which was turned up and helped, with the peak of his cap, to hide his
features.

Suddenly the man's foot tripped over a ring-bolt. He cursed under his
breath, but sufficiently loudly for the lads to overhear.

Ross gripped his companion's arm. The fellow was swearing in German.

"Von Ruhle!" he whispered. He made a movement as if to issue from his
place of concealment, but Haye restrained him.

"Hold on!" he cautioned in a low voice.

The man paused on the gangway. A partly shaded electric light threw a
glare upon his face. He wore a heavy beard and moustache.

"You're wrong," whispered Vernon.

"He's a German, anyhow," persisted Trefusis.

The man still hesitated. Then he hailed a seaman.

"Where is the post office?" he asked. "I wish to telegraph. Is there
time before the boat sails?"

Receiving an affirmative reply the man hurried off.

"Come on!" exclaimed Ross.

Neither of the lads had now any doubts as to the man's identity. The
beard and moustache were false, but the voice was the same--von Ruhle's.

Keeping close to the wall of the line of sheds, the lads followed the
spy at a distance of about fifty feet. More than once von Ruhle
glanced furtively over his shoulder, as if suspecting that he was being
tracked.

Presently a man, reeling along the quay, approached. The spy made no
effort to avoid him. As the inebriated one rolled past he whispered a
few words. The effect was instantaneous. Instead of continuing his
way towards the post office, von Ruhle turned and made off abruptly in
the direction of the gate of the Company's premises.

"An accomplice," whispered Vernon. "He's been warned."

They had to wait until the man who had feigned drunkenness had
disappeared. By this time the German had gained a considerable
distance. To get the assistance of the detective was out of the
question.

"Come on!" exclaimed Ross, breaking into a run.

Concealment was no longer necessary. Should occasion arise, there
would be plenty of help forthcoming, for there were several dock
policemen and soldiers on duty close at hand.

Von Ruhle had increased his pace into a brisk walk when he heard the
noise of his pursuers. Then he, too, began to run.

"Stop him!" shouted Trefusis, calling to a group of uniformed men
standing in front of an abattoir.

Turning, the German made towards the quay-side. He was no match in
speed for his youthful pursuers; but he gained the water's edge before