Spangler was able to sit, but only if he leaned forward. He held both hands in front of him, his forearms jammed into his lap. Gray watched him from across the room, the .45 automatic leveled at the chest. The house was dark and cold, clearly no one's home. The furniture consisted of a circular dining table, four chairs, a decaying sofa, and a wall of empty shelves. There was whisky and soda on a sideboard, which Gray eventually poured for the two of them.

Gray began with a catechism. Was Spangler meeting an agent tonight? Had he brought a boy to watch the streets? Was there a second entrance and if so where did it lead? What were the safety signals?

Through it all Spangler remained motionless. His face was pale and studded with perspiration.

"I suppose it was stupid of me not to have expected you/' he said. "When I began to realize that someone was tracking me down I should have expected it was you—still carrying what I believe is called the torch for your Mata Hari."

Gray lowered his automatic. "She's been arrested. They're holding her at Saint-Lazare."

"But of course she's been arrested. What did you expect?"

"The case is based on some telegrams . . . telegrams between you and one of your idiots in Madrid."

"Yes, Major von Kalle. Actually a fine gentleman. And very competent."

"I want to know the truth, Spangler. Right now."

Spangler took a deep breath and pointed to a pack of cigarettes on the sideboard—another exotic Turkish blend. "May I? thank you ... I believe it probably dates back—oh, I don't know—thousands of years. When the kingdom has been afflicted, a scapegoat must be found. I seem to recall reading that the practice was quite common during the great plagues. The land was overrun with death, and consequently scapegoats were sacrificed—generally women were burned as witches to rid the land of evil. Now, of course, it's somewhat more complex, but the theory is the same. As well, in this instance, as the practice. England and France have been afflicted by disaster, and now your Mata Hari must be burned at the stake."

Gray moved to the sofa but kept the automatic on his knee. "Tell me about von Kalle."

“The major was a political appointment, but capable, as I said. Yes, capable but not especially subtle. Frankly I prefer dealing with his junior.”

"What about the telegram you sent him?"

Spangler grinned, shaking his head. "You still fail to grasp it. The abstract painter still fails to grasp the obvious symbolism. These details are meaningless. The case against Mata Hari doesn't rest on evidence. It's a matter of convenience. A miscalculation was made by your generals at the Somme, and now Mata Hari is to be the ready-made scapegoat. The convenience."

"And Rudolph Spangler? How does Rudolph Spangler feel about that?"