two o'clock there came a dark
female figure round the corner, walking quickly. In an instant I
recognised Valentine, who was dressed in a long travelling coat with fur
collar, and a sealskin toque. She was carrying something beneath her
coat.

"Quick!" she said breathlessly. "Let us get away. Get ready. Count Bindo
is following me!" And ere I could start the engines, my employer, in a
long dark overcoat and felt hat, hurriedly approached us, saying--

"Come, let's be off, Ewart. We've a long journey to-night to Cassel. We
must go through Aix, and pick up Blythe, and then on by way of Cologne,
Arnsburg, and the Hoppeke-Tal."

Quickly they both put on the extra wraps from the car, entered, and
wrapped the rugs about them, while two minutes later, with our big
head-lamps shedding a broad white light before us, we turned out upon
the wide high road to Verviers.

"It's all right," cried Bindo, leaning over to me when we had covered
about five miles or so. "Everything went off perfectly."

"And M'sieur made a most model 'husband,' I assure you," declared the
pretty Valentine, with a musical laugh.

"But what have you done?" I inquired, half turning, but afraid to take
my eyes from the road.

"Be patient. We'll explain everything when we get to Cassel," responded
Valentine. And with that I had to be content.

At the station at Aix we found Blythe awaiting us, and when he had taken
the seat beside me we set out by way of Duren to Cologne, and on to
Cassel, a long and bitterly cold journey.

It was not until we were dining together late the following night in the
comfortable old Koenig von Preussen, at Cassel, that Valentine revealed
the truth to me.

"When I met the German at Vichy I was passing as Countess de Bourbriac,
and pretending that my husband was in Scotland. At first I avoided him,"
she said. "But later on I was told, in confidence, that he was a spy in
the service of the War Office in Berlin. Then I wrote to Count Bindo,
and he advised me to pretend to reciprocate the fellow's affections, and
to keep a watchful eye for the main chance. I have done so--that's all."

"But what was this 'main chance'?" I asked.

"Why, don't you see, Ewart," exclaimed the Count, who was standing by,
smoking a cigarette. "The fact that he was in the Intelligence
Department in Berlin, and that he had been suddenly appointed military
attache at Brussels, made it plain that he was carrying out some
important secret-service wor