ry war! But my
mind is far too dense to understand how you can disregard the English
Channel."

"The _English_ Channel!" scoffed Von Halwig. "The impudence of you
_verdammt_----No, it's foolish to lose one's temper. Well, I'll explain.
The really important part of the _English_ Channel is about to become
German. For a little time we leave you the surface, but Germany will
own the rest. Your navy is about to receive a horrible surprise. We've
caught you napping. While Britain was ruling the sea we Germans have
been experimenting with it. Our visible fleet is good, but not good
enough, so we allowed your naval superiority to keep you quiet until we
had perfected our invisible fleet. We are ready now. We possess three
submarines to your one; and can build more, and bigger, and better
under-sea boats than you. Do you realise what that means? Already we
have sunk four of your best cruisers, and they never saw the vessel that
destroyed them. We are playing havoc with your mercantile marine.
Britain is girdled with mines and torpedoes. No ship can enter or leave
any of your ports without incurring the almost unavoidable risk of----"

A rat scampered across one of the speaker's feet, and startled him.

He swore, dropped the cigarette, and lighted another, the third. Like
every junior officer of the German _corps d'elite_, he had sedulously
copied the manners and bearing of the commissioned ranks in the British
army. But your true German is neurotic; the rat had scratched the
veneer. Meanwhile the rope rose quickly half-way to the trap-door; it
fell again when Von Halwig donned the prophet's mantle once more.

"We can not only ruin and starve you," he said exultantly, "but we have
guns which will beat a way for our troops from Calais to Dover against
all the ships you dare mass in those waters. We have you bested in every
way. Each German company takes the field with more machine-guns than a
British regiment. We have high explosives you never heard of. While you
were playing polo and golf our chemists were busy in their
laboratories."

His voice rose as he reeled off this litany of war. His perfect command
of English was not proof against the guttural clank and crash of
German. He became a veritable German talking English, rather than an
accomplished linguist using a foreign tongue. Oddly enough, his next
tirade showed that he was half-aware of the change. "Old England is
done, Captain Dalroy," he chanted. "Young Germany is