"The wireless man is an old protégé of mine," he said. "I spent a very pleasant hour with him last night. If you do not object, I will go in again to see him."
The other nodded, and Pachmann opened the door of the wireless-house and disappeared inside. His companion lighted another cigarette and smoked it gloomily, as his thoughts reverted to his own affairs. It was flattering, of course, that he should have been selected to accompany Pachmann on this mission; but, nevertheless, he regretted Berlin—or, rather, he regretted a certain blue-eyed, flaxen-haired girl, with a figure like Juno's.... Confound it! It was only to separate him from her that he had been sent with Pachmann! Why couldn't his father leave him alone! He was old enough to manage his own affairs! And besides....
The door of the wireless-house opened and Pachmann appeared. Very quietly he closed the door, very quietly he sat down beside his companion. And then he mopped a shining forehead with a hand that trembled visibly, and the younger man saw with astonishment that his face was livid.
"What is it? What has happened?" he asked.
Pachmann tried twice before he found his voice. When he did speak, it was in a hoarse whisper.
"I was wrong," he said. "France does suspect!"