The Lieutenant halted abruptly. “Did you see anyone move?” he asked the Signaller, who, of course, being behind the officer in the trench, had seen nothing, and said so. They pushed along the trench, and, coming to the spot where the figure had vanished, found the opening to a dug-out with a long set of stairs vanishing down into the darkness. Memories stirred in the officer’s mind of tales about Germans who had “lain doggo” in ground occupied by us, and had, over a buried wire, kept in touch with their batteries and directed their fire on to our new positions, and this, with some vague instinct of the chase, prompted the decision he announced to his Signaller that he was “going down to have a look.” “Better be careful, sir,” said the Signaller. “You don’t know if the gas has cleared out of a deep place like that.” This was true, because a good deal of gas had been sent over in the attack of the day before, and the officer began to wonder if he’d be a fool to go down. But, on the other hand, if a German was there he would know there was no gas, and, anyhow, it was a full day since the gas cloud went over. He decided to chance it. “You want to look out for any Boshies down there, sir,” went on the Signaller. “With all these yarns they’re fed with, about us killin’ prisoners, you never know how they’re goin’ to take it, and whether they’ll kamerad or make a fight for it.” This also was true, and since a man crawling down a steep and narrow stair made a target impossible for anyone shooting up the tunnel to miss, the Lieutenant began to wish himself out of the job. But something, partly obstinacy, perhaps partly an unwillingness to back down after saying he would go, made him carry on. But before he started he took the precaution to push a sandbag off where it lay on the top step, to roll bumping and flopping down the stairs. If the Boche had any mind to shoot, he argued to himself, he’d almost certainly shoot at the sound, since it was too dark to see. The sandbag bumped down into silence, while the two stood straining their ears for any sound. There was none. “You wait here,” said the Lieutenant, and, with his cocked pistol in his hand, began to creep cautiously down the stairs. The passage was narrow, and so low that he almost filled it, even although he was bent nearly double, and as he went slowly down, the discomforting thought again presented itself with renewed clearness, how impossible it would be for a shot up the steps to miss him, and again he very heartily wished himself well out of the job.