"Do you think it is right to tell?" Marta gasped half inarticulately.
"Right? Yes, to hasten the inevitable—to save lives!" declared Westerling with deliberate assurance.
"I—I want to see an end of the killing! I—" She sprang to her feet as if about to break away tumultuously, but paused, swaying unsteadily, and passed her hand across her eyes.
"We intend a general attack on the first line of defence to-night!" he exclaimed, his supreme thought leaping into words.
"And you would want the information about the first line to-night if—if it is to be of service?"
"Yes, to-night!"
Marta brought her hands together in a tight clasp. Her gaze fluttered for a minute over the tea-table. When she looked up her eyes were calm.
"It is a big thing, isn't it?" she said. "A thing not to be done in an impulse. I try never to do big things in an impulse. When I see that I am in danger of it I always say: 'Go by yourself and think for half an hour!' So I must now. In a little while I will let you know my decision."
Without further formality she started across the lawn to the terrace steps. Westerling watched her sharply, passing along the path of the second terrace, pacing slowly, head bent, until she was out of sight. Then he stood for a time getting a grip on his own emotions before he went into the house.