"Then you don't blame me--do you?" asked the young man, eagerly. "Why, of course, not at all, my dear Carl. Heinrich's a fool to be attracted by any petticoat. There are always so many better." "As long as you don't blame me, Molly, I don't care. The guv'nor is as wild as I am about it." "Oh, never mind. Get hold of him when he comes back, and come here as soon as possible and tell me. Remember that Number Seventy is thirsting for information." "Yes, I will. Rely on me. We are good Germans, all of us. These silly swelled-headed fools of English are only playing into our hands. They have no idea of what they will have to face later on. _Ach_! I only wish I were back again in the dear Rhineland with my friends, who are now officers serving at the front. But this British bubble cannot last. It must soon be pricked. And its result must be disastrous." "We hope so. We can't tell. But, there, don't let us discuss it. We are out to win the war. This matter I leave to you, good Germans that you and Heinrich are, to make your report." "Good. I will be here to-morrow evening, when I hope I shall have everything quite clear and precise. There is to be a big movement of troops to France the day after to-morrow, and I hope to give you a list of the names of all the regiments, with their destinations. You know, I suppose, that three parts of the cartridges they are making at the G-- factory will, in a month's time, when they get to the front, be useless?" "So Mr Rodwell told me, a couple of days ago. Herzfelder is evidently doing good work there; but it is not a matter even to whisper about. It might leak out, and tests might be made." Then, having drained off the whisky-and-soda which his hostess had poured out for him, he rose, shook her hand warmly, saying, "I'll be here as early as possible to-morrow night. Good-bye, Molly," and strode out. And the maid showed the young man to the door of the flat, while Mrs Kirby cast herself into a low lounge-chair before the fire, lit a cigarette, and, with her eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the flames, smoked furiously. CHAPTER TWENTY. TOLD AT DAWN. Again the grey dawn was breaking over the chill North Sea--a wild, tempestuous morning. On the far horizon northward, a steamer had just appeared, leaving behind a long trail of black smoke, but over the great expanse of storm-tossed waters which broke heavily upon the beach there was no sign of any other craft.