“Not friends, Father. Herr Johann is his master and he obeys him.”
“They can’t be hatching very much mischief in that little spot.”
“Perhaps not, but the paper I showed you? Doesn’t that suggest that it’s a wide-spread movement and that Franz is but one agent?”
Bob pushed before his father’s eyes the scribbled page Lucy had picked up. General Gordon reread it, studying it thoughtfully. “It’s certainly a plan of some sort,” he said. “I wonder if this precious Herr Johann isn’t cornering the food-market to make a fortune.”
“I thought of that,” admitted Bob. “But would he need quite so much secrecy?”
“If I were you,” General Gordon suggested, still looking at the slip of paper, “I would go directly to Franz or to the other fellow. Tell them plainly that you are on to them and that they would best give up their little scheme, as it can only end in failure. That if they own up now you won’t proceed against them. We have so obviously the upper hand they can’t hold out.”
“I’ll do it,” said Bob, getting up. “Franz isn’t clever enough for much deception. Alan insists he could have found out his secret the other day if Lucy hadn’t dissuaded him.”
“How did Alan get off? Was he in pretty fair shape?”
“Yes, and being homeward bound he won’t know when he’s tired. I never saw anyone so delighted. He limps a little, but otherwise he’s as well as ever.”
“How about yourself, Bob? You still look thin. Remember you’re here to convalesce, and don’t let Franz disturb you too much. Why not let Eaton take over the job? He’s quite willing.”