LITMIR.BIZ

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flight of stairs which seemingly led to suites of offices in the upper part of the building. On the third floor she halted before a dingy door, and knocked softly.

      Instantly the door was opened by Fédor who, inviting them within, shut the door and locked it. “Well, Fédor, what luck?” Yvette asked.

      “The best,” was the reply. “We have been able to find out exactly the people with whom Bausch and Horst are associating, and where their meetings are being held. You have arrived in the very nick of time. I fancy – indeed, I am almost sure – the agreement will be signed either to-night or to-morrow night. I have overheard most of their talk.”

      “But how have you managed that?” Dick asked eagerly.

      “Miss Pasquet’s telephone, of course,” said Fédor. “Didn’t she tell you about it?” Yvette blushed and laughed.

      “You didn’t know I was an electrician, did you, Dick?” she said. “Well, you will soon see my little invention at work. But it is nothing to compare with Fédor’s.”

      The good-looking Count talked earnestly for half an hour, acquainting them fully with the work of Yvette’s agents in the Galdavian capital, until Dick became amazed at the perfection of the organisation which the alert young French girl had so swiftly created.

      “Ostrovitch’s Party,” Fédor concluded, “usually meet at the house of General Mestich, who, as you know, is the Commander of the Headquarter Troops in Langengrad. He is a wonderfully able man, but is a confirmed gambler and bon viveur, and is head over ears in debt. He plays at the Jockey Club each night. There can be no doubt whatever that he has been bought by Germany. His house in the Dalmatinska for a long time has been notorious for its rowdy parties, and as a result it is quite easy for the conspirators to meet there without attracting undue attention. I am certain the Government does not realise how far things have gone yet. There is not a scrap of direct evidence. Mestich is personally very popular, and would in any ordinary matter carry with him a big volume of public opinion. But he dare not, as yet, venture on any direct revolutionary action. His hope is to give his plot some semblance of a popular movement, and he is gradually winning important adherents. If he is given enough time I think he will succeed. But without Bausch and Horst – that is without Germany – the plot must go to pieces. They are finding the money, which is being spent like water.”

      “This is certainly interesting,” Dick exclaimed. “What are your intentions?”

      “Well, immediately opposite Mestich’s house is an old building which for many years has been used as a store. It belongs to a loyalist friend of ours, and I can use it as I like. From one of the upper windows it is possible to see right into Mestich’s little salon, where the meetings are held. We will meet there to-night. You must come separately to the alley at the back; we dare not enter by the front. There is a small doorway there, half overgrown by clematis and apparently never used. I will be inside waiting to open the door when you knock.”

      For the rest of the day Dick and Yvette were careful to behave as ordinary tourists “doing the sights” of Langengrad, the Rathaus, the Museum, and the Opera House, and still buying piles of useless souvenirs. But they were soon to realise that a careful watch was kept on all strangers in Langengrad.

      Just as they were finishing dinner that night they were approached by an officious little black-moustached man who sent a waiter to call them aside. When they were in a small smoking-room he made a courteous request for their papers. These were, of course, in order, and Dick had no misgivings on the point. But for some reason the shrewd, sallow-faced official seemed suspicious, and Dick noticed with anxiety that he spoke faultless French.

      Would his own, he wondered, pass muster?

      “Monsieur speaks French like an Englishman,” the police officer suddenly rapped out.

      Luckily Dick was prepared.

      “Yes,” he answered readily, “I was brought up in England. I was at school at Rugby. My friends in our French Air Force nicknamed me ‘The Englishman.’”

      The officer, it appeared, had also been an airman and proceeded to talk interestingly on the subject of aero engines. He was perfectly courteous, but none the less Dick had an uncomfortable suspicion that he was beneath a human microscope. Fortunately the subject was on one which he could not possibly be “stumped” and try as he would the police official found he had met his match.

      Dick was intensely interested and amused by his skill and courtesy. None the less the position was most dangerous. He realised fully that – as was indeed the fact – the officer might be one of Mestich’s lieutenants, and unless he could be satisfied their chances of getting away from Langengrad were trifling.

      At length he seemed satisfied that Dick was really what he pretended to be, and finally left them with a courteous farewell, having accepted a glass of slivovitza – or plum gin – the liqueur of the Galdavians – and chatted for a time on ordinary topics.

      “That man is dangerous, Dick,” whispered Yvette when he had gone. “We shall have to be most careful. I wish I knew how much he knows, or suspects.”

      They were soon to learn how acute this visitor really was!

      Shortly after, Dick, smoking an exquisite cigarette such as can only be bought in Langengrad, a dark coat thrown over his evening dress, left the hotel quite openly, but keenly on the alert. He suspected he might be followed, a premonition that was to prove useful.

      He strolled idly through the broad Kossowska agog with evening life, gradually working his way towards the rendezvous, and keeping a sharp look out. Soon he picked out the figure of a man who always seemed to be about fifty yards behind him. A few turns through side streets confirmed his suspicions; clearly, he was being “shadowed!”

      Dick Manton’s brain always worked rapidly in a crisis. Obviously the man must be got rid of. So he speedily formed a plan.

      Strolling down the alley behind the old storehouse, Dick marked the exact locality of the clematis-grown doorway, passed it and then turned, so timing his movement that he and his pursuer met exactly outside the door. It was the agent of political police who had interrogated him after dinner!

      Further pretence was useless, and Dick came straight to the point.

      “To what am I indebted for Monsieur’s very polite attentions?” he demanded bluntly.

      The stranger shrugged his shoulders insolently.

      “Langengrad at night is not too healthy for foreigners,” he replied with an obvious sneer, “and of course we feel responsible for – ”

      He got no further. Dick’s clenched fist jerked upward with every ounce of his strength and skill behind it. Taken utterly by surprise the police agent was caught squarely on the point of the jaw and went down like a log.

      Dick tapped at the door, which was instantly opened by Fédor, and together they dragged the unconscious officer inside. A moment later he was securely bound, gagged and blindfolded.

      Dick was now thoroughly alarmed about Yvette. Would she be followed, and if so, could she win clear?

      Here fortune favoured them. Apparently the police official, whatever his suspicions were, had meant to make sure of Dick, knowing that Yvette alone could not escape him. A few minutes later they heard her knock, and soon all three were in the house.

      “Safe enough now,” said Fédor laconically as he led the way through piles of stored goods to an upper room at the top of the building.

      The room was faintly illuminated by a gleam of moonlight which came through a skylight in the roof, and when a small lamp was turned on Dick looked around him with keen interest. Filthily dirty, and apparently unused for years, the room was crammed with a heterogeneous mass of canvas packages and wooden boxes. The only window was covered with shutters through which circular holes had been bored to admit light, but these were covered over with flaps of felt. The dust of years lay thick everywhere.

      Dick’s attention was instantly centred on a large, square table in the middle of the room.

      Upon the table stood what appeared to be a big

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