strip of paper over the electric
bulb to reduce the light, leaving only a tiny aperture in the centre of
it.

But the two men on listening-post in the distance caught the gleam
distinctly, and read off the Morse code message in whispered chorus
without a mistake.

"Wetherby," twinkled the tiny speck from the foot of the enemy trench,
"find Bob at once, and tell him that five Prussian battalions will
attack in half an hour. They are to form up on this side of the line of
sandbags midway between us, and the signal for their advance will be the
turning on of their searchlights. If he'll move our chaps forward to
your side of the sandbags and lie doggo, the brutes will get the
surprise of their lives, for they're cocksure of a walk-over. Tell Bob
they're attacking with emptied magazines, and it will be bayonet
work--that'll fetch him."

The listening-post waited eagerly for more, but the Orilux did not show
again, and when Hawke crawled back to find Mr. Wetherby, his heart sank
into his muddy boots, for the officer boy was not there.

Meanwhile Dennis had gathered himself together for the return journey.

It seemed an hour since the voices above him had ceased, and a thousand
wild doubts chased one another through his brain, but he had not left
the shelter of the wall three yards when he glided back to it again, and
wormed himself into a crevice at its base.

Earth had come dribbling from the top of the parapet, and following the
earth panting men scrambling down the sandbags until they reached the
ground. One trod upon his shoulder as he lay there, but the lad never
moved, and whispered words all about him told that the enemy was
mustering for the assault.

At the end of a few minutes the soft squelch of heavy boots died away in
the direction of the British line, and Dennis Dashwood swallowed rapidly
and felt sick. He could not see his hand in front of him, and the rain
continued to hiss without cessation, falling into a neighbouring shell
hole with an ever-increasing plop.

Had they seen his signal and understood it? was his agonised thought, as
eight powerful searchlights were suddenly turned on to the ground in
front.

Everything was now as light as day, and he saw the Prussian battalions
lying on their faces, packed like sardines in a tin, behind those
sandbags that concealed them from his own people.

The iron plates on their boot soles gleamed like silver, and not a man
of them moved. Then, without warni