“That woman!” Danby’s tone became animated. “I am convinced that she is an industrial spy.”
“An industrial spy?” Jeanne’s eyes opened wide.
“Yes. An industrial spy is one who makes it his business to spy out the secret processes of his fellow workers, then to sell these secrets to others.
“Sometimes he is one of your fellow countrymen. More often he is from another land. In these days of extreme difficulty and great struggle to make goods cheaply and to sell in many markets, there are many, many spies.
“At first we trusted this woman. For three months she was employed in our factory. And to think—” springing to his feet, he began pacing the floor. “To think that all that time she was spying out secrets that rightly belong to our people!
“These spies!” he exclaimed bitterly. “They fasten cameras beneath their jackets. A tiny lens is concealed as a button. They take pictures, hundreds of them. They make drawings. If they may, they carry away secret receipts.”
“Did that woman do all this?” Jeanne asked.
“I am not sure that she has the secret formula. If she has not, then all may not be lost. And yet, she may have all the information needed. If she has, she will carry it back to her own country and we are ruined, for hers is a land where the poor slave long hours for little pay.”
“We must find her!” the little French girl exclaimed. “We shall, I am sure of that.”
“Yes, we must find her,” Danby agreed. “It is known that she is an alien in this country without passport. If only she can be found, she may be sent back to her own country with pockets empty as far as industrial secrets are concerned.”