"Ah! You are right, monsieur. But my blood boils. You are going to the mill?" he asked the drayman. "Yes. ’Tis only a small barrel to-day--not the big one they usually have. There aren’t so many of them, seemingly. I was just loading up the usual nine gallons when the order came from the office to take a four-and-a-half instead." Pariset glanced quickly at Kenneth. "They’re going to clear out soon," he said in a low tone. "It looks as though we’re only just in time." They drew aside from the others while the miller gossiped with the drayman. "I say, you talked of disguising yourself," said Kenneth. "Why shouldn’t you take the drayman’s place and deliver the beer? You could then take stock of the place and the people." "A capital notion! I must take the drayman into my confidence. Wait a minute," he called out of the window, as the man was about to drive on. In a few words he explained the plan to the miller. "Parbleu, monsieur, but look at his size!" said the old man. "Yes, that’s a difficulty, I admit," said Pariset ruefully. "He would make three of me. The Germans aren’t fools, and if they saw me with his smock flapping about me they would smell a rat." "And your face and hands, monsieur--no, decidedly you could not pass for a drayman." Pariset bit his nails in perplexity. Kenneth stared musingly at the dray. "I’ve an idea!" he said. "Pretend that the drayman has been called up. The brewer is short-handed, and has to send clerks out of the office to deliver the beer: two clerks equal one drayman. Besides, if I go with you, I may catch sight of that fellow I saw with Hellwig, and make sure he’s our man." "The very thing! Your clothes are all right; I must borrow a suit from the miller. But wait: won’t Hellwig’s man recognise you?" "I’ll guard against that--smear my face with rust off the cask-hoops, and borrow a slouch hat which I’ll keep well down over my eyes. It’s worth trying." Delighted with the plan, the miller furnished them with the necessary garments. In a few minutes Pariset, got up passably as a clerk, went out to the drayman, who was becoming impatient. The man swore when he learnt that his customers were suspected to be spies, and readily agreed to remain in the miller’s house and await the issue of the stratagem. Meanwhile Kenneth had rubbed his cheeks and hands with rust, and in the low flopping hat lent him by the miller would hardly have been recognised by his friends, much less, he hoped, by a man who had seen him for only a few minutes. "I had better drive," said Kenneth; "then I can keep in the background while you are delivering the cask, if you can tackle it alone." "That will be easy enough. I see there’s a ladder or inclined plane or whatever they call it on the dray. I’ve only to roll the cask down and trundle it to the door. I don’t suppose they’ll let me carry it inside."