"_Zwanzigheit!_" exclaimed the General excitedly. "Place them in the forefront of our brave Bogey Head Hussars, and order the advance for ten o'clock to-morrow morning." The aide-de-camp saluted, flung himself on to a fresh mule and galloped hell for leather to the canteen. "I am much obliged for the information you have given me," said Bertram politely. "It is of paramount importance." "You're quite welcome," remarked the General. "By-the-by, what do you want it for?" Our hero rapidly shaved off Wigson's moustache and drew himself up proudly. "I am a spy," he said. "I suspected as much," commented the General. "Kindly touch that bell on the mantelpiece behind you." Bertram touched it; it was as cold as ice. "See if it will ring," suggested the General. Bertram seized it by the handle and shook it violently. In a moment or two it rang. A sentry entered. "_Einzweidreivierfuenf_," said the General, "and riddle him with bullets at eight to-morrow morning." III. Early the next morning a knock sounded on the door of Bertram's cell. The doomed man crossed the room and shot back the bolt. An officer armed with a howitzer entered. "I am instructed to inform you," he said, "that as you are shortly to be shot you are entitled, according to custom, to choose whatever you wish for breakfast." "Thank you," replied Bertram, "a cup of weak tea and a rusk. Unfortunately I am a chronic dyspeptic, or I would take fuller advantage of your kind hospitality." A devilish gleam shot from the other's eyes as he heard those words. "As you will be dead in an hour," he said, "the fact of your being a dyspeptic need not trouble you any more than if you were an acrostic. Let me therefore suggest that you try a sausage or a knuckle of pork." Bertram reeled against the piano. Here was an opportunity to gratify his palate without regard to the consequences. Quickly he made up his mind. "Bring me then," he said, "a plate of sausage and sauerkraut, a slab of marzipan and some Limburger cheese." IV. It wanted but a few minutes to eight, and Bertram Borstal, with steady nerves, waited for the striking of the cuckoo-clock in the prison tower. Once again a knock sounded upon the cell door, and with the utmost _sang-froid_ he drew the key from his pocket and unlocked it. The honorary secretary of Germany entered, preceded by three cripples and a Mother-Superior. "I am ready," declared Bertram, calm but pale, "and resigned to my fate." "I am happy to say," said the secretary, "that I am unable to accept your resignation. We recognise the fact that you are only a spy, and therefore cannot strictly be said to be bearing arms against us. We have therefore to apologise for having arrested you; but at the same time I would ask you kindly to bear in mind that at these times we have much to think about, and mistakes will happen. You are free." "Free?" repeated Bertram, unable to believe either of his ears.