r at least to prevent Germany obtaining it.
Spencer not essential to France."

_Spencer not essential to France!_ Surely this woman had great power,
either of knowledge or of friends; she resided in Paris, yet France was
reluctant to lift hand against her so long as she was on French soil.
Well, he would turn the matter over to Harleston; let him decide whether
it was to be thumbs up or thumbs down for her Alluringness. Furthermore,
the meeting with Snodgrass now assumed much significance. Snodgrass was
an ex-army officer. Harleston must be warned at once.

He tried for him at the Collingwood, the Cosmopolitan, the Rataplan, and
finally at the Chateau. He got him there.

"Can you come here at once?" he asked.

"Not well," said Harleston, "I've an appointment."

"Forget it!" Carpenter exclaimed. "I've found the key-word and made the
translation. It's serious--Very well, come right in; I'll be waiting."

Harleston scribbled a note to Mrs. Clephane and sent it up by a page; he
would be back in half an hour; would she meet him in the Alley.

XXII

THE RATAPLAN

A moment before Harleston's return, Madeline Spencer, stepping out of
the F Street elevator, was met by Snodgrass who had been walking up and
down the lobby. They took a taxi and sped away; followed closely by
another taxi, which their driver was most careful not to distance. A
second later Harleston entered the corridor. As he was about to greet
Mrs. Clephane, a man approached him and said:

"They have started, sir; Burke's just behind in a taxi--and both drivers
are wise. They're bound for the Rataplan."

"Follow them and wait just outside," Harleston ordered--and turned to
Mrs. Clephane. "I must go to the Rataplan at once," said he. "Let us
lunch there. The end of the affair of the cab of the sleeping horse is
in sight; I thought you might like to see it."

"I want to see it!" Mrs. Clephane exclaimed. "Have you found the
key-word?"

"Carpenter found it--I'll tell you about it on the way out. Come along,
little lady."

* * * * *

"But why do you suspect Captain Snodgrass?" she inquired, when Harleston
had finished his account. "He would not have access to the formula,
would he?"

"The man that has access to such secrets never is the man who actually
delivers," he explained; "he has a confederate. Snodgrass is the
confederate, we think."

"Is this secret colloding process of gun-cotton so tremendously
val