secure well-paid work. Yes, that is the best way out of the
difficulty, Monsieur Max, and you and your mother will live to rejoice
at having taken it."

"If your friend can get me well-paid work, can he not advance money to
my mother, Monsieur Schenk?"

"No, he is in a position to get you a berth, but he has no great means.
Come now, Monsieur Max, be guided by me and leave Liege without delay.
The works are running splendidly, and I shall have a good account to
give of my stewardship after the war."

The man's cool effrontery and the tone of lofty regard for the interests
of the owners of the Durend works almost stunned Max, and for a moment
he could but stare at him in dumb astonishment. That his faithful
stewardship of the Durend works now ran counter to the vital interests
of the country seemed not to matter to him one straw. Ceasing to plead
his mother's cause, Max asked with sudden directness:

"How is it, Monsieur Schenk, that the shells we are casting for the
Belgian guns will not fit them, but yet do fit the German guns?"

It was a shot at a venture, but it went home. The manager was obviously
taken aback, although he recovered himself almost instantly as he
replied:

"You have noticed that then? Yes, there was a misunderstanding about the
size with the commandant. Apparently he was speaking about the calibre
of the shells thrown against the forts, when I was under the impression
he was discussing the calibre of the shells most urgently required for
use. It was a ridiculous mistake, but not so strange when one considers
the turmoil and confusion of those early days."

At this Max could contain himself no longer. "Monsieur Schenk--Herr
Schenk, I should say--you are a traitor to Belgium, and I denounce you
here and now. You are a base schemer, and the biggest scoundrel in
Liege, if not in Belgium. You have the upper hand at present, but I
declare to you that I shall spare no pains in the distant future to
bring you to justice and to see that you get your deserts. I know your
plans--or some of them. The concrete tennis-court--the filling of the
shops with German workmen, the plot against General Leman, and, greatest
of all, the fearful shell treachery. Oh, the shame of it should tell,
even upon a German!"

It certainly seemed to tell a little upon M. Schenk. He gasped, flushed
up, and opened his mouth, apparently to deny the accusations. Then he
apparently thought better of it, for he controlled himself by