his desk and gazed intently at a large photograph of Kathleen Whitney. It
was an occupation of which he never tired. The faint buzz of the alarm
bell sent him back to the wireless apparatus, and slipping on his
headpiece telephone he picked up his pencil. Listening intently to the
dots and dashes, Miller took down the message passing through space.

As he jotted down the last letter and the wireless apparatus ceased to
receive, Miller regarded the written coded message before him on his
writing pad with deep satisfaction. He was at last in tune with the
transmitting station. The code only remained to be solved.




CHAPTER VIII

KAISER BLUMEN


Miss Kiametia Grey was having her last Tuesday at home before Holy Week,
and the drawing-room of her apartment was hardly large enough to hold all
her callers comfortably. She was assisted in receiving by several of her
friends, and Kathleen Whitney presided over the tea-table.

Kathleen, chatting gayly with first one visitor and then another, was
unaware that with the passing of time her eyes strayed more and more
frequently to the hall doorway, nor was she conscious that they gained an
added brightness on perceiving Captain Charles Miller enter the room.

Owing to the departure of other guests Miss Kiametia contented herself