When we got into his library I saw books all around on the shelves, hundreds of them I guess, and the desk was covered with papers and there was a picture of Mark Twain with “Best regards to Mr. Donnelle,” written on it.  Gee whit taker, I thought when I looked around; maybe Mr. Donnelle is a deep-dyed spy all right, but he’s sure a high-brow.

“You’d have to take an elevator to get up to him,” I whispered to Pee-wee.

“Shhh,” Pee-wee said, “maybe he isn’t dyed so very deep—­there’s different shades of dyes.”

“Maybe he’s only dyed a light gray or a pale blue,” I said.

Then Mr. Donnelle got out a big fat red book that said on it “Who’s Who in America” and, jiminy, I’m glad I never had to study it, because it had about a million pages.  I hate biography anyway—­biography and arithmetic.  Then he turned to a certain page.

“Now, gentlemen,” he said, “if you will just read this I will then consent to go with you,” and he smiled all over his face.

The four men leaned over and began reading, but Pee-wee and I didn’t because they didn’t ask us and Boy Scouts don’t butt in.

“I bet it tells all about German spies and everything, and now he’s going to make a full confession,” Pee-wee said; “maybe our names will be in the New York papers, hey?”

“They’ll be more likely to be in the fly-paper,” I said; “there’s something funny about this.”

“I bet he was going to blow up some ships,” Pee-wee said.

“I bet he’ll blow us up in a minute,” I told him; because I could see that he was saying something to the men while they all looked at the book, and that the whole four of them were laughing—­especially Mr. Ellsworth.

“It was the elder boy who discovered it,” I heard him say, smiling all the while.

“Good night!” I said to Pee-wee, “I thought we had a German in custody, but instead of that.  We’re in Dutch!”

“Will they send us to jail?” he whispered.

“I think we’ll get about ten merit badges for this—­not,” I said; “he’s no spy.”

Well, the men didn’t pay much attention to us, only strolled over to one side of the room and began chatting together, and Mr. Donnelle got a box of cigars and they each took one.

“I wouldn’t smoke one of those cigars,” Pee-wee said, “they might be bombs.  The Germans are pretty tricky—­safety first.”

Then Mr. Ellsworth came over to us, smiling all over his face.  “Well, boys,” he said, “I’m glad to say that our spy quest has gone up in smoke.  Mr. Donnelle is one of the best known authors of America.  He is writing a story of the war and our dark memorandum is just a little literary note of his about a spy among the American forces.  I think we shall find it a most interesting story when it is finished.  It is full of German intrigue and you will be glad to know that the imaginary spy is caught and court-martialled.  You have done a fine thing by your discovery, for Mr. Donnelle has become greatly interested in the Scouts, and especially in our young scout author.”  Then he gave me a funny look.  “So you see our dark memorandum was not so dark after all.”