Suddenly Stewart understood. These were agents of the secret service, waiting to report to their chief or to be assigned to some difficult and dangerous task. One by one they were summoned, disappeared through the door, and did not return. At last it was to Stewart the messenger came. "This way, sir," he said. Stewart followed him out into the hall, through a door guarded by two sentries, and into a little room beyond a deep ante-chamber, where a white-haired man sat before a great table covered with papers. The messenger stood aside for Stewart to pass, then went swiftly out and closed the door. The man at the table examined his visitor with a long and penetrating glance, his face cold, impassive, expressionless. "You are not one of ours," he said, at last, in English. "No, I am an American." "So I perceived. And yet you have a message?" "Yes." "How came you by it?" "It was intrusted to me by one of your agents who joined me at Aix-la-Chapelle." A sudden flame of excitement blazed into the cold eyes. "May I ask your name?" "Bradford Stewart." The man snatched up a memorandum from the desk and glanced at it. Then he sprang to his feet. "Your pardon, Mr. Stewart," he said. "I did not catch your name--or, if I did, my brain did not supply the connection, as it should have done. My only excuse is that I have so many things to think of. Pray sit down," and he drew up a chair. "Where is the person who joined you at Aix?" "I fear that she is dead," answered Stewart, in a low voice. "Dead!" echoed the other, visibly and deeply moved. "Dead! But no, that cannot be!" He passed his hand feverishly before his eyes. "I will hear your story presently--first, the message. It is a written one?" "Yes, in the form of two letters." "May I see them?" Stewart hesitated. "I promised to deliver them only to General Joffre," he explained. "I understand. But the general is very busy. I must see the letters for a moment before I ask him for an audience." Without a word, Stewart passed them over. He saw the flush of excitement with which the other looked at them; he saw how his hand trembled as he drew out the sheets, glanced at them, thrust them hastily back, and touched a button on his desk. Instantly the door opened and the messenger appeared. "Inquire of General Joffre if he can see me for a moment on a matter of the first importance," said the man. The messenger bowed and withdrew. "Yes, of the first importance," he added, turning to Stewart, with shining eyes. "Here are the letters--I will not deprive you, sir, of the pleasure of yourself placing them in our general's hands. And it is to him you shall tell your story." The door opened and the messenger appeared. "The general will be pleased to receive Monsieur at once," he said, and stood aside for them to pass.