“All right, sir,” replied the officers, edging their way to the platform as Arnold retreated back of the station and disappeared up the street.

Just then the train pulled into the station and the passengers crowded forward to mount the steps.  Smith was just about to push his way on with them, when the officers elbowed through the crowd.

“You’re wanted,” hissed one of them, seizing his shoulder.

But Smith, in spite of his deformity, was not one to submit to arrest without a struggle.  He fought them off and broke away, running toward the baggage-room.

As he rushed in, they followed.  One of them was gaining on him and took a flying football tackle.  The other almost fell over the twisted mass of arms and legs.  The struggle now was short and sharp and ended in the officers slipping the bracelets over the wrists of Smith.  While the passengers and bystanders crowded about to watch the excitement, they led him off quickly.

. . . . . . .

In his rooms at the St. Germain, cluttered with test tubes and other paraphernalia which indicated his scientific tendencies, Professor Arnold entered and threw off his hat, lighting a cigarette and waiting impatiently.

He had not as long to wait as he had expected.  A knock sounded at the door and he opened it.  There was Smith handcuffed and forced in by the two policemen.

“Good work,” commended Arnold, at once setting to work to search the prisoner who fumed but could not resist.

“What have we here?” drawled Arnold in mock courtesy and surprise as he found and drew forth from Smith’s pocket a bundle of papers, which he hastily ran through.

“Ah!” he muttered, coming to Del Mar’s note, which he opened and read.  “What’s this?  ’A.  A. L. N. Y. Closely watched.  Must act soon or all will be discovered.  M.’  Now, what’s all that?”

Arnold pondered the text deeply.  “You may take him away, now,” he concluded, glancing up from the note to the officers.  “Thank you.”

“All right, sir,” they returned, prodding Smith along out.

Still studying the note, Arnold sat down at the desk.  Thoughtfully he picked up a pencil.  Under the letters A. A. L. he slowly wrote “Anti-American League” and under the initial M the name, “Martin.”

“Now is the time, if ever, to use that new telaphotograph instrument which I have installed for the War Department in Washington and carry around with me,” he said to himself, rising and going to a closet.

He took out a large instrument composed of innumerable coils and a queer battery of selenium cells.  It was the receiver of the new instrument by which a photograph could be sent over a telegraph wire.

Down-stairs, in the telegraph room of the hotel, Arnold secured the services of one of the operators.  Evidently by the way they obeyed him they had received orders from the company regarding him, and knew him well there.