"but what are you doing down here?"

"Just escaped from the German lines, old chap," was the reply; and as
the brave little car raced away at a really dangerous speed he recounted
his latest adventure, to the delight and envy of his old acquaintance.

By good roads and bad roads and no roads at all Martique found his way
across country with unerring sagacity, until they found themselves at a
level crossing a few miles behind the British advanced line.

A long hospital train was waiting in a siding for the next convoy of
motor ambulances which should arrive from the various dressing-stations.

The little village, not much knocked about by shell-fire, was occupied
by a reserve brigade, and as the cap crossed the rails Martique shut off
his engines.

"I thought so," he said, getting out and looking at one of his back
tyres, "we punctured half a mile back on the road, and I must put on a
spare wheel. She wants some water too, and an oil up, so I am afraid you
will have to cool your heels for the next quarter of an hour. No," he
added, as Dennis prepared to help him, "I do all my own repairs--much
rather. Thanks, yes, I will have a cigarette," and Martique slipped off
his coat.

It was good to be back among his own people once more, and with a smile
of immense satisfaction on his face Dennis strolled along the little
street, taking everything in.

There were Army Service Corps motor wagons on supply, and an infantry
platoon came swinging round the corner, looking very bronzed and fit.
From their black buttons he saw that they belonged to a rifle battalion
in the reserve.

An orderly was holding horses outside a dirty little estaminet, and,
riding his machine on the cobbled sidewalk, a motor dispatch-rider
threaded his way with marvellous skill among the little groups of
villagers and fatigue parties.

Where a lane crossed the street at right angles he saw the white line of
a trench close to the backs of the houses, and walked towards it.

At the corner of the trench a Red Cross nurse was in the act of posting
a letter in the field collection box. There were nurses from the waiting
ambulance train among the crowd in the street.

After a long gaze over the country beyond the trench he returned to
retrace his steps, when something in the attitude of the nurse at the
pillar-box attracted his attention. Her back was towards him, and she
was peering round the angle in a furtive kind of way.

He stood still, and then