"What's up?" asked Rollo. "Prussians. They're after us, old man." "Nonsense! Why should they be?" "Someone's given us away," declared Kenneth savagely. He realized that they were trapped. There was no means of escape along the roofs of the adjoining houses, no place in which to hide without being easily and ignominiously hauled out. Even had there been a chance of getting clear, Rollo's injured ankle had to be taken into consideration. They heard the door being opened; the harsh voice of the German lieutenant interrogating Madame Hirondelle in execrable French; then the tramp of heavy boots as the file of soldiers entered the house and began to ascend the stairs. Rollo sat up in bed. His companion stood by the side of the alcove, gripping the back of a chair. Then came a heavy knock at the door of the room, as a harsh voice shouted: "Englischemans, surrender; if not, we shoots!" Then the door was pushed open a little way, and a spiked helmet thrust forward on the muzzle of a rifle. Finding that this emblem of German militarism was not the object of an attack, the lieutenant plucked up courage and dashed into the room, brandishing his sword and revolver like an eighteenth-century melodramatic pirate. After him crowded the sergeant and most of the men, two privates being left to guard Madame Hirondelle, in order that she would not be able to communicate with the supposed spies. Kenneth was roughly seized by the throat. His hands were grasped and tied behind his back. The sergeant then proceeded to ransack his pockets, without discovering any documents, incriminating or otherwise. The unexpended portion of Dick Dacres's loan was taken possession of by the lieutenant, whose avidity in grabbing the money seemed to suggest that there was but slight possibility of it finding its way into the coffers of the Imperial treasury. Meanwhile Rollo had been ordered to get out of bed. His clothes, after being searched and examined, were handed to him. Other German soldiers were busily engaged in ransacking the room. The bed was uncovered, the mattress cut open in the vain hope of finding incriminating evidence; the contents of cupboards and drawers were turned out upon the floor, the Prussians taking care to retain "souvenirs" of their exploit as they did so. Greatly to his disgust and disappointment, the lieutenant's efforts to obtain proofs of the supposed spies' guilt were fruitless. He gave an order. Soldiers surrounding the two lads urged them through the door and down the narrow stairs. Determined to make a good haul, the officer ordered the arrest of Madame Hirondelle, the concierge, and the two maid-servants; then, with much sabre-rattling, he led the prisoners through the streets.