"Well," exclaimed Bob in dismay, "I guess they got rid of us that time."

"Why have they?" demanded Hugh. "Why can't we hire a cab and follow them?"

"Have you got any money?"

"Not a cent."

"Neither have I. I guess we're left."

"Aren't we fools?" cried Hugh angrily. "How could any one be so stupid?"

"There's no use in crying over spilt milk," said Bob. "The thing for us to do is to decide what we ought to do next."

"Let's go down to the factory; I don't see what else we can do."

"All right," said Bob disconsolately. "I do hate to have to go and tell father that we've been tricked and beaten though."

"He can at least get the police to come down and help guard his factory," said Hugh. "Probably no harm will come to it if they do that."

"But how do you know his factory is to be attacked? It may be they are planning other damage to-night. We might have had a chance to stop it if we'd followed those two, and now they've got away from us."

"Your father ought to have reported Lena and Heinrich to the police anyway."

"He said he'd keep watch of Heinie, and no doubt he has. He expected we'd do as well for Lena. We'd better go down and see him about it."

"Let me read this paper first," said Hugh. He once again started to unfold the crumpled sheet that Bob had stolen from Lena.

"You can't read it."

"Why not?"

"Try and see."

Hugh unfolded the paper and gave it one look. "Why it's written in
German," he exclaimed in surprise.

"I know it is; that's why I said you couldn't read it."

"We must get it translated."

"Let's take it down to the factory. We can get Karl Hoffmann to tell us what it says."

Without further ado they set out. They walked swiftly and exchanged but few words, for they were both occupied with their own thoughts; a feeling that something was hanging over their heads oppressed the two boys. The country was at war and plotters and spies were abroad in the land. The events of the last two days had convinced them that High Ridge had its share of mischief makers, and they felt sure that that very night a blow would be struck.

A walk of twenty minutes brought them to the factory. The low, brick buildings loomed ghostly in the darkness, with only here and there an electric light burning inside as protection against thieves. The small brick office was situated in front of the other buildings and here a light was shining brightly.

A guard challenged them. Bob recognized the man as one of his father's employees, and soon convinced him that he and Hugh were all right. They passed on and a moment later were in Mr. Cook's office. Mr. Cook was seated at his desk and in a chair opposite him Sergeant Riley was ensconced.

"Well," exclaimed the sergeant as the boys entered, "if ever I saw two hard looking bums you two are it. 'Tis a wonder one of my men didn't run yez in."

"We were sort of afraid of that," laughed Bob. "No one bothered us though."

"Where's Heinrich?" inquired Hugh.

"In the next room," said Mr. Cook. "Where's Lena?"

"We lost her."

"What do you mean?"

Bob told his father what they had done.

"It looks serious," said Mr. Cook thoughtfully. "Sergeant Riley has just come from the hospital and he brought me news of Mr. Wernberg."

"How is he?"

"He's better; he talked a little this evening."

"Did he?" cried Bob eagerly. "What did he say?"

"He didn't talk connectedly," said Mr. Cook. "He was only conscious for a few minutes, and wasn't well enough to hold a real conversation."

"But he must have said something."

"He did. He mumbled about bombs, and plans. He talked a lot about a factory, and kept saying, 'hurry,' over and over again."

"Didn't any one ask him what he meant?"

"I asked him myself," exclaimed Sergeant Riley, "but he was not well enough to answer me or understand what I was saying."

"Do you think he referred to this factory?" inquired Hugh.

"The sergeant thinks so," said Mr. Cook. "There are only two others in High Ridge that they would try to destroy probably, so you see the chance is one in three that he was speaking of this one."

"I can't imagine a man plotting such things," said Bob bitterly. "He thinks he's helping Germany I suppose."

"Huh," snorted Bob. "A nice kind of man that will earn his living in a country and then try to blow it up. Is he going to get well?"

"The doctors say he has an even chance," said Sergeant Riley.

"Well, all I hope is," said Bob, "that when he does get well they take him and put him in jail for about fifteen years. Have you got plenty of guards, father?"

"I think so," said Mr. Cook. "I've got all I can get anyway."

"Hugh and I are ready to help you know."

"I know it, and I may use you later to-night; we will need them more then probably. In the meantime why don't you go and lie down for a little while?"

"We've got a paper here to be translated first," said Bob.

"Give it to me," exclaimed Mr. Cook. "I'll call Heinrich in."

In response to his summons Heinrich soon appeared from the next room. He looked pale and haggard as though he was tired and worn and worried. He glanced from one to another of the people gathered around the desk, but even his old pals, Bob and Hugh, gave him no more than a fleeting smile.

"We have a letter or something here written in German, Heinrich," said
Mr. Cook. "I'd like to have you translate it for us, please."

Heinrich took the paper that was held out to him. Every one watched him narrowly as he looked at it, and were amazed to see him suddenly turn deadly white. His hand shook violently and he had to lean against the desk to keep from falling. He gazed at Mr. Cook pleadingly, a hunted look in his eyes.

"What does it say?" asked his employer.

Heinrich gasped and almost choked once or twice. He swallowed hard and finally found his voice again. "I don't know," he replied.

"You mean you can't read the German?"

That seemed to be as good an excuse as any, so Heinrich seized upon it eagerly. "Yes," he stammered. "That iss it."

"I don't believe you," said Mr. Cook calmly.

"Please, Mr. Cook," begged Heinrich. "Don't ask me to read it."

"But I want to know what it says."

"I can't read it."

"You don't mean that," said Mr. Cook. "You certainly can read it."

"I can't read it," Heinrich repeated. It was plain to be seen that he was suffering great mental agony; he glanced about him fearfully as if he expected to be attacked suddenly. He looked at the paper again and an involuntary groan escaped him. He appealed to Mr. Cook.

"Please let me go home," he pleaded.

"You won't even leave this room until you've read what that says," exclaimed Mr. Cook, becoming angry and irritated at Heinrich's refusal to do as he said. Bob had seen their chauffeur stubborn before, however, and he knew that if he made up his mind to a thing he was as obstinate as only a German can be.

Heinrich merely looked at Mr. Cook sorrowfully.

"I'm a policeman you know," said Sergeant Riley sharply.

Heinrich ignored the implied threat completely.

"Come on, Heinie," urged Bob cajolingly. "Don't be foolish."

"I can't read it," said Heinrich again.

"You know," said Mr. Cook, "we're suspicious of some things you have done already, Heinrich. Don't make it worse if you can help it."

"I can't read it," said Heinrich.

Bob knew the chauffeur well enough to know that there was no use in arguing with him further; it would only be a waste of breath and time.

"I don't want to turn you over to the police, Heinrich," said Mr. Cook.
"That is what I shall do, however, unless you do as I ask."

Heinrich turned paler than ever at this, but the words had no other effect on him. "I can't help it," he muttered doggedly. "I can't read it."

"Let me see the paper," said Sergeant Riley. Heinrich handed it over.

"What's the little alligator doing on it?" queried the sergeant curiously.

"Heinrich can tell you," said Mr. Cook. "What does it mean, Heinrich?"

The chauffeur made no reply. He looked at the floor dejectedly but offered no remark. Now and again he glanced about him nervously.

Just at that moment the door of the office was opened and Karl Hoffmann entered. Heinrich looked at the newcomer, and there was hatred in his very glance. His fists were clenched tightly so that his knuckles showed white. He opened his mouth as if about to speak, and apparently with difficulty checked himself.

Karl Hoffmann took in the scene with one glance and was plainly surprised by the gathering. At first he did not recognize Bob and Hugh, who still wore their disguises. Both boys greeted him, however, and laughed at his surprise when he discovered who they were.

Karl himself looked pale as though he was working under a high tension; certainly the times were strenuous. He held something in his hand that apparently he wished to give to Mr. Cook. Before he could speak, however, Mr. Cook anticipated him.

"Here is a paper, Karl," he said. "It has German written on it and I'd like to have you translate it for us if you will."

As Karl took the paper Heinrich started forward as if he would protest. He was pale and his lips were shut tight; his face was the picture of desperation. He looked as if he had reached the limit of his endurance and must speak. For a moment Bob thought he was going to spring at Karl. Heinrich finally got control of himself, however, and relapsed into a sullen calm.

Karl took the paper and looked at it carelessly. Suddenly his jaw dropped and he started back aghast. He turned almost as pale as Heinrich had done.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded.

"Tell us what it says," urged Mr. Cook.

"This is certainly remarkable," said Karl, though by this time he had partly regained control of himself.

"He won't read it, I bet," said Heinrich fiercely.

"Keep quiet, Heinrich!" exclaimed Mr. Cook sharply. "Karl is a good
American; of course he'll read. Won't you, Karl?"

"Certainly I will," said Karl easily. He had entirely recovered his composure now.

He had just opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted by a volley of shots outside. Instantly everything was in confusion. Every one made a rush for the door and as it was yanked open a piercing shriek rent the air.