s a dagger thrust to Bouchard. At night he had lain awake
worrying about the leak; by day he had sought to trace it, only to find
every clew leading back to the staff. Now he was as confused in his
shame as a sensitive schoolboy. Vaguely, in his distress, he heard
Westerling asking a question, while he saw all those eyes staring at
him.

"What information have we about Engadir?"

"I believe it to be strongly fortified!" stammered Bouchard.

"You believe! You have no information?" pursued Westerling.

"No, sir," replied Bouchard. "Nothing--nothing new!"

"We do seem to get little information," said Westerling, looking hard
and long at Bouchard in silence--the combined silence of the whole
staff.

This public reproof could have but one meaning. He should soon receive a
note which would thank him politely for his services, in the stereotyped
phrases always used for the purpose, before announcing his transfer to a
less responsible post.

"Very little, sir!" Bouchard replied doggedly.

"There is that we had from one of our aviators whose machine came down
in a smash just as he got over our infantry positions on his return,"
said the chief aerostatic officer. "He was in a dying condition when we
picked him up, and, as he was speaking with the last breaths in his
body, naturally his account of what he had seen was somewhat incoherent.
It would be of use, however, if we had plans of the forts that would
enable us to check off his report intelligently."

"Yet, what evidence have we that Partow or Lanstron has done more than
to make a fortunate guess or show military insight?" Westerling asked.
"There is the case of my own belief that Bordir was weak, which proved
correct."

"Last night we got a written telegraphic staff message from the body of
a dead officer of the Browns found in the Twin Boulder Redoubt," said
the vice-chief, "which showed that in an hour after our plans were
transmitted to our own troops for the first attack they were known to
the enemy."

"That looks like a leak!" exclaimed Westerling, "a leak, Bouchard, do
you hear?" He was frowning and his lips were drawn and his cheeks
mottled with red in a way not pleasant to see.

Stiffening in his chair, a flash of desperation in his eye, Bouchard's
bony, long hand gripped the table edge. Every one felt that a sensation
was coming.

"Yes, I have known that there was a leak!" he said with hoarse, painful
deliberation. "I have sent out every possible tr