se! It is gone!"

The gates of the car clanged shut and the train started slowly. Down
the stairs to the street went the American, quietly and confidently,
with the brown leather case under his arm. On the train, Dr. Albert,
white of face, was bitterly calling on his German Gott to find his case
for him!

The next day, and the next, and for many days thereafter, a few modest
lines of advertising appeared in New York papers, saying that a brown
leather case had been lost on an elevated train and that a small reward
would be paid for its return. The advertisement stated that the case
was of no value to anyone but the owner. The poor doctor did not dare
call attention to his loss by sounding too loud an alarm, for he knew
what was in the bag.

"Of no value to anyone but the owner!" Not to ninety-nine people out
of a hundred, perhaps; but the hundredth man had the case, and he and
his chief knew what to make of it.

On a windy morning in April, 1916, two American secret agents, dressed,
as always, in civilian clothes, were walking down Wall Street toward
number 60. From information obtained through the capture of several
spies, they knew that in an office at 60 Wall Street a big, polite
German, Wolf von Igel, was running an advertising agency that was not
an advertising agency. They knew further that Wolf was one of the
chief plotters, and that he kept many of the most important German
plans locked in a big burglar-proof safe, on which was painted the
Imperial German seal. Lastly, and this explains why the two agents
were walking to his office at exactly that hour, they knew that some
especially important plans would be in the safe and that another
dangerous spy would be talking to von Igel. This piece of knowledge
had come through one of the many underground ways which so puzzled the
Germans. It may have been a "tip" from some American agent who was
secretly working with the Germans to spy on them.

The Americans pushed open the door, hurried right past the clerk in the
outer office, and entered the inner room. Von Igel, who was bending
over a packet of papers, looked up.

"I'll trouble you for those papers, von Igel," said one of the
Americans, stepping up to him.

The startled German shoved him back, leaped to the safe door, and
slammed it shut. But before he had time to give the knob a twirl, the
Secret Service men were upon him. In rushed the clerk, and for a few
minutes the four men wrestled and