“Nonsense!” cried Blake, speaking confidently, though at heart a little doubtful.  “In the first place.  Monsieur Secor wouldn’t do anything to aid a German firm.  That’s positive!  Again he would have no object in spoiling our films.”

“He would if he’s in with Sim and Schloss,” suggested Joe, taking sides with their helper.  “If he could throw discredit on us, and make it appear that we were careless in doing our work, our rivals could go to the war department and, in effect, say:  ‘I told you so!’ Then they could offer to relieve us of the contract.”

“Well, I suppose that’s true,” admitted Blake.  “And we haven’t any reason to like Sim and Schloss either.  But I don’t believe they could plot so far as to get a French officer to help them as against us.

“No, Charlie,” he went on, having half convinced himself by his reasoning, “I can’t quite agree with you.  I think it was an accident on the part of Monsieur Secor.  By the way, what’s his army title?”

“He’s a lieutenant, I believe,” answered Joe.  “Anyhow, he wears that insignia.  He’s mighty polite, that’s sure.”

“Too polite,” said Macaroni, with a grim smile.  “If he hadn’t waited for me to pass him the other day he might not have rammed me.  Well, it’s all in the day’s work, I reckon.  Here they come, boys!  Shoot!”

Blake and Joe began grinding away at the camera cranks, with their helper to assist them.  Charles Anderson was more than a paid employee of the moving picture boys.  He was a friend as well, and had been with the “firm” some time.  He was devoted and faithful, and a good camera man himself, having helped film many large productions.

In spite of what he had said, Blake Stewart was somewhat impressed by what Charles had told him.  And for the next few days, during which he was busily engaged on retaking the films, he kept as close a watch as he could on Lieutenant Secor.  However, the attitude and conduct of the Frenchman seemed to be above suspicion.  He did not carry out his intention, if he really had it, of seeking permission from the commanding officer to observe more closely the work of Blake and Joe.  And for a few days before the last of the new films had been taken the blue-uniformed officer was not seen around the camp.

Blake and Joe were too busy to ask what had become of him.  Then, too, other matters engaged their attention.  For a letter came from Mr. Hadley, telling them and Charles to hold themselves in readiness to leave for England at any time.

“It’s all settled,” wrote the producer.  “I have signed the contracts to take moving picture films of our boys in the French trenches, and wherever else they go on the Western front.  You will get detailed instructions, passes, and so on when you arrive on the other side.”

“When do we sail?” asked Joe, after Blake had read him this letter, and when they were preparing to go back to New York, having finished their army camp work.