"You are a German spy?" enquired Ray Raymond.
"No," replied the bearded German in very good English, adding with marvellous coolness: "To what, pray, do we owe this unwarrantable intrusion?"
"To the fact that you are a spy who has been taking secret tracings of our Army aeroplane!" retorted my friend.
But the spy only laughed in open defiance.
"Well, there's no law against it," he replied.
"No," retorted Ray grimly, "thanks to the stupidity of a crass Government, there is no law against it."
"My God!" I said hoarsely, and my face went the colour of ashes.
"But my old friend Jacass—I mean Jacox—and I," continued Ray Raymond, fixing the miserable spy with his eye, "have decided to take the law into our own hands. I have my revolver and my friend has his electric torch. Give me the tracings."
"Gott—no!" cried the German spies in German. "Never, you English cur!"
But Ray had already extracted a letter from the elder man's pocket, and was making for the door! I followed him. When we got back to our hotel he drew the letter from his pocket and eagerly examined it. I give here an exact copy of it, and I may state that when we sent it to His Majesty's Minister for War he returned it without a word!