g gentleman who succeeded in trapping me. I
must take off my hat to the Boy Scouts," and he smiled with an awful
pleasant kind of a smile and held out his hand to Pee-wee.

Well, you should have seen Pee-wee. It was as good as a three-ringed
circus. He stood there as if he was posing for animal crackers. And
even the detectives looked kind of puzzled, but all the while
suspicious.

"Are you the spy-catcher?" the old gentleman said to Pee-wee, but
Pee-wee looked all flabbergasted and only shifted from one foot
to the other.

"I hope you don't mean to kill me with that belt.
axe?" the old gentleman asked. But Pee-wee just couldn't speak.

"He must be a telephone girl--'he doesn't answer," I blurted out,
and even the detectives had to laugh.

"Gentlemen, if you will step inside, I'll make full confession and
then give myself up," the old man said; "for I see there is no use
in trying to escape the Boy Scouts. It was I who wrote that
treasonable memorandum and I may as well tell you that I have a
wireless. I will give you my whole history. I see that my young
friend here is a most capable secret service agent."

"We're only small boys--we belong to the infantry," I said, for I
just couldn't help blurting it out.

Well, we all went inside and I could see that the Commissioner and
the detectives kept very near the old gentleman as if they didn't
have much use for his laughing and his pleasant talk. I guess maybe
they were used to that kind of thing, and he couldn't fool them.

When we got into his library I saw books all around on the shelves,
hundreds of them I guess, and the desk was covered with papers and
there was a picture of Mark Twain with "Best regards to Mr. Donnelle,"
written on it. Gee whit taker, I thought when I looked around; maybe
Mr. Donnelle is a deep-dyed spy all right, but he's sure a high-brow.

"You'd have to take an elevator to get up to him," I whispered to
Pee-wee.

"Shhh," Pee-wee said, "maybe he isn't dyed so very deep--there's
different shades of dyes."

"Maybe he's only dyed a light gray or a pale blue," I said.

Then Mr. Donnelle got out a big fat red book that said on it "Who's
Who in America" and, jiminy, I'm glad I never had to study it, because
it had about a million pages. I hate biography anyway--biography and
arithmetic. Then he turned to a certain page.

"Now, gentlemen," he said, "if you will just read this I will then
consent to go with you," and he smiled all over his