The machine came to a stop. The pilot never moved from his seat. Instead, he motioned to a soldier to come to him. Evidently a few words were exchanged.

A sharp command was issued.

Two soldiers came up to Jack. He held up his hands to show that he was chained. One of the soldiers leaned forward, and pressed a button at the side of the car. The chains fell from Jack.

Without comment the two soldiers seized Jack and flanked him. A detail of six additional men fell in step, a petty officer wheeled about,—a movement that acted as a signal for the soldiers to march.

A five-minute walk brought them to a small cottage. Here they halted. Jack was blindfolded. When the bandage was removed, he found himself facing an elderly man seated at a desk. Jack could not make out his features, as they were hidden in a gray mask.

“Sprechen sie Deutsch?” he was asked.

Jack understood the question, and replied:

“No.”

“What is your nationality?” came the question in English.

“American.”

“What part of America?”

“New York.”

“Your occupation?”

“Wireless operator.”

“For your government?”

“No, for the Transatlantic Shipping Combine.”

There followed a short pause. Jack was wondering what next to expect. The questions had been brief and propounded in a crisp, commanding way. There was no leeway for equivocation.

“Do you tell the truth?”

“I do,” replied Jack quietly.

“Why do you tell the truth?”

“Because I believe in it,” said Jack simply.

“Under what circumstances did you first meet Herr Radwig?”

Jack, greatly surprised, hesitated. Would it be wise to tell everything? How under the sun did this man in the gray mask know so much?

“Remember, the truth.”

Jack thought quickly. The question implied that this officer had some knowledge of his dealings with Radwig. Possibly, also, the officer was about to test the value of his declaration that he told the truth. So Jack figured. But was this not an amazing illustration of the wonderful efficiency and thoroughness of the German Secret Service.

“Speak!” came the imperative command.

“Very well,” replied Jack calmly. “It was on the Kronprinzessin Emilie. It seemed that we were about to be dashed to pieces on floating icebergs. Some shrieked:

“‘The Titanic!’

“‘The boats!’ shouted a man. He violently pushed two women aside, wedged in the panic-stricken throng. I stood at the head of the companion way. The man told me to get out of the way. I tried to calm the people. But this man seemed to have lost his reason. He rushed at me, trying to strike me. I was too quick for him. I struck first. He staggered back, subdued. It was only later that I learned this man’s name.”

“And then—how and when did you meet Herr Radwig?”

So Jack had to relate incident after incident. Always, at the end of a recital, came the same question, asked in the same matter-of-fact tone of voice:

“And then—when and where did you meet Herr Radwig?”

Everything must have its end. At last Jack had modestly related every episode with which the reader has been made acquainted. The even tone of his questioner, his piercing eyes, and the unbroken silence was beginning to weary Jack. He felt that he could hardly keep his wits about him.

Evidently the German officer noticed these signs and was patiently waiting for them. He leaned forward, and the steady monotone now gave place to a rasping, menacing gruffness.

“Who are you?” he suddenly snapped.

“An American,” came the tired reply.

“An American!” jeered the officer.

“Yes, and I’m proud of it!”

“Why should you be proud of something you could not help?”

“I don’t understand you,” replied Jack, passing his hand over his brow as if to clear away the ever increasing drowsiness.

“You don’t understand me?”

Jack shook his head.

“Answer me!”

Jack opened his mouth to speak, his lips moved, but he could utter no sound. He stood still, staring stupidly at the man in front of him. His thoughts were befuddled. What did he—the man in the gray mask—want?

“I wish those eyes wouldn’t glare at me so,” Jack mumbled to himself. “I didn’t do anything to them.”

But the eyes behind the gray mask became larger, rounder, more compelling. Jack knew instinctively that they meant him harm. What power they held! Something within him fought to arouse him. He tried to move and could not. Larger, ever larger those eyes seemed to grow! The features of the man were lost; in fact, those eyes seemed to belong to no one; they seemed to have life and power, dreadful power, of their own.

Jack shrieked with terror!

Was he lost?