ndicated the evil-faced doorkeeper by a
nod. The man grinned.

Tommy twisted his head round with an effort.

"Oh," he said, "so you're Conrad, are you? It strikes me the thickness
of my skull was lucky for you too. When I look at you I feel it's almost
a pity I've enabled you to cheat the hangman."

The man snarled, and the bearded man said quietly:

"He would have run no risk of that."

"Just as you like," replied Tommy. "I know it's the fashion to run down
the police. I rather believe in them myself."

His manner was nonchalant to the last degree. Tommy Beresford was one
of those young Englishmen not distinguished by any special intellectual
ability, but who are emphatically at their best in what is known as a
"tight place." Their natural diffidence and caution fall from them like
a glove. Tommy realized perfectly that in his own wits lay the only
chance of escape, and behind his casual manner he was racking his brains
furiously.

The cold accents of the German took up the conversation:

"Have you anything to say before you are put to death as a spy?"

"Simply lots of things," replied Tommy with the same urbanity as before.

"Do you deny that you were listening at that door?"

"I do not. I must really apologize--but your conversation was so
interesting that it overcame my scruples."

"How did you get in?"

"Dear old Conrad here." Tommy smiled deprecatingly at him. "I hesitate
to suggest pensioning off a faithful servant, but you really ought to
have a better watchdog."

Conrad snarled impotently, and said sullenly, as the man with the beard
swung round upon him:

"He gave the word. How was I to know?"

"Yes," Tommy chimed in. "How was he to know? Don't blame the poor
fellow. His hasty action has given me the pleasure of seeing you all
face to face."

He fancied that his words caused some discomposure among the group, but
the watchful German stilled it with a wave of his hand.

"Dead men tell no tales," he said evenly.

"Ah," said Tommy, "but I'm not dead yet!"

"You soon will be, my young friend," said the German.

An assenting murmur came from the others.

Tommy's heart beat faster, but his casual pleasantness did not waver.

"I think not," he said firmly. "I should have a great objection to
dying."

He had got them puzzled, he saw that by the look on his captor's face.

"Can you give us any reason why we should not put you to death?" asked
the German.

"Several," replied Tommy. "Loo