German uniforms in a secret cupboard. They had been aided in their search by Lieutenant Franz von Kreuzenach of the Intelligence Bureau, who was the chief witness of the prosecution, and whose name was recommended to the Court for the vigilance and zeal he had shown in the detection of the conspiracy against the Army and the Fatherland. It was he who had found the secret cupboard and had solved the key to the cypher.
"We will take the lieutenant's evidence in due course," said the President. "Does that complete the indictment against this prisoner?"
Apart from a savage elaboration of evidence based upon the facts presented and a demand that the woman's guilt, if the Court were satisfied thereon, should be punished by death, the preliminary indictment by the prosecution ended.
It was a terrible case, and during its revelations the people in court were stricken with dread and pity for the girl who was now sitting between the two soldiers. They were all staring at her, and some at least—the Reverend Mother among them—noticed with surprise that when the officer for the prosecution ended his speech she drew a deep breath, raised her head, as though some weight of fear had been lifted from her, and—laughed.
It was quite a merry laugh, with that full blackbird note of hers, and the sound of it caused a strange sensation in the court. The President blinked repeatedly, like an owl blinded by a ray of sunlight. He addressed the prisoner in heavy, barbarous French.
"You are charged with conspiracy against our German martial law. The punishment is death. It is no laughing matter, Fräulein."
They were stern words, but there was a touch of pity in that last sentence.
"Ce n'est pas une affaire pour rire, Fräulein."
