Kenneth strode on, indifferent to his injuries. Hardly a word passed between them as they hurried along the alley and into the smoke-filled streets. There were still a few persons about, mostly men of the criminal class, who seized the opportunity for indiscriminate looting. Here and there were the corpses of fugitives, stricken down in their final mad rush for the safety that was denied them. The air was filled with the crash of exploding shells and the clatter of broken glass, to the accompaniment of the distant booming of the hostile guns. Closely followed by his companion, Kenneth dashed up the steps of the hospital. The door was wide open. A portion of the facade of the portico had been shattered by a shell. Hardly a window remained intact in the building. A nurse, her face serenely peaceful in spite of the scene of destruction around her, came forward. "You men are wounded? Come this way; we will speedily attend to your hurts." Kenneth shook his head. "Our wounds are slight," he protested. "I have come for my sister, Thelma Everest, and her friend, Mademoiselle Résimont--if they can be spared," he added, for the sight of this woman calmly on duty caused him to take a different view of the reason lot his sister's presence in the hospital. "They can be spared," replied the nurse. "Already we have sent the least serious cases away, and have dismissed the younger nurses. Mademoiselle Everest and her friend refused to take advantage of the permission. They were expecting you, and you have not failed them, I see. I will inform them." Quickly Thelma and Yvonne appeared, heavily cloaked, and carrying handbags, in readiness for their flight. "We would not have gone, Kenneth," said his sister, "only there is no more work for us to do. But is it not already too late to leave the city? We were told that the bridge of boats had been destroyed, and that all communication with outside is interrupted. Four of our nurses left by the last train that got away from here." "We'll manage that all right," declared Kenneth stoutly, although in his mind he dreaded taking the girls on the journey along the shell-endangered streets. "We are ready," said Thelma simply; then, having taken a hasty yet tender farewell of the head nursing sister, the girls accompanied the two lads into the now deserted thoroughfare. Unhurt, although several highly-charged projectiles burst above the roofs on either side of the road, the four refugees gained the boat-house of the late spy. No more shells had fallen there in the interval. The boat had made but half an inch of water, and this could easily be got under by means of the pump. The fuel tanks were filled with petrol; there were a dozen intact tins in the after locker.