excited, we were soon upon the trail, following
the car through Aylsham and North Walsham until, on the road that led
towards the sea at Happisburgh, it suddenly turned into another byway.

Here Ray decided to pull up and follow on foot, which we did for nearly
two miles, until we saw before us the railway line which runs between
North Walsham and Yarmouth. We had left the road, for there, pulled up
before us, was the car I had seen at Beccles, and on ahead were the two
men, one of whom I recognised by his grey coat and white muffler.

They were beneath the railway bridge, carefully examining it.

"They're marking that down on their plan for destruction," remarked Ray
between his teeth. "All these connections will be destroyed when they
land. But, by heaven! we'll be even with them yet!"

We watched them in secret for a full half-hour, as they examined the
railroad at several points, and when they had driven off we followed
them along a road where ran six lines of telegraph into Happisburgh.

"Those wires," remarked Ray, "form one of the direct cables to Germany.
They pass through Beccles, so you may rest assured that they've surveyed
it well!"

At Happisburgh the tracks turned to the left, and thence again to the
right to Walcot, but just as we were passing over a low hill we saw that
the car on before us had stopped. The two men were photographing the
country from Paston, inland towards Witton.

We drew up and watched their movements.

Then they went on, and we followed, parting company with their tracks at
the cross-roads, they going westward, while we struck north, until we
found ourselves once again in Cromer for the night.

That evening we made an amazing discovery at the hotel. Erna Stolberg
was staying there alone under the name of Madame Hirsch! Ray first saw
her seated in the reading-room, and called me. I peered in at the door
and recognised her in a pale blue silk blouse and black net skirt, lying
back in a chair reading an illustrated paper. She was evidently quite
unsuspicious of our presence.

Ray was sorely puzzled. Next morning he sent a wire to Mrs. Hill-Mason's
house in Charles Street, and before noon had received a reply from her
at Bournemouth saying that Fraeulein Stolberg had left her service a
fortnight before.

"German spies are pretty active in East Anglia, old chap, as you've seen
with your own eyes," he remarked to me.

In order that the woman should not notice us, we told the c