He turned to Ted. "Well, lad, are you afraid?"

"I'm going to stick, of course," was the reply.

"Well, comrades, here is the plan. The keys you see here, one for each of us, are for Room 420. We shall separate. At six-thirty we must all plan to be in that room. No noise must be made when you come; no sound must be made while you are there."

"We had better make sure we do all our sneezing outside, eh?" Every one laughed with Walker.

"It will be your last sneeze, if it's inside," Strong laughingly warned him. "The least sound, a sc.r.a.ping chair, would be heard. Stay in Room 420; the fire escape makes 418 dangerous, if anyone should be curious and decide to come up and look into that room. Of course, there will be no lights turned on.

"Should any of us fail to get there, he who does must make every effort to get the import of the conversation."

"Can I do anything, before I leave for New York tonight?" asked Bronson.

"No, I guess not. Get your room into shape for us. Put the chairs where we cannot stumble over them. How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know. These Germans certainly keep us busy. Some of our optimists are turning pessimists, now that Austria is declaring war against Servia. They are beginning to think that perhaps there is something in this war-talk. I have to go to them and tell them just how much there really is in it. I had much rather stay--wish I could."

"I know that, Bronson, and there is no one I would rather have. But perhaps you will be of better service there. I shall code Wright the information we get tonight, if we get it. They will have it at the New York office."

Strong and Walker returned to the Adams street office; Ted went home.

He was glad of the chance to see more of his mother; Helen, he knew, would not be home. Ted was very fond of his pretty, efficient sister, and proud of her rapid rise at the store.

He found his mother there when he reached home. He explained the reason for his wearing the newsboy's clothes.

Ted spent a quiet, comfortable afternoon with her. Many things they still had to talk about and the mother realized how much it was the desire of Ted to have her and Helen come out to that great West, a land where contentment and opportunity, at least, were more likely to be found than in this place, in which she had lived so many years.

About three o'clock, only a half hour after he had been at Adams street, Strong was called to the telephone. He had been busy at a report, the call was unexpected and could only come from his secretary or from Ted, the only two besides Walker who knew of this new location.

It proved to be his secretary.

"A messenger boy came here a little while ago with a message for you,"

she said.

"Read it."

"'A meeting is to be held at W.'s house. If you will come, can get you in. 4:30!' It is signed 'J.'," she added.

There was a pause. She continued: "It looks as if it comes from Jones.

It is his writing, beyond doubt, but he signed his initial instead of his number."

"I'll come right over," Strong answered, and his voice sounded perplexed.

Charles Jones was an operative, employed as a butler by the Winckel household. He had so often given proof of profound stupidity in everything except his duties in the household that Herr Winckel would have laughed at any suspicion of his being anything else but a butler.

Herr Winckel was so fond of saying and repeating that the man had a butler mind it could never grasp anything outside of that.

In reality, Jones was shrewd, keen, able to obtain information without creating suspicion. He had been one of Strong's best men and the latter felt he could count on him.

Could it be a trap, he wondered?

Strong was uncertain as to what he should do. To miss this meeting, which perhaps was important; to go there, on the other hand, and endanger the chances of his getting to that night meeting?

"I wish I knew what to do, Walker." Together they went over the phases of it as they walked down to the office.

"I'd go," advised Walker. "You say that the boy could do his part. If they do want you out of the way, should this be a trap, they will hold us until morning; they would not dare hold us any longer. And, if they do, they will not feel the need for carefulness and the boy will thus have a better chance. It works well both ways."

When they came to the office, Strong read the message again.

"We'll go, Walker," he decided. "Dress up. Be sure not to carry any papers."

Two men came out of one of the inner offices a few minutes later. They would have been taken anywhere for two English servants; they might have been valets, footmen, even butlers. Each one looked the other over critically, but the disguise was thorough.

At fifteen minutes past the hour they reached the Winckel house, knocked at the servants' entrance. The maid answered and they asked for Mr. Jones. They appeared to be very superior, upper-cla.s.s servants. Very English, too. She escorted them in and then opened a door for them to enter. They pa.s.sed through. As they did, each one of them was pounced upon. They struggled against the sickening smell of the chloroform held tightly against their noses. Then they knew nothing more for a while.

An hour later they awoke with a feeling of nausea and the smell of chloroform all about them. They found themselves tied hand and foot and unable to move. From all appearances they seemed to be in the cellar of the house.

"Are you there, chief?" asked Walker, in a sick and very low voice.

"Yes, I'm here; going to stay awhile, I guess."

"I wonder what happened? Suppose they got on to----?"

"They are probably gloating somewhere within earshot," Strong warned him in a whisper. "They certainly have us out of the way for the time being," he added, ruefully.

"Well, there's nothing to do; we're caught," Walker said, in his ordinary voice. Then, in a voice so low Strong could barely hear him, he inquired, "Are you pretty well tied? Can you do anything?"

"Can't even move," was the answer.

"Same here," Walker said dejectedly. "They made a good job."

At five o'clock Ted left home for downtown. He stopped off to buy some of the late editions of the newspapers and proceeded to the meeting-place. He made his rounds through several buildings and at last reached that particular one.

There was no one watching, however. With Strong out of the way the Germans felt quite secure.

At five-thirty he had already let himself into Room 420 and was preparing to make himself comfortable. He picked up the dictaphone every few minutes, but for a long time heard nothing. Things seemed quiet and he began to wonder where Strong and Walker were, what was delaying them. His heart was going at a great rate because of the forced quiet and the excited state of his mind.

Things would depend on him if the two men did not come. Would he be able to carry out the plans?

"I can only do my best," the boy said to himself. And there was a strong determination to make that best count.

It was now half past seven. He lifted the dictaphone oftener. Very soon he heard voices, very indistinct, but as he listened they became clearer and clearer. Then he began making out the words and the sense of the conversation.

"Yes," said one voice. "We found out that this man Jones, who was Winckel's butler, was one of their men. He dropped a card which young Winckel found. That was enough to warrant his being watched, although we did nothing for several days except to see that he got no further information.

"Today, at the point of a gun, we forced him to write a note to Strong telling him that there was to be a meeting at Winckel's house at four-thirty and that he could get him in. Strong with another man came. We trapped them, bound them and they are now in the cellar out of harm's way."

Ted welcomed the information. At least he knew just what to expect.