So soon as he could get off next day, he returned to the lane. The door he had scratched was one of three. Two were close together. The wall was too high for him to look over; he could only discover the house to which his door belonged by going to the end of the lane, and round to the front of the houses. The gardens were large; it meant a walk of some considerable distance. His most certain course was to number his paces along the lane, and take an equal number along the street which the houses faced. He went along with even stride, and in the lane counted 239 steps. In the street the 237th pace brought him to the front gate of Monsieur Obernai. This must be the house. His paces had probably differed a little, or the street and the lane were not quite parallel. "It’s all right," he thought. "The man was one of the officers’ servants, perhaps, sent out on some late errand." But as he went away, this explanation did not appear quite convincing. A servant sent on an errand by one of the officers quartered in Monsieur Obernai’s house would not have been let out stealthily, and locked out. Furtiveness implied an uneasy conscience. Upon this thought came a sudden recollection of Madame Bonnard’s dislike of the Alsatian. He had seldom himself come into contact with the village philanthropist; it seemed to him now that he had even avoided him. "It never struck me before," he thought, "but I haven’t felt the least inclination to meet him. Yet some of the men are quite keen on him." On the previous night he had not mentioned the incident to his comrades. It was not in Kenneth’s nature to be expansive. He had told them about the sudden appearance and disappearance of the bat, which, however, they, not having seen it, had not regarded as extraordinary. But now, a little uneasy, he decided to tell them everything. He felt the need of talking it over. "Capting wants you," said Ginger, meeting him at the door of Bonnard’s cottage. "What’s it about?" he asked. "That uniform I borrowed; they found some papers in the pockets, in German, seemingly, and Capting wants you to read ’em." Kenneth went back to Monsieur Obernai’s house, was admitted, and found Captain Adams with other officers in the mess-room. "Ah, Amory, we want you," said the captain. "You know German. What do you make of that?" He handed him a scrap of paper, straightened out after having been crumpled, on which were written two lines in German. "Tell our friend it is now due east," Kenneth translated. "That’s what I told you, Adams," said one of the lieutenants. "There’s nothing in it." "Well, look at these, Amory." He handed to him the contents of Lieutenant Axel von Schwank’s pocket-book. Kenneth looked them over: a copy of the Hymn of Hate, a cutting from the _Cologne Gazette_ announcing the blowing up of Woolwich Arsenal, some letters from members of the Schwank family, one or two memoranda of no importance. He translated them aloud one by one.