“I’m going to take half a dozen of those helmets,” he said, uncocking his pistol and pushing it into the holster. “Right, sir,” said the Signaller. “I’d like one, too, and we might pick up some good sooveneers here.” “Just as well, now we are here, to see what’s worth having,” said the Lieutenant. “I’d rather like to find a decent pair of field-glasses, or a Mauser pistol.” He held the light while the Signaller hauled down kits, shook out packs, and rummaged round. For some queer reason they still spoke in subdued tones and made little noise, and suddenly the Lieutenant’s ears caught a sound that made him snap his torch off and stand, as he confesses, with his skin pringling and his hair standing on end. “Did you hear anything?” he whispered. The Signaller had stiffened to stock stillness at his first instinctive start and the switching off of the light, and after a long pause whispered back, “No, sir; but mebbe you heard a rat.” “Hold your breath and listen,” whispered the Lieutenant. “I thought I heard a sort of choky cough.” He heard the indrawn breath and then dead silence, and then again—once more the hair stirred on his scalp—plain and unmistakable, a sound of deep, slow breathing. “Hear it?” he said very softly. “Sound of breathing,” and “Yes, believe I do now,” answered the Signaller, after a pause. They stood there in the darkness for a long minute, the Lieutenant in his own heart cursing himself for a fool not to have thoroughly searched the place, to have made sure they would not be trapped. Especially he was a fool not to have looked behind those great coats which practically lined the walls and hung almost to the floor. There might be a dozen men hidden behind them; there might be a door leading out into another dug-out; there might be rifles or pistols covering them both at that second, fingers pressing on the triggers. He was, to put it bluntly, “scared stiff,” as he says himself, but the low voice of the Signaller brought him to the need of some action. “I can’t hear it now, sir.” “I’m going to turn the light on again,” he said. “Have a quick look round, especially for any men’s feet showing under the coats round the wall.” He switched his torch on again, ran it round the walls, once, swiftly, and then, seeing no feet under the coats, slowly and deliberately yard by yard. “I’ll swear I heard a man breathe,” he said positively, still peering round. “We’ll search the place properly.” In one corner near the stair foot lay a heap of clothing of some sort, with a great-coat spread wide over it. It caught the Lieutenant’s eye and suspicions. Why should coats be heaped there—smooth—at full length?