"Mr. Kean, I am sorry to tell you, but your daughter will have to come to the police court to tell what she knows of these persons," said the leader of the plain clothes men.
"I'm not sorry! I want to see it through!" cried Judy.
"And so, we are to thank you for this indignity," hissed Madame.
"Thank me or the picturesque garden by your cottage--whichever you choose. It is a stirring thing to creep in that lovely garden on a romantic night and suddenly to see a poor lame man who has won the sympathy of the community, come springing out in running togs and have him beat Douglas Fairbanks and George Walsh in his jumping. Then to have the gentle, courteous Madame Misel boldly state that Wellington is composed of blockheads,--all in perfect German, too, which was a strange language for such good Frenchmen to employ in the bosom of the family."
"Judy, I wouldn't say any more!" said her father, but his eye was twinkling as he tucked his daughter's hand under his arm.
Mr. Tucker and Mr. Kean met as long lost friends. They were what Judy called soul brothers from the first. The old train conductor stopped to exchange greetings with his one-time acquaintance. He was loud in his praise of the young lady who had scared them all to death by jumping on the rear end of the moving train. He said nothing of the scolding he had given her before he found out she was Bob Kean's daughter.
The sketch book was convincing evidence that the sporty couple were no other than Monsieur and Madame Misel. Judy told her story well to the chief, showing the clever sketches taken before and after.
While they were at the police court, a long distance message was received from Wellington with the news that the flitting of the spies had been discovered by the detectives sent there on the case.
"It would have been too late if you had not been so wide awake," the chief informed Judy.
"And I could have done nothing if Mr. Tucker had not taken hold," declared Judy.
"Why, my dear Mrs. Brown, you would have found some other way, I am sure. You do not come of a breed that lets accidents happen."
The Misels turned out to be pure Prussian, with not one drop of the blood of Alsace in their veins. Their name was Mitzel and they had many crimes to answer for. They had been on the stage prior to the war and the man was a noted acrobat and prestidigitator; the woman had traveled with her husband and assisted him in his work on the stage, being the hypnotized lady, the Herodian mystery, the disappearing spirit, the person who got tied up in the chest and had a sword run through her,--anything, in fact, that is usually required of the assistant in such a business. They were employed to act as spies and to disseminate all the German propaganda in their power.