ut of the dimness.

"Drive the car slowly past, and on down the road," she ordered, "don't
stop it. We six must dismount while it is moving. Surround the house
quietly. The Commandant and I will enter by the front door."

They had come to the deserted farm-house. It loomed dimly out of the
vacant fields and against the background of travelling clouds. Victor
stayed at the wheel. Mrs. Bracher, the Commandant, and the four
soldiers, jumped off into the road. The six silently filed into the
door-yard. The four soldiers melted into the night. Mrs. Bracher caught
the handle of the door firmly and shoved. The door gave way. She and
Jost stepped inside. The Commandant drew his pistol. He flashed his
pocket light down the hall and up the stairs. There was nothing but
vacancy. They passed into the room at their right hand. Jost's light
searched its way around the room. In the corner, stood a tall soldier,
dressed in green.

"Let me introduce Monsieur Rollo, the spy," said Mrs. Bracher. There was
triumph in her voice. The Commandant put a whistle to his lips and blew.
His four men came stamping in, pistols in hand.

"Clever device, this," said Mrs. Bracher. She had stooped and lifted out
a large electric flash lamp from under a sweater.

"Clever woman, this," said the Commandant, saluting Mrs. Bracher. "How
did you come to know the place?"

"Monsieur Rollo uses double tires on a wet soil," she explained.

"Monsieur Rollo will now bring his signal lamp outside the house," the
Commandant said curtly. "He will signal the enemy that our
reinforcements and ammunition have arrived, and that an attack to-night
will be hopeless. He may choose to signal wrongly. In that case, you men
will shoot him on the instant that firing begins at Pervyse."

The soldiers nodded. They marched Rollo to the field, and thrust his
signal lamp into his hands.

"One moment," he said. He turned to Mrs. Bracher.

"Where is the American girl to-night?" he asked.

"At Pervyse, of course," replied the nurse, "where she always is. The
very place where you wanted to bring your men through and kill us all."

"I had forgotten," he said. "If Mademoiselle Hilda is at Pervyse, then I
signal, as you suggest"--he turned to the Commandant--"but not because
you order it--you and your little pop-guns."

Mrs. Bracher sniffed scornfully.

"One last bluff of a bluffer, as Hilda would say," she muttered.

The soldiers stood in circle in the mud of the field, the