aching a scowl gathered on his features.

"That man!" he heard him exclaim, and then watched as his friend
flopped down amongst the dead and lay as close as possible. Then
together the two watched as that German crept on still farther. A
minute later and he had turned where the gallery swept round the corner
of the fort abruptly and proceeded in another direction. Following
promptly, creeping across the bodies of the fallen, or finding their
way between them when they could--for it was not exactly nice to kneel
upon the forms of men who, to whatever side they had belonged, had died
fighting--Henri and Jules too turned that corner, only to find
themselves now in almost complete darkness, with no light to guide
them, with not a sound to tell them of the whereabouts of that sinister
German, and nothing to indicate his presence.

"Stop! Let's wait and listen."

Henri's hand went out and gripped Jules's sleeve, while the two came to
a halt at once, sitting up on their haunches, as it were, and peered
into the darkness and listened--peered till Henri's bloodshot eyes
positively ached, until tears of weakness dribbled down his face and
splashed on to the pavement. As for his head, it throbbed as if a
giant hammer were within it, and some demon were rattling the interior
of his skull and were dancing a tattoo upon his ear-drums.

"Bah!" He felt that old nausea, and felt horribly giddy, and was
forced to stretch his hands forward and lean upon them to support his
weight, while everything went round and round, and, strangely enough,
instead of darkness surrounding him, a thousand flashes appeared before
his eyes. Jules coughed. With all his light-heartedness he was an
observant and wonderfully sympathetic fellow, particularly where Henri
was concerned, and now had double reason for showing him attention.
Putting his arm round Henri's waist, he supported him for a while.

"Pull yourself together, Henri," he said, "for we've got to go on in a
little while and trap that beggar. What's he up to? Some dirty game,
you may be sure. For he's a German, don't forget, and don't forget,
either, what Stuart would have said----"

"Stuart!" gurgled Henri, trying to laugh. "That good fellow! Stuart?"

"A splendid beggar!" agreed Jules. "He'd have said, bluntly enough,
that every German was a dirty beggar, wouldn't he?"

Henri chortled. Somehow or other Jules had a wonderful way of stirring
up his old friend, of "bucking hi