"With no result?" persisted Westerling impatiently
"Yes, always the same result: That the leak is here in this house—here in the grand headquarters of the army under our very noses. I know it is not the telegraphers or the clerks. It is a member of the staff!"
"Have you gone out of your head?" demanded Westerling. "What staff-officer? How does he get the information to the enemy? Name the persons you suspect here and now! Explain, if you want to be considered sane!"
Here was the blackest accusation that could be made against an officer! The chosen men of the staff, tested through many grades before they reached the inner circle of cabinet secrecy, lost the composure of a council. All were leaning forward toward Bouchard breathless for his answer.
"There are three women on the grounds," said Bouchard. "I have been against their staying from the first. I——."
He got no further. His words were drowned by the outburst of one of the younger members of the staff, who had either to laugh or choke at the picture of this deep-eyed, spectral sort of man, known as a woman-hater, in his revelation of the farcical source of his suspicions.
"Why not include Clarissa Eileen?" some one asked, Starting a chorus of satirical exclamations.
"How do they get through the line?"
"Yes, past a wall of bayonets?"
"When not even a soldier in uniform is allowed to move away from his command without a pass?"