riumph, he was
not entirety successful.

"I got him!" he cried. "I didn't make no mistake about THIS one!"

"What one?" demanded Van Vorst.

Jimmie pointed dramatically at his prisoner. With an anxious expression
the stranger was tenderly fingering the back of his head. He seemed to
wish to assure himself that it was still there.

"THAT one!" cried Jimmie. "He's a German spy!"

The patience of Judge Van Vorst fell from him. In his exclamation was
indignation, anger, reproach.

"Jimmie!" he cried.

Jimmie thrust into his hand the map. It was his "Exhibit A." "Look what
he's wrote," commanded the scout. "It's all military words. And these
are his glasses. I took 'em off him. They're made in GERMANY! I been
stalking him for a week. He's a spy!"

When Jimmie thrust the map before his face, Van Vorst had glanced at it.
Then he regarded it more closely. As he raised his eyes they showed that
he was puzzled.

But he greeted the prisoner politely.

"I'm extremely sorry you've been annoyed," he said. "I'm only glad it's
no worse. He might have shot you. He's mad over the idea that every
stranger he sees--"

The prisoner quickly interrupted.

"Please!" he begged, "Don't blame the boy. He behaved extremely well.
Might I speak with you--ALONE?" he asked.

Judge Van Vorst led the way across the terrace, and to the smoking-room,
that served also as his office, and closed the door. The stranger walked
directly to the mantelpiece and put his finger on a gold cup.

"I saw your mare win that at Belmont Park," he said. "She must have been
a great loss to you?"

"She was," said Van Vorst. "The week before she broke her back, I
refused three thousand for her. Will you have a cigarette?"

The stranger waved aside the cigarettes.

"I brought you inside," he said, "because I didn't want your servants to
hear; and because I don't want to hurt that boy's feelings. He's a fine
boy; and he's a damned clever scout. I knew he was following me and I
threw him off twice, but to-day he caught me fair. If I really had been
a German spy, I couldn't have got away from him. And I want him to think
he has captured a German spy. Because he deserves just as much credit
as though he had, and because it's best he shouldn't know whom he DID
capture."

Van Vorst pointed to the map. "My bet is," he said, "that you're an
officer of the State militia, taking notes for the fall manoeuvres. Am I
right?"

The stranger smiled in approval, but s