Stewart, watching curiously, saw a multitude of red lines leap out upon the sheet—lines which zig-zagged this way and that, apparently without meaning.
But to the others in the room they seemed anything but meaningless. As sheet followed sheet, the whole staff crowded around the head of the table, snatching them up, holding them to the light, bending close to decipher minute writing. Their eyes were shining with excitement, their hands were trembling; they spoke in broken words, in bits of sentences.
“The enceinte——”
“Oh, a new bastion here at the left——”
“I thought so——”
“Three emplacements——”
“But this wall is simply a mask—it would present no difficulties——”
“This position could be flanked——”
It was the general himself who spoke the final word.
“This is the weak spot,” he pointed out, his finger upon the last sheet of all. Then he turned to Stewart, his eyes gleaming. “Monsieur,” he said, “I will not conceal from you that these papers are, as Fernande guessed, of the very first importance. Will you tell us how they came into your possession?”