e hounds were in full chase of the fox, he had a hole to retreat to
where they could never follow?"

"Ha! ha!" chuckled Brockman; "we ought to call it the Fox-Hole. I only
wish we had the youngster in it who slipped through my fingers that
night on the road to Redmead."

"Do you really?" said Paul to himself. "Well, the youngster's obliged
you, and yet you don't seem to be grateful to him."

"_Zut! zut!_ Don't worry about him. He's only a cipher--a pawn in the
great game we have in hand. If we win, it'll be for a prize worth
winning--fame and fortune," went on Zuker, as he strode to and fro with
rapid strides. "Yes, fame and fortune, and we shall have dealt a
staggering blow at a country that we hate. The risk is great, but the
stakes are greater still, and each day makes our position surer."

"Surer? Do you think so? Sometimes it seems to me, master, that we're
standing on the very edge of a deep precipice, and that one day we shall
make a false step, and then----"

Brockman did not finish the sentence, but gave a significant shrug of
the shoulders which was much more eloquent than words.

"Das ist recht--that is right; I have never hidden from you the danger.
It is true that one false step might spoil all my plans, but that only
makes the game more worth the winning. And listen, Brockman, we must not
make that false step. We made one on that night we let the boy get
through with the cipher to Redmead. We must not make another."

Paul's ears tingled as he listened. Notwithstanding the peril in which
he stood, his heart beat with joy. The words of Mr. Moncrief came back
to him: "You have not only done a great service for me and my brother,
Paul, but for your country." He had almost forgotten those words in the
whirl of events that had since happened at Garside, but now they came
flashing back, shining out vividly as a beacon in the darkness around
him.

"No; we must not make another," answered Brockman, sending his fist
vigorously into the palm of his hand to emphasize his words. There was
silence between the two for a moment, then it was again broken by Zuker.

"Those ancestors of yours were dull dogs, Brockman, but there must have
been some grit in them to have got up to Chatham. See, they got to this
point." Paul could see that a chart was spread out upon the table, and
that Zuker was pointing with his finger to a place on it. "Here is the
River Medway, which, as you know, can be reached through this tunnel.