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Show "cj 7rc-Richard T J it This is a story of the European 'c'l'i war- ' '8 a tale ' spies of ! (i love and intrigue among them; J of patriotism and sacrifice; of J war's horrors and demands. It : ;( J Is hot a plea for preparedness or T, M; for anything else. The great con- J: X "lct across tne water will pro- V duce some great literature such cl; as the American Civil war and j the Franco-Prussian war and the ij ot' 4. Napoleonic wars produced and -f. k' much trash. Metropolitan crit- J l. 4. Ics unite In saying that "Under j Fire" makes a bid for lasting jj popularity. Read It and judge 3d t for yourself. J CHAPTER I. i i :i: Just a Hint of Scandal. U: .Georgy Wagstaff sauntered Into Miss J' Ethel Willoughby's sitting room, at-J:j at-J:j tired In the daintiest and fluffiest of 4;t summer costumes. Georgy was the : daughter of Sir George Wagstaff of the British admiralty. She found the j jj room deserted, except for her father's admirable butler, who was at the mo-'i' mo-'i' ment In the act of placing a tea-tray !?; upon Miss Willoughby's table, ;j; "Oh, Brewster Is Miss Willoughby i!l In?" she Inquired. ')! The correct Brewster Immediately !jj straightened himself np in his best 1 jj manner. :! "No, miss! I think not" he replied. !; Georgy strolled to the window. "I dare say Ethel'Il be here directly." S;i she said to herself as much as to the u: butler. "I'll wait" ' "Yes, miss," Brewster acquiesced. K And with a bow of the utmost cor- rectness he went out, closing the doors fci softly behind him. -t Georgy Wagstaff stood Idly looking out of the window upon the view of the Thames. It was an August after-:i after-:i noon and the river shimmered allur-j allur-j lngly in the slanting sunlight But ,!j Ethel had asked her to meet a few N'c friends; and Georgy was fond enough of Miss Willoughby not to be repent-",'. repent-",'. ant for having foregone the delights .(: of a perfect summer evening out of v.. doors. As she stood there In the win-!jj win-!jj dow her governess entered. 11 "Oh! Hello, Georgy! Am I late or l! are you early?" Miss Willoughby called " as she saw that one of her guests was j". already waiting. i "Both!" said Georgy with a smile. : "I did want two minutes with you be-' be-' fore the others came. May I bother '.'; you now?" 5i "Of course!" the older girl replied. - "But it's no bother," she assured her. ' She sat down on one end of a long settee and began to remove her gloves; whereupon her younger charge perched herself at the other end of the seat ";: and regarded her admiringly. Miss ;'j Willoughby's fair hair had Just the .;: hint of red In it that was at the same - time Georgy's despair and delight , And Ethel was far enough past the " schoolgirl age to have lost that angu-c angu-c larity which Georgy still possessed ii and loathed. As for coloring, they o- both showed the healthy glow which is the distinguishing mark of young ... Englishwomen of the upper class. "You see," said Georgy, "I'm afraid I'm going to be awfully presumptu-: presumptu-: ous " j "Nonsense!" Ethel Interrupted. "You n- couldn't be that when you and your father have been so very good to me. '; . . . Come on' Out with It!" It was true that Ethel Willoughby h felt that she was deeply In the debt of the Wagstaff s both father and ;'i daughter. Before entering their bouse-i! bouse-i! hold as Georgy's governess she had is ; known them upon a footing of social tf equality. But fortune had frowned 0I upon her. And when circumstances g had become most pressing Sir George had come to her relief with the pro- posal that she undertake the guidance J, of his somewhat difficult daughter. It w'as not that Georgy was greatly different dif-ferent from other girls of the lmpres- sionable age. But Sir George's public duties left him little time to devote to the upbringing of his motherless child. And it had struck him - that Ethel v Willoughby was a person who at the $ Bame time would be able to sympathize if with Georgy's Impulses and direct 1 them Into the proper channels. "What's on your mind, Gorgy?" . Miss Willoughby asked again, as the it girl still hesitated. "It's about your past," Georgy be-.& be-.& gan In deadly seriousness. ;! . ,EtheI laughed at her tragic manner. 1 . "Have I a past?" she inquired lightly. " . . But the romantic Georgy was not t' to be diverted from her mood. . . v '.-.. "That's just the question," she commented. com-mented. "You kuow I shouldn't mind It In the least If you had. I believe In people living their own lives, in their own way." Georgy prided herself her-self that she was "advanced." She considered the ordinary insular attitude atti-tude toward what Is termed mornllty to be stodgy and Victorian. Indeed, she quite fancied the more free-and-easy continental view of life. "What on earra are you talking about?" Ethel demanded. If the truth were known, she felt the least bit uncomfortable un-comfortable beneath the frank stare of her young friend. "You remember a month ago, when you said you went to Brighton?" Georgy continued relentlessly. "When I said 1 went to Brighton? When I went to Brighton," Miss Willoughby Wil-loughby corrected her coldly. But the chill of her remark was lost upon her patient cross-eia miner. Georgy was too intent upon uncovering uncover-ing the romance that she thought she had stumbled upon to be so easily discouraged. "Well, today at lunch Hugh Middle-ton Middle-ton said you couldn't have been In Brighton that week " She paused to watch the effect of her bombshell. "Did he? Really?" Miss Willoughby Willough-by replied with well-feigned indifference. indiffer-ence. But beneath her cold calm ber heart was beating furiously. She felt : for all the world like some wild thing, ; trapped, at bay. And she turned away to hide the alarm that she feared must reveal Itself in her face. I "Yes! He was In Paris, and " "Paris!" Ethel echoed with a faint start Youth is ever cruel; and Georgy had no thought of sparing her companion. compan-ion. Her sole Idea was that if Ethel were hiding some secret liaison she wanted to share the romance with her. "Yes!" she went on relentlessly. "And he saw you there twice that week, and both times with Henry Streetman." "But that's Impossible!" Ethel protested. pro-tested. "But Mr. Mlddleton seemed very positive," the younger girl said somewhat some-what doubtfully. "It's too absurd!" Ethel cried, forcing forc-ing a laugh. "I was at Brighton, as I can very easily prove." "Well that's settled!" Georgy exclaimed, ex-claimed, with an air of relief In spite of her hopes. Her feelings had, as a matter of fact been somewhat complex. com-plex. "Of course I'd only admire you for being brave enough to defy the conventions. But father wouldn't " "But I haven't defied conventions," Ethel Insisted, placing both her hands over Georgy's as If to emphasize the truth of her statement "Oh, I don't care If you have," Sir George's daughter told her callously. "But you ought to care," Ethel pro tested. "And as your governess I cannot can-not condone such an attitude on your part. Really, Georgy, stupid as conventions con-ventions may appear sometimes, nevertheless nev-ertheless there is a bitter penalty exacted ex-acted from people who break them." Miss Wagstaff rose abruptly, as if impatient with the views of her governess; gover-ness; and, crossing the room, she seated seat-ed herself nonchalantly upon the arm of a chair that was drawn up at one side of the tea table. "Oh, pooh!" she exclaimed. "All that narrow-mindedness Is old-fashioned." The older girl regarded her reprovingly. reprov-ingly. "What silly book have you been reading?" she Inquired. After her advent ad-vent into the WagstaCf home it had not taken her long to discover that Georgy's literary tastes had developed along lines that would scarcely have met with Sir George's approval. ' Miss Georgy did not even deign to reply to Ethel's question. They had had numerous discussions more or less heated upon the subject of her reading, which Georgy. regarded as both, footless and absurd. She had openly rebelled at; reading the books that Ethel recommended to her. Jane Ansten and Mrs. Gaskell were. In her opinion, hopelessly behind the times. "I'm glad you haven't had an affair with Henry Streetman," the younger girl remarked. "I don't like him." "Don't you?" said Ethet, . relieved that Georgy was at last convinced that her suspicions were groundless. "No! Every time he comes into the room my back sort of goes np, Just like Rowdy when he sees a cat." Rowdy Row-dy was Georgy's Scotch terrier, whose antipathy to cats was proverbial. "Mr. Streetman has been very kind to me," her governess observed. "Oh, don't defend him!" Georgy cried Impatiently. "I know inside that you agree with me." Miss Wlllougnby did not care to continue the discussion. And with an nir of dismissing both Mr. Streetman and her relations with him from her own mind as well as Georgy's, she rose from the wide seat, and as she glanced at her watch exclulmed with surprise: "Heavens! It's after five. I must fuss up a bit for the party." But Georgy would not be put off so easily. "Well, forewarned is forearmed," she said senteutiously. It was clear that she did not Intend to be squelched like a child. If Henry Streetman were still In her mind, she saw no reason why she should dissemble in order to please' Ethel or anybody else. "There's nothing to be forewarned about," Miss Willoughby observed, as she paused at the door that opened Into her boudoir. "You surely have no right to put such a construction upon my acquaintance with Mr. Streetman. I can't let you say things of this sort to me. It's not fair to me. It's not even fair to yourself." While she was speaking the door opened and Brewster, the butler, stepped Into the room. "Mr. Streetman Is calling," he announced an-nounced in well-modulated tones. "Oh, show him up!" Miss Willoughby Willough-by ordered. And as soon as Brewster had vanished she shot a swift smile at her companion. "Speak of the devil " she said good-naturedly. "Oh, he Isn't the devil," Georgy replied. re-plied. "More of a snake, I think." There was certainly no reason to doubt her extreme dislike of the gentleman who was at that moment waiting below. be-low. Ethel's hand was on the doorknob; but she hesitated long enough to say to Georgy: "I won't be five minutes. Stay and amuse him there's a good girl!" "Not I!" Miss Georgy declared. "If he wants to be amused he can read Punch." And as she spoke she slipped off her perch on the chatr-arm and started for the door through which Brewster bad disappeared. "Don't be rude to him, please, Georgy!" Miss Willoughby entreated. She knew that Georgy and Mr. Street-man Street-man must meet; and she could not refrain re-frain from trying to smooth the way for her guest "Oh, I'll be polite enough In my own way," Georgy replied grimly. She was well aware that she was an enfant terrible; and she often took a mischievous delight in shocking people by some unconventionallty. Ethel Willoughby had already closed her boudoir door behind her; but Georgy had not yet reached the hall before Brewster returned to usher In the caller, who ' was close npon his heels. Henry Streetman, handsome, well-groomed, well-groomed, slightly foreign In appearance, appear-ance, bowed with extreme affability as he came face to face with Georgy Wagstaff. But Georgy was decidedly cold to him. She could be frigidly haughty when she chose. "How do you do!" she said, hardly pausing In her hasty exit from his distasteful dis-tasteful presence. "Ethel's dressing," she told him hurriedly. "She'll be In In a minute. Goodby!" And holding hold-ing up her head in undisguised scorn, she promptly left Streetman to his own devices. CHAPTER II. For the Fatherland. Henry Streetman turned and stared after Georgy with raised eyebrows. A blind man could not have mistaken the animosity that the girl felt toward him. But that did not trouble Henry Streetman. He was not a person whose feelings were easily hurt ' He had hardly strolled to the center of the room when the butler reap-, peared and paused just inside the double doors that led Into the passage. "Close those doors!" Streetman commanded, com-manded, quite as If he, and not Sir George Wagstaff, were Brewster's master. And while Brewster promptly executed his order, Streetman himself stole quickly to the door that led, as he knew, to Miss Willoughby's dressing dress-ing room. He stood there, silent for a few moments, listening. And then he returned to the waiting butler. . "What news, Herr Roeder?" be Inquired. In-quired. "Nothing, mein Herr!" Under Street-man's Street-man's brisk questioning the man had suddenly become metamorphosed. His manner of a most correct English butler but-ler had fallen off him like a cloak. And now he saluted his interrogator in a fashion unmistakably military and German, at that . It was as If the fellow fel-low had two personalities. Streetman came nearer to the fellow fel-low and bent his cold eyes upon him. "You have searched Sir George's desk?" he demanded. "I have . searched . everywhere," Brewster or Roeder declared, still standing at attention. An onlooker could not have mistaken the fact that Streetman was the butler's superior in rank. "But I can find no trace of any papers about the navy such as you described." "Have you tried his office?" his confederate con-federate ventured. nenry Streetman nodded. "Without result!" he replied, somewhat some-what gloomily. "But somewhere he must have a copy of the admiralty Instructions to the fleet These would be In his department; and we must know at once what orders have been given to the ships at Spithead where they are going when this review Is over." The spy, Roeder, saluted again. "I have done my best," he suld apologetically. apol-ogetically. "I am sure you have," Streetman replied. re-plied. "We know the Wllhelmstrasse does not lightly overlook stupidity In one of Its servants," he observed grimly. grim-ly. And then he motioned toward the double doors that led into the hall. "See if anyone's coming," he said. Roeder or Brewster opened the doors and peered down the length of the passage. "No one Is in sight; and I bear nothing." noth-ing." he reported. "Now lock that door!" Streetman commanded, pointing toward the one behind which he knew that Miss Willoughby Wil-loughby must be dressing. The butler regarded him In alarm. "Pardon, mein Herr but Is It safe?" he ventured. "She Is a woman wom-an " "Do not be alarmed," Streetman reassured re-assured him. "Miss Willoughby Is easily handled. She believes that I work for the French secret service." "Then she Is a fool," his subordinate declared. "No, no!" Streetman protested. "We must not criticize the tools thai serve us." And as he spoke he wenl to the telephone In a corner of the room. Picking up the Instrument he paused and turned to the butler with a look of amusement "Sir George Wagstaff Sir George of his majesty's navy would be rather surprised if he knew that from his house we were communicating with our friends, the Germans." he observed. "Rather!" his henchman responded, with a gleam of humor in his eyes. "Now lock that door!" Streetmar ordered once more. "And now to re port to headquarters again!" be exclaimed, ex-claimed, when the butler had turneo the key noiselessly in Miss Willoughby's Willough-by's door. "Hello! City, 4225!" he said in a low but distinct voice. Meanwhile the butler hovered neat by. "You think, mein Herr, there will be war?" he asked respectfully. "I do not know, fiut we are ready And if war does come, it will be Ger many's hour the day at last!" He turned to the telephone once more, and began speaking Into the transmitter "Hello! City, 4225? Hello! Are yot there? Who Is speaking Twenty-six fourteen? . . . Hello! 1 am thirteen seventeen," he said, glv ing the number by which he wai known in the German secret service "Yes! We have no news of the Eng llsh fleet; we have tried everything . . . Very well! Goodby!" He put down the instrument anc a look of annoyance as well as per plexlty was npon his face as he wheeled about "What Is it mein Herr?" his com panion asked in an anxious voice. "Ii It bad news?" He had long worked ii conjunction with Streetman, and he was quick to detect signs of trouble upon him. "They say they must know tonight without fail, the destination of thi English fleet" Streetman replied. . . He cast a quick glance toward Ethe Willoughby's boudoir. "So, Miss Wll loughby, you have some work to do!' he muttered, to himself more than t( his confederate. "Now, unlock tha door!" he ordered. "Ah! that is done and we were not interrupted," he saic in a relieved voice, when the def Brewster had once more succeeded li turning the -key silently In the lock To expedite his prowlings about thi house at all hours of the day or night Sir George's butler had seen to It tha such things as hinges and locks whether upon doors or desks wen well oiled. It was his genius for de tails of that sort that had led to hii assignment to his present duty.. Henry Streetman dropped upoi Miss Willoughby's settee in an attl tude of relaxation that revealed some what the marvelous strain which at tends, the performance of exploits in separable from his profession. "Dangerous work, eh, Herr Roeder' And poor pay!" he vouchsafed In sudden burst of good-fellowship. F01 the moment be seemed almost human Herr Roeder pulled himself togethei stiffly. "It Is not for the money that I an here," he answered proudly. "It li for the Fatherland!" Despite the guarded tones In which he spoke, there was an earnestness born of sincere patriotism that made his words rin convincingly. One look at the man'! face, aflame with an almost 'fanatic" zeal, showed him to be the sort tc whom a country may well trust hei secrets. There is a hint that young if Georgy Wagstaff, hating the 4 sight of Streetman, suspects him J fr Instinctively and has watched J him and the butler, What do you J say? t ' f (TO BE CONTINUED.)" |