“No, Captain Masterson, I will not!”
“Ah, you absolutely refuse, Madame?”
“I do; you have accused my employe of being a spy, but your attitude suggests that it is not he, but myself, whom you suspect.”
“Madame, you cannot comprehend the seriousness of the situation,” and Masterson had difficulty in keeping his patience. “Every one he speaks with, everything concerning him is of interest. These are war times, Madame Caron, and the case will not admit of either delays or special courtesies. I shall have to ask you for the paper he placed in your hands as I entered the room.”
Judithe picked up the paper without a word and reached it to him, with the languid air of one bored by the entire affair.
He glanced at it and handed it back. As he did so he perceived an unfinished letter on the desk. In a moment his suspicions were aroused; that important letter in the mail bag!
“You did not complete the letter you were writing?”
“No,” and she lifted it from the desk and held it towards him. “You perceive! I was so careless as to blot the paper; do you wish to examine that?”
His face flushed at the mockery of her tone and glance. He felt it more keenly, that the eyes of Monroe were on him. The task before him was difficult enough without that additional annoyance.