tly he drew back with a low
ejaculation of wonder. Tom, spurred on by this fact, also raised his
head until his eyes were on a level with the small strip of open space
just below the shade. He too had a thrill at what he saw.

"I feel as if I must be dreaming!" whispered Jack huskily. "Tell me, is
that man in there really Carl Potzfeldt, the good-for-nothing guardian
of little Bessie Gleason?"

"It's no other than our old acquaintance of the Atlantic liner,"
admitted Tom, though he himself had some difficulty in believing the
startling fact.

This man, whom they felt sure was a German spy, had last been seen
descending the gangway from the steamer at an English port, with Bessie
Gleason, his pretty little ward, held by the hand, as though he feared
she might try to run away from him.

Many times had Jack tried to picture the conditions under which he might
run across Carl Potzfeldt again; but no matter what line of flight his
imagination took he certainly had never dreamed of such a thing as this.
Here in the heart of Lorraine, many miles back of the German front, on a
moonlight night, and in a lonely country house, he once more beheld the
object of his former detestation.

He clutched his chum by the arm almost fiercely.

"Well, that settles it, Tom!" he muttered savagely.

"Settles what?" whispered the other, for the window was closed, and
there did not seem to be any chance of their low-voiced exchange of
opinions being overheard.

"I don't leave here until I've seen _her_. For if he's at this
place it stands to reason Bessie must be here also. Tom, that was Bessie
we heard sobbing, I just know it now."

Tom had already jumped to the same conclusion. Nevertheless he did not
mean to let it interfere with his customary caution. Nothing was to be
gained through reckless and hurried action. They must go slowly and
carefully. This house by the roadside on the way to Metz he concluded
might be a nest of spies, perhaps the headquarters of a vast network of
plotters.

"Hark! There's a car coming along the road and stopping at the gates
here!" he told his chum, as he drew Jack down beside him. "We must be
more careful how we look in lighted windows. If any one chanced to be
abroad in the grounds we'd be seen, and perhaps fired on."

They crept from the vicinity of the window. Tom led the way toward the
front of the house, as if he had an object in view. The car was now
coming in along the crooked drive. They cou