,
and, seeing nobody (for the girls were hidden behind a tangle of
bramble), she stood still and called softly. There was no answer. She
called again, waited a few moments, and then began to walk farther on
into the wood. She was at a point where two paths divided, and she
chose the one to the right.

"Ave," whispered Raymonde, "we must spread ourselves out. She's
evidently looking for 'Carl', and he may be on the other path. We
mustn't miss him. You follow her, and I'll take the way to the left."

Aveline nodded and obeyed. She did not much relish going alone, but
she had a profound respect for her chum's judgment. The path which
Raymonde had chosen was the narrower and more overgrown. She stole
along, listening and watching. After a few hundred yards she came to
an ancient yew-tree, the trunk of which, worn with age, was no more
than a hollow shell. It would be perfectly possible for anyone to hide
here. An idea occurred to her, venturesome indeed, but certainly
feasible. Raymonde was not a girl to stop and consider risks. If an
escaped German were in the wood, it was her duty to her king and
country to try to effect his arrest. All her patriotism rose within
her, and, though her heart thumped rather loudly, she told herself
that she was not afraid. Going into the middle of the path, she
called as Mrs. Vernon had done, then dived into the shelter of the
hollow tree.

"If he's anywhere near here, that'll bring him!" she thought.

For a moment all was silence, then came a crashing among the bushes,
and an answering call. Someone was coming in the direction of the
yew-tree.

Peeping from her hiding-place, Raymonde could just distinguish a man's
figure advancing through the gathering darkness of the wood. Then
awful fear fell upon her. Suppose he were to look inside the hollow
tree and find her? He was a German, and a desperate man; she was a
girl, and alone. Why, oh why had she sent Aveline away? He would be
quite capable of murdering her.

In that moment of agony she bitterly repented her folly. To be sure,
there were the gipsies, but she was not certain whether they were
really within call, and would come quickly in answer to her signal.
The footsteps drew nearer, they were almost at the tree; she shrank to
the farthest corner, trusting that in the darkness her brown serge
school costume might escape notice. Just at that moment another
cautious shout sounded through the wood. The footsteps stopped, so
near to