Young outside to help this time, for Jack was a captive,
too. Only--he was not!

At the thought Dick had turned, to discover that Jack was not beside him.
It was very dark, but in a moment he caught the tiniest movement over by
the hedge, and saw a spot a little darker than the rest of the ground about
it. Jack, he saw at once, had taken the one faint chance there was, dropped
down, and crawled away, trusting that their captors had not counted their
party, and might not miss one boy.

Just in time he slipped through a hole in the hedge. The next moment one of
the headlights of the grey motor flashed out, almost blinding the three of
them, as they held up their hands. In its light four men, well armed with
revolvers, were revealed.

"Donnerwetter!" said one. "I made sure there were four of them! So! Vell,
it is enough. Into the car with them!"

No pretence about this chap! He was German, and didn't care who knew it. He
was unlike the man who had disguised himself as an English officer, at the
house of the heliograph, but had betrayed himself and set this whole train
of adventure going by his single slip and fall from idiomatic English that
Harry Fleming's sharp ears had caught.

Dick was thrilled, somehow, even while he was being roughly bundled toward
the motor. If these fellows were as bold as this, cutting telephone wires,
running about without lights, giving up all secrecy and pretence, it must
mean that the occasion for which they had come was nearly over. It must
mean that their task, whatever it might be, was nearly accomplished--the
blow they had come to strike was about ready to be driven home.

"'Ere, who are you a shovin' off?" complained one of the linemen, as he was
pushed toward the motor. He made some effort to resist but the next moment
he pitched forward. One of the Germans had struck him on the head with the
butt of his revolver. It was a stunning blow, and the man was certainly
silenced. Dick recoiled angrily from the sight, but he kept quiet. He knew
he could do no good by interfering. But the sheer, unnecessary brutality of
it shocked and angered him. He felt that Englishmen, or Americans, would
not treat a prisoner so--especially one who had not been fighting. These
men were not even soldiers; they were spies, which made the act the more
outrageous.

They were serving their country, however, for all that, and that softened
Dick's feeling toward them a little. True, they were performing their