us," returned McCoy. "_We_ know. But when we
try to prepare for what is coming, we must do it secretly--in underhand
ways, for fear the newspapers will get hold of it and ridicule us, and
accuse us of trying to drag the country into war. That's why we have to
prepare under cover. That's why I've had to skulk around these hills
like a chicken thief. And," he added sharply, "that's why that boy must
not know who I am. If he does, the General Staff will get a calling down
at Washington, and I'll have my ears boxed."

Van Vorst moved to the door.

"He will never learn the truth from me," he said. "For I will tell him
you are to be shot at sunrise."

"Good!" laughed the Captain. "And tell me his name. If ever we fight
over Westchester County, I want that lad for my chief of scouts. And
give him this. Tell him to buy a new scout uniform. Tell him it comes
from you."

But no money could reconcile Jimmie to the sentence imposed upon his
captive. He received the news with a howl of anguish. "You mustn't," he
begged; "I never knowed you'd _shoot_ him! I wouldn't have caught
him if I'd knowed that. I couldn't sleep if I thought he was going to be
shot at sunrise." At the prospect of unending nightmares Jimmie's voice
shook with terror. "Make it for twenty years," he begged. "Make it for
ten," he coaxed, "but, _please_, promise you won't shoot him."

When Van Vorst returned to Captain McCoy, he was smiling, and the butler
who followed, bearing a tray and tinkling glasses, was trying not to
smile.

"I gave Jimmie your ten dollars," said Van Vorst, "and made it twenty,
and he has gone home. You will be glad to hear that he begged me to
spare your life, and that your sentence has been commuted to twenty
years in a fortress. I drink to your good fortune."

"No!" protested Captain McCoy, "we will drink to Jimmie!"

When Captain McCoy had driven away, and his own car and the golf clubs
had again been brought to the steps, Judge Van Vorst once more attempted
to depart; but he was again delayed.

Other visitors were arriving.

Up the driveway a touring-car approached, and though it limped on a flat
tire, it approached at reckless speed. The two men in the front seat
were white with dust; their faces, masked by automobile glasses, were
indistinguishable. As though preparing for an immediate exit, the car
swung in a circle until its nose pointed down the driveway up which it
had just come. Raising his silk mask the one beside the