t
has Belgium done that she should be harried by a pack of wolves? Who can
say what wolves will do?"

Joos was aboil with vitriolic passion. There was no knowing how long
this tirade might have gone on had not a speckled hen stalked firmly in
through the open door with obvious and settled intent to breakfast on
crumbs.

"_Ciel!_" cackled the orator. "Not a fowl was fed overnight!"

In real life, as on the stage, comedy and tragedy oft go hand in hand.
But the speckled hen deserved a good meal. Her entrance undoubtedly
stemmed the floodtide of her owner's patriotic wrath, and thus enabled
the five people in the kitchen to overhear a hoarse cry from the
roadway: "Hi, there, _dummer Esel_! whither goest thou? This is Joos's
mill."

"Quick, Leontine!" cried Joos. "To the second loft with them! Sharp,
now!"

In this unexpected crisis, Dalroy could neither protest nor refuse to
accompany the girl, who led him and Irene up a back stair and through a
well-stored granary to a ladder which communicated with a trap-door.

"I'll bring you some coffee and eggs as soon as I can," she whispered.
"Draw up the ladder, and close the door. It's not so bad up there.
There's a window, but take care you aren't seen. Maybe," she added
tremulously, "you are safer than we now."

Dalroy realised that it was best to obey.

"Courage, mademoiselle!" he said. "God is still in heaven, and all will
be well with the world."

"Please, monsieur, what became of Jan Maertz?" she inquired timidly.

"I'm not quite certain, but I think he fell clear of the wagon. The
Germans should not have ill-treated him. The collision was not his
fault."

The girl sobbed, and left them. Probably the gruff Walloon was her
lover.

Irene climbed first. Dalroy followed, raised the ladder noiselessly, and
lowered the trap. His brow was seamed with foreboding, as, despite his
desire to leave his companion in the care of the miller's household, he
had an instinctive feeling that he was acting unwisely. Moreover, like
every free man, he preferred to seek the open when in peril. Now he felt
himself caged.

Therefore was he amazed when Irene laughed softly. "How readily you
translate Browning into French!" she said.

He gazed at her in wonderment. Less than an hour ago she had fainted
under the stress of hunger and dread, yet here was she talking as though
they had met in the breakfast-room of an English country house. He would
have said something, but the ancien