Horace rubbed his hands so firmly his knuckles cracked. “Dickie Shuster recently came into possession of a matched pair of chestnut bays and has been driving them all over town. I happen to know those horses once belonged to Clyde Magruder, but now they are Dickie’s, and that’s no coincidence.”

“Are you suggesting that Dickie Shuster took a bribe?” She was so aghast she could barely get the words out.

Horace giggled. “My dear, you are so naïve. I don’t think Dickie would use the word bribe, since it has so many unsavory legal implications. But the Magruders know how to get things done, and the ‘gift’ of some fine horses certainly paid off for them. And trust me, there is more to come. Much more, and I think I know what it is.”

She shouldn’t be gossiping. Mr. Bryant had warned her time and again about squandering time with gossip, but this was important. It was still three minutes before nine o’clock, so technically she wasn’t on duty yet.

She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “What else do you know?”

“I know that Dickie didn’t milk the treason angle about that Delacroix brother in Cuba nearly enough. A tidbit that scandalous belongs on the front page, not buried on page eight. He’s holding something back, and it’s big.”

How much worse could it get than branding a man a traitor and a spy? But Horace always had his nose to the ground and knew Washington politics inside and out. “What are you expecting?”

“I expect that next week’s installment will be a front-page story documenting the traitorous activities of a Naval Academy graduate and corruption within the War Department.”

She shook her head. “Luke Delacroix never graduated from the Naval Academy.”

“Au contraire,” Horace practically purred. “He graduated last year.”

“No, he didn’t,” she insisted. “He got kicked out eight years ago, a semester shy of graduation.” She still remembered the despair in Gray’s voice as he talked about Luke—so much talent but so little discipline. And Luke’s subsequent years of reckless living certainly didn’t comport with the expected behavior of a Naval Academy graduate.

The smirk on Horace’s face made it clear he didn’t believe her, but it was almost time for their supervisor to arrive and shut down all superfluous chitchat. Horace darted to the hallway and looked both ways. Apparently Mr. Bryant wasn’t yet in sight, as Horace closed the laboratory door and hurried back to the lab tables, gesturing for her to lean in close.

“You know my wife is a secretary at the War Department,” he whispered. “And secretaries know everything.”

A sense of dread loomed, for Horace wouldn’t be gloating so much unless he had something truly scandalous to share.

“What does your wife know?” she asked.