ashion he liked
flowers. Such portions of his garden as were useless for vegetables he
had planted out in flowers. But he never cut them and brought them into
the house, and he watched jealously that no one else should do so. He
kept poisoned meat around for such dogs in the neighborhood as wandered
in, and Anna had found him once callously watching the death agonies of
one of them.

Such, at the time the Spencer mill began work on its new shell contract,
was Herman Klein, sturdily honest, just according to his ideas of
justice, callous rather than cruel, but the citizen of a world bounded
by his memories of Germany, his life at the mill, and his home.

But, for all that, he was not a man the German organization in America
put much faith in. Rudolph, feeling his way, had had one or two
conversations with him early in the war that had made him report
adversely.

"Let them stop all this fighting," Herman had said. "What matter now who
commenced it? Let them all stop. It is the only way."

"Sure, let them stop!" said Rudolph, easily. "Let them stop trying to
destroy Germany."

"That is nonsense," Herman affirmed, sturdily. "Do you think I know
nothing? I, who was in the Prussian Guard for five years. Think you I
know nothing of the plan?"

The report of the German atrocities, however, found him frankly
incredulous, and one noon hour, in the mill, having read the Belgian
King's statement that the German army in Belgium had protected its
advance with women and children, Rudolph found him tearing the papers to
shreds furiously.

"Such lies!" he cried. "It is not possible that they should be
believed."

The sinking of the Lusitania, however, left him thoughtful and
depressed. In vain Rudolph argued with him.

"They were warned," he said. "If they chose to take the chance, is it
Germany's fault? If you tell me not to put my hand on a certain piece in
a machine and I do it anyhow, is it your fault if I lose a hand?"

Old Herman eyed him shrewdly.

"And if Anna had been on the ship, you think the same, eh?"

Rudolph had colored.

For some time now Rudolph had been in love with Anna. He had not had
much encouragement. She went out with him, since he was her only means
of escape, but she treated him rather cavalierly, criticized his clothes
and speech, laughed openly at his occasional lapses into sentiment, and
was, once in a long time, so kind that she set his heart leaping.

Until the return of Graham Spencer,