Dick Stewart nodded his head.
"That's all I could catch. Seems Von Lertz is attending to something about the fleet—but neither one of them has mentioned what it is. Wait a minute—"
The operative leaned forward to the dictograph again.
"They're sending a man to see why Von Lertz hasn't reported."
Grant went quickly forward. He took the receiver from Stewart's head and beckoned to Cavanaugh.
"Take Stewart's place," he ordered. "Stewart, you cover that man. See where he goes. Report to me at the club."
A quick movement and Stewart was gone. Five minutes later, Harrison Grant, lingering in the doorway of the building adjacent to the Hohenzollern Club saw the dim figures of two men walking far down the street in the grey light of dawn. One of them was the man who had been sent forth by Von Papen and Boy-Ed. The other was Dick Stewart, member of the Criminology Club, beginning the chase that was to end—where? Harrison Grant wished that he could know!
Nor did Grant know that an ally was working in his behalf, an animated, smiling little ally who stood in the entrance to her apartment, saying goodby to Heinric von Lertz. That person was laughing somewhat thickly—his glass had been filled many times during the night. Dixie Mason extended a hand, but the German plotter waved it aside.
"And you only shake hands with me?" he asked.
"Isn't that enough?"