Dixie opened her lips, but the words were not spoken.
The sharp report of a gunshot put an end to their conversation. The sound of a low cry drifted in—then silence.
Grant stepped to the door and then hesitated.
"I'm very sorry Miss Mason," he said reaching in his pocket, "but I'm afraid this is necessary." Something glittered in his hands and Dixie heard the metallic clink of handcuffs. "I must see what is wrong outside—and I must be assured that you will remain here until I return."
Dixie held out her hands in silence. He snapped one manacle about her wrist. A strange sort of wonder possessed him that he should be thus shackling the hands of the girl who had so fascinated him in the past. She stood quietly while he attached the other cuff to the swinging door of the switchboard railing and then hurried outside.
Two hundred yards away stood a watchman and at his feet lay the body of a man.
As Grant reached his side the watchman reported briefly.
"I saw this fellow sneaking around. When I called to him to halt he started to run, so I shot."
Grant searched the body hastily with the help of his pocket flash and brought out the card of a German reservist.
It was enough. Imperial Germany had scored again, and in the usual manner, with death to innocent beings and appalling destruction of property.