they all nodded.

"May I be permitted to make an observation, sir?" said the lad.

"With pleasure," replied the commandant, bowing politely.

"A very short question over your wire to Monsieur le General commanding
this army corps will convince you that I am what I tell you I am," said
Dennis.

"Even if I thought there were any necessity it would, unfortunately, be
impossible," said the commandant in a cold voice. "Your wires are not
the only ones that suffer, and ours has undergone some damage during the
night. It may be two hours before it is repaired, and you must not be
surprised if we make short shrift of you."

"But, monsieur!" expostulated Dennis. "This is an outrage! My country
and yours are firm friends, and I repeat, upon my word of honour, that I
am an Englishman."

The officer who had laughed at him and who spoke English, said in an
undertone: "Do you know, monsieur le commandant, I should feel
inclined--with all due respect I say it--to postpone the execution. I
must confess this boy is a marvellous linguist, and there is not a trace
of fear in his bearing."

"My dear Laval, for myself I am convinced, and I shall take all
responsibility," replied the commandant. "Prisoner, if you would like to
write a letter to your friends you are at liberty to do so. We will
endeavour to forward it afterwards. Also, if you care to avail yourself
of the good offices of our chaplain they are at your disposal. But do
not waste time, for you will be shot in half an hour," and he made a
grave inclination with his head to intimate that the interview was at an
end.

A contemptuous smile passed across the young lieutenant's face, and he
bowed in return.

"Very well, sir, I can only say that you will be sorry for this
decision," he said. "I have a fountain pen--will somebody kindly lend me
a sheet of paper?"

One of the officers at the table handed him a blank form, at the same
time offering his cigarette-case.

"No, thanks, I won't smoke," said the boy, and, sitting down on a billet
of wood, he laid the paper on his knee.

"DEAR PATER," he wrote with a steady hand. "It seems a
rotten thing to have to tell you, but the French are going to
shoot me for a spy. The fool man in command here, who was
probably a successful pork butcher before the war started,
declines to communicate with headquarters, and I rather hope
you'll rub it into him when you learn all. It seems I speak
German too wel