Strangers overhearing us matters nothing.

They assume that we are joking.

But what would matter, even unto death, is this, that there should be one actually among us who is not of us, who knows our grave purpose, but does not share it, who--" The Secretary screamed out suddenly like a woman.
"It can't be!" he cried, leaping.

"There can't--" The President flapped his large flat hand on the table like the fin of some huge fish.
"Yes," he said slowly, "there is a spy in this room.

There is a traitor at this table.