Here was one of the hidden intelligence stations that accounted in part for Roque's ability to get searching and quick information. That he should initiate the boys into his particular secret service methods indicated a determination that they should never get away from him.
As Billy said to Henri at a chance moment, "He thinks we are booked for a life job as his air chauffeurs."
They were not aware as yet that in the extensive grounds, housed at the water's edge, was the seaplane in which they had recently traveled so far, and in addition a big biplane and two monoplanes were in hangars ready for service. Also the most speedy of steam launches rested at the private wharf.
Roque was a recognized genius, like every cog in the German wheel, absolutely thorough in his methods, and the means placed at his disposal were practically limitless.
Billy and Henri had climbed into the steep embrasure of a tower window and were enjoying the magnificent view spread out before them.
"How about my imagination now?" Henri was recalling exciting incidents in the hotel. "Didn't I get the figure of the sandy man as a spotter?"
"I think you did," admitted Billy. "But," he continued, "I didn't take much stock in the idea until I saw the revolver in Roque's hand. Then I knew that the fat was in the fire."
"I gave Anglin the cue to beat it, and I did the trick by breaking into that Rhine song," exclaimed Henri. "Yet he never made a move until the yell of 'get him,' and I thought the jig was up, sure. He's the coolest hand in the business, that fellow."
"Some of these days, maybe, he'll fall a little short in one of those getaways, and that will mean a tumble into six feet of earth."
"Not he," stoutly maintained Henri, "he's the regular man with a charmed life. Say, I can't help laughing even now when I think of Spitznagle calling 'Conrad,' and the expression on Roque's face."