We both stood breathless. There was a quick movement in the room adjoining, and we heard men's voices shouting to each other in German.
"Stay here," Ray said firmly. "We must not show the white feather now."
Almost as the words left his mouth we were confronted by the two men whom we had seen surveying the railway line.
"Well!" cried Ray, gripping his precious bag and facing them boldly, "you see we've discovered your little game, gentlemen! Those notes on the map are particularly interesting."
"By what right, pray, do you enter here?" asked the bearded man, speaking in fairly good English.
"By the right of an Englishman, Herr Stolberg," was Ray's bold reply. "You'll find your clever wife tied up to a tree in the field opposite."
The younger man held a revolver, but from his face I saw that he was a coward.
"What do you mean?" demanded the other.
"I mean that I intend destroying all this excellent espionage work of yours. You've lived here for two years, and have been very busy travelling in your car and gathering information. But," he said, "you were a little unwise in putting upon your car the new Feldmarck non-skids, the only set, I believe, yet in England. They may be very good tyres, but scarcely adapted for spying purposes. I, for instance, noticed the difference in the tracks the wheels made one evening when you met your wife outside Metfield Park, and that is what led me to you."
"You'd destroy all my notes and plans!" he gasped, with a fierce oath in German. "You shall never do that—you English cur!"