"Also visitors are forbidden at the Government Radio Station at
Arlington?"
"Yes."
"And still there is a leak—government secrets are secrets no longer."
"How do you know that, Captain?" and the detective shot a look full of suspicion at him.
"I only know what Senator Foster has told me," carelessly. "I believe
Foster's advice has been sought in the matter."
"And why did he confide in you?"
"He desired my help," responded Miller. "Seemed to think my opinion might be worth something, but, honestly, Mitchell, I can't see anything to this secret leak business—the Secret Service operatives are putting a scare over on the government."
"It's more than that, sir. No more coffee," and the detective, his sudden doubts dispelled by Miller's sunny smile, leaned back once more in his chair. "It seems that officials here are awakening to the realization that government secrets are being betrayed. If the American troops are ordered to a certain point on the border, the order is known in Mexico before it is executed. It is the same with coded communications to Foreign Powers. The movements of our fleet are known to foreign naval attachés even before the maneuvers are carried out. The whereabouts of the smallest torpedo boat and submarine is no secret—to any but the American people."
"Is that so?" Miller looked politely incredulous. "And is the Secret
Service not investigating the matter?"
"Sure; they'll handle it all right." Mitchell twisted about in his chair. "At present, Captain, my entire attention is claimed by the Spencer murder. Where would you suggest that I begin my search among Whitney's household for a motive which will explain the murder?"