before the same
mess attendant came and beckoned them to enter.

They were alone, now, save for the presence of the ober-lieutenant, who
was seated at one end of the table writing. He did not look up as they
entered and seated themselves.

The meal set out was a coarse one, in quality of food, but there was
plenty of it. The three prisoners ate slowly, almost in silence, nor did
they address their host.

Before the meal was over the German commander left the room without word
or sign to his guests.

"Why, the boat has stopped!" exclaimed Mrs. Launce, in a low voice, some
three minutes later. "Are we resting on the bottom?"

"I think I shall soon be able to answer you," Darrin replied.

Soon machinery began to rumble.

"We are on the surface," said Dave, laying down knife and fork. "We are
recharging batteries."

Mrs. Launce leaned forward to whisper:

"Then surely there is some chance that one of our own craft will hear the
racket. We may be fired upon and sunk, do you not think?"

"You are eager for death?" Dave asked, studying her face.

"Yes. I prefer death to being taken to Germany."

"And I, too," Dave nodded.

"Have they anything against you there?" Mrs. Launce whispered, after
glancing about her.

"Only, I believe, that I brought about the capture and execution of one
of their most valuable spies."

"That would be enough," whispered Mr. Launce. "For that the Germans would
not openly try and execute you, but they will find other ways to bring
about your death."

Instantly it occurred to Darrin that, evidently, some one in official
Germany knew of something to bring against Mrs. Launce, for her question
to Darrin had indicated as much.

As they sat there at the table the young American officer noted that the
submarine rolled hardly at all. It was plain that the recent gale had
subsided, for the slight rocking of the boat indicated only a gentle
swell on the surface of the sea.

In the doorway appeared Lieutenant von Schellen. In his right hand,
steadied by his left, was what looked like an album. Glancing up from a
page the junior officer remarked, with quick speech and decided emphasis:

"You are the Countess of Denby."

By a great effort the Englishwoman turned slowly, glancing at the German.

"Ah!" she exclaimed. "You have another woman prisoner? You are bringing
her here. I am sorry that she is in your hands."

"_You_ are the Countess of Denby!" von Schellen charged again, once more