the state bank, he still retained the peasant's
love of a personal hoard.

Stowing away the money in various pockets, Joos got down off the chair.
Busch was dying, but he was not unconscious. He had even watched the
miller's actions with a certain detached curiosity, and the old fellow
seemed to become aware of the fact. "So," he cackled, "you saw, did
you? That should annoy you in your last hour, you fat thief.--Yes, yes,
monsieur, I'll come now.--Leontine, stop blubbing, and tie up that piece
of beef and some bread in a napkin. We fighting men must eat.--Jan, put
the bottles of champagne and the pork-pie in a basket.--Leontine, run
and get your own and your mother's best shoes. You can change them in
the wood."

"What wood?" put in Maertz.

"We can't walk to Maestricht by the main road, you fool."

"That's all right for you and madame here, and for Leontine, perhaps.
But I remain in Belgium. My friends are fighting yonder at Liege, and
I'm going to join them. And these others mustn't try it. The frontier is
closed for them. I was offered my life only two hours ago if I arrested
them."

"Jan!" cried Leontine indignantly.

"It's true. Why should I tell a lie? I didn't understand then the sort
of game the Prussians are playing. Now that I know----"

"Miss Beresford," broke in Dalroy emphatically, "if these good people
will not escape when they may we must leave them to their fate."

"Do come, Monsieur Joos," said Irene, speaking for the first time since
the tragedy. "By remaining here you risk your life to no purpose."

"We are coming now, ma'm'selle."

Suddenly the miller's alert eye was caught by a spasmodic movement in
the limbs of the last man whom Dalroy struck down. "_Tiens!_" he cried,
"that fellow isn't finished with yet."

He was making for the prostrate form with that terrible fork when Dalroy
ran swiftly, and collared him. "Stop that!" came the angry command. "A
fair fight must not degenerate into murder. Out you get now, or I'll
throw you out!"

Joos laughed. "You're making a mistake, monsieur," he said. "These
Prussians don't fight that way. They'd kill you just for the fun of the
thing if you were tied hand and foot. But let the rascal live if it
pleases you. As for this one," and he spurned Busch's body with his
foot, "he's done. Did you hear him? He squealed like a pig."

Dalroy was profoundly relieved when the automatic pistols and ammunition
were collected, the lamp extinguished, the doo