"Very well then, until things get a bit straight, let me give you a leg-up. Don't be uppish, old man. Remember we're Britons in a strange land. Luckily I'm fairly flush." So saying, Dacres produced his purse, and extracting five twenty-franc pieces forced them into Kenneth's hand, abruptly checking the lad's mingled protestations and thanks. "Rollo, old man, I've brought someone to see you," announced his comrade, as he opened the door of the room in which Rollo was lying in bed. "Hulloa, Barrington!" "Hulloa, Dacres!" That was the prosaic greeting, nothing more and nothing less; yet there was a wealth of cordial surprise in the interchange of exclamations. The time Dacres had at his disposal was only too short. He was, he explained, a sub-lieutenant in one of the recently-raised naval brigades, and had accompanied an officer of rank upon an important mission to Belgium. More he was unable to say. He had already been to Ostend, and was now about to proceed to Antwerp. "We're returning home to-night," he concluded. "If you like to entrust me with a letter, I'll see that it's posted safely the moment I set foot ashore in England. If I've time I'll look your people up and let them know you're doing your little bit. It all depends upon whether I can get leave, but we are hard at it whipping recruits into shape." "Awfully decent chap," commented Kenneth, when Dick Dacres had taken his departure. "He would insist upon lending me a hundred francs. Otherwise, old man, we would be on the rocks--absolutely. I've drawn three blanks--no uniforms obtainable, no tidings of the Résimont family, and no letters from home. I think we ought to hang on here a little while until your ankle's fit. We may see the beastly Germans marching through the city, for the burgomaster has gone, so I hear, to obtain terms of capitulation." "Where are the Belgian troops?" "Mostly in Antwerp." "Then if I were you, I'd make tracks for Antwerp while there's time." "Are you fit, then?" "I wasn't referring to myself. This ankle will keep me here some days longer, I'm afraid. But you go, and if I have a ghost of a chance I'll find you again within a week." Kenneth shook his head. "Can't be done," he declared. "I mean to stand by you till you're well again. It would be interesting to watch how those Germans behave in Brussels." "It's risky," remarked Rollo. "So is everything connected with this business, old man. Besides, we are acting under the orders of Captain Doublebois, so that settles it." CHAPTER XXI Denounced The morning of the 20th August--a fateful day in the history of Belgium--dawned, accompanied by a drizzling rain. The sky seemed to be shedding tears of sympathy at the impending fate of Brussels, for, according to the terms of the agreement made between the German commander, Sixtus von Arnim, and the Belgian burgomaster, the invading troops were to march in unopposed.