hite paper and held it up. It bore upon it two
words in large letters:

"ACHILLE GARAY"

"That," said Robert, "is obviously the name of a Frenchman, and it seems
to me it must have been the name of this fugitive spy or messenger to
whom the letter was addressed. Achille Garay is the man whom we want.
Don't you think so, Mynheer Huysman?"

"It iss truly the one we would like to capture," said Mynheer Jacobus,
"but I fear that all present chance to do so hass passed. Still, we will
remember. The opportunity may come again. Achille Garay! Achille Garay!
We will bear that name in mind! Und now, lads, all of you go to bed. You
haf done well, too, Tayoga. Nobody could haf done better."

Robert, when alone the next day, met Hendrik Martinus in the street.
Martinus was about to pas? without speaking, but Robert bowed politely
and said:

"I'm most sorry, Mr. Martinus, that we did not succeed in capturing your
burglar last night, but my Onondaga friend followed him to the river,
which he swam, then escaping. 'Tis true that he escaped, but
nevertheless Tayoga salvaged a piece of a letter that he destroyed as he
ran, and upon the fragment was written a name which we're quite sure was
that of the bold robber."

Robert paused, and he saw the face of Martinus whiten.

"You do not ask me the name, Mynheer Martinus," he said. "Do you feel no
curiosity at all about it?"

"What was it?" asked Martinus, thickly.

"Achille Garay."

Martinus trembled violently, but by a supreme effort controlled himself.

"I never heard it before," he said. "It sounds like a French name."

"It is a French name. I'm quite confident of it. I merely wanted you to
understand that we haven't lost all trace of your robber, that we know
his name, and that we may yet take him."

"It does look as if you had a clew," said Martinus. He was as white as
death, though naturally rubicund, and without another word he walked on.
Robert looked after him and saw the square shoulders drooping a little.
He had not the slightest doubt of the man's guilt, and he was filled
with indignant wonder that anyone's love of money should be strong
enough to create in him the willingness to sell his country. He was sure
Mynheer Jacobus was right. Martinus was sending their military secrets
into Canada for French gold, and yet they had not a particle of proof.
The man must be allowed to go his way until something much more
conclusive offered. Both he and Tayoga talked it over