"But your hand; look at your hand. You're bleeding!" "No, it's not my blood. Don't be frightened. Everything's all right." Bernard said: "You know the commander-in-chief came to Soissons this morning." "Yes, so it seems. All the better. I should like to make him a present of the spy and her gang. It would be a handsome gift." He went away for another hour and then came back and had dinner. "You look as though you were sure of things now," said Bernard. "One can never be sure of anything. That woman is the very devil." "But you know where she's hiding?" "Yes." "And what are you waiting for?" "I'm waiting for nine o'clock. I shall take a rest till then. Wake me up at a little before nine." The guns never ceased booming in the distant darkness. Sometimes a shell would fall on the town with a great crash. Troops passed in every direction. Then there would be brief intervals of silence, in which the sounds of war seemed to hang in suspense; and it was those minutes which perhaps were most formidable and significant. Paul woke of himself. He said to his wife and Bernard: "You know, you're coming, too. It will be rough work, Élisabeth, very rough work. Are you certain that you're equal to it?" "Oh, Paul . . . But you yourself are looking so pale." "Yes," he said, "it's the excitement. Not because of what is going to happen. But, in spite of all my precautions, I shall be afraid until the last moment that the adversary will escape. A single act of carelessness, a stroke of ill-luck that gives the alarm . . . and I shall have to begin all over again. . . . Never mind about your revolver, Bernard." "What!" cried Bernard. "Isn't there going to be any fighting in this expedition of yours?" Paul did not reply. According to his custom, he expressed himself during or after action. Bernard took his revolver. The last stroke of nine sounded as they crossed the Grande Place, amid a darkness stabbed here and there by a thin ray of light issuing from a closed shop. A group of soldiers were massed in the forecourt of the cathedral, whose shadowy bulk they felt looming overhead. Paul flashed the light from an electric lamp upon them and asked the one in command: "Any news, sergeant?" "No, sir. No one has entered the house and no one has gone out." The sergeant gave a low whistle. In the middle of the street, two men emerged from the surrounding gloom and approached the group. "Any sound in the house?" "No, sergeant." "Any light behind the shutters?" "No, sergeant." Then Paul marched ahead and, while the others, in obedience to his instructions, followed him without making the least noise, he stepped on resolutely, like a belated wayfarer making for home. They stopped at a narrow-fronted house, the ground-floor of which was hardly distinguishable in the darkness of the night. Three steps led to the door. Paul gave four sharp taps and, at the same time, took a key from his pocket and opened the door.