Above the tiled roofs of the houses, the ancient and venerable church of St. Pierre shot up like an island in the centre of a lake. Other buildings--churches, the Hôtel de Ville, and the university--were slightly less conspicuous, yet clearly discernible above the expanse of houses. Along the road were hundreds of grey-coated troops, while a small black patch in that long-drawn-out riband of silver-grey indicated the position of the way-worn band of Belgian prisoners, who were now almost within the limits of the town. While the British lads were at the window, then German guards produced from their knapsacks some pieces of roll, sausages, and a bottle of wine. Soon the room was filled with the disagreeable sounds of Teutonic mastication, which, unless one has had the misfortune to hear it, cannot satisfactorily be described. Kenneth and Rollo, thanking their lucky stars that they were not compelled to witness the performance, remained at the window. Suddenly, just as the town clocks were chiming the hour of six, a succession of shots rang out. "Good!" ejaculated Kenneth. "The Belgians are driving home an attack." The two Germans gave not the slightest hint of alarm, but stolidly continued their meal. Their indifference caused the lads to wonder. It was not a conflict between two armed forces, but a massacre! It was the commencement of what was, in the words of the Prime Minister of Great Britain, "the greatest crime against civilization and culture since the Thirty Years' War". Fortunately Kenneth and his companion were spared the horrors of having to witness the indiscriminate shooting of luckless civilians, but, from their coign of vantage, they were spectators of the scene of destruction that followed. Tall, lurid flames burst forth from the centre of the town of Louvain. Gradually the ever-widening circle of fire spread till the bulk of the houses was one vast holocaust. Throughout that terrible night the lads remained at the window, watching the progress of the conflagration and listening to the shrieks of panic and terror from the brutally-maltreated inhabitants. That was von Manteuffel's method of covering up the blunder made by his half-drunken troops. CHAPTER XXIII A Bolt from the Blue At seven the following morning the two guards were relieved. During the night they had been stolidly indifferent to everything that was taking place. They permitted their prisoners liberty of action within the limits of the room, but they maintained a ceaseless vigilance, keeping their loaded rifles within arm's-length the whole of the time. The new guards were men of a different stamp. Their first act upon being left with their charges was to compel the lads to leave the window and take up a position in one corner of the room. At the first attempt at conversation between the two chums the Germans would shout threats which, although unintelligible as words, left no doubt as to their significance.