der man gave vent to a quick imprecation in German, while Klauber,
of course, recognised us both.

In the room was a large camera with a flashlight apparatus, while pinned
upon a screen before the camera was a big tracing of a plan of one of
the chief defensive forts which the spies had that night secured from
Rosyth, and which they were now in the act of photographing.

"A lady called upon you here an hour ago," exclaimed Ray. "Where is
she?"

"No lady has called here," replied the bearded German in very good
English, adding with marvellous coolness, "To what, pray, do we owe this
unwarrantable intrusion?"

"To the fact that I recognise you as Josef Scholtz, secret agent of the
German Naval Intelligence Department," answered my friend resolutely,
closing the door and standing with his back to it. "We have met before.
You were coming down the steps of a house in Pont Street, London, where
lives a great friend of yours, Hermann Hartmann."

"Well?" asked the German, with feigned unconcern, and before we could
prevent him he had torn the tracing from the screen, roughly folded it,
and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Hand that to me," commanded my friend quickly.

But the spy only laughed in open defiance.

"You intended, no doubt, to replace that as you have done the others
after photographing them. Only we've just spoilt your game," Raymond
said. "Both Mr. Wilkinson and Mr. Farrar are, I see from the list,
members of the Golf Club where you"--and he looked across to the
waiter--"are employed. On one occasion, while Mr. Wilkinson was taking a
bath after a game, and on another while Mr. Farrar was changing his coat
and vest, you contrived to take wax impressions of both the safe keys
and also that of the door of the offices. The keys were made in Glasgow,
and by their means the plans of our new naval base and its proposed
defences have been at your disposal."

"Well--there's no law against it!" cried Scholtz. "Let me pass."

"First give me that tracing," demanded my friend resolutely.

"Never. Do your worst!" the German replied, speaking with a more
pronounced accent in his excitement, while at the same moment I saw that
he held a revolver in his hand.

In an instant Ray drew his own weapon, but, instead of covering the spy,
he pointed it at a small, strong wooden box upon the floor in the
opposite corner of the room.

"Gott--no!" gasped the man, his face blanching as he realised Ray's
intention. "For Heaven's