Jack seemed as much at home here as ever. The pretty blonde bar-maid, the daughter of the house, came forward to greet him, and shook him warmly by the hand. She assured him, and us, that "_M’sieu le Capitaine was ton jours le lien venu_." In fact, we were made so welcome that we were shown forthwith into a private room, the better to avoid the noise and smoke of the bar. "What are the prospects of a bed or two for four?" Jack asked the Belgian lassie. Mademoiselle was _desolé_, but she feared the prospects were _bien mal_—in other words, nil. She would enquire across the way, however, and see if any of the houses round about could still boast an empty bed. She returned shortly, more _desolé_ than ever. What with the thousands of Belgian, French and English troops billeted in the town, there was not a vacant room left. She would give up her own room for monsieur, but _hélas_, it was so _petite_ there was only accommodation for one. Reggy laughed. When Reggy could laugh at the prospect of no bed for the night the situation must have been amusing. "Colonel, you’ll have to take the bed," he cried, "and the rest of us can sleep in the car." "No, no," Jack protested; "We must all be together. We’ll take a run up to the convent and see what Sister Paulo has to say." "Good Lord!" laughed the Colonel. "You don’t suppose a nun is going to house four strange officers for the night, do you?" "All things are possible—in Belgium," Jack returned. "You don’t yet know the size of the Belgian heart. Sister Paulo and I are old friends. I had the pleasure of bringing her and several other Sisters of Charity out of Ypres one night last fall, during the bombardment. The _Bosches_ had killed some of them and shot their poor convent full of holes. Sister Paulo gave me this silver crucifix as a memento of the occasion." He held up for our inspection an exquisite little cross. "I have always carried it since—she’s a good sort; more woman than nun." "If I should die and by mischance arrive in Hades," cried the colonel, "I hope you’ll be in heaven, for I’m sure you’ll have enough pull with St. Peter to get me up!" As we crossed the dark square, crowded as it was with troops of the three nations on their way to and from the trenches, we could hear distinctly the rattle of artillery and the bursting of the German shells, not many miles away. A mischievous gun might have dropped a shell into that square at any moment—we wondered why it didn’t. There could be only one reason. No humanitarian consideration ever deterred the German; but the town was so full of spies that it would not have been good business to bombard it. A few months later, when the spies were all eliminated, the long-range German guns soon made short work of Poperinghe.