e lost in the roaring of the fire.
Another moment and they were in the open. Firelight and moonlight
illuminating the country around with confused and violent lustre, and
banked against the stars and the sky they could see a glowing track of
smoke.

"That was a near thing, Miss."

"I thought my end had come!" she said, the colour returning slowly to
her face. "There would have been no chance at all if you had not come up
for me, as I was then almost suffocated. It was a very brave act!" She
did not thank him--she couldn't have spoken plain words of thanks to
save her life--but O'Hagan knew what she thought--"Don't say any more
about it, Miss, I am really a coward at heart."

"I'm sure I owe my life to you," she said earnestly. "I know there are
some things for which thanks are an insult, but you will not mind if I
offer you a little token of gratitude?"

O'Hagan's hand was resting on a small silver cross in his pocket, and in
another moment he solemnly handed the girl the money and notes he had
stolen. "Why, whatever is this?" asked the girl, staring at O'Hagan in
bewildered amazement.

"That's yours," he said by way of assistance.

"But I don't understand!" she cried, greatly puzzled.

"Well, Miss, I suppose it does require some elucidation," O'Hagan
replied somewhat nervously. "You see, it's only a return of stolen
goods. You remember visiting a house in the big grey motor car
yesterday, Miss?"

"Yes."

"Well, I stole your bag from under the seat. I have given you back again
all that I have left. But I will take this little cross as a token." He
dangled the little silver charm before her face, and before she had time
to take in the situation O'Hagan had disappeared.

* * * * *

The long plains of Northern Europe stretched before the gaze of a
regiment of British infantry--great undulations of sodden earth left by
the winter rains and thaws. There, in the piercing cold that froze the
feet, they waited the signal to advance. Stray bullets whined and pinged
as they struck the wire and sand bags on the top of the trenches;
occasionally a man fell on his face; and the ghastly change in the faces
of the troops bore testimony to the effects. Hilaire O'Hagan lay
stretched upon his face, occasionally looking towards his officer. His
heart beat like the pulsing of a motor car. His throat felt dry, his
cheeks were burning. At times a cold shiver passed right through his
frame. He fid