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Bob Cook and the German Spy by Tomlinson, Paul Greene

Part 4 out of 4

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"Seems to me he's in an awful hurry," remarked Hugh.

"Father had probably sent him on an errand," said Bob. "Let's hurry and
see if we can't find father and Sergeant Riley."

"Who do you think shot Lena?" asked Hugh.

"I don't know. We'd better not talk here now."

"Do you suppose it could have been the fake detective?" said Hugh
regardless of Bob's advice.

"I don't know, but I don't see why he should shoot one of his own gang."

"He blew up Mr. Wernberg though."

"I know it, but I can't understand it, and as I said I don't think we
ought to talk here."

They proceeded in silence. Both boys were eager to join the others and
they wondered what they could be doing down by the river. Perhaps they
had captured the plotter and had dispatched Karl for rope or handcuffs
to secure him. At any rate nothing suspicious had happened since the
shots had first been heard.

The boys had progressed but a short distance further, when suddenly a
great tongue of flame shot heavenward between them and the river. An
ear-splitting detonation followed, and the very earth was rocked by an
enormous explosion. Both boys were thrown violently to the ground by the
force of it, while showers of earth, bricks, and material of all kinds
pelted down all about them.

A moment later the boys were on their feet, still partly stunned and
undecided as to whether they should run or not.

"There may be another one coming," warned Hugh.

While they hesitated a man suddenly appeared running swiftly away from
the direction of the explosion.

"Hey there!" challenged Bob. "Who are you?"

For answer there came the flash of a revolver and a pane of glass in the
window close beside the boys' heads was shattered.

"Stop!" shouted Bob at the top of his voice and regardless of danger he
started in pursuit of the fleeing man. Hugh was not to be left behind at
such a time and together they raced after the fugitive.

Suddenly he stopped, raised his right arm, and hurled his revolver. It
struck the ground directly in front of Hugh, spun around a number of
times and hit him a sharp blow on his shin bone as it caromed.

"Let it alone," cried Bob.

"It must be empty."

Both boys were fleet of foot, but in the first fifty yards of the race
the man gained on them. It was plain to see that unless something
happened they would soon be outdistanced. Bob realized that the time had
come when chances were to be taken. He raised his father's hickory cane
above his head, whirled it around a couple of times, and sent it spinning
in the direction of the fleeing figure ahead.

The one chance in a hundred was successful. Bob's aim was true and the
heavy stick flew straight to its mark. As the man ran, one end of it
protruded itself between his legs; he was tripped up and, losing his
balance, fell sprawling to the ground. Almost instantly he was on his
feet again, but the delay occasioned by his fall had been almost
sufficient to enable the boys to catch up with him. They were barely two
steps behind him now.

"Tackle him!" shouted Bob.

Like two ends going down the field to get the quarterback who is
receiving the punt Bob and Hugh leaped forward at the same time. They
had both had experience in football and it stood them in good stead now.
The man went down, both boys literally swarming all over him.

"I've got his legs, Hugh," cried Bob. "Grab his arms."

The man kicked and struggled with all the strength that was in him. Bob
hung on for dear life, however. He held one of the man's feet in each
hand and threw his body across his legs to hold them down. Hugh scrambled
forward and hurled his entire weight across the man's chest. Their
prisoner's fists were going like flails, but Hugh persisted. The thought
of this German plotting against the United States was more than he could
endure and he dealt the man a stunning blow squarely in the face.

A moment later the man's arms and legs were tightly pinned to the ground
while the two boys sat astride him, complete masters of the situation.

"I'd like to pound his head off," cried Bob fiercely. "Just look at
that fire."

The bomb had done its work, and already the flames were mounting higher
and higher over the damaged portion of the factory. The fire whistles
were blowing violently; some one had turned in the alarm promptly anyway.

"What shall we do with him?" panted Hugh.

"You didn't knock him out when you hit him, did you?"

"No. He's all right."

"Let's get him on his feet and take him up to the office then."

"Hang on tight."

"Don't worry about that. If he tries to get away we'll choke his
head off."

Whether or not the man understood these remarks he offered no comment.
Hugh held him by one arm and Bob by the other. They yanked him to his
feet and marched him off in the direction of the factory office. Strange
to say their prisoner offered but little resistance; he dragged his feet
somewhat but followed along sullenly.

Presently there was a clatter and a clang of bells and the fire engine
dashed into the yard, shooting sparks in a broad yellow stream from its
stack. There was much shouting and giving of orders, and a moment later
the hose cart, and the hook and ladder made their appearance.

Whether or not it was the distraction caused by these events, Bob and
Hugh never could explain to themselves. At any rate they must have
relaxed their caution and paid less attention to their prisoner than they
should, for with a sudden violent twist of his body he wrenched himself
free and was gone.



"Catch him! Catch him!" shrieked Bob hysterically.

The man darted away in the direction of the fire engine with the two boys
pursuing him at top speed. The fugitive was fleet of foot, however, as
had already been proved to Bob and Hugh. He was gaining rapidly on his
pursuers, while their shouts and calls were lost in the general hubbub
and confusion incident to the fire.

A short distance along the course of the chase two barrels supporting a
plank were standing. As the man passed them he hesitated long enough to
dislodge the plank and upset the barrels. They rolled directly in the
path of the two boys, one of them causing Hugh to trip and fall. Bob
kept up the chase, however, but the factory yard was now filled with
people attracted by the fire and the man he followed soon eluded him in
the crowd.

There was nothing for Bob to do, but give up. He turned back and
presently discovered Hugh limping toward him.

"Hurt yourself?" he demanded.

"I skinned my knee. Where's our man?"

"He got away in the crowd."

"We're a couple of fine ones," exclaimed Hugh disgustedly.

"We certainly are," echoed Bob. "I'm getting so I'm ashamed to see
father; all I do is report failures to him."

"We'd better go back to the office and see him though."

They returned to the office and at the door met Mr. Cook coming out. He
greeted the boys heartily, for he had been worried about them.

"I'm glad to see you two," he exclaimed. "I was afraid something had
happened to you."

"Oh, we're all right," said Bob. "Where's Lena?"

"What do you mean?" demanded his father. "I haven't seen her."

"Well, just look at that," said Bob, pointing to a dark stain on the
floor. "That's where she was lying; she was the woman who screamed."

"You don't tell me!" exclaimed Mr. Cook. "Was she badly hurt, and who
shot her?"

"We can't answer either question. All we know is that we found her
outside, unconscious, and brought her in here. She was wounded in the
shoulder and bleeding badly. We left her here and went out again."

"Why didn't you telephone for a doctor?"

"We did. We sent for Doctor Clarke."

"And here's a note from him on the table here," exclaimed Hugh. As he
spoke he handed the piece of paper to Mr. Cook.

"'Have taken patient to hospital in order to remove bullet,'" Mr. Cook
read aloud.

"Golly," exclaimed Hugh. "There's lots going on around here, isn't

"Too much," said Mr. Cook soberly. "I hope that explosion hurt no one."

"How about the fire?" asked Bob.

Sergeant Riley arrived just then and reported that the fire department
had the blaze under control and that it was only a question of a short
time before it would be entirely out.

"'Tis lucky it is no worse," he said seriously.

"And it's also lucky that my insurance will pay for it all," added Mr.

"The thing that makes me mad is that the German divils who exploded the
bomb all got away," exclaimed the sergeant bitterly.

"Were there more than one of them?" asked Bob.

"We don't know for sure," replied Riley. "One o' the men told me he saw
two of them running away, but he may have been mistaken."

"Well, Hugh and I caught one of them," said Bob.

"You did!" almost shrieked Sergeant Riley, bouncing out of his chair.
"Where is he then?"

"We don't know."

"What do yez mean?"

"He got away from us, and we lost him in the crowd."

"Oh, my boy, my boy," wailed Riley, nearly in tears. "Why did yez ever
let such a thing happen to you? That was our chance to put a crimp in the
whole gang, and now I suppose they'll be after blowing things up worse
than ever."

"But we didn't do it on purpose," protested Bob meekly.

"I know yez didn't," said the sergeant. "If I had only been there! I can
tell yez that if ever I get my hands on one of them fellers he'll never
get away."

"It's too bad," exclaimed Mr. Cook. "Still I don't think the damage they
did here will seriously interfere with our work for the Government."

"I hope not," said Sergeant Riley fervently. "I hope yez can make enough
ammunition to blow the bloody Germans clean out of France and Belgium and
sink every blooming submarine they have on the ocean."

"I hope so, too, Riley," said Mr. Cook. "There's no room in a decent
world for people who act as the Germans do."

"First of all though we've got to fix it so they can't interfere with
our factories over here," exclaimed the sergeant. "I wish we could catch
this gang."

"What happened to Heinrich?" asked Bob. "Did he get away?"

"He did not," said Sergeant Riley. "One of my men escorted him to the
police station where he'll be waiting until we want him."

"He didn't say what was on that sheet of paper, did he?"

"Not yet."

"Where's Karl?" asked Bob. "He was going to read it for us."

"I don't know where Karl is," said Mr. Cook. "He hurried off to look
after part of the factory just before the explosion occurred. He's a good
soul, Karl. I wish all the German-Americans were as loyal as he is."

"Did one of the guards shoot Lena?" Hugh inquired.

"No," replied Mr. Cook. "Karl and I asked them all, and not one of them
had even seen her. It's a peculiar thing."

"I wonder if our friend the fake detective could have done it."

"He wasn't the feller you caught, was he?" asked Riley.

"No," said Bob. "Our man had whiskers, didn't he, Hugh?"

"Yes," said Hugh.

"They may have been false," suggested the sergeant. "You've got
false ones on."

"And they still itch terribly."

"Why don't you take them off?" inquired Mr. Cook. "I guess you won't need
them any more to-night, will you?"

"That depends on what is going to happen," said Bob. "Have you any plans,

"I wish I had," exclaimed Riley. "What I want to find out is where
this gang has its headquarters. When I know that I'll go there and
pay a call."

"I know where it is," said Bob.

"You do?" demanded the sergeant in surprise. "What are you two anyway; a
couple of young Sherlock Holmes?"

"Not at all," laughed Bob. "We are suspicious of a certain house though,
and it might be worth while to go up there and take a look around."

"That's the stuff," exclaimed Riley eagerly. "I'll swear you all in
as deputy sheriffs, and we'll get guns for yez and go up just as soon
as we can."

"We're only suspicious of this house, you know," said Bob.

"Where is it?"

"Twelve eighty-two Elm Street."

"I heard Heinrich say something about Elm Street," exclaimed Riley.
"Your clue may be a good one after all."

"Poor old Heinie," murmured Bob.

"Poor old nothing," cried Riley. "Who feels sorry for a German plotter?"

"But Heinie was stupid and they probably made a fool of him."

"The fact remains, however, Bob," said Mr. Cook, "that Heinrich evidently
was in with this gang and therefore he ought to be punished."

"You're dead right, Mr. Cook," exclaimed the sergeant. "No matter whether
a man's been made a fool of or not, if he's dangerous he ought to be
locked up."

"I suppose so," Bob agreed. "I feel sorry for him though, more sorry than
I do for Lena. She has more brains than Heinie and ought to know better."

"Meanwhile we ought to be on our way to Elm Street," exclaimed Sergeant
Riley. "Come on, boys, let's get started."



Mr. Cook's automobile was still standing outside, and a few moments later
the little party of four were seated in it and on their way to the police
station. Bob was at the wheel.

Upon their arrival it was the work of only a few moments to have Mr. Cook
and the two boys sworn in as deputy sheriffs. Bob and Hugh retired to the
wash room and after more or less trouble succeeded in removing the false
crop of hair from their faces.

Sergeant Riley ordered two policemen in uniform to go with them, and when
Mr. Cook, Bob and Hugh had been equipped with pistols and heavy night
sticks, the band, now increased to six, were ready to proceed. They used
the Cooks' car again and presently were gliding silently along in the
direction of Elm Street.

Two blocks distant from number twelve eighty-two Bob stopped the car and
every one got out. A short consultation was held and it was decided to
separate. Consequently Mr. Cook, Hugh, and one of the policemen went
down a side street in order to go around the block and approach the house
from the opposite direction. Bob, Sergeant Riley, and the other policeman
were to wait a few moments and then move on up Elm Street. It was thought
best to have Bob with one party and Hugh with the other as both boys knew
the house and could lead the way with no possibility of mistake.

It was exciting work and Bob and Hugh both felt very important and
elated at being allowed to accompany the officers on this raid.
Furthermore they were going to see the inside of the mysterious stucco
house, and perhaps clear up the whole mystery of the German plot and spy
system in High Ridge.

After a few moments' wait Bob, Sergeant Riley, and the policeman started
to move slowly up the street. They met no one on the way, for it was now
after midnight and people were mostly in bed. Only one house had a light
burning as far as they could see; that house was a white stucco one,
number twelve eighty-two and the light was on the third floor.

"Here come the others," whispered Bob to Sergeant Riley as they drew near
their destination.

Orders had already been given and every one knew what he was to do. One
of the policemen went around to the rear of the house and took his
position by the back door. Mr. Cook was to guard the front entrance, and
both men had instructions to do everything necessary to prevent the
escape of any of the inmates of the house.

The remaining four members of the party, led by Sergeant Riley, stole
noiselessly up the steps and approached the front door. Riley took a
bunch of keys from his pocket, inspected the lock, and then selected one
of his keys. At the first trial the lock responded; he grasped the door
knob and silently and, with extreme caution, pushed open the door.

The hallway was unlighted. Sergeant Riley took out his flashlight and
pressed the button on it for a second as he inspected the hall. He
uttered a low grunt of satisfaction as he noted that there was a carpet
on the floor, and also on the stairs leading to the second floor. That
meant their footsteps would not be heard. He beckoned to the others to
follow, and softly stepped inside.

Scarcely daring to breathe, the four raiders advanced. They made no noise
on the thick carpet, but a collision with a piece of furniture or a false
step might have ruined all their chances for success. Sergeant Riley was
in the lead, quick flashes from his pocket torch showing the way.

After what seemed hours they reached the second floor. Thus far nothing
had occurred to make them think that they had been discovered, but the
hardest part was yet to come. From the third floor came the sound of
voices and a shaft of light from an open door pierced the darkness of the
hallway. The men above were talking in German.

There was a brief halt and then Sergeant Riley stole forward again.
With breath in check and walking on tip-toe his three companions
followed. The open door above was about five or six feet distant from
the head of the stairs. They started up the last flight; the voices of
the men above seemed raised in anger, and though Bob of course could
not understand what was said, he thought that the tone of one of them
sounded strangely familiar.

Suddenly the stairs under Sergeant Riley's foot creaked. The little band
stopped short, their hearts pounding; every one gripped his revolver a
bit tighter and waited for developments. Apparently the noise had not
been heard, however, for the voices continued as before.

The advance was resumed and finally Sergeant Riley reached the top of
the stairs. He went a little farther and took his stand just beside
the opened door and barely out of the light. As the others came up
they stationed themselves directly behind the sergeant and close
against the wall.

It was a tense moment. Bob and Hugh could feel their hearts hammering so
that it seemed to the two boys the noise must be heard. Their faces were
pale, and frankly they were frightened. Suppose the men in the room
should outnumber them and overpower them? Certainly if they were the
spies and plotters they sought, they would be desperate. Then again it
was just possible that the men were peaceful citizens, and that the
affair would turn out to be a farce; that would be almost too

Suddenly Sergeant Riley stepped forward into the open doorway.

"Hands up!" he ordered sharply, covering the inmates of the room with his
pistol. His three companions crowded into the doorway alongside him.

There were three men seated about a table in the room, and they were
completely taken by surprise. They started to their feet with muttered
exclamations of anger and astonishment, staring with wide eyes at the
four pistols levelled at them from the doorway.

One man hesitated and made a move as if to reach around towards his hip
pocket, but Sergeant Riley was alert.

"None of that," he cried. "Put up your hands."

The man hastened to obey and together the three stood and faced their
captors. Sullen and angry they looked, and not one of them spoke.

"Now, Marshal," said Sergeant Riley, speaking to the policeman next to
him. "I wish you would be so good as to relieve these gentlemen of any
hardware they may have concealed about them."

While Riley and Bob and Hugh covered the three prisoners, the officer
went rapidly from one to another and took a revolver from each one of
them. He also examined their other pockets, but finding no additional
weapons returned to his post by the door.

While this little drama was being enacted Bob had a chance to look about
the room. It was scantily furnished, a table, four chairs, and a shelf
along the wall constituting its equipment. On the shelf were a dozen or
more bottles that looked as if they might contain chemicals; a square
black box stood on the table and also a brass spring and what resembled a
cord hanging from one side. Bob decided it was a bomb. From a nail in the
center of the ceiling a small alligator was suspended by its tail. Bob
recognized the missing Percy, and decided that this must be the
headquarters of the gang that had used an alligator as its symbol, and
traced a picture of it on all the notes and warnings they sent out.

While the furnishings of the room were interesting, the three men
captured were far more so, and as Bob saw one of them he experienced a
distinct shock. The first was a man with dark hair, weighing perhaps one
hundred and fifty pounds, and having a close-cropped mustache; the fake
detective beyond a doubt. The second was a thin, wiry individual with a
beard, and a swollen, red nose. He was the man who had escaped from his
and Hugh's hands at the factory, Bob decided. His nose was swollen where
Hugh had hit him. This must be the man who had set off the bomb.

The third prisoner was the one who furnished the surprise to Bob,
however. He was a man Bob had known for years, and liked, admired, and
trusted as well. He was Karl Hoffmann.

"Well," exclaimed Sergeant Riley, "it looks as if you men was through
with your work. Get out your handcuffs, Marshal."

Up till now not one of the prisoners had spoken. When they saw the
manacles being brought out, however, they shifted uneasily and
Karl spoke.

"Bob," he said. "This is all a mistake."

Bob would have liked to believe him but before he had an opportunity to
say anything Sergeant Riley spoke up. "Perhaps it is a mistake," he
exclaimed. "We can talk that over down at the police station better than
here, however."

There was now little left to do. The handcuffs were quickly attached to
the prisoners' wrists and Hugh was sent to the second floor to telephone
for the patrol wagon. The prisoners were marched downstairs, and Mr. Cook
and the other policeman were summoned. Mr. Cook was as shocked as Bob had
been to see Karl Hoffmann among those who had been captured in the raid.

There was nothing for it, however, but to see him loaded into the patrol
wagon and driven away to police headquarters.



Mr. Cook, with Bob and Hugh, returned home. They had been in the house
only a few moments when the telephone rang, and Mr. Cook answered it to
find Sergeant Riley on the wire.

"I want to come up and see yez," he said. "I've let one of your friends
out of jail and I'll bring him along with me if you don't mind."

He offered no further explanations, and the three friends were at a loss
to understand what his visit could mean and who the "friend" might be.

"It must be Karl," said Mr. Cook. "No one can convince me he's disloyal."

"I guess that's who it is all right," agreed Bob.

They discussed their experiences of the past two days, but no one was
able to offer any satisfactory explanation for the strange events through
which they had passed. There was only one thing of which they were
certain and that was that a band of men who were working for Germany had
been plotting against the peace and welfare of the United States.

It was not long, however, before Sergeant Riley arrived and every
one was greatly astonished to see that his companion was none other
than Heinrich.

"Yes," said the sergeant. "Here's your friend Heinrich back again, and I
guess he's here to stay this time."

Mr. Cook was a trifle cool in his greeting to the chauffeur. Not that
he did not like him, but he had hoped to see Karl with the police
sergeant. He had been convinced of Heinrich's guilt, while he had
considered Karl to be innocent. Furthermore Karl had been foreman of
the factory for a number of years and had proved himself a most
intelligent and valuable workman.

"Heinrich has a story to tell you," said Sergeant Riley.

"You confessed, did you, Heinrich?" asked Mr. Cook. He was under the
impression that he had confessed in order to save himself, and glad as he
was to have the mystery and uncertainty ended he did not like a

"He had nothing to confess," said Riley. "Tell your story, Heinrich."

"Well," began Heinrich nervously, "in the first place you all suspected
me because I worked for Mr. Wernberg. Mr. Wernberg was working all the
time for the United States."

"What?" exclaimed Mr. Cook in surprise.

"Yes," said Heinrich, "that iss what he was doing. He knew there was
plots on foot and he knew every one in High Ridge was suspicious of him.
He decided to expose those plots and prove that he was a good American.
He hired Lena and me mit some others to help him."

"Lena, too, was all right?" demanded Bob.

"Certainly," exclaimed Heinrich. "Of course she iss all right. Mr.
Wernberg he knew who these plotters were, but he was not able to prove
anything about them. He also knew that they were meeting in that old
house out in the woods. The night before last he went out there in a big
gray roadster to search the house."

"I didn't know that was his car," said Bob in surprise.

"Yes," said Heinrich, "and I was mit him. You and Hugh followed us and we
knew it, so to scare you away I took the automobile and brought it home.
You see Mr. Wernberg wanted to do it all himself."

"We couldn't understand it," muttered Hugh. "To think that you were
fooling us all the time, Heinie."

"Yes," grinned the chauffeur, "I fool you all right. Well that night we
could not find anything so we left and Mr. Wernberg went back the next
afternoon to look around. One of the plotter's gang discovered that he
was there and tried to blow him up."

"But who locked us in that room?" demanded Bob.

"I did," said Heinrich. "I thought you was part of the German gang."

"Didn't you see us?"

"No, I only hear you talking. Then I fire one shot to give you a scare."

"And you almost blew Bob's head off," added Hugh.

"I tried to shoot high," said Heinrich. "Then I hurry away to tell Mr.
Wernberg that I had two of the plotters caught. When I was gone I guess
one of the plotters came there and you had a fight with him."

"The fake detective," exclaimed Bob.

"His name iss Kraus," said Heinrich. "He has a little mustache, and in
the afternoon he blew up the house, because he knew we were after him and
he wished to destroy all evidence."

"That's when Mr. Wernberg got hurt," said Mr. Cook. "What was he doing in
the house, Heinrich?" He was amazed at the way the mystery was clearing
itself up.

"As I told you," said Heinrich. "He was looking around for evidence
against the gang."

"Why didn't he notify the police if he was suspicious?"

"As I told you," repeated Heinrich patiently, "he wished to do all
himself and when he turned those men over to the police no one could say
he was forced to do it. They sent him lots of warning notes because they
knew he was after them."

"What did the alligator mean?"

"It iss the sign of a secret society; all Germans in High Ridge know
that. It was that snake Hoffmann who stole poor Percy to kill him and
hang him up in the room where they had their office."

"How long has Karl been a member of the gang?" asked Mr. Cook.

"Ever since Germany went to war with England," said Heinrich. "Nearly
three years."

"But he never talked as though he sided with Germany."

"The ones who mean trouble never do," said Heinrich. "Karl knew enough to
keep his mouth shut. You see you never suspected him."

"Tell me about Lena," exclaimed Mr. Cook. "Why was she meeting that man
Kraus down town tonight and going around with him if she was not working
with the gang?"

"She pretended to Karl Hoffmann that she was working mit them. All the
time she was acting as a spy for Mr. Wernberg. Because Karl Hoffmann was
in love with her he told her lots of things, and it was in that way we
got most of our information."

"Pretty clever, eh?" exclaimed Sergeant Riley, approvingly.

"There's another thing, Heinrich," said Mr. Cook. "Why wouldn't you read
what was written on that paper tonight?"

Heinrich looked sheepish. "I could not," he said. "Kraus had become
suspicious of Lena; he feared she was going to betray them and the note
was a warning to her. It said that if they were caught they would see to
it that she went to jail mit them. At that time you were all suspecting
poor Lena, and I was afraid you would send her to jail before she had a
chance to prove to you that she was loyal."

"You're in love with Lena, aren't you?" asked Mr. Cook.

"We are to be married," said Heinrich, proudly, his eyes shining.

"Did Karl suspect that Lena was treacherous?"

"I think not until he saw that note."

"He was going to read it to us though."

"He would not have read it," cried Heinrich hotly. "He would have made up
something, not what it said at all."

"Who shot Lena?"

"Kraus shot her. She was going to your office to warn you that your
factory was going to be blown up, and he shot her to prevent that."

"Who was the man with the whiskers?" asked Bob.

"His name iss Mueller. He iss the one who set off the bomb tonight."

"That's what we thought," exclaimed Bob. "Well, Hugh, you hit him one
good one anyway, didn't you?"

"I hope so," said Hugh.

"There was four of them altogether," said Heinrich. "Kraus, Mueller,
Hoffmann, and a man named Schaefer who went to blow up the railroad
bridge Friday night and has not been heard of since."

"We know where he is, don't we, Hugh?" laughed Bob.

"Where iss he?" demanded Heinrich.

"In jail, I guess," said Bob. "We caught him on the bridge with a bomb."

"Good boys," said Heinrich warmly.

"Why were you so angry when you had to go with father tonight?" asked
Bob. "Where was your engagement?"

"I was going with Lena to twelve eighty-two Elm Street, where Schaefer
lived. You see Lena was already a member of the gang, so they thought,
and I was to join too, so we both could watch them better."

"Somebody telephoned Lena about meeting them there this evening."

"Yes, it was Mueller. He thought he had a recruit in me."

"Well, Heinrich," said Mr. Cook, "I guess that explains pretty nearly
everything, and I'm sorry I ever suspected you." He shook hands warmly.

"Oh, that's all right," smiled Heinrich. "I had to get suspected with the
job I had. That was part of the game."

At that moment the door bell rang and Dr. Clarke was ushered in. "I
thought you might be interested in the hospital patients," he said. "Mr.
Wernberg will recover all right, and Lena is not badly hurt. She keeps
calling all the time for somebody named Heinrich. Do you know him?"

"Will you excuse me, Mr. Cook?" exclaimed Heinrich, and, without waiting
for a reply, he dashed out of the room, nearly falling over two chairs in
his haste to get away to the hospital.

"He seems to be in a hurry, doesn't he?" laughed the doctor.

"I must be going, too," said Sergeant Riley. "I have some boarders down
at my hotel who may need attention."

"Well, good-night, Sergeant," exclaimed Mr. Cook, shaking hands with the
doughty officer. "I'm sorry Hoffmann was mixed up in this business, but
I'm glad it's all cleared up. I hope we'll have no more trouble."

"Ye won't, as long as yez have two young fellers like Bob and Hugh
working for yez," exclaimed Riley. "The United States needs boys like
that; this war is going to be a long and hard one in my opinion."

"I'm afraid so," Mr. Cook agreed. "I guess we'll come out all right if we
all work hard and stick together though."

"That's it," exclaimed Riley. "We must all work together. Our personal
feelings don't count. It's what our country needs."

He said good night all around and went out.

* * * * *

The next morning Bob was out in the yard inspecting a plot of ground
where he was going to have a garden. He could not enlist, but he was
going to "do his bit" by raising a few vegetables, and thus help to
supply the country with its necessary food. He heard a step behind him
and turned to see Frank Wernberg.

Frank held out his hand. "Shake hands with me, Bob," he exclaimed. "I
want to tell you that I was wrong about that the other day, and you
were right."

Bob responded heartily. "Yes," said Frank.

"I was dead wrong. I had thought from the way father talked that he was
pro-German, but I found out that he wasn't at all. When it came to a
question of deciding between his country and Germany there was never any
doubt about where he stood."

"I know that, Frank," said Bob. "I wish every one of German birth or
descent over here felt the same way."

"I think most of them do," said Frank.

"I guess that's right," Bob agreed. "Look at Lena and Heinrich."

"Well, all I wish now," exclaimed Frank, "is that we could enlist."

"So do I," cried Bob enthusiastically. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if you
and Hugh and I could enlist and go together?"

The new adventures are recorded in the story entitled,



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