of the pure, guttural German of Prussia. And this man's voice had none
of the nasal, throaty tones of Yiddish.

"Whew!" whistled Joe, as he and Blake looked into the tell-tale mirror.
"That looks bad!"

"Hush!" cautioned Blake. "The transoms are open and he may hear you."

But a look into the reflecting glasses showed that the two men--the
Frenchman and the German--had not looked up from their eager poring over
the map, or whatever paper was between them.

"How long have they been this way?" asked Blake, in a whisper, of
Charlie.

"I don't know," Macaroni answered. "I happened to see them when I came
down to get something, and after I'd watched them a while I went to tell
you."

"I'm glad you did," went on Blake; "though I don't know what it
means--if it means anything."

"It means something, all right," declared Joe, and he, like the others,
was careful to keep his voice low-pitched. "It means treason, if I'm any
judge!"

"Treason?" repeated Blake.

"Yes; wouldn't you call it that if you saw one of our army officers
having a secret talk with a German enemy?"