re aiming
at, not Belgium."

"They talk mostly about England," said Joos sapiently.

"Yes, because they fear her. But let us avoid politics, my friend. Our
present problem is how and where to bestow these women for the night.
After that, the sooner we three men leave them the better. I, at least,
must go. I may be detected any minute, and then--God help you others!"

"_Saperlotte!_ That isn't the way you English are treating us. No,
monsieur, we sink or swim together."

That ready disavowal of any clash of interests was cheering. The little
man's heart was sound, though his temper might be short. Good faith,
however, was not such a prime essential now as good judgment, and Dalroy
halted again at a corner of the square. To stay in Argenteau was
madness. But--there were three roads. One led to Vise, one to Liege, and
one to the German frontier! The first two were closed hopelessly. The
third, open in a sense, was fantastic when regarded as a possible avenue
of escape. Yet that third road offered the only path toward comparative
security and rest.

"I wish you wouldn't look so dejected," whispered Irene, peeping up into
Dalroy's downcast face with the winsome smile which had so taken his
fancy during the long journey from Berlin. "I've been counting our gains
and losses. Surely the balance is heavy on our side. We--you, that
is--have defeated the whole German army. We've lost some sleep and some
clothes, but have secured a safe-conduct from our enemies, after
knocking a good many of them on the head. Some men, I know, look
miserable when most successful; but I don't put you in that category."

She was careful to talk German, not that there was much chance of being
actually overheard, but to prevent the sibilant accents of English
speech reaching suspicious ears. Britons who have no language but their
own are often surprised when abroad at hearing children mimicking them
by hissing. Curiously enough, such is the effect of our island tongue on
foreign ears. Monosyllables like "yes," "this," "it's," and scores of
others in constant use, no less than the almost invariable plural form
of nouns, lead to the illusion, which Irene was aware of, and guarded
against.

Yet, despite the uncouth, harsh-sounding words on her lips, and the
coarse Flemish garments she wore, she was adorably English. Leontine
Joos was a pretty girl; but, in true feminine parlance, "lumpy." Some
three inches less in height than her "sister," she pro