I Spy | Page 5

catastrophe, but with its presence hidden from general knowledge, was
the Grosses Hauptquartier, the pulsing heart and brain of the Imperial
fighting forces. Vigilant sentries patrolled the park leading from the
chateau commandeered for the use of the War Lord and his entourage,
to the quarters of the Great General Staff. In a secluded room of the
latter building a dozen men sat in conference about a table littered with

papers; they had been there since early evening, but no man permitted
his glance to stray to the dial of a library clock whose hands were
gradually approaching two o'clock. Truly, the chiefs of the divisions
were tireless toilers.
The Herr Chief of the Great General Staff was emphasizing his remarks
with vigor unusual even for him, when the telephone, no respecter of
persons, sent out its tinkling call. Hitching his chair closer to the table,
the Herr Chief of the Aviation Corps removed the receiver from the
instrument. A courteous silence prevailed as he took the message.
Replacing the receiver, he turned and confronted his confrères.
"An outpost reports," he began formally, "that Captain von Eltz in his
Aviatik biplane was pursued and wrecked by a French airman who was
obliged to make a forced landing inside our lines. The French airmen
were shot in their attempt to escape. Owing to the Aviatik biplane
catching in the branches of a tree and thereby breaking his fall Captain
von Eltz was rescued alive, although desperately wounded. The
observer who accompanied him is dead. On regaining consciousness
Captain von Eltz reported that his mission was successful, the new
ammunition depot having been completely destroyed by his bomb."
A low hum of approval greeted his words. "Well done, gallant von
Eltz!" exclaimed one of the hearers. "He deserves the Iron Cross."
"He will receive it," declared another officer enthusiastically.
"The information as to the location of this new ammunition depot,
which von Eltz has just destroyed, came from the man of whom I have
been telling you tonight," broke in the Herr Chief of the Secret Service.
"He has been our eyes and ears in England. Gentlemen, is it your wish
that he be intrusted with the delicate mission of which we have just
been speaking?"
The eyes of the Herr Chief of the Great General Staff swept his
companions. "Is it that I speak for all?" A quick affirmative answered
him. "Then, we leave the matter entirely in your hands." The Herr
Chief of the Secret Service bowed. "You know your agents; the

selection is left to you, but see there is no unnecessary delay."
"There will be no delay," responded the Herr Chief of the Secret
Service. "My agent is not far from here. With your permission, I take
my leave," and saluting he hastened from the room.
The sun was halfway in the heavens when a limousine drew up before a
wayside inn near a semi-demolished city. Before the orderly sitting by
the chauffeur could swing himself to the ground, a tall man had stepped
to the side of the car and opened the door. For a second the Herr Chief
of the Secret Service and the stranger contemplated each other without
speaking, then the former motioned to the vacant seat by his side.
"We can talk as we ride," he announced brusquely. "Your luggage--"
"Is here," thrusting a much labeled suitcase inside the limousine and
jumping in after it.
At a low-toned word from the Herr Chief of the Secret Service the
orderly saluted and quickly resumed his seat by the chauffeur. There
was a short silence inside the limousine as the powerful car continued
up the road. They were stopped at the first railroad crossing by a
trainload of wounded soldiers.
"Your pardon," and before the Herr Chief of the Secret Service could
stop him, the stranger pulled down the sash curtains of all the windows.
"You are well known; being recognized is the penalty of greatness. It is
to my interest to escape such a distinction."
"I approve your caution, Herr Captain," observed the older man. "Will
you smoke?" producing his cigarette case, and as the other smilingly
helped himself and accepted a lighted match, he surveyed him critically.
Paying no attention to his chief's scrutiny, the Secret Service agent
contemplated the luxurious appointments of the limousine with
satisfaction and puffed contentedly at his cigarette. His air of breeding
was unmistakable, but the devil-may-care sparkle in his gray-blue eyes
redeemed an otherwise expressionless face from being considered
heavy. The spirits of the Herr Chief of the Secret Service rose. His

recollection and judgment was still good; his agent, by men and women,
would be deemed extremely handsome.
"The new ammunition depot was destroyed last night by our airmen,"
he said, with some abruptness. "Your information was reliable."
"Pardon, is