There glimmered the French wires--merely a wide mesh and an ordinary barbed barrier overhead; but the fence was deeply ditched on the Swiss side. A man could climb over it; and Recklow started to do so; and came face to face in the moonlight with the French patrol. The recognition was mutual and noiseless: "You passed my two people over?" whispered Recklow. "An hour ago, mon Capitaine." "You've seen nobody else?" "Nobody." "Heard nothing?" "Not a sound. They must have gone over the Swiss wire without interference, mon Capitaine." "You sometimes talk across with the Swiss sentinels?" "Oh, yes, if I'm in that humour. You know, mon Capitaine, that they're like the Boche, only tame." "Not all." "No, not all. But in a wolf-pack who can excuse sheepdogs? A Boche is always a Boche." "All the same, when the Swiss sentry passes, speak to him and hold him while I get my ladder." "At your orders, Captain." "Listen. I am going over. When I return I shall leave with you a reel of wire and a cowbell. You comprehend? I do not wish anybody else to cross the French wire to-night." "C'est bien, mon Capitaine." Recklow went down into the bushy gulley. A few moments later the careless Swiss patrol came clumping along, rifle slung, pipe glowing and humming a tune as he passed. Presently the French sentry hailed him across the wire and the Swiss promptly halted for a bit of gossip concerning the pretty girls of Delle. But, to Recklow's grim surprise, and before he could emerge from the bushes, no sooner were the two sentries engaged in lively gossip than three dark figures crept out on hands and knees from the long grass at the very base of the Swiss wire and were up the ladder which McKay had left and over it like monkeys before he could have prevented it even if he had dared. Each in turn, reaching the top of the wire, set foot on the wooden post and leaped off into darkness--each except the last, who remained poised, then twisted around as though caught by the top barbed strand. And Recklow saw the figure was a woman's, and that her short skirt had become entangled in the wire. In an instant he was after her; she saw him, strove desperately to free herself, tore her skirt loose, and jumped. And Recklow jumped after her, landing among the wet ferns on his feet and seizing her as she tried to rise from where she had fallen. She struggled and fought him in silence, but his iron clutch was on her and he dragged her by main force through the woods parallel with the Swiss wire until, breathless, powerless, impotent, she gave up the battle and suffered him to force her along until they were far beyond earshot of the patrol and of her two companions as well, in case they should return to the wire to look for her.