"Why it's written in
German," he exclaimed in surprise.
"I know it is; that's why I said you couldn't read it."
"We must get it translated."
"Let's take it down to the factory. We can get Karl Hoffmann to tell us
what it says."
Without further ado they set out. They walked swiftly and exchanged but
few words, for they were both occupied with their own thoughts; a feeling
that something was hanging over their heads oppressed the two boys. The
country was at war and plotters and spies were abroad in the land. The
events of the last two days had convinced them that High Ridge had its
share of mischief makers, and they felt sure that that very night a blow
would be struck.
A walk of twenty minutes brought them to the factory. The low, brick
buildings loomed ghostly in the darkness, with only here and there an
electric light burning inside as protection against thieves. The small
brick office was situated in front of the other buildings and here a
light was shining brightly.
A guard challenged them.
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