Keeping to the almost deserted side streets, Kenneth and Rollo hurried towards the Hospital of St. Nicholas. Their motor-cycles had gone, being destroyed in the retirement of the 9th Regiment of the Line from the fire-swept trenches. "What's the programme?" asked Rollo. "What do you propose to do if we find the girls?" "Clear out," replied Kenneth promptly. "The train service is done; I'm not anxious to enter Holland and cool my heels till the end of this business. We can't expect the girls to tramp twenty miles, with the possibility of being cut off by the enemy; and carts are apparently out of the question. There remains the sea." "Yes, we may be able to get a passage on a fishing-boat." "That's not my plan. Do you remember the motor-launch in the shed at the end of Jules de la Paix's garden?" "Can't see how that can help us," objected Rollo. "We haven't a crew." "If we can get the motor to start, the worst of the difficulty is over," declared Kenneth. "At the trial, you'll recollect, the sergeant of the Civil Guard reported that the craft was provisioned and ready for sea. He was ordered to refrain from damaging the vessel." "She may have disappeared." "We'll soon see." Kenneth led the way along a dark, deserted alley, till he came to a wall on the top of which was a formidable array of broken glass. This wall marked the side boundary to the spy's premises. "A tough nut to crack," remarked Rollo, as he noticed for the first time the jagged glass gleaming in the red glare of the burning houses. "We'll come across a door, unless I'm much mistaken---- Hullo! that's a nasty one," said Kenneth. A shower of shrapnel, rattling on the roofs and shattering the windows of some houses in the street they had just left, occasioned this exclamation; for the Germans were mostly using shells of this variety, to terrify the inhabitants rather than to cause great material damage. "Quite near enough," rejoined Rollo coolly. "Here's the door." The lads tried it. It was locked and bolted. The stout oaken framework resisted their efforts to burst it open with their shoulders. Kenneth unslung his rifle. One shot amidst that chaos of terrific detonations would be practically inaudible, and even if it were heard there were none sufficiently curious to ascertain the reason. The heavy lock was not proof against the high-velocity bullet. A second shot demolished the bolt. The gate creaked on its hinges. Passing along the garden path amidst autumn flowers mown down by the explosion of shells, several of which had fallen close to the house, the lads arrived at the boat-house. The windows were shattered; there was a gaping hole in the roof. Kenneth began to entertain grave doubts as to whether the motor-boat had escaped damage. "She's there, right enough," he announced, as he peered through one of the broken windows and saw the grey-painted outlines of the craft within. "The door's locked. I'll try another shot."