"Granted. But I don't see what all this has to do with"
"Listen, General!" Capper was trembling in his eagerness. "I'm just in from Alexandria—came on the Princess Mary. There was an Englishman aboard, bound for Gib. Name was Captain Woodhouse, of the signal service."
"Quite right. What of that?" General Crandall looked up suspiciously.
"Have you seen Captain Woodhouse, General?"
"Not a half hour ago. He called to report."
"Seemed all right to you—this Woodhouse?" Capper eyed the other's face narrowly.
"Of course. Why not?"
"Remember Cook, General! Remember Hollister!" Capper warned.
General Crandall exploded irritably: "What the devil do you mean? What are you driving at, man?"
The little spy leaped to his feet in his excitement and thrust his weasel face far across the desk.
"What do I mean? I mean this chap who calls himself Woodhouse isn't Woodhouse at all. He's a German spy—from the Wilhelmstrasse
