“If that’s all you have against the sergeant-major,” said he, “I think he will do. As it happens, I know just what caused the smash; some one from the darkness struck it. I saw the hand that did it, but not the owner thereof.”
Scanlon was silent for a moment; then he said:
“Well, I don’t set myself up as a judge. I was wrong in some other matters, so there’s no reason why I shouldn’t be wrong in this one of Kretz’s. So, if you think he’s O.K., I’m willing to.”
“There is only one traitor in Schwartzberg,” said young Campe, mournfully.
“Who’s that?” asked Scanlon.
“I think you know,” replied the young man. “And, as I said to you before, there’s no need to mention names.” There was a brief silence, then he added: “Something made me suspect that everything was not right. But I was never sure of anything,” to Ashton-Kirk, “until the night before your first visit here.”
“You saw some one picked up by the searchlight while Kretz was firing at a man who was running away,” said the crime specialist. “We saw her, too.”
“When she returned,” said Campe in a low tone, “I asked her why she went, how she got out, and what was her errand. But she couldn’t answer. And ever since she has avoided the subject.”
“I made one of my customary mistakes that night, too,” said Scanlon. “I picked the wrong lady, and I thought you meant her, too.” Then to Ashton-Kirk: “Shall I call the sergeant-major in?”
“Yes,” replied Ashton-Kirk.