It was a long stair, fully twenty-five to thirty feet underground he reckoned by the time he reached the foot, but he found himself there and on roughly levelled ground with a good deal of relief. Evidently the Boche did not mean to show fight, at any rate, until he knew he was discovered. The Lieutenant knew no German, but made a try with one word, putting as demanding a tone into it as he could—“Kamerad!” He had his finger on the trigger and his pistol ready for action as he spoke, in case a pot-shot came in the direction of the sound of his voice. There was a dead, a very dead and creepy silence after his word had echoed and whispered away to stillness. He advanced a step or two, feeling carefully foot after foot, with his left hand outstretched and the pistol in his right still ready. The next thing was to try a light. This would certainly settle it one way or the other, because if anyone was there who meant to shoot, he’d certainly loose off at the light. The Lieutenant took out his torch and held it out from his body at full arm’s length, to give an extra chance of the bullet missing him if it were shot at the light. He took a long breath, flicked the light on in one quick flashing sweep round, and snapped it out again. There was no shot, no sound, no movement, nothing but that eerie stillness. The light had given him a glimpse of a long chamber vanishing into dimness. He advanced very cautiously a few steps, switched the light on again, and threw the beam quickly round the walls. There was no sign of anyone, but he could see now that the long chamber curved round and out of sight. He switched the light off, stepped back to the stair foot, and called the Signaller down, hearing the clumping sound of the descending footsteps and the man’s voice with a childish relief and sense of companionship. He explained the position, threw the light boldly on, and pushed along to where the room ran round the corner. Here again he found no sign of life, but on exploring right to the end of the room found the apparent explanation of his failure to discover the man he had been so sure of finding down there. The chamber was a long, narrow one, curved almost to an S-shape, and at the far end was another steep stair leading up to the trench. The man evidently had escaped that way. The dug-out was a large one, capable of holding, the Lieutenant reckoned, quarters for some thirty to forty men. It was hung all round with greatcoats swinging against the wall, and piled on shelves and hanging from hooks along wall and roof were packs, haversacks, belts, water-bottles, bayonets, and all sorts of equipment. There were dozens of the old leather “pickelhaube” helmets, and at sight of these the Lieutenant remembered an old compact made with the others in Mess that if one of them got a chance to pick up any helmets he should bring them in and divide up.