“And the pictures?” Norma questioned.
“I never found out about that for certain.” Lieutenant Warren rose. “However, I have been told that pictures such as those are often shipped from place to place to convey secret information. Each bit of ‘restoring,’ as they call it, means something. Properly coded, that picture could tell a whole lot.
“Well,” she sighed. “He’s dead. But he was rather good fun while he lasted.” The three girls looked into the fire in silence.
“Millie is our bugler,” Lieutenant Warren suddenly said, as she started for the stairs. “When you hear that bugle you’ll know what it means.”
“Breakfast, then work,” Norma said.
“Yes, and lots of it. You get two weeks of hard training. Then you take over.” She was gone.
“Do you suppose she suspects we’re natural-born spy chasers?” Norma whispered.
“Can’t tell.” Betty whispered back. “But jeepers! If she didn’t know that man was a spy, what about us?”
“We’ve not even got a clue.” Norma agreed. “And, yet—” She did not finish.
Betty went at once to her room, but Norma, having caught a gleam of light through a window, stepped out on the porch for a look at the moon.