es shaking, finds that her notes are true. She was looking
directly at Westerling in profound seriousness. Though knees shook, lips
and chin could aid eyes in revealing the painful fatigue of a battle
that had raged in the mind of a woman who went away for half an hour to
think for herself.

"I have concluded," she went on, "that it is an occasion for the
sacrifice of private ethics to a great purpose, the sooner to end the
slaughter."

"All true!" whispered an inner voice. Its tone was Lanny's, in the old
days of their comradeship. It gave her strength. All true!

"Yes, an end--a speedy end!" said Westerling with a fine, inflexible
emphasis. "That is your prayer and mine and the prayer of all lovers of
humanity."

"He is not thinking of humanity, but of individual victory!" whispered
another voice, which had the mellow tone of Hugo Mallin's deliberate
wisdom.

"It is little that I know, but such as it is you shall have it," she
began, conscious of his guarded scrutiny. When she told him of Bordir,
the weak point in the first line of the Browns' defence, she noted no
change in his steady look; but with the mention of Engadir in the main
line she detected a gleam in his eyes that had the merciless delight of
a cutting edge of steel. "I have made my sacrifice to some purpose? The
information is worth something to you?" she asked wistfully.

"Yes, yes! Yes, it promises that way," he replied thoughtfully.

Quietly he began a considerate catechism. Soon she was subtly
understanding that her answers lacked the convincing details that he
sought. She longed to avert her eyes from his for an instant, but she
knew that this would be fatal. She felt the force of him directed in
professional channels, free of all personal relations, beating as a
strong light on her bare statements. How could a woman ever have learned
two such vital secrets? How could it happen that two such critical
points as Bordir and Engadir should go undefended? No tactician, no
engineer but would have realized their strategic importance. Did she
know what she was saying? How did she get her knowledge? These, she
understood, were the real questions that underlay Westerling's polite
indirection.

"Invention! Quick, quick! How did you find out? Quick and naturally and
obviously--pure invention; no half-way business!" whispered still
another voice, the voice of that most facile of story-builders, Feller,
this time.

"But I have not told you the sources