er, violent and familiar, put his hands on Gard.

"You are a dollar American and dare not bet."

"Please keep your hands off me," cried Kirtley and drew back,
shaking with the affront. The German persisted and Gard's football
days stood him in good stead. He knocked him down. At this the mask
was thrown off.

"Get his passport!" yelled the dealer on the floor. The other two
began to draw weapons and started toward Kirtley. He was almost
unnerved. His genial Wuerttemberg friend a spy! It was the _Secret
Service_.

As he stepped back, thunderstruck, his hand grazed the big pepper
can which had been left on the side table. It sent an inspiration
whizzing through his brain. He whisked off its unfastened top,
grabbed a handful of pepper, and with a swing of the kind he used to
use in his throws from left field to home plate--let go with all his
force.

The aim was true. The pepper swept into the eyes and mouths of the
two men. The other was half lying on the floor near their feet and
he also received a dose. Pepper filled their side of the room and
blinded them as they sneezed and groped about in pain. Gard bolted
for the outer, self-locking door and, almost before he realized it,
was out in the highway in the rain, heading away from the city and
in the direction of the Dutch border which, he knew, lay not far
away.

CHAPTER XLI

ARE THEY HUNS?

It was an instinctive move to get out of Deutschland--raucous,
hostile Deutschland, lying athwart his soul. But his grip? his
overcoat? his umbrella? He faced back toward the town. His mind was
in a tumult. No, he must make for the frontier at all hazards. The
Germans, whenever they recovered, would naturally expect him to
return for his articles and would watch them or have them watched.
He felt for his passport, money, trunk check. They were safe. He was
sure his trunk would be at the border for him. He turned about and
began running. The bellowing condition of the agonized sleuths and
the locked door would enable him to get a good start under the cover
of the darkness and storm.

When almost breathless he stopped running and walked forward
rapidly. There was no travel in his direction. But he had to dodge
frequent oncoming vehicles with men and materials of some kind. They
were being concentrated at Aix--a main distributing point for the
invasion of Belgium.

He was wet through, yet hot as a furnace. The cooling rain was
grateful. The loss of his grip and t