“I know, I know,” impatiently. “Miss Group.”
“We're making no mistake about this fellow, are we, Elberon?” demanded Zimmerlein.
“No,—absolutely no. Ill stake my life on him.”
“Go on,” said Thorsensel curtly.
“The British and French Commission sails tomorrow on the Elston. There is no question about it. He had it from the same source that reported their arrival last month.”
“Martin, see that this information is on the wing immediately,” said Thorsensel. “We may accept it as authentic.”
“I should think we might,” said Zimmerlein, “when you stop to consider that no one in the United States or England is supposed to know, even now, that this Commission is in the country,—that is, no one outside a very restricted circle in Washington. I've never known anything to be kept so completely under cover. Some of the biggest men in France and England land on our shores, transact the most important business conceivable, and get out again without so much as a whiff of the news reaching the public. Somebody deserves the Iron Cross for this, Thorsensel. It is the cleverest, smartest piece of work that has been done up to date.”
“I venture the opinion that the Elston with its precious cargo will never see land again,” was Thorsensel's remark.
“The Kitchener job all over again, eh?” said Riaz, admiringly.
“Or the Lusitania, amended Elberon.