't know much about sugar
factories, but there was a lot of machinery in the place that didn't look
to me as if it had anything to do with sugar.

Back to our lines we went, with the supposed Frenchman making a lot of
noise, but walking about two inches in front of the points of our
bayonets. When he was searched we found notes to the value of fifteen
thousand francs sewed in his clothes, but most important of all, there
were papers upon his person which showed that he was a German spy left
there by the Prussians in 1871. He held title to many acres of land,
including some of the quarries where shells had been hidden.

I told the company officer of the suspicious-looking machinery in the
factory. He sent us back there with a subaltern of the engineers. The
three of us approached the building by different routes. Suddenly, from a
narrow window in the tower of the structure, a rifle cracked, and I saw
the subaltern duck behind a bush. Hunter and I each began to run toward
the factory. Zip! A bullet whistled past my ear, and a few seconds later
Hunter was fired at.

We all reached the place together. As the firing had been from the tower,
we hurried to the upper storeys, but the subaltern saw at a glance that
the machinery I had noticed was a wireless plant. Afterward we found that
the numerous "lightning rods" on the factory were in reality wireless
antennae. We went to the top of the tower without finding a single soul,
but in a little room in the cupola, there were a few bread crumbs
scattered over the floor. A corner of the linoleum covering on the floor
of this room looked a little uneven. The subaltern posted each of us in a
different corner with orders to fire three rapid rounds from our rifles
into different points of the floor. He himself was to discharge his
revolver in a like manner. At his signal we all opened fire, splintering
the floor in several places. Then we heard a groan.

"Come up here!" called the subaltern, in English. There was no answer. He
repeated the command in German. Very slowly the linoleum in the corner of
the room where it was uneven began to hump up. We all stood ready to fire.
A trap door was lifting. Presently the corner of the floor covering was
pushed back completely and a man's face appeared. It was a very white,
drawn face, and, as the shoulders rose above the floor level, we saw that
the man had been struck by at least one of our bullets. His left arm hung
limp by his side. We patc