med him with the same kindly, sympathetic smile with which
she always gave courage to the unhappy ones coming up for examinations,
and Doctor Gilman's high honors in no way had spoiled his gentle
courtesy.

The examination was in writing, and when Peter had handed in his papers
Doctor Gilman asked him if he would prefer at once to know the result.

"I should indeed!" Peter assured him.

"Then I regret to tell you, Hallowell," said the professor, "that you
have not passed. I cannot possibly give you a mark higher than five." In
real sympathy the sage of Stillwater raised his eyes, but to his great
astonishment he found that Peter, so far from being cast down or taking
offense, was smiling delightedly, much as a fond parent might smile upon
the precocious act of a beloved child.

"I am afraid," said Doctor Gilman gently, "that this summer you did not
work very hard for your degree!"

Peter Laughed and picked up his hat.

"To tell you the truth, Professor," he said, "you're right I got working
for something worth while--and I forgot about the degree."

Chapter 3. THE INVASION OF ENGLAND

This is the true inside story of the invasion of England in 1911 by the
Germans, and why it failed. I got my data from Baron von Gottlieb, at
the time military attache of the German Government with the Russian
army in the second Russian-Japanese War, when Russia drove Japan out of
Manchuria, and reduced her to a third-rate power. He told me of his
part in the invasion as we sat, after the bombardment of Tokio, on the
ramparts of the Emperor's palace, watching the walls of the paper houses
below us glowing and smoking like the ashes of a prairie fire.

Two years before, at the time of the invasion, von Gottlieb had been
Carl Schultz, the head-waiter at the East Cliff Hotel at Cromer, and a
spy.

The other end of the story came to me through Lester Ford, the London
correspondent of the New York Republic. They gave me permission to tell
it in any fashion I pleased, and it is here set down for the first time.

In telling the story, my conscience is not in the least disturbed, for I
have yet to find any one who will believe it.

What led directly to the invasion was that some week-end guest of
the East Cliff Hotel left a copy of "The Riddle of the Sands" in
the coffee-room, where von Gottlieb found it; and the fact that Ford
attended the Shakespeare Ball. Had neither of these events taken place,
the German flag might now be fl