“Who made that charge?” asked Blake.

“It came in a letter to the War Department,” was the answer, “and from some one who signed himself Henry Littlefield of New York City.  He is in London, and he would appear when wanted, he said.”

“May I see that letter?” asked the lawyer, and when it was shown to him he passed it over to the boys, asking if they knew the writer or recognized the handwriting.

And at this point the case of the prosecution, so to speak, fell through.  For Blake, with a cry of surprise, drew forth from his pocket another letter, saying: 

“Compare the writing of that with the letter denouncing us!  Are they not both in the same hand?”

“They seem to be,” admitted Captain Bedell, after an inspection.

“From whom is your letter?” asked Mr. Dorp.

“From Levi Labenstein, the man who summoned the submarine to sink the Jeanne,” answered Blake.  “This letter dropped from his pocket when he came to me to borrow the flashlight.  I intended to give it back to him, as it is one he wrote to some friend and evidently forgot to mail.  It contains nothing of importance, as far as I can see, though it may be in cipher.  But this letter, signed with his name, is in the same hand as the one signed ‘Henry Littlefield,’ denouncing us.”

“Then you think it all a plot?” asked Captain Bedell.

“Of course!” cried Joe.  “Why didn’t you say before, Blake, that you had a letter from this fellow?”

“I didn’t attach any importance to it until I saw the letter accusing us.  Now the whole thing is clear.  He wants us detained here for some reason, and took this means of bringing it about.”

“If that is the case, you will soon be cleared,” said Captain Bedell.

And the boys soon were.  There was no doubt but that the two letters were in the same hand.  And when it was explained what part the suspected German had played aboard the steamer and cables from America to the United States consul had vouched for the boys, they were set free with apologies.

And what pleased them still more was Captain Bedell’s announcement: 

“I also have the pleasure to inform you that the permits allowing you to go to the front have been received.  They came yesterday, but, of course, under the circumstances I could not tell you.”

“Then may we get on the firing line?” asked Blake.

“As soon as you please.  We will do all we can to speed you on your way.  It is all we can do to repay for the trouble you have had.”

“These are war times, and one can’t be too particular,” responded Joe.  “We don’t mind, now that we can get a real start.”

“I’d like to get at that fake Jew and the Frenchman who spoiled the films!” murmured Charles.

“Charlie can forgive everything but those spoiled films,” remarked Blake, with a chuckle.