ing them if he never took them any
information?"

"He did take them information. But it was always so cleverly false--just
near enough the truth that he could hardly be blamed for not having it
more accurate--or else it was the real truth but too late to be of any
value to them. You can be sure we gained by his work."

"One more question from me, Major," Larkin spoke up. "What makes you so
sure that Count von Herzmann--"

The door was thrown open by a helmeted, muddy doughboy sergeant from the
lines. Then into the room, followed by the mud-spattered doughboy and
the M.P. detail, walked a smiling, confident, blond young man, attired
in the uniform of a member of the British Air Forces.

The suddenness and surprise of the movement started the ends of Cowan's
moustache to twitching.

"Sir," spoke up the muddy infantryman, "here's that bozo we all been
lookin' for."

Major Cowan arose. "Count von Herzmann, I believe?" he said as calmly as
though it were a social meeting.

The prisoner lifted his eyebrows in well feigned surprise. "There is
some dreadful mistake here, Major," he said with a calm assurance as he
took from his pocket a small identification fold, bound in black
leather. "I am--"

"Just a moment," the Major interrupted. "Permit me first to introduce
one of these gentlemen. Count von Herzmann, this is Lieutenant Richard
Larkin, whose uniform you are now wearing and whose identification card
you hold in your hand. I am sure you are glad to meet him."

For the briefest moment von Herzmann's mouth dropped open. He knew the
jig was up! Almost immediately, however, he regained the debonair, easy
grace of a splendidly poised loser. He bowed to Larkin, who stood with
mouth agape and eyes popping out.

"I am indebted to Lieutenant Larkin for the use of his uniform," von
Herzmann said. "I regret that it will probably be returned to him with
bullet holes in it. Oh, well--such is war, eh? Perhaps he can find some
satisfaction in keeping it as a souvenir. He can point to the holes and
say, 'Count von Herzmann, the German ace and spy, was just behind these
holes.'"

Every man in the room felt awed and a trifle uneasy. Here was a man
whose cool courage they could envy. Not every man can face death with so
grim a jest.

"However," von Herzmann turned to Cowan, "it gives me pleasure to report
that I foresaw the possibility of this very thing and so arranged
matters that a certain Mr. Schwarz, whom you call Siddon