“However, I inform you with pleasure that I am well.  I rejoice that our good health is mutual.  After all, the dear old U. S. suits me.  Of course railroads or boats could carry me to a warm climate, in case urgency required it.  But I am quite well now, and my health requires merely prudence.  However, if I am again ill at any instant, I shall leave for Florida, where all tho proper measures can be taken to combat my rheumatism,

“Ten days ago I was in bed, and unable to do more than move my left arm.  But th« doctors are confident that my malady is not going to return.  If it does threaten to return I shall sail for Jacksonville at once, and from there go to Miami, and not return here until the warm and balmy weather of next spring has lasted at least a week.  Affectionataly your brother.

“Herman.”

He pocketed the letter and went into the bedroom to get a coat and vest for the prisoner.  Miss Erith looked at Vaux.

“Cassidy seems to know nothing about the code-cipher,” she whispered.  “I think he rummaged on general principles, not in search of any code-book.”

She looked around the dining-room.  The doors of the yellow oak sideboard were open, but no book was there among the plated knives and forks and the cheap dishes.

Cassidy came back with the garments he had been looking for—­an overcoat, coat and vest—­and he carried them into the kitchenette, whither presently Vaux followed him.

Cassidy had just unlocked the handcuffs from the powerful wrists of a dark, stocky, sullen man who stood in his shirt-sleeves near a small deal table.

“Lauffer?” inquired Vaux, dryly.

“It sure is, ain’t it, Herman?” replied Cassidy facetiously.  “Now, then, me Dutch bucko, climb into your jeans, if you please—­there’s a good little Boche!”

Vaux gazed curiously at the spy, who returned his inspection coolly enough while he wrinkled his nose at him, and his beady eyes roamed over him.

When the prisoner had buttoned his vest and coat, Cassidy snapped on the bracelets again, whistling cheerily under his breath.

As they started to leave the kitchenette, Vaux, who brought up the rear, caught sight of a large, thick book lying on the pantry shelf.  It was labelled “Perfect Cook-Book,” but he picked it up, shoved it into his overcoat pocket en passant, and followed Cassidy and his prisoner into the dining-room.

Here Cassidy turned humorously to him and to Miss Erith.

“I’ve cleaned up the place,” he remarked, “but you’re welcome to stay here and rummage if you want to.  I’m sending one of our men back to take possession as soon as I lock up this bird.”

“All right.  Good luck,” nodded Vaux.

Cassidy tipped his derby to Miss Erith, bestowed a friendly grin on Vaux.

“Come along, old sport!” he said genially to Lauffer; and he walked away with his handcuffed prisoner, whistling “Garryowen.”