for the Germans to avail themselves of "Yankee
ingenuity," and also since they would in all probability succeed in
capturing one of the planes.

He gathered further that the sender of the letter was prepared to go
himself with these plans, working his way on an American ship, and to do
something else (doubtless of a diabolical character) on the way. The
phrase "same idea as a periscope" puzzled him. It appeared, also, that
the sender of the letter, whoever he was and wherever he was (for no
place or date or signature was indicated and the envelopes were not the
original ones) had not sent his communications direct to this alien
grocer, but to someone else who had delivered them to Schmitt.

"It isn't anything for me to be mixed up in, anyway," Tom thought. He
was almost afraid to carry papers of such sinister purport with him and
he quickened his steps in order that he might turn them over to Mr.
Burton, the manager of Temple Camp office.

But when he reached the office he did not carry out this intention, for
there was waiting for him a letter which upset all his plans and made
him forget for the time being these sinister papers. It took him back
with a rush to his experiences on shipboard and he read it with a smile
on his lips.

"Dear Tommy--I don't know whether this letter will ever reach you,
for, for all I know, you're in Davy Jones's locker. Even my memo of
your address got pretty well soaked in the ocean and all I'm dead
sure of is that you live in North America somewhere near a bridge."

Tom turned the sheet to look at the signature but he knew already that
the letter was from his erstwhile friend, Mr. Carleton Conne.

"You'll remember that I promised to get you a job working for Uncle
Sam. That job is yours if you're alive to take it. It'll bring you
so near the war, if that's what you want, that you couldn't stick a
piece of tissue paper between.

"If you get this all right and are still keen to work in transport
service, there won't be any difficulty on account of the experience
you've had.

"Drop in to see me Saturday afternoon, room 509, Federal Building,
New York, if you're interested.

"Best wishes to you.
"Carleton Conne."

So Mr. Conne was alive and had not forgotten him. Tom wished that the
letter had told something about the detective's rescue and the fate of
the spy,