"Isn't it enough to make any man's blood boil?" the other replied.
"The country to-day looks to its army and its navy to save it from the
humiliation these black-coated parasites have encouraged, and yet even
now we haven't a free hand. You and I, who control the secret service
of the army, denounce certain men, upon no slight evidence, either, as
spies, and we are laughed at! One of those very blatant idiots whose
blundering is costing the country millions of money and thousands of
brave men, has still enough authority to treat our reports as so much
waste paper."

"I am bound to say I agree with you, Thomson," the General declared,
a little hopelessly. "It's the weakest spot of our whole organisation,
this depending on the civil powers. Two of my cases were absolutely
flagrant. As regards yours, Thomson, I am not at all sure that we
shouldn't be well-advised to get just a little more evidence before we
press the matter."

"And meanwhile," Thomson retorted bitterly, "leave him a free hand to
do what mischief he can. But for the merest accident in the world, the
night before last he would have learnt our new scheme for keeping the
Channel communication free from submarines."

The General frowned.

"Who's been talking?" he demanded.

"No one who is to be blamed," Thomson replied. "Can't you realise the
position? Here's a fellow Service man, a soldier, a D. S. O., who
has been specially mentioned for bravery and who very nearly got the
Victoria Cross, comes here with the halo of a brilliant escape from
the Germans, wounded, a young man of good family and connections, and
apparently as keen as mustard to get back again in the fighting line.
Good Heavens! The most careful sailor in the world might just drop a
hint to that sort of man. What nearly happened last night may happen
a dozen times within the next week. Even our great secret, General,"
Thomson continued, dropping his voice a little, "even that might come to
his ears."

The General was undoubtedly disturbed. He searched amongst the papers on
his desk and brought out at last a flimsy half-sheet of notepaper which
he studied carefully.

"Just read this, Thomson."

Thomson rose and looked over his shoulder. The letter was an autograph
one of a few lines only, and dated from a village in the North of
France--

My dear Brice,

This is a special request to you. Arrange it any way you please but
don't send me Captain Granet out again in any capacity. Keep h