hands. But he said with
composure:

"Why this sudden violence, Mr. Scott?"

"Because you have been upon the wireless tower signaling to our
enemies. I've just understood everything, Weber. You're a German and not
a French spy, and you've played the traitor to Julie and Philip Lannes
and me all along."

There was enough moonlight for John to see that Weber's face was
distorted by an evil smile.

"You've been a trifle slow in discovering just what I am," he said,
calmly. "I've wondered that a young man of your perception didn't find
me out earlier."

John flushed. The Alsatian's effrontery, in truth, had been amazing and
in that perhaps lay his success--so far.

"It's true," he said, "I should have suspected you sooner, but it did
not occur to me that human nature could be so vile. To undertake such
risks and to use so much trickery and guile there must be a powerful
motive, and in your case I can't guess it. Now, Weber, why did you do
it?"

"Let me drop my hands, Mr. Scott, and I'll answer you," said Weber.
"It's difficult to argue a case in such a strained and awkward
position."

"Put them down, then, but remember that I'm watching you, and that I'm
willing to shoot. Now, go ahead. Why have you been such a persistent
enemy of Mademoiselle Lannes, her brother and myself? Why have you been
such a triple traitor?"

"Don't call me a traitor, because a traitor I am not. On the contrary I
am loyal with a loyalty of which you, John Scott, an American, know
nothing. I've called myself an Alsatian, but really I am not. I am an
Austrian. I was born on the Zillenstein estate of Prince Karl of
Auersperg. My family has served his for a thousand years. Great as I
hold Hapsburg and Hohenzollern, Auersperg means even more to me. The
Auerspergs are the very essence and spirit of that aristocracy and rule
of the very highborn, in which I believe and to which your country and
later the French have stood in the exact opposite. Every time that my
pulse beats within me it beats with the wish that you and all that you
stand for should fail."

John did not feel the slightest doubt of Weber's sincerity. The
increasing moonlight, falling in a silver flood across his face, showed
too clearly his earnestness. Yet that earnestness was not good to look
upon. It was sinister, tinged strongly with the beliefs of an old and
wicked past. He too, like his master, was of the Middle Ages.

"And so in all these deeds you were serving Prince