"The outside rail," continued Brent, "so that the tendency would be for the engine to go towards the parapet wall. And no iron girder to hold it up--merely a little brick wall"--he again referred to the paper on his knee--"three feet high and three bricks thick. No nasty parties of men carrying slabs of gun-cotton; just yourself--with one slab of gun-cotton in your pocket and one primer and one detonator--that and the psychological moment. Luck, of course, but when we dispense with the working party we lift it from the utterly impossible into the realm of the remotely possible. The odds are against success, I know; but----" He shrugged his shoulders. "But how do you propose to get there, my dear chap?" asked the Major, peevishly. "The Germans have a rooted objection to English officers walking about behind their lines." "Yes, but they don't mind a Belgian peasant, do they? Dash it, they've played the game on us scores of times, Major--not perhaps the bridge idea, but espionage by men disguised behind our lines. I only propose doing the same, and perhaps going one better." "You haven't one chance in a hundred of getting through alive." The Major viciously stabbed a tongue. "That is--er--beside the point," answered Brent, shortly. "But how could you get through their lines to start with?" queried Bill. "There are ways, dearie, there are ways. Petersen is a man of much resource." "Of course, the whole idea is absolutely ridiculous." The Major snorted. "Once and for all, Brent, I won't hear of it. We're far too short of fellows as it is." And for a space the subject languished, though there was a look on Jim Brent's face which showed it was only for a space. * * * * * Now when a man of the type of Brent takes it badly over a woman, there is a strong probability of very considerable trouble at any time. When, in addition to that, it occurs in the middle of the bloodiest war of history, the probability becomes a certainty. That he should quite fail to see just what manner of woman the present Lady Goring was, was merely in the nature of the animal. He was--as far as women were concerned--of the genus fool. To him "the rag, and the bone, and the hank of hair" could never be anything but perfect. It is as well that there are men like that.