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Siddereticus stopped singing. Fen was breathing regularly, and much more easily, in quiet sleep. The doctor insisted that Mrs. Norvell and Cynthia should go to bed, or at least to rest, and flung himself down on a couch in the corner. Siddereticus refused to move, saying that he would not risk withdrawing his arm from under the pillow, for fear of waking Fen. So he remained through the hours, sometimes changing his position slightly, but keeping his right arm motionless.

He fell at times into a sort of numb sleep, and would wake dizzily with a horrible fear that he had moved. He never knew until very long afterward whether or not he had dreamed it, but he was almost certain that once in the night Cynthia had come and bent over Fen with infinite tenderness, and then, turning toward himself, had touched his hair very lightly.

Siddereticus felt, at last, that he could not keep his cramped position much longer. He looked toward the port-holes. A few lamps burned here and there on shore, and the riding-lights of the vessels undulated gently. The moon had set long ago, and a few pale stars were clustered in the crystal sky. Far away, on shore, a cock crowed eerily through the dark, and in at the port-hole came the first sigh of the winds of sunrise.

At dawn, Fen opened his eyes, and looked up into the face above him.

It was long that the yacht had lain idle at anchor, but now she was bravely nosing her way through the blue Mediterranean, westward bound once more. It was the first time that Fen had been on deck, and he lay on a cot under the awning, very straight in a plaster cast. But when the two people that he loved most in the world bent over him, he was able to give them almost as ineffably sweet a smile as of old.

"Dear to my heart," said Siddereticus, as he knelt beside the bed and took one of Fen's hands, while Cynthia possessed herself of the other, "we have something very important to ask you. We want your permission. Do you know, that when a Djinn marries a mortal,-which does n't often happen, he loses all his magic power, and has to become a human creature. Now what I want to ask you is this: would you rather that I should stay a Djinn forever, and only see you once in a long, long while,-or,-would you rather that I should ask Aunty to marry me and turn myself into Uncle Siddereticus and see you nearly all the time?"

Fen looked from one to the other of the eager faces.

"I think," he said slowly, "I'm quite sure that I'd rather have you-and Aunty-all the time."

He tried to put his arms around their necks, and as they both bent to kiss him,

"Do you know, Siddereticus," he said Cynthia's hair brushed Siddereticus's gently, "I walked this morning."

And Siddereticus, worn with his vigil, covered his face with his hand and wept.

cheek.

But this time they did not straighten up quickly.

THE END

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By GEORGE ETHELBERT WALSH

CHAPTER VIII

SHARING THE SECRET

BOB realized that he had not helped matters by his reference to the organization. he had formed, and, in order to convince his captors of the seriousness of his purpose, it was necessary to take them fully into his confidence. This was something that none of the Vigilantes had done before, and, indeed, it was a part of their creed to keep the secret from their elders. But the emergency was great, and if the speaker was the unknown editor of "La Libre Belgique," he could be trusted.

The boy looked up at the scowling face, and asked, "Are you the editor of 'La Libre Belgique'?"

The man did not reply. His face turned red, and an angry gleam entered his eyes. "Keep them prisoners, Jacques," he said, turning to one of his companions. "They don't intend any wrong, I suppose, but boys can't be trusted."

Bob's face flushed, and with some difficulty he raised himself to a sitting position. "Wait until you 've heard our story before you say that," he interrupted quickly. "We 're working for the good of Belgium as well as you are. The Boy The Boy Vigilantes are pledged to secrecy, but I know I can trust you. I'll tell you who they are."

The man was impressed by the seriousness of the speaker, and stopped to listen. "Go on!" he said gruffly; "my time 's precious!"

Bob cleared his throat, and began to relate briefly the story of how the Vigilantes had been organized. When he reached the end of his story, he looked up, and added:

"Now if you don't believe we can keep a secret for the sake of our country, nothing I can say will convince you. Anyway, we know you publish 'La Libre Belgique down here, and the secret is safe with us. No Hun could torture it from us."

He stopped and looked a little belligerently at the circle of faces. They were all old men, past middle life, but the fire of youth and patriotism burned in their eyes. They were doing a work for their country that would condemn them to long imprisonment, if not to death, should their conquerors learn of their secret.

The leader was the first to speak. He leaned forward suddenly and caught Bob by the hand. by the hand. "Incredible! Incredible!" he exclaimed. "Yet it must be true!"

Under the stress of his emotion, he began pacing back and forth, his hands working nervously.

"Are n't you afraid some spy will find you here?" Bob asked.

"No, we 're safe enough," replied the leader.

"But we heard the pounding of your press or at least I suppose it was that which made the noise."

"Yes, we were busy running off a special edition," was the smiling reply, "and to get more air we left the door open. That's why you heard it. But it's closed now, and no noise goes through the padded. door. We're safe in here."

"I do not know your name," the boy hesitated; "perhaps

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"No," was the emphatic reply, "I cannot tell you. It might get you into trouble, for I see you 're not the kind to betray a friend even under compulsion. Not knowing the editor of 'La Libre Belgique,' you could not tell another."

He smiled so whimsically, his eyes bright and shining beneath their shaggy brows, that Bob .felt strangely drawn toward him. In the stalwart patriot he recognized not only an editor that had defied the German censorship and laughed at the keenest members of the German intelligence bureau in their effort to catch him, but a kindly human being who had preserved his sanity and sense of humor throughout the trying times of the war. Bob could well imagine him as an affec

tionate and kindly father and husband, who would like nothing better than the quiet, peaceful life of the family circle. His high, broad brow indicated also the scholar and thinker, a man who would be preeminent in any line he pursued.

"Maybe you 're right," the boy said, after a pause. "It 's dangerous to know too much. We're all uncertain what may happen to us to-morrow. Egmont and I stand in daily fear of being seized and deported to Germany. Although under fourteen, we look old enough to be, fifteen, and Germany 's combing the country for all boys and girls old enough to work for her."

The editor's face suddenly clouded and grew serious.

"Yes," he replied slowly, "your danger is very real. I have received word from one of my trusted reporters that the age limit is to be lowered for the next batch of youngsters. Germany 's determined to drain the country of all human material that she can use. Having robbed us of all our wealth, stolen our machinery and valuable household articles, she is now looking to strip us of our young. She will stop at nothing. It is enough to rouse the dead from their graves! It is the most terrible crime of the ages! God in his own wisdom must punish her in time!"

The man spoke slowly and vehemently, but with such powerful, concentrated force that the words seemed to burn in the brain. There was none of the excitement of the orator or demagogue in his voice. It was hard, bitter, implacable.

"What do you think my cousin and I ought to do, then?" Bob asked, after a pause. "I can't go to Germany! I won't go-not if I-——”

"Words and threats are futile, my boy," was the interruption. "We must face facts. Every boy of your age is doomed to go unless you leave Belgium before it is too late."

"That was my idea," Bob interrupted quickly. "I told Egmont we ought to get out of the country. We have advised all the older members of the Vigilantes to leave for Holland, France, or any place of

safety. Many of them, I hope, are on their way across the border." "But you remain?"

"Yes, but not for long. We'll go soon."

"Don't make it too late, then."

Bob was troubled by the speaker's words, for in them he read the extreme gravity of the situation.

"I shall go at once!" he announced finally. "Egmont must go, too."

"I'm glad to hear you speak so," replied the editor, drawing a sigh of relief. "Confidence, backed up with caution and wisdom, will carry one far. One must have all three to succeed in anything. I know you will get through."

ment.

He stopped and was quiet for a moOnce or twice he glanced quizzically at Bob, and then dropped his eyes again. Finally he smiled and said: "If you have decided upon going, I shall use you as an agent for helping Belgium. It will not increase your danger, and, if you get through, you will do my beloved country a great good. Do you care to undertake it?"

"Yes, indeed!" replied Bob, eagerly. "Anything that will help the cause. I'm ready. What is it?"

"You 're sure you want to take the risk?"

"I shall try to start on my journey before another night," was the calm reply.

The man smiled and nodded his head. "Then follow me," he said. "I have something to show you. It will surprise and interest you. This way."

CHAPTER IX

AN ESCAPED PRISONER

THERE were several alcoves opening into. the underground room, small spaces hewn out of the solid rock, and now partitioned off by blankets and stringy curtains. Some of these were used for storage purposes, others for sleeping quarters, with cots and mattresses littered around in great disorder.

When the unknown, but famous, editor of Belgium's uncensored newspaper led the

way to one of these alcoves, Bob followed, his curiosity greatly aroused by the other's words. What new surprise and mystery awaited him? There seemed to be no end to the adventure into which they had unwittingly plunged.

A dim light was burning in the particular alcove before which the man stopped; and when he drew the curtain aside, the interior was clearly revealed. The place was better furnished than the other parts of the gloomy dungeon, but not well enough to suggest luxury. There were a table and a couple of chairs, and a cot in

one corner.

Lying on this, with nothing but his face exposed to view, was a young man, whose pale, emaciated features told of great mental or physical suffering. When the curtain was raised, the eyes of the invalid opened, burning with unexpected brilliancy.

"Has the noise disturbed you, Gustave?" the editor asked, in a kindly voice. "No, Monsieur, I have slept, and feel better," murmured the invalid.

"That is well. Then I have good news to cheer you. I bring a friend."

"Ah, Monsieur, all your friends are my friends," replied Gustave, extending a hand; but when he saw that Bob was only a boy, he smiled quizzically.

"The future of our beloved country depends upon our young, Gustave. So do not undervalue the boys who some day must take our places in the ranks. They have already shown themselves valiant defenders."

"I had a boy-not so old as he," the invalid murmured. "I hope he has escaped. But I do not know. I have been away so long-four years in German prisons and internment camps-four years of torture and suffering."

"Our friend here, Lieutenant Gustave Transquet, was among the valiant heroes who defended Liège," the editor explained, turning to Bob. "He was wounded and captured, and carried to Germany. The rest speaks for itself. For nearly four years he suffered internment in camps vile enough to kill a dog. Starved, frozen,

and insulted, he never lost his faith, and he has returned to his compatriots at the risk of his life."

Bob felt a thrill of excitement as he looked into the face of the lieutenant with admiration and sympathy.

"I'm glad you've come back alive," he said simply. "I wish I could do something for you."

tor.

"You can, my boy," interrupted the edi "That's why I've brought you here. In his four years in Germany, Gustave learned many things of great importance, information vital to the success of the Allies. In his flight across the border he picked up much more, details and facts of military preparation and design. If our beloved king knew of them, and could pass them on to the Allies, it might change the whole course of the war. Gustave was on his way to the front with this information when he broke down and fell into our hands. He was eager to go on, but we detained him. It will be weeks, if not months, before he will be a well man again."

A glimmer of enlightenment began to filter through Bob's brain. Gustave's patriotism had become concentrated into an intense longing to finish his work, even if it meant that he must give his life at the expiration of it.

"This valuable information must be got through," continued the editor. "We 've told Gustave we would see to it; but so far we have had no plan, and every day he works himself into a fever thinking of it."

Bob's face suddenly broke into a smile. “And you want me to carry the information to the Allies?" he asked.

"Yes, either directly, in person, or through your young Vigilantes."

"Monsieur!" shrieked Gustave, rising again. "Monsieur, you would trust my great secret to-to a boy? Incredible! No, no, I shall never permit it! I shall rise from a sick bed and go on! Nothing shall detain me! I, Lieutenant Gustave Transquet, swear it!"

He threw the blanket from his gaunt body and made the attempt to carry his

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