A baffled look stole over the Captain's face and he shook his head sorrowfully.
"No one knows, my dear," he said, "we have suffered terrible losses, every plan that we make is known to the enemy."
"Do you remember the beggar you saw on the road the day you followed the two Austrian soldiers?"
Lucia nodded.
"Well, there are many men like that in Italy, some are disguised as beggars and some as just working men, but they are everywhere, and through them our plans are given to the enemy."
"But surely the police could arrest them," Lucia protested, "they must all be Austrians or Germans."
"They are, of course, but they have lived here among us for so long that it is hard to tell them from ourselves; they speak, act and look as we do."
"But they think as our enemies," Lucia added, "I understand. What very bad men they must be, just to think that but for them we might have won this horrible war by now."
"Perhaps," the Captain agreed, "but if they are here and we can't find them out then we must win the war in spite of them, and that is why I am going back."
"When?" Lucia asked. She was suddenly very unhappy for the memory of the attack was still vivid, and she dreaded to think of her newly found godfather's returning to the dangers and hardships of the front, but she was too brave and too wise to say so. She kept a stiff upper lip and her eyes were dry as they discussed the plans.