"

The tallest of the three intruders, in deep guttural accents,
interrupted her sharply.

"We are Germans!" he declared. "This village is captured. You are
prisoners of war. Those lights you will out put, and yourselves lock in.
If you into the street go, we will shoot!"

He gave a command in a strange language; so strange, indeed, that
the soldiers with him failed to entirely grasp his meaning, and one
shouldered his rifle, while the other brought his politely to a salute.

"You ass!" muttered the tall German. "Get out!"

As they charged into the street, they heard behind them a wild feminine
shriek, then a crash of pottery and glass, then silence, and an instant
later the Ship Inn was buried in darkness.

"That will hold Stiffkey for a while!" said Ford. "Now, back to the
car."

But between them and the car loomed suddenly a tall and impressive
figure. His helmet and his measured tread upon the deserted
cobble-stones proclaimed his calling.

"The constable!" whispered Herbert. "He must see us, but he mustn't
speak to us."

For a moment the three men showed themselves in the middle of the
street, and then, as though at sight of the policeman they had taken
alarm, disappeared through an opening between two houses. Five minutes
later a motor-car, with its canvas top concealing its occupants, rode
slowly into Stiffkey's main street and halted before the constable. The
driver of the car wore a leather skull-cap and goggles. From his neck to
his heels he was covered by a raincoat.

"Mr. Policeman," he began; "when I turned in here three soldiers stepped
in front of my car and pointed rifles at me. Then they ran off toward
the beach. What's the idea--manoeuvres? Because, they've no right to--"

"Yes, sir," the policeman assured him promptly; "I saw them. It's
manoeuvres, sir. Territorials."

"They didn't look like Territorials," objected the chauffeur. "They
looked like Germans."

Protected by the deepening dusk, the constable made no effort to conceal
a grin.

"Just Territorials, sir," he protested soothingly; "skylarking maybe,
but meaning no harm. Still, I'll have a look round, and warn 'em."

A voice from beneath the canvas broke in angrily:

"I tell you, they were Germans. It's either a silly joke, or it's
serious, and you ought to report it. It's your duty to warn the Coast
Guard."

The constable considered deeply.

"I wouldn't take it on myself to wake the Coast Guard," he protested;
"not at