"Nothing," he replied, "at any rate for tonight. But of course the 22nd may get a knock. In front of them is a horn of the wood where we have reason to think that the Boche is working on a sap. The 22nd are to inspect and, if possible, upset their game. One section goes over at 6 A.M., the rest follow to support it. As soon as the explosions are heard the 23rd are to fire at the trenches opposite to hold down their occupants, but we ourselves are not to move unless things go wrong. In any case the 23rd attack before us. So we can count on a quiet night. Have you anything fresh?" "The company has taken over all right," I said. "They're so uncomfortable, in fact, that I don't think we need worry about them. Many of them can't help keeping awake. I have got into touch with our neighbours; their is nothing to report in that quarter except that they've had a scrap with a German patrol. They've knocked out one." "Really," said Vignerte. "Infantry or Jäger?" "Infantry. 182nd Regiment of Prussian Infantry." "I should like to know," said my friend, "where those folk opposite come from." So saying he drew out his pocket Lavanzelle. "160th--Posen, 180th--Altona, 181st--Lippe, 182nd--Lautenburg ... Lautenburg ..." "Well?" He repeated, "Lautenburg." "Do you know Lautenburg?" I said, struck by the tone of his voice. "Yes," he replied gravely. "Are you sure of the number?" "Of course," I replied rather sharply. "But what does it matter--Lautenburg or anywhere else!" "Yes," he murmured, "what does it matter!" I looked at him closely. It was quite easy, because, absorbed as he was, he had no thought for me at all. "Vignerte," I said, "what's the trouble; you don't seem yourself--any bad news?" But he had already recovered and shrugged his shoulders. "My dear chap! Bad news! From whom? I have no one in the world and you know it." "That may be," I answered, "but you are upset tonight. I want you to stay with me and you can fix up company headquarters where you like." "I admit I'm a bit overwrought," he broke in. "What's the time?" "Seven o'clock." "Let's play cards." The suggestion was so unexpected coming from him that the two men with me looked up in amazement. No one in the company had ever seen Lieutenant Vignerte touch a card. "Here, Damestoy," he said, "surely you or Henriquez have got some cards." They nodded. As if they would be without! "What can you play?" "Écarté, sir." "All right; écarté." For a full hour Vignerte lost steadily. It was an odd game. The two penniless soldiers were looking at each other in amazement, unable to determine which was the more remarkable feature of this adventure, the honour Lieutenant Vignerte had done them or the sum--12 francs--they had won from him. I looked at him in growing perplexity. Suddenly he threw down the cards: "A silly game. It's eight o'clock and I'm going out to see the first relief." "I'm going with you."