olutely
free to go where he likes, and do what he likes."

"Except the Germans and Austrians," and the other laughed meaningly.

"Yes, yes, and aren't their precautions silly? Because our parents
thought it wise to educate us in England, we speak the language like
natives, and are looked upon as thorough John Bulls. Heavens, if they
only knew!"

Bob's pulses began to quicken. Surely he had seen one of them before.
Where, he could not tell, but both face and voice were familiar.

Evidently they had no idea that he was near. Even if they looked
towards him, he was hidden from them by the huge palm fronds.

"Yes," responded the other. "Of all the guileless people in the world,
these British fools are the worst. Here are you and I regarded as
English people. We do what we like, we go where we like, and they
welcome us. It is true, since the war broke out, they have taken all
sorts of precautions against what they call German spies. But, bah!
they are as easy to deceive as children. Why, only a week or two ago,
by the simplest ruse imaginable, I obtained some valuable information
down in Cornwall."

Again Bob looked at the face, and wondered. The speaker was a
middle-aged man, and spoke without the slightest suggestion of a
foreign accent. He would pass anywhere as an Englishman. He had an
air of assurance too, as though it were his habit to move in good
society. Dress, manner, and general appearance suggested an Englishman
of good standing and yet he spoke as an enemy to the country.

"In Cornwall, eh? That's an out-of-the-way part of the country."

"Yes, in Cornwall. It was at a little fishing village called St. Ia.
I laugh when I think of it, the whole thing was so amusing."

Bob gave a start. He knew who was speaking now. His whole appearance
had changed, but he could not help penetrating his disguise. It was
the man who had called himself Count von Weimer--an Alsatian whose
sympathies were so strongly French, and who had come to Cornwall for
peace. The simplicity, and yet the audacity, of his action made Bob
wonder.

Forgetful of the fact that he was playing the part of an eavesdropper,
he sat still, and listened.

"Yes, I promised I'd tell you about it," the man went on, "although,
strictly speaking, I ought to say nothing. Still, the matter is over
and done with now, and the information lodged in the right quarter;
besides we, to an extent, work together, so it will be all right. As