ad?"

"Yes."

"I am glad. Arthur, they have not wounded you?"

"Not a scratch."

"And Maertz?"

"We must see to him. Will you come out? Never mind the rain."

"The rain! Ah, dear God, that I should feel the blessed rain beating on
my face once more in liberty!"

She gave him her hand, and they stood for a moment, peering deep into
each other's eyes.

"Arthur," she said, so quietly now that the storm seemed to have passed
from her spirit, "you have work to do. I shall not keep you. Tell me
where to wait, and there you shall find me. But, before you go, promise
me one thing. If we fall again into the hands of the Germans, shoot me
before I become their prisoner."

"No need to talk of that," he soothed her. "We have a splendid escort.
In two hours----"

She caught him by both shoulders.

"You _must_ promise," she cried vehemently.

He was startled by the vibrant passion in her voice. He began then
to understand the real horrors of Irene's vigil, whether in the
rat-infested darkness of the barn or the cushioned luxury of the
limousine.

"Yes," he muttered savagely, "I promise."

Taking her by the arm, he led her to the front of the car, where,
clearly visible herself, she would see little if aught of the shambles
in rear.

Corporal Bates hurried up.

"Her ladyship all right, sir?" he inquired briskly.

"Yes," replied Dalroy, conscious of a slight tremulousness in the arm
he was holding.

Corporal Bates, though in all probability he had never even heard of
Bacon's somewhat trite aphorism, was essentially an "exact" man. He
never erred as to distinctions of rank or title. His salute was the
pride of the Buffs. Blithely regardless of the fact that not more than
five minutes earlier Captain Dalroy had confessed himself ignorant of
Lady Irene Beresford's actual social status, he alluded to her
"correctly."

"I think, sir," he rattled on, "that we ought to be moving. It's quite
dark now, an' we have our route marked out."

"How?"

"We've been directed by a priest, sir. The Belgian priests have done us
a treat. In every village they showed us the safest roads. Even when
they couldn't make us understand their lingo they could always pencil a
map."

"I see. Do you follow the road to Oosterzeele?"

"For about a mile, sir. Then we branch off into a lane leading west to
the river Schelde, which we cross by a ferry. Once past that ferry, an'
there's no more Germans."

"Very well. Have you searched the