"No need to talk of that," he soothed her. "We have a splendid escort. In two hours----" She caught him by both shoulders. "You _must_ promise," she cried vehemently. He was startled by the vibrant passion in her voice. He began then to understand the real horrors of Irene's vigil, whether in the rat-infested darkness of the barn or the cushioned luxury of the limousine. "Yes," he muttered savagely, "I promise." Taking her by the arm, he led her to the front of the car, where, clearly visible herself, she would see little if aught of the shambles in rear. Corporal Bates hurried up. "Her ladyship all right, sir?" he inquired briskly. "Yes," replied Dalroy, conscious of a slight tremulousness in the arm he was holding. Corporal Bates, though in all probability he had never even heard of Bacon's somewhat trite aphorism, was essentially an "exact" man. He never erred as to distinctions of rank or title. His salute was the pride of the Buffs. Blithely regardless of the fact that not more than five minutes earlier Captain Dalroy had confessed himself ignorant of Lady Irene Beresford's actual social status, he alluded to her "correctly." "I think, sir," he rattled on, "that we ought to be moving. It's quite dark now, an' we have our route marked out." "How?" "We've been directed by a priest, sir. The Belgian priests have done us a treat. In every village they showed us the safest roads. Even when they couldn't make us understand their lingo they could always pencil a map." "I see. Do you follow the road to Oosterzeele?" "For about a mile, sir. Then we branch off into a lane leading west to the river Schelde, which we cross by a ferry. Once past that ferry, an' there's no more Germans." "Very well. Have you searched the enemy for papers?" "Yes, sir. We're stuffed with note-books an' other little souveeners." "Do your men ride?" "Some of 'em, sir, but they'll foot it, if you don't mind. They hate killing horses, so we turn 'em loose generally. This lot should be tied up." "What of the car?" "Smithy will attend to that with a bomb, sir." Bates evidently knew his business, so evidently that Dalroy did not even question him as to the true inwardness of Smithy's attentions. The squad cleared up their tasks with an extraordinary celerity. Smithy crawled under the automobile with the flashlight, remained there exactly thirty seconds, and reappeared. The corporal saluted. "We're ready now, sir," he said. "Perhaps her ladyship will march with you behind the centre file?" "Do you head the column?" "Yes, sir." "Then, for a little way, we'll accompany you. There were three in our party, corporal. One, a Belgian named Jan Maertz, risked death to get away and bring help. I'm afraid he has been captured on the Oosterzeele road by two hussars detailed for the job. So, you see, I must try and save him." CHAPTER XIV THE MARNE--AND AFTER