oman he loved was
absolutely safe now from a set of licentious brutes. She might be given
life and liberty. When brought before some responsible military court he
would tell the plain truth, suppressing only such facts as would tend to
incriminate their good friends in Verviers and Huy. Not even a board of
German officers could find the girl guilty of killing Busch and his
companions, and this, he imagined, was the active cause of the hue and
cry raised by the authorities. How determined the hunt had been was
shown by the changed demeanour of the corporal. The man was almost
oppressed by the magnitude of the capture. Dalroy was convinced that it
was not the monetary reward which affected him. Probably this young
non-commissioned officer saw certain promotion ahead, and that, to a
German, is an all-sufficing inducement.

The prisoner's hands were tied behind his back, and the same rope was
adjusted around waist and ankles in such wise that movement was limited
to moderately short steps. But Herr Franz did not hurt him needlessly.
Rather was he bent on taking care of him. Throwing a cavalry cloak over
the Englishman's shoulders, he said, "You can squat against the wall and
keep out of the rain, if you wish."

Dalroy obeyed without a word. He felt inexplicably weary. In that
unhappy hour body and soul alike were crushed. But the cloud lifted
soon. His spirit was the spirit of the immortals; it raised itself out
of the slough of despond.

The day was closing in rapidly; lowering clouds and steady rain
conspired to rob the sun of some part of his prerogatives. At seven
o'clock it would be dark, whereas the almanac fixed the close of day at
eight. It was then about half-past six.

Resolutely casting off the torpor which had benumbed his brain after
parting from the woman he loved, Dalroy looked about him. The hussars,
some twenty all told, reduced now to seventeen, since the messengers had
ridden off without delay, were gathered in a knot around the corporal.
Some of their horses were tethered in the barn, others were picketed
outside.

Scraps of talk reached him.

"This will be a plume in your cap, Franz."

"A thousand marks, picked up in a filthy hole like this! _Almaechtig!_"

"What are they? Spies?"

"Didn't you hear? They stabbed Major Busch with a stable fork. Jolly old
Busch--one of the best!"

"And bayoneted two officers of the Westphalian commissariat, wounding a
third."

"The devil! Was there a fight?