* *

My warders turned sharply to the right. I glimpsed another concrete
structure. A heavy steel door opened, then clanged shut, behind us.
The fetid odor that means only one thing the world over, folded round
me.

I sprawled on the steel floor of the cell into which I was thrust. A
wave of utter fatigue engulfed me. I felt great weariness of body and
despair of soul. I had failed in my mission. The fate of my country
had been entrusted to me--and here I was in a steel-floored,
steel-walled prison cell. And that tunnel was rushing toward New York
at three miles an hour; over seventy miles a day.

I think I slept from sheer exhaustion. But something startled me into
awaking. The dim light filtering in from the tiny air-hole high up on
one wall showed me that I was still alone. I lay, listening. There it
was again, a wailing scream of agony that rose and fell and died away.

I heard a grating sound at the door, and it opened and shut. Rubinoff,
the Ferret, had entered. "Comfortable, Captain Bolton?" he asked, and
there was more than a hint of mockery in the velvety voice. In the
hand with the twisted finger was his ray-tube. It pointed steadily at
me.

I got to my feet. I was in no mood for trifling, for that scream had
shaken me. "Cut the comedy, Rubinoff." I growled. "Kill me, and let's
have done with it."

He raised a deprecating hand. "Oh, come now. There's really no
absolute necessity for that. You can save yourself, very easily."

"What do you mean?"

"I can use you, if you're amenable to reason."

"I don't understand."

"You're the cleverest of the American Intelligence men. The rabble
they give me are well-nigh useless. Cast your lot in with us, and in a
week you'll have the riches of your greatest city to dip your hands
in. It's easy. There is certain information we need. Give it to us.
Then I'll get you back into your lines: we'll cook up a good tale for
Sommers. You can resume your post and send us information only when it
is of extreme importance. Come, now, be sensible."

* * * * *

At first blush this was an astounding proposal. But I knew my man. He
needed to know something. Once he had extracted the knowledge he
sought from me, I should be disposed of. He'd never let me get back
into our lines with what I had found out. It might have been policy to
play him--but what was the use?

"No, Rubinoff. You know I won't do it."

He sighed. "Just as I tho