urned, saying:

"I've seen a garage along the street; come with me and hire a
motor-cycle. You'll probably want it."

"Why?" I asked.

"Wait and see," was his response; therefore I put on my hat and coat and
walked with him to the garage, about half-way along the street, where I
picked out a good strong machine which was duly wheeled back to the
hotel.

That night, among the eight or nine guests assembled for dinner, there
was not one who had any resemblance either to a German spy or an officer
of the Military Balloon Factory at South Farnborough.

In the days following we used our map well, scouring the whole of the
Spey side to the Bridge of Avon, and on to Rothes, while westward we
drove by Carrbridge, over the Slochd Mor to Loch Moy and across to
Daviot. We explored the steep hills of Cromdale and Glen Tulchan,
surveyed the rugged country from the summit of Carn Glas, and made
judicious inquiry in all quarters, both among village people, shepherds,
and others. Nowhere however could we gather any information that any
trials of an airship were in progress.

Sometimes in leggings, mackintosh, and goggles, I went forth alone on my
motor-cycle, negotiating the rougher byways and making confidential
inquiry. But the result was ever a negative one and always
disheartening.

On one occasion I had been out alone and reached the hotel, when, some
hours later, our chauffeur returned with the car empty, and handed me a
hastily scribbled note to explain that Ray had left suddenly for the
south and instructing me to remain at Grantown till his return.

By that I imagined that he had made some discovery. Or had he gone south
to see Vera, his well-beloved?

Curiously enough, next day a foreigner--probably a German--arrived at
the hotel, and, as may be imagined, I at once took steps to keep him
under the strictest observation. He was a quiet, apparently inoffensive
person about thirty-five, who, among his impedimenta, brought a
motor-cycle and box camera. Before he had been in the place twenty-four
hours I had convinced myself that he was the spy Straus.

This fact I wired to Bruton Street in the code we had long ago arranged,
hoping that the message would find my friend.

To my surprise, all the reply I got was: "Be careful that you have made
no mistake."

What could he mean? I read and re-read the message, but remained much
puzzled, while my excitement increased.

Each day the new arrival, who had written the name