"It's almost the time, now," laughed Don, speaking in a low voice, as
he held his watch close to his eyes. "I'll slip right down into the
road, in plain sight, where you can see what happens."

Back of all the rest, in the bushes, Jacob Farnum muttered, disgustedly,
to himself:

"I like it little enough to find George Melville this. I like it still
less, now that I find Don having a finger in the pie of mystery."

Smoke wafted back from a cigarette that Don was smoking. A few minutes
thus passed, when there came the sound of a low whistle. Tossing away
the stub of his cigarette, Don answered with another whistle.

Broughton Emerson straightened up instantly, being well enough hidden
for that, and so did Jacob Farnum, whose presence, of course, was
unsuspected by either of the Melvilles.

Then out from the cover of the woods stepped a boy of sixteen, in a
uniform like that worn by the submarine boys.

"Have you got the plans?" asked Don, in a low voice that was yet distinct
to all the listeners.

"Yes," came in a hoarse whisper, from the one in uniform.

"Pass them over, then," commanded Don. "That's right. Here's your
money, in this envelope."

Just then ray from the rising moon struggled through the filter of