ans of stairways, and others once
barred by doors, now for the most part lying blackened and shattered on
the flags which floored the galleries.

"Which way? Which one? How can a chap choose?" cried Henri peevishly,
running the fingers of one hand through his matted hair, and looking
from one to the other of the openings.

"A conundrum," smiled Jules, though he looked grim enough as Henri
stared at him. "And those German shells have not made the question any
the easier, have they? Who knows? The beggar may have disappeared
down this hole, and one almost hopes so."

Gripping a torch suspended in a crevice between two fallen blocks of
stone, he stepped towards a huge, jagged hole near the end of the hall,
and held the flaming torch over it. Beneath there was a pit, with
crumbling earth sides, and at the bottom a mass of shattered stonework
and debris. Then, holding the torch overhead, he pointed upwards, and,
glancing there, Henri saw a corresponding hole with jagged edges,
through which the ponderous shells had entered. There, indeed,
displayed at their feet, and just above them, was as fine an example as
could well be discovered of the work of modern shells--of shells of
huge calibre--projected by guns of such weight that weeks are required
to move them, and filled with such a mass of high explosives that
little can resist them. Indeed, let one of the huge projectiles sent
by those German or Austrian howitzers hit fairly upon some building,
and, be it a church--their favourite objective--a peasant's cottage, a
convent, or even a mass of concrete and steel--such as, for instance, a
modern fortress, such as, indeed, this fortress of Douaumont--and the
result was likely to be little different. Destruction followed in the
wake of those ponderous shells, and wreckage resulted. Here, then,
before Henri and Jules, was displayed direct evidence of the wisdom
which had caused General Joffre to dismantle every fort round the city
of Verdun, and to convert the salient into an ordinary defensive
position. A fortress might, and indeed would, be smashed by German
artillery; but trenches were more movable, more replaceable, objects,
and the picks and spades of _poilus_ could easily repair damage.

"Nice little hole--eh?" smiled Jules. "But I don't see any sign of
that German."

"Nor I. Let's get on. I've an uneasy feeling in my mind that he's up
to some particularly vile sort of mischief. Let's push on," said Henr