"How many do you think?"
"About one hundred and fifty thousand men."
For two or three minutes no other question came, and Wharton laughed silently. "I've created a hostile force of a hundred and fifty thousand men," were his unuttered words, "and they don't like it."
"Is it possible for our advance column to get in between them and the French?" finally came the next question.
"It's too late," went back the winged answer. "The column would be destroyed."
"This is not in accordance with our earlier reports."
"No sir. But both the English and French have shown amazing activity. A French force of more than one hundred thousand men, of which we have had no report before, faces our right. It is prepared to strike our line just where it is thinnest."
Another silence, and Wharton's heart beat hard and fast. John standing near him, did not know what was being said through the dark, but he knew by the look on Wharton's strained face that it must be momentous. The wireless was silent, and now he heard the measured tread of horses' hoofs, as the Uhlans rode back and forth, guarding the wireless station against the coming of any foe.
Wharton listened intently at the receiver. Were they accepting all that he said? Why shouldn't they? He had given them no answer which they could know to be wrong.
"You are entirely sure of what you say?" came the question.