"This will be a plume in your cap, Franz."
"A thousand marks, picked up in a filthy hole like this! _Almächtig!_"
"Didn't you hear? They stabbed Major Busch with a stable fork. Jolly old Busch--one of the best!"
"And bayoneted two officers of the Westphalian commissariat, wounding a third."
"Some of the fellows said Busch and the others must have been drunk."
"Quite likely. I was drunk every day then."
"_Ach, was!_ what's the good of having been drunk so long ago? There isn't a bottle of wine now within five miles."
"Tell us then, _Herr Kaporal_, do we remain here till dawn?"
Dalroy grew faintly interested. It was absurd to harbour the slightest expectation of Jan Maertz bringing succour, but one might at least analyse the position, though the only visible road led straight to a firing-party.
"Those were our orders," answered Franz. "Things may be altered now. You fellows haven't grasped the real value of this cop. It wasn't stated on the notice, but somebody of much more importance than any ordinary officer was interested in the girl being caught--she far more than the man."
"Well, well! Tastes differ! A peasant like that!"
"You silly ass, she's no peasant. That's the worst of living in a suburb. You acquire no standard of comparison."
These men were Berliners, and were amused by a sly dig at some locality which, like Koepenick, offered a butt for German humour.
There was silence. The thrumming of a powerful automobile could be heard through the patter of the rain.
"Attention!" growled Franz. A few troopers went to the picketed horses. The others lined up. A closed motor-car arrived. Its brilliant head-lights proclaimed the certain fact that the presence of Belgian troops in that locality was not feared. Dalroy recognised this at once, and forthwith dismissed from his mind the last shred of hope.
The chauffeur was a soldier. By his side sat the usual armed escort. Georg galloped up. Oombergen was only a mile and a half distant, and the road through the wood was in such a condition that the car was compelled to travel slowly.
A cloaked staff-officer alighted. The hussars stood stiff as so many ramrods. The new-comer took their salute punctiliously, but his tone in addressing the corporal was far from gracious.