The Admiral, having come sharply into prominence, continued to play his high cards. He leaned back in his chair, neglecting a dessert of which he was especially fond, and with considerable bumptiousness rambled on sonorously. “We've been expecting word all day from Admiral Sims. The convoy is a swift one. Both the _Campion_ and the _Elston_ should reach port today,--or at the very latest tomorrow. I confess we've all been anxious. They are wiring me from Washington as soon as--By the way, Mrs. Carstairs, I took the liberty of instructing my aide to telephone me here in case the report comes tonight. Hope you don't mind. I thought--” “Of course I don't mind, Admiral,” she said warmly. “On the contrary, I am glad you thought of it. We are all terribly interested.” Late in the evening,--in fact, just as the guests were preparing to depart,--the Admiral was called to the telephone. When he rejoined the group a few minutes afterward, his expression was serious. “Our precautions were well taken, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “The _Elston_ was torpedoed this morning. Practically everybody on board was lost.” There was a moment's silence. Then Captain Steele spoke. “So the Germans _did_ know that the Commission sailed out of New York harbour on the _Elston_. It would seem, Admiral, that the spy sits pretty close to the head of your board,--I mean, of course, your board of strategy.” “By Gad!” growled the distressed sailor-man. “It--it is absolutely incredible. There _couldn't_ have been a leak down there.” “Have you an idea how many people actually knew that the party was sailing on the _Elston?_” inquired the young man. His face was very white. The Admiral glanced around the room, rather helplessly. “Of course the fact was known to quite a number of people,--such as we are here,--but, what are we to do if we can't trust _ourselves?_ Nothing could have been more carefully guarded. Not a line in the newspapers, not a word uttered in public, not a----” “The information could not have come from any one directly connected with the Navy department, Admiral,” said Steele slowly. “I'm glad to hear you say that, sir,” said the Admiral, stiffening. “For the simple and obvious reason that it was the _Elston_ and not the _Campion_ they went after. A spy in such a position would have known of the transfer.” “On the other hand, it may have been pure chance that they attacked the _Elston_,” said Davenport Carstairs, a queer huskiness in his voice. “Coincidence, and nothing more. Thank heaven, they didn't get the _Campion_.” Steele was the last to leave. He said good night to Louise Hansbury in the little hall outside. He had rung for the elevator. The door, on the latch, had been closed behind them and they were quite alone for a few minutes.