“Spy-mania seems to arise in every war,” was his reply.
“But Germany has been long preparing. Her spies are said to be everywhere,” declared the girl with emphasis. “No game is too low or despicable for the enemy to play, it seems.”
At that moment the liveried footman entered and, bowing, announced to the Baron:
“Monsieur Rigaux has arrived.”
“Ah! show him in. He may have news,” cried his master, eagerly.
Next moment the thin-faced, dark-haired man, wearing a smart grey suit and yellow gloves, came forward all smiles and graces, as he bowed low over the Baroness’s hand and then over Aimée’s.
“Well, my dear Arnaud?” the Baron commenced anxiously. “What is the latest from the front? Have you motored from Brussels?”
“Yes. And the news is disquieting—distinctly disquieting. Max, the Burgomaster, is already taking precautions in anticipation of the occupation of the capital by the enemy. Our troops are evacuating the city.”
Mother and daughter exchanged glances, both pale-faced and startled at such a turn of events.
“Then we have again been defeated,” exclaimed the Baron in a hard voice.