He had read of outbreaks of spy fever in various parts of England, in which the most harmless and inoffensive people were arrested and held until they could give some good account of themselves.  This made him hesitate, while precious time was being wasted.

“I hardly know what to do —­ what to suggest,” he went on, musingly.  “The situation is complicated, really.  Supposing you are right, and that German spies really own Bray Park, and are using it as a central station for sending news that they glean out of England, what could be done about it?”

“The place ought to be searched at once every-one there ought to be arrested!” declared Jack, impulsively.  His father smiled.

“Yes, but who’s going to do it?” he said.  “We’ve just one constable here in Bray.  And if there are Germans there in any number, what could he do?  I suppose we might send word to Harobridge and get some polite or some territorials over.  Yes, that’s the best thing to do.”

But now Dick spoke up in great eagerness.  “I don’t know, sir,” he suggested.  “If the soldiers came, the men in the house there would find out they were coming, I’m afraid.  Perhaps they’d get away, or else manage to hide everything that would prove the truth about them.  I think it would be better to report direct to Colonel Throckmorton.  He knows what we found out near London, sir, you see, and he’d be more ready to believe us.”

“Yes, probably you’re right.  Ring him up, then.  It’s late, but he won’t mind.”

What a different story there would have been to tell had someone had that thought only half an hour earlier!  But it is often so.  The most trivial miscalculation, the most insignificant mistake, seemingly, may prove to be of the most vital importance.  Dick went to the telephone.  It was one of the old-fashioned sort, still in almost universal use in the rural parts of England, that require the use of a bell to call the central office.  Dick turned the crank, then took down the receiver.  At once he herd a confused buzzing sound that alarmed him.

“I’m afraid the line is out of order, sir,” he said.  And after fifteen minutes it was plain that he was right.  The wire had either been cut or it had fallen or been short circuited in some other way.  Dick and Jack looked at one another blankly.  The same thought had come to each of them, and at the same moment.

“They’ve cut the wires!” said Dick.  “Now what shall we do?  We can’t hear from Harry, either!”

“We might have guessed they’d do that!” said Jack.  “They must have had some one out to watch us, Dick —­ perhaps they thought they’d have a chance to catch us.  They know that we’ve found out something, you see!  It’s a good thing we stayed where we could make people hear us if we got into any trouble.”

“Oh, nonsense!” said the vicar, suddenly.  “You boys are letting your imaginations run away with you.  Things like that don’t happen in England.  The wire is just out of order.  It happens often enough, Jack, as you know very well!”