Here was an extraordinary development. It was vitally important that Dalroy should get to know the exact meaning of the Walloon's disjointed utterances, yet how could he wait and question the man while the Prussian sultans were feasting in the mill? Dalroy stooped over Maertz, who had risen to his knees, and caught him by the shoulder. "Jan Maertz," he said, "do you hope to marry Léontine Joos? If so, Heaven has just prevented you from committing a great crime. She, and her mother, and the lady who came with me from Aix, are in the mill with four German officers--a set of foul, drunken brutes who will stop at no excess. I'm going now to get a rifle. You make quietly for the stable opposite the kitchen door. You will find Joos there. He will explain. Tell me, are you for Belgium or Germany in this war?" The Walloon might be slow-witted, but Dalroy's words seemed to have pierced his skin. "For Belgium, monsieur, to the death," he answered. "So am I. I'm an Englishman. As you go, think what that means." Leaving Maertz to regain his feet and the stick, Dalroy rushed on up the hill. The unexpected struggle had cost him but little delay; yet it was dark, and the miller was nearly frantic with anxiety, when he returned. "Is Maertz with you?" was his first question. "Yes, monsieur," came a gruff voice out of the gloom of the stable. "Do you know now how nearly you blundered?" "Monsieur, I would have tackled St. Peter to save Léontine." "Quick!" hissed Joos, "let us kill these hogs! We have no time to spare. The others will be here soon." "What others?" "Jan will tell you later. Come, now. Leave Busch to me!" "Keep quiet!" ordered Dalroy sternly. "We cannot murder four men in cold blood. I'll listen over there by the window. You two remain here till I call you." But there was no need for eavesdropping. Léontine's voice was raised shrilly above the loud-clanging talk and laughter of the uninvited guests. "No, no, my mother must stay!" she was shrieking. "Monsieur, for God's sake, leave my mother alone! Ah, you are hurting her.--Father! father!--Oh, what shall we do? Is there no one to help us?" CHAPTER VI THE FIGHT IN THE MILL As Dalroy burst open the door, which was locked, the heartrending screams of the three women mingled with the vile oaths of their assailants. He had foreseen that the door would probably be fastened, and put his whole strength into the determination to force the bolt without warning. The scene which met his eyes as he rushed into the room was etched in Rembrandt lights and shadows by a lamp placed in the centre of the table.