ou and your wagons in Verviers in three
hours."

Brutality is so engrained in the Prussian that an offer which a man of
another race would have accepted civilly was treated almost as an insult
by the angry leader of the convoy.

"You'll guide me with the point of a lance close to your liver, you
Belgian swine-dog," was the ungracious answer.

"Not me!" retorted Maertz. "Here, papa!" he cried to Joos, "show this
gentleman your paper. He can't go about sticking people as he likes,
even in war-time."

Joos went forward. Moved by contemptuous curiosity, the two officers
examined the miller's _laisser passer_ by the light of an electric
torch.

The commissariat officer changed his tone when he saw the signature. The
virtue of military obedience becomes a grovelling servitude in the
German army, and a man who was ready to act with the utmost unfairness
if left to his own instincts grew almost courteous at sight of the
communications officer's name. "Your case is different," he admitted
grudgingly. "Is this your party? The old man is Herr Schultz, I
suppose. Which are you?"

"I'm Georges Lambert, _Herr General_."

"And what do you want?"

"We're all going to Andenne. It's on the paper. This infernal fighting
has smashed up our place at Aubel, and the women are footsore and
frightened. So is papa. Put them in a wagon. Dampier and I can leg it."

The Prussian was becoming more civil each moment. He realised, too, that
this gruff fellow who moved about the country under such powerful
protection was a veritable godsend to him and his tired men.

"No, no," he cried, grown suddenly complaisant, "we can do better than
that. I'll dump a few trusses of hay, and put you all in the same wagon,
which can then take the lead."

Thus, by a mere turn of fortune's wheel, the enemy was changed into a
friend, and a dangerous road made safe and comfort-giving. Jan sat in
front with the driver, and cracked jokes with him, while the others
nestled into a load of sweet-smelling hay.

"For the first time in my life," whispered Dalroy to Irene, "I
understand the precise significance of Samson's riddle about the honey
extracted from the lion's mouth. Our heavy-witted Jan has saved the
situation. We enter Verviers in triumph, and reach the left of the
German lines. Just another slice of luck, and we cross the Meuse at
Andenne or elsewhere--it doesn't matter where."

Irene had kicked off those cruel sabots. She bit her lip in the darknes