A cheer that resounded through the great rooms of the Criminology Club echoed Grant's speech. Then the members gathered into little groups to discuss the new development and to plan for the future. As for Harrison Grant—
He shifted from his position and veered toward Cavanaugh, his most trusted operative.
"Billy," he announced, "our first blow in this matter falls to you. You have seen the advertisements in the newspapers advising passengers not to sail on the Lusitania?"
"Of course."
"Very well. I believe that means the beginning of more direct plots against America. There is only one way to learn. Von Papen, Boy-Ed, Dr. Albert, Heinric von Lertz, their unofficial agent in New York—even Ambassador Bernstorff himself—make a habit of lounging at the Hohenzollern Club. We want a dictograph in those club-rooms."
Billy Cavanaugh twisted his already tightly waxed mustache and smiled ever so slightly.
"I'll attend to the details," he announced quietly.
And while Harrison Grant gave his orders, four men were gathered about the big table in the Imperial German Embassy in Washington. One of them was Bernstorff. Another was Albert, with his ever-present portfolio in which he carried the reports of spies operating in every city of the United States. A third was Boy-Ed and the fourth was Capt. Von Papen.
The meeting, incidentally, seemed to have been a happy one. A supercilious smile skimmed the lips of Franz von Papen as he gazed at his co-plotters. He waved his cigar slightly before him.
"These idiotic Yankees will wake up next week," he announced, "it will be something for them to think about."