st Artillery, I give you a toast--a toast which you will all remember
to your dying day! Bumpers, gentlemen! No heel taps! I give you the
health of 'Thanatos'--the leviathan of artillery, the winged bearer of
death and destruction--and of its inventor, Herr von Heckmann. Bumpers,
gentlemen!" The general slapped Von Heckmann upon the shoulder and
drained his glass.

"'Thanatos!' Von Heckmann!" shouted the officers. And with one accord
they dashed their goblets to the stone flagging upon which they stood.

"And now, my dear inventor," said the general, "to you belongs the
honour of arousing 'Thanatos' into activity. Are you ready, gentlemen? I
warn you that when 'Thanatos' snores the rafters will ring."

Von Heckmann had stood with bowed head while the officers had drunk his
health, and he now hesitatingly turned toward the little brass switch
with its button of black rubber that glistened so innocently in the
candlelight. His right hand trembled. He dashed the back of his left
across his eyes. The general took out a large silver watch from his
pocket. "Fifty-nine minutes past eleven," he announced. "At one minute
past twelve Paris will be disembowelled. Put your finger on the button,
my friend. Let us start the ball rolling."

Von Heckmann cast a glance almost of disquietude upon the faces of the
officers who were leaning over the table in the intensity of their
excitement. His elation, his exaltation, had passed from him. He seemed
overwhelmed at the momentousness of the act which he was about to
perform. Slowly his index finger crept toward the button and hovered
half suspended over it. He pressed his lips together and was about to
exert the pressure required to transmit the current of electricity to
the discharging apparatus when unexpectedly there echoed through the
night the sharp click of a horse's hoofs coming at a gallop down the
village street. The group turned expectantly to the doorway.

An officer dressed in the uniform of an aide-de-camp of artillery
entered abruptly, saluted, and produced from the inside pocket of his
jacket a sealed envelope which he handed to the general. The interest of
the officers suddenly centred upon the contents of the envelope. The
general grumbled an oath at the interruption, tore open the missive, and
held the single sheet which it contained to the candlelight.

"An armistice!" he cried disgustedly. His eye glanced rapidly over the
page.

"_To the Major-General comman