ized the ring which enabled one to pull the trap-door back, and
was just about to pull when he heard, from below, a voice speaking in
Russian. It was, then, the spy!

Lance grasped the ring anew, and, exerting all his strength, hauled
the trap-door back.

A narrow passageway was revealed, lit by a lamp. The hum burst with
doubled force on his ears. He plunged down, fists clenched, and half
tumbled into a tiny room gouged from the soil.

At one end was a mass of machinery, and a microphone hung suspended
before it. And speaking into the microphone was the heavy-set form of
a man in American uniform, his back to Lance. As the latter charged
down, he rose with an alarmed shout, and wheeled around.

"My God!" breathed Lance.

It was Ranth, Colonel Douglas' orderly!

* * * * *

Ranth!

His dark face flushed with fury, he came leaping from his seat. The
wicked little revolver hung at his belt sprang out, but Lance's right
fist shot forward, knocked Ranth's hand high and sent the gun
clattering to the ground. Then, for a moment, they faced each other,
the hum of the radiophone droning an ominous accompaniment.

"You!" Lance muttered. "So you were the spy!"

Ranth answered him with a choked oath and leaped forward again.

There were no niceties to that combat. It was a matter of life and
death, and each knew it. Ranth would kill him, Lance knew, if he
possibly could; and he, he had to kill or capture Ranth. Otherwise the
news of the Torpedo Plan would go through, Ranth would return to the
base, and the secret of the hidden radio never be known. Another would
be put in Lance's place; and when Hay kept his rendezvous at Sola
Ranch....

He had to win.

No effort was made at defense, for those first few furious minutes. A
veritable fusillade of hurtling fists stormed through the air. They
each gave and took equally. Then Ranth's heavy shoulders bunched;
cunningly he feinted, then, whirling, swung a vicious right hand smash
to Lance's chin.

Lance reeled, fell, seeing Ranth's hate-contorted visage dance queerly
in the close air before him. The orderly clutched for his revolver,
and Lance bounded up as if spring-impelled, nailed the other with two
lightninglike jabs and unleashed all his strength in an uppercut
which sprawled Ranth in a limp, quivering heap.

* * * * *

Panting, Lance surveyed him, then turned to get the gun. He felt the
shock of thud