nce. If she tells him piecemeal it might lead to the supposition that
she still had some means of communication with the Browns."

"Of course, of course!" Partow spatted the flat of his hand resoundingly
on the map. "As I decided the first time I met her, she has a head, and
when a woman has a head for that sort of thing there is no beating her.
Well--" he was looking straight into Lanstron's eyes, "well, I think we
know the point where we could draw them in on the main line, eh?"

"Up the apron of the approach from the Engadir valley. We yield the
advance redoubts on either side."

"Meanwhile, we have massed heavily behind the redoubt. We retake the
advance redoubts in a counter-attack and--" Partow brought his fist into
his palm with a smack.

"Yes, if we could do that! If we could get them to expend their attack
there!" put in Lanstron very excitedly for him.

"We must! She shall help!" Partow was on his feet. He had reached across
the table and seized Lanstron's shoulders in a powerful if flesh-padded
grip. Then he turned Lanstron around toward the door of his bedroom and
gave him a mighty slap of affection. "My boy, the brightest hope of
victory we have is holding the wire for you. Tell her that a bearded old
behemoth, who can kneel as gracefully as a rheumatic rhinoceros, is on
both knees at her feet, kissing her hands and trying his best, in the
name of mercy, to keep from breaking into verse of his own composition."

Back at the telephone, Lanstron, in the fervor of the cheer and the
enthusiasm that had transported his chief, gave Marta Partow's message.

"You, Marta, are our brightest hope of victory!"

"Yes?" The monosyllable was detached, dismal, labored. "A woman can be
that!" she exclaimed in an uncertain tone, which grew into the
distraction of clipped words and broken sentences. "A woman
play-acting--a woman acting the most revolting hypocrisy--influences
the issue between two nations! Her deceit deals in the lives of sons
precious to fathers and mothers, the fate of frontiers, of institutions!
Think of it! Think of machines costing countless millions--machines of
flesh and blood, with their destinies shaped by one little bit of lying
information! Think of the folly of any civilization that stakes its
triumphs on such a gamble! Am I not right? Isn't it true? Isn't it?"

"Yes, yes, Marta! But--I--" If she were weakening it was not his place
to try to strengthen her purpose.

"I was thinking, only