she's not a murderess. If anything, she's a
victim!"

Francis laughed shortly.

"Victim be damned!" he cried. "Man alive," he went on, "how can
you talk such nonsense in face of the evidence, with this
bloody-minded woman's victims hardly cold yet? But, horrible as
these murders are, the private squabbles of this gang of spies
represent neither your interest nor mine in this case. For us the
fact remains that Nur-el-Din, besides being a monster of
iniquity, is the heart and soul and vitals of the whole
conspiracy!"

Jaded and nervous, Desmond felt a quick sting of resentment at
his brother's tone. Why should Francis thus lay down the law to
him about Nur-el-Din? Francis knew nothing of the girl or her
antecedents while he, Desmond, flattered himself that he had at
least located the place she occupied in this dark conspiracy. And
he cried out vehemently:

"You're talking like a fool! I grant you that Nur-el-Din has been
mixed up with this spy crowd; but she herself stands absolutely
apart from the organization..."

"Half a minute!" put in Francis, "aren't you forgetting that blue
envelope we took off her just now?"

"What about it?" asked Desmond sharply.

"Merely this; the cipher is in five figure groups, addressed to a
four figure group and signed by a six figure group..."

"Well?"

"That happens to be the current secret code of the German Great
General Staff. If you were to tap a German staff message out in
France to-day, ten to one it would be in that code. Curious
coincidence, isn't it?"

When one is angry, to be baffled in argument does not have a
sedative effect as a rule. If we were all philosophers it might;
but being merely human beings, cold reason acts on the inflamed
temperament as a red rag is said to affect a bull.

Desmond, sick with the sense of failure and his anxiety about
Barbara, was in no mood to listen to reason. The cold logic of
his brother infuriated him mainly because Desmond knew that
Francis was right.

"I don't care a damn for the evidence," vociferated Desmond; "It
may look black against Nur-el-Din; I daresay it does; but I have
met and talked to this girl and I tell you again that she is not
a principal in this affair but a victim!"

"You talk as if you were in love with the woman!" Francis said
mockingly.

Desmond went rather white.

"If pity is a form of love," he replied in a low voice, "then I
am, for God knows I never pitied any woman as I pity Nur-el-Din!
Onl