“Not till Germany is thoroughly licked,” protested Jerry. “We can’t stop fighting till then, even if it takes ten years.”
“Jerry,” said Gretel, abruptly, “there’s something I want to know, but nobody will talk to me about it. What has become of the Beckers?”
The twins exchanged glances, and Geraldine shook her head warningly at her brother.
“I don’t believe you’d better ask, Gretel dear,” she said. “If your family wanted you to know I guess they would tell you.”
But Gretel was not to be put off. She was only fifteen, and had a fair amount of curiosity.
“I think I have a right to know,” she said a little impatiently. “After spending a whole week in that dreadful place, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be told what happened afterwards.”
“We don’t know ourselves exactly what did happen,” Jerry admitted. “You see, that man Becker was a German spy. He was arrested, and—well, they never tell what happens to spies in war time; they just disappear.”
Gretel shuddered, and hid her face for a moment on Geraldine’s shoulder.
“You don’t mean they—oh, it’s too horrible! He was a dreadful man, of course, but I don’t like to think—oh, I don’t like to think——” and Gretel, who was still far from strong, burst into tears.
Geraldine’s arms were round her in a moment.