"

"Some of the fellows said Busch and the others must have been drunk."

"Quite likely. I was drunk every day then."

A burst of laughter.

"Lucky dog!"

"_Ach, was!_ what's the good of having been drunk so long ago? There
isn't a bottle of wine now within five miles."

"Tell us then, _Herr Kaporal_, do we remain here till dawn?"

Dalroy grew faintly interested. It was absurd to harbour the slightest
expectation of Jan Maertz bringing succour, but one might at least
analyse the position, though the only visible road led straight to a
firing-party.

"Those were our orders," answered Franz. "Things may be altered now. You
fellows haven't grasped the real value of this cop. It wasn't stated on
the notice, but somebody of much more importance than any ordinary
officer was interested in the girl being caught--she far more than the
man."

"Well, well! Tastes differ! A peasant like that!"

"You silly ass, she's no peasant. That's the worst of living in a
suburb. You acquire no standard of comparison."

These men were Berliners, and were amused by a sly dig at some locality
which, like Koepenick, offered a butt for German humour.

"Hello! isn't that a car?" said one.

There was silence. The thrumming of a powerful automobile could be heard
through the patter of the rain.

"Attention!" growled Franz. A few troopers went to the picketed horses.
The others lined up. A closed motor-car arrived. Its brilliant
head-lights proclaimed the certain fact that the presence of Belgian
troops in that locality was not feared. Dalroy recognised this at once,
and forthwith dismissed from his mind the last shred of hope.

The chauffeur was a soldier. By his side sat the usual armed escort.
Georg galloped up. Oombergen was only a mile and a half distant, and the
road through the wood was in such a condition that the car was compelled
to travel slowly.

A cloaked staff-officer alighted. The hussars stood stiff as so many
ramrods. The new-comer took their salute punctiliously, but his tone in
addressing the corporal was far from gracious.

"What's this unlikely tale you've sent in to headquarters?" he demanded
harshly.

"I don't think I'm mistaken, _Herr Hauptmann_," was the answer. "I've
got that English captain and the lady wanted at Vise. They've
practically admitted it."

"Where are they?"

"The man is sitting there against the wall. The lady is in the
barn.--Stand up, prisoner!"

Franz snatched away the cloak. Dal