endeavour to test your
theory about the oversman's dinner-hour. I am going to creep along and
have a look at the Boche entrance to the Tube. It's down there, at the
south end, I think. I can see a break in the wood lining. If you hear
any shooting, you will know that the dinner-hour is over!"

At the end of half an hour the Piccadilly Tube was lined with
sufficient explosive material--securely rammed and tamped--to ensure
the permanent closing of the line. Still no Boche had been seen or
heard.

"Now, Howie," said Bertie the Badger, fingering the fuse, "what about
it?"

"About what, sirr?" inquired Howie, who was not quite _au fait_ with
current catch-phrases.

"Are we going to touch off all this stuff now, and clear out, or are
we going to wait and see?"

"I would like fine--" began the Corporal wistfully.

"So would I," said Bertie. "Tell the men to get back and out; and you
and I will hold on until the guests return from the banquet."

"Varra good, sirr."

For another half-hour the pair waited--Bertie the Badger like a dog in
its kennel, with his head protruding into the hostile gallery, while
his faithful henchman crouched close behind him. Deathly stillness
reigned, relieved only by an occasional thud, as a shell or
trench-mortar bomb exploded upon the ground above their heads.

"I'm going to have another look round the corner," said Bertie at
last. "Hold on to the fuse."

He handed the end of the fuse to his subordinate, and having wormed
his way out of the tunnel, proceeded cautiously on all-fours along the
gallery. On his way he passed the electric light. He twisted off the
bulb and crawled on in the dark.

Feeling his way by the east wall of the gallery, he came presently to
the break in the woodwork. Very slowly, lying flat on his stomach now,
he wriggled forward until his head came opposite the opening. A low
passage ran away to his left, obviously leading back to the Boche
trenches. Three yards from the entrance the passage bent sharply to
the right, thus interrupting the line of sight.

"There's a light burning just round that bend," said Bertie the Badger
to himself. "I wonder if it would be rash to go on and have a look at
it!"

He was still straining at this gnat, when suddenly his elbow
encountered a shovel which was leaning against the wall of the
gallery. It tumbled down with a clatter almost stunning. Next moment
a hand came round the bend of the tunnel and fired a revolver almost