sauntered into the tiny reception room.

"You don't know," he said, "what a very important service you have
rendered us by catching that fellow to-night and stripping him of his
papers."

Barres rose and they walked out together.

"This city," added Renoux, "is fairly verminous with disloyal Huns.
The streets are crawling with them; every German resort, saloon, beer
garden, keller, cafe, club, society--every German drug store,
delicatessen shop, music store, tobacconist, is lousy with the
treacherous swine.

"There are two great hotels where the boche gathers and plots; two
great banking firms are centres of German propaganda; three great
department stores, dozens of downtown commercial agencies; various
buildings and piers belonging to certain transatlantic steamship
lines, the offices of certain newspapers and periodicals.... Tell me,
Barres, did you know that the banker, Gerhardt, owns the building in
which you live?"

"Dragon Court!"

"You didn't know it, evidently. Yes, he owns it."

"Is he really involved in pro-German intrigue?" asked Barres.

"That is our information."

"I ask," continued Barres thoughtfully, "because his summer home is at
Northbrook, not far from my own home. And to me there is something
peculiarly contemptible about disloyalty in the wealthy who owe every
penny to the country they betray."

"His place is called Hohenlinden," remarked Renoux.

"Yes. Are you having it watched?"

Renoux smiled. Perhaps he was thinking about other places, also--the
German Embassy, for example, where, inside the Embassy itself, not
o