AT his apartment, which he reached by noon, he found a note from Mrs.Kinney advising him that she would not be back until late. A salad wouldbe found in the ice box. But his appetite had deserted him and strongtea and crackers sufficed him. The feeling of exaltation which hadcarried him along was now dying down leaving in its place a grim, doggeddetermination. He saw now very clearly that the time was come to pay forhis misdeeds. Dimly he had felt that some day there would have to be areckoning. He had never thought it so near.
It would not have been difficult to make his escape from the man whothreatened. With his swift motor he could cross some sparsely peopledborder district into Canada. Or he could drop down into South or CentralAmerica and there wait until the years brought safety or he haddeteriorated in fibre as do most men of his race in tropic sloth.
The thing that kept him was a chivalrous, burning desire to captureKaufmann. Anthony Trent wondered how many men weaker than he had beenforced to betray their country as he had very nearly done. And theknowledge that he had even considered such baseness for a momentawakened a deep smouldering wrath in his mind that needed for its outletsome expression of physical force. Kaufmann was strongly built andrugged but it would hardly be a smiling suave spy that he would dragbefore the police. At least they would go down to ruin together.
At ten thirty the bell rang. But the feeble steps that made their wearyascent were those of Mrs. Kinney. When first he flung open the door hehardly recognized her. As a rule neat and quietly dressed in black shewas to-night wearing the faded gingham dress she used for rough work, adress he had seldom seen. She wore no hat; instead a handkerchief was onher head. She looked for all the world like some shabby denizen of thecity's foreign quarters.
"Are you expecting him?" she demanded.
"Yes," he said dully. It was a shock not to meet him when he was nervedto the task.
She looked at him with a certain triumph in her face that was notunmixed with affection.
"He will never come here again."
"What do you mean?" he cried.
"He's dead." It was curious to note the flash of her usually mild eye asshe said it. For a moment he thought the old woman was demented. But hervoice was firm.
"I followed him on his way here," she went on. "I found out where helived. As he crossed Eighth avenue at 34th street I told people he was aGerman spy. There were a lot of soldiers on their way to thePennsylvania station and they started to run after him. Then a mantripped him up but he got to his feet and crossed the road in front of amotor truck."
"You are certain he was killed?"
"I waited to make sure," she said simply. "Nobody knew it was I whostarted calling him a spy."
There was a pause of half a minute. The knowledge of his safety wasalmost too much for Trent after his hours of suspense.
"I suppose you know," he said huskily, "that you've probably saved mylife. I didn't do as he wanted me to. I was prepared to denounce him tothe police."
"But they'd have got you, too," she said.
"I know," he returned. "I'd thought of that."
"Oh, Mr. Trent!" she cried, "Oh, Mr. Trent!" Then for the second time inthe years he had known her she fell into a fit of weeping.
When she was recovered and had taken a cup of strong tea she explainedhow it was she had tracked Kaufmann to his home. She had slipped awayfrom Trent at the Grand Central when he was too much worried to noticeit. Kaufmann walked the half dozen blocks to his rooms in the houseoccupied by a physician on Forty-eighth street, just west of Fifthavenue. Applying for work Mrs. Kinney was engaged instantly for two daysa week. The need for respectable women was so great that no referenceswere asked. She was thus free of the house and regarded withoutsuspicion.
She worked there the whole day but learned nothing from the cook andwaitress of Mr. Kaufmann. He rented the whole of the second floor andhad a fad for keeping it in order himself. It saved them trouble. Themaids said, vaguely, he was in the importing business and very wealthy.
It was while Kaufmann went down to sign for a registered letter thatMrs. Kinney slipped into the room. There was nothing in the way ofpapers or documents that she could see.
Because he could not bear investigation, Anthony Trent telephoned to theDepartment of Justice as he had done in the case of Frederick Williams.He felt certain that Kaufmann was a highly placed official. But therewas no newspaper mention of the raid. Trent was not to know that no newswas allowed to leak out for the reason that matters of enormousimportance were discovered. He was right in assuming Kaufmann to be apersonage. The mangled body was buried in the Potters' Field and thoselesser men depending on the monetary support and counsel of Kaufmannwere thrown into confusion. His superiors in Germany, when later theyfound the Allies in possession of certain secrets, assumed their agentto be interned. Altogether Mrs. Kinney deserved her country's thanks.
"And now shall we go back to Kennebago?"
"Not yet," he said smiling a little gravely. "Not yet. It may be I shallnever see Kennebago again."
She looked at him startled. The affairs of the past week had been agreat strain to her.