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Of the responses that flooded in over the next twenty-four hours, the one that intrigued Bell most came from the boss Joe Van Dorn had discovered that General Major Semmler wasRüstungswerk fortune Such wealth and power explained the lone operator’s ability to operate far more independently than a typical German Army officer

But Joseph Van Dorn’s infor else about Seht A US Army observer in China had heard that Semmler had established an excellent war record in the Boxer Rebellion A retired embassy attaché had repeated rumors of a fearsome reputation in the South African War, when Semmler had supposedly led rebel Boer commandos behind British lines But as none of Van Dorn’s infor the diplomats and soldiers had actually met Semton

Grady Forrer’s researchers had hunted in vain for photographs or newspaper sketches Not unusual, Grady pointed out: only if Se German party or an attaché to the kaiser’s embassy would American newspapers have taken note of the soldier

Bell hoped for more from Bronson in Paris as he would have access to European papers and es Even the new raphs or sketches in the Ger how military men were lionized in Germany, it seemed that Christian Semmler went out of his way not to court publicity

Bell was disappointed, but hardly surprised As a private detective who habitually avoided cameras, he expected no less of a soldier experienced at behind-the-lines guerrilla warfare Nonetheless, he had learned that Semmler was rich And he was independent, which Bell had already guessed But if the thirty-five-year-old, powerfully built soldier and spy had green eyes, blond hair, and long arms “like a monkey,” no one had yet matched his face to the sketch of Fritz Wunderlich, so they were no closer to proving whether Semmler and Wunderlich were one and the same

“That is an unfriendly gate,” said Lillian Hennessy Abbott, braking her big red Thomas Flyer Model K 6-70 to a stop in front of it “Do you suppose it’s locked?”

“I was told it would be,” said Archie

Attached to tall stone pillars, the double gate that blocked the road into the Earl of Strone’s Greenwich estate was ht-iron bars painted black and looked, Archie Abbott thought, very much locked

He stepped down fro car in which they had driven up to Connecticut and paused to steady hione out of her way to drive s wheelbase, instead of her beloved Packard Wolf racer, but the roads had been hellish

“Are you all right, Archie?”

“Tip-top” He hinged out a blade of spring steel from what looked like an ordinary penknife and worked the lock open He swung the two halves of the gate wide enough for the auto Lillian drove through, and Archie locked it behind them

“Drive on”

A quarterdriveway paved with crushed slate, they saw a sizable mansion of brick decorated with stone in a style that reminded Archie of Henry VIII’s palace at Hampton Court

The thick, wooden front door had no knocker To save his knuckles, Archie banged on it with the butt of the Navy Colt45 auto shot nearly to death When he heard the door being opened, he s card from his vest

A strapping butler — a retired sergeant major, by the look of him — who had been stuffed into a stail coat peered out with an expression that was less than friendly