ke in on him, "get on with the story. What the devil's all
this got to do with Francis? The document--"

"Steady, my boy!" was the imperturbable reply, "let me spin my yarn my
own way. I'm coming to the piece of paper....

"Well, then, old Urutius came to see me ten days ago. All I knew about
Francis I had told him, namely, that Francis had entered the army and
was missing. It was no business of the old Mynheer if Francis was in the
Intelligence, so I didn't tell him that. Van U. is a staunch friend of
the English, but you know the saying that if a man doesn't know he can't
split.

"My old Dutch pal, then, turned up here ten days ago. He was bubbling
over with excitement. 'Mr. Allerton' he says, 'I haf a writing, a most
mysterious writing--a I think, from Francis Okewood.'

"I sat tight. If there were any revelations coming they were going to be
Dutch, not British. On that I was resolved.

"'I haf received; the old Dutchman went on, from Gairemany a parcel of
metal shields, plates--what you call 'em--of tin, _hein?_ What I haf to
advertise my business. They arrife las' week--I open the parcel myself
and on the top is the envelope with the invoice.'

"Mynheer paused; he has a good sense of the dramatic.

"'Well', I said, 'did it bite you or say "Gott strafe England?" Or
what?'

"Van Urutius ignored my flippancy and resumed. 'I open the envelope and
there in the invoice I find this writing--here!'

"And here," said Dicky, diving into his pocket, "is the writing!"

And he thrust into my eagerly outstretched hand a very thin half-sheet
of foreign notepaper, of that kind of cheap glazed notepaper you get in
cafes on the Continent when you ask for writing materials.

Three lines of German, written in fluent German characters in purple ink
beneath the name and address of Mynheer van Urutius ... that was all.

My heart sank with disappointment and wretchedness as I read the
inscription.

Here is the document:

* * * * *

Herr Willem van Urutius,
Automobilgeschaeft,
Nymwegen.
_Alexandtr-Straat_ 81 bis.

Berlin, Iten Juli, 16.

O Eichenholz! O Eichenholz!
Wie leer sind deine Blaetter.

Wie Achiles in dem Zelte.

Wo zweie sich zanken
Erfreut sich der Dritte.

* * * * *

(Translation.)

Mr. Willem van Urutius,
Automobile Agent,
Nymwegen.
81 bis _Alexander-Straat._

Berlin, 1st July, 16.

O Oak-tree! O Oak-tree,
How empty are thy leaves.