“Rubbish!” Fenn scoffed.  “You’re ratting, that’s what you are.”

“You’d better thank Providence,” Julian replied sternly, “that there is time for you to rat, too—­that is, if you have any care for your country.  Now, Mr. Fenn, I am going to ask you a question.  You led us to believe, this evening, that, although all letters had been destroyed, you were in constant communication with Freistner.  When did you hear from him last—­personally, I mean?”

“Last week,” Fenn answered boldly, “and the week before that.”

“And you have destroyed those letters?”

“Of course I have!  Why should I keep stuff about that would hang me?”

“You cannot produce, then, any communication from Freistner, except the proposals of peace, written within the last—­say—­ month?”

“What the mischief are you getting at?” Fenn demanded hotly.  “And what right have you to stand there and cross-question me?”

“The right of being prepared to call you to your face a liar,” Julian said gravely.  “We have very certain information that Freistner is now imprisoned in a German fortress and will be shot before the week is out.”

There was a little murmur of consternation, even of disbelief.  Fenn himself was speechless.  Julian went on eagerly.

“My friends,” he said, “on paper, on the facts submitted to us, we took the right decision, but we ought to have remembered this.  Germany’s word, Germany’s signature, Germany’s honour, are not worth a rap when opposed to German interests.  Germany, notwithstanding all her successes, is thirsting for peace.  This armistice would be her salvation.  She set herself out to get it —­not honestly, as we have been led to believe, but by means of a devilish plot.  She professed to be overawed by the peace desires of the Reichstag.  The Pan-Germans professed a desire to give in to the Socialists.  All lies!  They encouraged Freistner to continue his negotiations here with Fenn.  Freistner was honest enough.  I am not so sure about Fenn.”

Fenn sprang to his feet, a blasphemous exclamation broke from his lips.  Julian faced him, unmoved.  The atmosphere of the room was now electric.

“I am going to finish what I have to say,” he went on.  “I know that every one will wish me to.  We are all here to look for the truth and nothing else, and, thanks to Miss Abbeway, we have stumbled upon it.  These peace proposals, which look so well on paper, are a decoy.  They were made to be broken.  Those signatures are affixed to be repudiated.  I say that Freistner has been a prisoner for weeks, and I deny that Fenn has received a single communication from him during that time.  Fenn asserts that he has, but has destroyed them.  I repeat that he is a liar.”

“That’s plain speaking,” Cross declared.  “Now, then, Fenn, lad, what have you to say about it?”

Fenn leaned forward, his face distorted with something which might have been anger, but which seemed more closely to resemble fear.