rious sympathy.

A little later a small herd of cattle passed, driven to pasture by a
stolid Alsatian, who replied to the soldiers' questions in German
patois and shrugged his heavy shoulders like a Frenchman.

A cock crowed occasionally from some near dunghill; once I saw a cat
serenely following the course of a stucco wall, calm, perfectly
self-composed, ignoring the blandishments of the German soldiers, who
called, "Komm mitz! mitz!" and held out bits of sausage and black
bread.

A German ambulance surgeon arrived to see me in the afternoon. The
Countess was busy somewhere with Buckhurst, who had come with news for
her, and the German surgeon's sharp double rap at the door did not
bring her, so I called out, "Entrez donc!" and he stalked in,
removing his fatigue-cap, which action distinguished him from his
brother officers.

He was a tall, well-built man, perfectly uniformed in his
double-breasted frocked tunic, blue-eyed, blond-bearded, and
immaculate of hand and face, a fine type of man and a credit to any
army.

After a brief examination he sat down and resumed a very bad cigar,
which had been smouldering between his carefully kept fingers.

"Do you know," he said, admiringly, "that I have never before seen
just such a wound. The spinal column is not even grazed, and if, as I
understand from you, you suffered temporarily from complete paralysis
of the body below your waist, the case is not only interesting but
even remarkable."

"Is the superficial lesion at all serious?" I asked.

"Not at all. As far as I can see the blow from the bullet temporarily
paralyzed the spinal cord. There is no fracture, no depression. I do
not see why you should not walk if you desire to."

"When? Now?"

"Try it," he said, briefly.

I tried. Apart from a certain muscular weakness and a great fatigue, I
found it quite possible to stand, even to move a few steps. Then I sat
down again, and was glad to do so.

The doctor was looking at my legs rather grimly, and it suddenly
flashed on me that I had dropped my blanket and he had noticed my
hussar's trousers.

"So," he said, "you are a military prisoner? I understood from the
provost marshal that you were a civilian."

As he spoke Buckhurst appeared at the door, and then sauntered in,
quietly greeting the surgeon, who looked around at the sound of his
footsteps on the stone floor. There was no longer a vestige of doubt
in my mind that Buckhurst was a German agent, or at