Blake and Joe saw two men with heads close together over a small table in the center of the opposite stateroom.  The tilted mirror transferred the view into their own looking-glass.  The men appeared to be examining a map, or, at any rate, some paper, and their manner was secretive, alone though they were.

But it was not so much the manner of the men as it was the identity of one that aroused the curiosity and fear of the moving picture boys—­curiosity as to what might be the subject of the queer conference, and fear as to the result of it.

For one of the men was Lieutenant Secor, the Frenchman, and the other was a passenger who, though claiming to be a wealthy Hebrew with American citizenship, was, so the boys believed, thoroughly German.  He was down on the passenger list as Levi Labenstein, and he did bear some resemblance to a Jew, but his talk had the unmistakable German accent.

Not that there are not German Jews, but their tongue has not the knack of the pure, guttural German of Prussia.  And this man’s voice had none of the nasal, throaty tones of Yiddish.

“Whew!” whistled Joe, as he and Blake looked into the tell-tale mirror.  “That looks bad!”

“Hush!” cautioned Blake.  “The transoms are open and he may hear you.”

But a look into the reflecting glasses showed that the two men—­the Frenchman and the German—­had not looked up from their eager poring over the map, or whatever paper was between them.

“How long have they been this way?” asked Blake, in a whisper, of Charlie.

“I don’t know,” Macaroni answered.  “I happened to see them when I came down to get something, and after I’d watched them a while I went to tell you.”

“I’m glad you did,” went on Blake; “though I don’t know what it means—­if it means anything.”

“It means something, all right,” declared Joe, and he, like the others, was careful to keep his voice low-pitched.  “It means treason, if I’m any judge!”

“Treason?” repeated Blake.

“Yes; wouldn’t you call it that if you saw one of our army officers having a secret talk with a German enemy?”

“I suppose so,” assented Blake.  “And yet Lieutenant Secor isn’t one of our officers.”

“No, but he’s been in our camps, and he’s been a guest of Uncle Sam.  He’s been in a position to spy out some of the army secrets, and now we see him talking to this German.”

“But this man may not be a subject of the Kaiser,” said Blake.

“Sure he is!” declared Charlie.  “He’s no more a real Jew than I am!  He’s a Teuton!  Germany has no love for the Jews, and they don’t have any use for the Huns.  Take my word for it, fellows, there’s something wrong going on here.”

“It may be,” admitted Blake; “but does it concern us?”

“Of course it does!” declared Joe.  “This Frenchman may be betraying some of Uncle Sam’s secrets to the enemy—­not only our enemy, but the enemy of his own country.”