"I had a note from the parson this morning," exclaimed Barcroft. "I happened to mention that I was going shooting and told him that I would hand over the bag to the village soup kitchen. Personally I loathe rabbits as food. However, the vicar informed me that the soupkitchen opened at eleven-thirty, and asked if it would be convenient for me to send the rabbits down by ten o'clock. Don't suppose we'll get back in time, but we'll try." "First get your rabbits," said von Eitelwurmer banteringly. "Trust me," declared Barcroft with conviction. "But are you busy? I'm afraid I've interrupted you." "Only catalogues of early spring seeds," replied the spy. "They can wait till to-night. I'll be ready in a couple of minutes." So saying the _soi-disant_ Norton threw the books on the floor with feigned unconcern, recorked a small bottle of lemon juice and pushed it out of sight behind a pile of sporting papers. Then, getting his sporting gun from the rack and stuffing a handful of cartridges into his pocket, he signified his readiness to start. "I wonder," mused the spy as the two men walked briskly down the lane--"I wonder what Barcroft meant yesterday: 'You must have an opportunity of making up for what you missed to-day.' Very strange that he should say that. Yet can he know anything? I have been careful enough, in all conscience." His fingers came in contact with the loose cartridges. Grimly he reflected that they were of English manufacture. Previous acquaintance with sporting cartridges coming from the Fatherland had made him chary of using ammunition of German origin. There must be, he reflected, no misfires. An initial failure would upset his nerve. He could not muster up courage to make a second attempt on the same day. "You're rather quiet to-day, Norton," remarked his companion, as the two passed the scene of yesterday's adventure. "Not feeling quite up to the mark, eh? Or have I turned you out of house and home too soon after breakfast?" "I wasn't aware that I was," replied von Eitelwurmer. "In fact I feel remarkably fit. Those dogs of yours trained to the gun?" "Quite, by this time," said Barcroft. "And as for turning a rabbit out of cover they're great. You wait till we set to work." "Powerful-looking animals," continued the spy. "I suppose they would pull a man down?" "They might," answered Peter cautiously. "But since an occasion for testing their capabilities in that direction has not yet occurred--and I hope it will not--I haven't any definite data upon which to base my assumption. They were a bit of a handful as puppies," he continued warming to his subject, for the two sheep-dogs were practically part and parcel of Barcroft's existence. "The predatory instinct was very strongly developed. They would go to my neighbours' houses early in the morning and systematically and deliberately steal the milk. I've known them to take a jug as well and bring it back unbroken and deposit it as a kind of trophy on my lawn."