The Lieutenant flushed, and his fist clenched. "Don't mention those others. I love this girl." "No doubt thinking of marriage?" The sneer was even more in evidence. "Yes, Excellency, I am thinking of marriage." His voice was ominously quiet. "I am afraid, Lieutenant Rutter, it will remain in the beautiful and nebulous realms of thought, unless----" He paused and drained his beer ostentatiously, though all the while his eyes never left his companion's face. "Unless," repeated the Lieutenant drearily, "she agrees to do some charming and honourable spying work for us on the other side of the lines." "You speak very strangely, Lieutenant Rutter." The little pig eyes of the senior officer glinted menacingly. "Have a care." "Pardon, Excellency. For the moment I forgot." With a weary gesture he got up. "I will ask her this morning." He looked at his watch. "She should be here very soon." "Then I will await the result of your interview through here." The Colonel moved to a door half concealed by a curtain. "You shall have your turtle dove, Rutter, in peace and quiet." He chuckled harshly. "You know what we want?" "By heart, Excellency." "And you remember that her brother the Comte is not really dead. For our purposes he is a prisoner." "I am not likely to forget; but I warn you, Excellency, I have but little hope of succeeding." The Colonel's jaw shut like a vice. "Then God help you both, my friend; God help you both." His voice was soft, but horribly menacing; and as the curtain dropped behind him, the Kid, who had been listening spellbound, understood for the first time the type of man who represented Prussian militarism. Instinctively his heart warmed towards the Lieutenant, who with a weary gesture of despair was resting his head on his arms. He was young, clean cut, almost an Englishman to look at, save for his close-cropped bristling hair; and, moreover, he was up against it. All the Kid's sporting instincts rose within him. Boche or no Boche this was not the type of swine who launched gas and liquid fire on a horror-struck world. Forgetful of everything he was on the point of going over to him and telling him to stick it out, when his eyes rested on the entrance. And there was the girl: the girl he had seen in the corner, the girl of the jasmine scent. For a while she stood watching the bowed figure at the table, and then she tip-toed across to him and laid her hand on his head. With a quick start he looked up, and into his face there came the light of all the ages, the light of the man for the woman he loves. "Marie," he whispered hoarsely. "Marie--_que je t'adore_." He caught her to him and kissed her on the lips. Then, with a bitter groan, he pushed her away and sat down again. "Fritz, what is it?" she cried in wondering tones. "You sent for me, my dear. Why? I came; but it is not right for me to come to you here--in your dug-out."