“That fellow Kennedy is here!—and with my girl Ella!” gasped old Drost, who had just come into the room. “I’ve been across to the wood. They’re actually here!”
“Kennedy here!” exclaimed Ortmann, his face pale in an instant. “How could he possibly know?”
“Well, he’s here! What shall we do?”
Ortmann stood for a few moments reflecting deeply.
Slowly an evil, sinister grin overspread his countenance.
“Your girl,” he said in German, in a deep voice. “She is your daughter. You wish to protect her—eh?”
“No, she’s English. We are Germans.”
“Excellent. I knew that you were a good Prussian. Then I may act—eh?”
“Entirely as you wish. We must get rid of these watch-dogs,” snarled the old man in a venomous voice.
Ortmann, without further word, descended the stairs and entered the dining-room wherein sat two men, Germans, naturalised as British subjects, by name Bohlen and Tragheim.