nt: "Liege, baggage and fodder, cavalry division, 7th
Army Corps." He learnt subsequently that this definite legend appeared
on front and rear and on both sides.

Thinking quickly, he decided that the burly person whose outer garments
he was now wearing had probably been taking a short cut to the station
entrance when he received the surprise of his life. Somewhat higher up
on the right, therefore, Dalroy went back to the narrow pavement close
to the wall, and saw some soldiers coming through a doorway a little
ahead. He made for this, growled a husky "Good-morning" to a sentry
stationed there, entered, and mounted a staircase. Soon he found himself
on the main platform; he actually passed a sergeant and some Bavarian
soldiers, bent on recapturing the escaped prisoner, rushing wildly for
the same stairs.

None paid heed to him as he lumbered along, swinging the lamp.

A small crowd of officers, among them the youthful prince in the silver
_Pickel-haube_, had collected near the broken window and now open door
of the waiting-room from which the "spy" had vanished. Within was the
fat lieutenant of reserves, gesticulating violently at a pallid sentry.

The prince was laughing. "He can't get away," he was saying. "A bold
rascal. He must be quieted with a bayonet-thrust. That's the best way to
inoculate an Englishman with German _Kultur_."

Of course this stroke of rare wit evoked much mirth. Meanwhile, Dalroy
was turning the key in the lock which held Irene Beresford in safe
keeping until Von Halwig had discharged certain pressing duties as a
staff officer.

The girl, who was seated, gave him a terrified glance when he entered,
but dropped her eyes immediately until she became aware that this
rough-looking visitor was altering the key. Dalroy then realised by her
startled movement that his appearance had brought fresh terror to an
already overburthened heart. Hitherto, so absorbed was he in his
project, he had not given a thought to the fact that he would offer a
sinister apparition.

"Don't scream, or change your position, Miss Beresford," he said quietly
in English. "It is I, Captain Dalroy. We have a chance of escape. Will
you take the risk?"

The answer came, brokenly it is true, but with the girl's very soul in
the words. "Thank God!" she murmured. "Risk? I would sacrifice ten
lives, if I had them, rather than remain here."

Somehow, that was the sort of answer Dalroy expected from her. She
sought no explanat