shelter, we burned
electricity to-night.

"You seem to know a whole lot about this fellow," I remarked idly in the
pause.

"Yes, I do." He smiled a trifle grimly. "In fact, I once came near
getting him; it would have made my fortune, too. But he slipped through
my fingers at the last minute, and if I ever--You see, I'm in the
secret-service myself, Mr. Bayne."

I turned to stare at him.

"The United States service?" I asked.

"Yes."

I nodded. All that had puzzled me was fairly clear in this new light.
Not at all the type of the star agents, those marvelous beings who
figure so romantically in fiction and on the boards, he was yet, I
fancied, a good example of the ruck of his profession, those who did
the every-day detective work which in such a business must be done.
But--Franz von Blenheim? What was my association with the name? Then I
recalled that in the extra I had read as we left harbor there had been
some account of the man's activities in Mexico.

"What I wanted to say was this," Van Blarcom continued in his usual
manner--the manner that I now recognized to be a subtler form of the
policeman's, respectful to those he held for law-abiding, alert and
watchful to detect gentry of any other kind. "This line we're traveling
on now is one the spies use quite a bit. They used to go to London
straight or else to Bordeaux and Paris; but the English and French got
a pretty strict watch going, and now it's easier for them to slip into
France through Italy, by Modane. They sail for Naples mostly, do you
see? And--you won't repeat this?--it's fairly sure that when Franz
von Blenheim sends his government a report of what he's done in Mexico
against us, he'll send it by an agent who travels on this line and lands
in Italy and then slips into Germany by way of Switzerland."

We were drifting slowly into the harbor of Gibraltar, the rock looming
over us through the blackness, a gigantic mountain, a mass of tiered and
serried lights. Search-lights, too, shot out like swords, focused on us,
and swept us as we crept forward between dimly visible, anchored
craft. The throbbing of our engines ceased. A launch chugged toward us,
bringing the officers of the port. I watched, pleased with the scene,
and rather taken with my companion's discourse. It was not unlike a dime
novel of my youth.

"Do you mean you've been sent on this line to watch for one of
Blenheim's agents?" I inquired.

"No. I'm sent for some work on the oth