"Nearly midnight," he yawned. "I—"
"You'd better go home and get some sleep," the operative broke in. "Cavanaugh and I will keep watch—and let you know the minute anything happens. Don't you think that's a wise plan?"
Harrison Grant, with his ever present happy nature, smiled in spite of the fatigue that hung heavily upon him.
"I think you must know how much sleep I haven't had!" was his comment. "And to tell the truth—I haven't had any since the night of the Naval Ball."
He turned to the door, giving his men their final instructions for the night. And as he made his way homeward, the telephone lines were crackling between New York and Washington, Ambassador Von Bernstorff at one end and Karl Boy-Ed, Naval Attache, at the other. Nearby sat Capt. Franz von Papen and Dr. Heinrich Albert, waiting for the result of the conversation. At last Boy-Ed turned from the telephone.
"Bernstorff's anxious about our plans for tomorrow," he announced. "I told him not to worry."
"Well, there isn't anything to worry about, is there?" Von Papen hunched forward in his chair.
"Not if everything's all right at the shack," answered Boy-Ed. "That's up to Von Lertz. I instructed him to examine the torpedo and to be sure that the men had everything in working shape. Then he was to report to us."
"Wait just a minute—" It was the somewhat plotting, methodical Dr. Albert who had interrupted. "Let me understand this thing clearly: The torpedo is to be fired when the Fleet is going through the Narrows. Is that right? Then what happens?"
"A great deal," laughed Karl Boy-Ed. "The principal thing of which is that the Great Atlantic Fleet will be forced to remain in New York harbor and the United States of America will be taught just how foolish it would appear in a war with a real country like Germany."