“William,” I said sternly, “go out by the kitchen door. Because I am hungry, and I am coming in for somthing.”
He was opening and closing the pantrey drawers, and although young, and not a housekeeper, I knew that he was not looking in them for edables.
“If you’ll go up to your room, Miss Bab,” he said, “I’ll mix you an Eggnogg, without alkohol, of course, and bring it up. An Eggnogg is a good thing to stay the stomache with at night. I frequently resort to one myself.”
I saw that he would not let me in, so I agreed to the Eggnogg, but without nutmeg, and went away. My knees tremble to think that into our peacefull home had come “Grim-vizaged War,” but I felt keen and capable of dealing with anything, even a Spy.
William brought up the Eggnogg, with a dash of sherry in it, and I could hear him going up the stairs to his chamber. I drank the Eggnogg, feeling that I would need all my strength for what was to come, and then went down to the pantrey. It was in perfect order, except that one of the tea towles had had a pen wiped on it.
I then went through the drawers one by one, although not hopeful, because he probably had the incrimanating document in the heal of his shoe, which Spies usually have made hollow for the purpose, or sowed in the lining of his coat.
At least, so I feared. But it was not so. Under one of the best table cloths I found it.
Yes. I found it.
I copy it here in my journal, although knowing nothing of what it means. Is it a scheme to blow up my father’s mill, where he is making shells for the defence of his Native Land? I do not know. With shaking hands I put it down as follows:
| 48 D. K. |
| 48 D.F. |
| 36 S. F. |
| 34 F. F. |
| 36 T. S. |
| 36 S. S. |
| 36 C. S. |
| 24 I. H. K. |
| 36 F. K. |