“What is this?” he ejaculated. “For God’s sake, Edith, how did you come by this paper?”
“How did I come by it? Oh, that’s quite a secondary consideration. The chief thing is, whether it is of any value to you or not. But aren’t you pleased with it?”
Heideck was still staring like one hypnotised at the paper covered with the regularly formed writing of a practised clerk’s hand.
“Incomprehensible!” he murmured. Then, suddenly looking at Edith almost threateningly, he repeated—
“How did you come by it?”
“You are questioning me like a magistrate. But you may know, for all I care. The brother of the lady with whom I was staying in Dover is private secretary to the Admiralty—a poor fellow, suffering from disease of the lungs, whose one desire was to go to Egypt or Madeira, to get relief from his sufferings. By finding him the means for this I have done an act of philanthrophy. I asked him, in return for a further present of money, to give me the copy of an important document connected with his department.”
She suddenly broke off, and Heideck burst out into a short, sharp laugh which filled her with surprise and alarm.
“An act of philanthrophy!” he repeated in a tone of unspeakable bitterness. “Did you know what this man was selling to you?”
“He said it was the English fleet’s plan of attack, and I thought it would interest you.”
“But surely you must have known how far-reaching would be the consequences of your act? Had you no suspicion that irreparable harm might overtake your country, if this plan came to the knowledge of its enemies?”