on the
semaphore?"

"Yes."

"Count them aloud."

She counted the white lights for me, then the red ones.

"Now," I said, "if those lights change in number or color or
position, come instantly to me. I shall be with Mademoiselle Elven in
the little tea-room. But," I added, "I do not expect any change in
the lights; it is only a precaution."

I left her in the shadow of the curtains, and passed through the room
to Sylvia's side. She looked up quietly from her embroidery frame,
then, dropping the tinted silks and needles on the cloth, rose and
walked beside me past Eyre, who stood up as we came abreast of him.

Sylvia paused. "Monsieur Eyre," she said, "I have a question to ask
you ... some day," and passed on with a smile and a slight inclination
of her head, leaving Eyre looking after her with heavy eyes.

When we entered the little tea-room she passed on to the lounge and
seated herself on the padded arm; I turned, closed the door, and
walked straight toward her.

She glanced up at me curiously; something in my face appeared to sober
her, for the amused smile on her lips faded before I spoke.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I am sorry to tell you," I said--"sorry from my heart. You are not
very friendly to me, and that makes it harder for me to say what I
have to say."

She was watching me intently out of her pretty, intelligent eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked, guardedly.

"I mean that you cannot stay here," I said. "And you know why."

The color flooded her face, and she stood up, confronting me,
exasperated, defiant.

"Will you explain this insult?" she asked, hotly.

"Yes. You are a German spy," I said, under my breath.

There was no color in her face now--nothing but a glitter in her blue
eyes and a glint from the small, white teeth biting her lower lip.

"French troops will land here to-night or to-morrow," I went on,
calmly. "You will see how dangerous your situation is certain to
become when Buckhurst is taken, and when it is understood _what use
you have made of the semaphore_."

She winced, then straightened and bent her steady gaze on me. Her
courage was admirable.

"I thank you for telling me," she said, simply. "Have I a chance to
reach the Spanish frontier?"

"I think you have," I replied. "Kelly Eyre is going with you
when--"

"He? No, no, he must not! Does he know what I am?" she broke in,
impetuously.

"Yes, mademoiselle; and he knows what happens to spies."

"Did he o