Aimée started.
“What do you mean, m’sieur?” she asked quickly.
“I simply mean what I say, Mademoiselle. General Thalmann has, to my knowledge, been on the verge of bankruptcy for the past three years. He is a bosom friend of a certain Karl Schnerb, whom I have long suspected of being a secret agent of Germany. After his acquaintance with Schnerb, the General began to repay me some of what I had lent him. Voilà tout!”
“You say, then, that General Thalmann is in the pay of our enemies?” asked Aimée quickly.
“You surely don’t mean that, Arnaud?” asked her father at the same moment.
“I only tell you facts that I know, my dear Baron,” was their visitor’s reply. “And for that reason, and that alone, I say: ‘May God help our poor little Belgium.’”
Aimée was silent.
Was it possible that a traitor was in command of Edmond’s brigade?
The girl held her breath. If what Arnaud Rigaux had alleged was the actual truth—and he always knew the truth—if such things were, then poor little Belgium was, alas! doomed.