It was the voice of the soldier who was Bawne’s jailor, and the whistle quavered and broke down. And as the boyish heart swelled to bursting and the irrepressible tears brimmed over, a musical motor-horn, some distance off, sounded clearly and sweetly: "Ta-rara-ta ra!" And a Prussian officer’s voice drowned out the sweetness of the answering echo, shouting: "_Achtung! Wache heraus!_" Bugles sounded, side-drums beat, there was a crunching of heavy boots upon stone and gravel, followed by the click of presented arms, and the groaning of the heavy gates swung back. Amidst all these significant noises, you caught the purr and crackle of pneumatic tyres rolling over the wooden bridge into the courtyard. As they stopped short, a bugle sounded imperatively, and hoarse voices gave the order: "_Helm ab!_" And a multitudinous shout answered—a thick, short, crashing utterance that suggested the fall of a tree. Three trees fell crashing, and then in a little still of awe a sharp, hollow voice answered: "_Danke, meine Kinden!_" And the boy squatting, listening in the straw, was conscious of a queer tingling sensation that made his hair stiffen on his scalp and sent odd little waves of shuddering down the whole length of his spine. The voice was not melodious or powerful. But it set the nerves on edge, and made you wonder what he could be like—the man to whom it belonged. And the question made a picture in the mind, of a mouth with thin lips that were parched and discoloured, a cruel mouth, matching the harsh and hollow utterance. The time crawled on and the sun climbed high. It must have been noon or nearly when measured steps approached the shed, and the door was unlocked. This time a non-commissioned officer who had kicked Bawne yesterday caught hold of the boy, hauled him out of the shed, and made at the double towards the squat stone building bestridden by the pair of Wireless towers. Their intolerable shadows, the sun being nearly overhead, barred the big courtyard with wide lateral and diagonal bands and stripes of blackness. It was as though two Brobdingnagian spiders had spun there a pair of webs of incredible size. There were soldiers on guard with fixed bayonets at the open doors, that led into the square low-ceiled stone vestibule. Before the two wide steps stood a bright yellow motor-car. It was big, roomy, and luxurious, with the Prussian eagle in black and red on both doors. A young officer in field-grey and flat cap sat immovable at the steering-wheel. At a little distance waited two other cars. Their chauffeurs wore a dark blue livery with silver braid and buttons, and these cars were black-enamelled and studiously plain.