all to be at our
posts. I had hoped to be able to bring news of your great coup. Did
Altamont name no hour?"

Von Bork pushed over a telegram.

Will come without fail to-night and bring new sparking plugs.

Altamont.

"Sparking plugs, eh?"

"You see he poses as a motor expert and I keep a full garage. In our
code everything likely to come up is named after some spare part. If
he talks of a radiator it is a battleship, of an oil pump a cruiser,
and so on. Sparking plugs are naval signals."

"From Portsmouth at midday," said the secretary, examining the
superscription. "By the way, what do you give him?"

"Five hundred pounds for this particular job. Of course he has a
salary as well."

"The greedy rogue. They are useful, these traitors, but I grudge them
their blood money."

"I grudge Altamont nothing. He is a wonderful worker. If I pay him
well, at least he delivers the goods, to use his own phrase. Besides he
is not a traitor. I assure you that our most pan-Germanic Junker is a
sucking dove in his feelings towards England as compared with a real
bitter Irish-American."

"Oh, an Irish-American?"

"If you heard him talk you would not doubt it. Sometimes I assure you
I can hardly understand him. He seems to have declared war on the
King's English as well as on the English king. Must you really go? He
may be here any moment."

"No. I'm sorry, but I have already overstayed my time. We shall
expect you early to-morrow, and when you get that signal book through
the little door on the Duke of York's steps you can put a triumphant
finis to your record in England. What! Tokay!" He indicated a
heavily sealed dust-covered bottle which stood with two high glasses
upon a salver.

"May I offer you a glass before your journey?"

"No, thanks. But it looks like revelry."

"Altamont has a nice taste in wines, and he took a fancy to my Tokay.
He is a touchy fellow and needs humouring in small things. I have to
study him, I assure you." They had strolled out on to the terrace
again, and along it to the further end where at a touch from the
Baron's chauffeur the great car shivered and chuckled. "Those are the
lights of Harwich, I suppose," said the secretary, pulling on his dust
coat. "How still and peaceful it all seems. There may be other lights
within the week, and the English coast a less tranquil place! The
heavens, too, may not be quite so peaceful if all that the good Zepplin
promises u