The photograph, therefore, had been sent from Berlin to the father of Élisabeth and Bernard in 1902, that is to say, four years after the Comtesse Hermine's death, so that Paul was faced with one of two solutions: either the photograph, taken before the Comtesse Hermine's death, was inscribed with the date of the year in which the count had received it; or else the Comtesse Hermine was still alive. And, in spite of himself, Paul thought of Major Hermann, whose memory was suggested to his troubled mind by this portrait, as it had been by the picture in the locked room. Hermann! Hermine! And here was Hermine's image discovered by him on the corpse of a German spy, by the banks of the Yser, where the chief spy, who was certainly Major Hermann, must even now be prowling. "Paul! Paul!" It was his brother-in-law calling him. Paul rose quickly, hid the photograph, being fully resolved not to speak of it to Bernard, and climbed the ladder. "Well, Bernard, what is it?" "A little troop of Boches. . . . I thought at first that they were a patrol, relieving the sentries, and that they would keep on the other side. But they've unmoored a couple of boats and are pulling across the canal." "Yes, I can hear them." "Shall we fire at them?" Bernard suggested. "No, it would mean giving the alarm. It's better to watch them. Besides, that's what we're here for." But at this moment there was a faint whistle from the tow-path. A similar whistle answered from the boat. Two other signals were exchanged at regular intervals. A church clock struck midnight. "It's an appointment," Paul conjectured. "This is becoming interesting. Follow me. I noticed a place below where I think we shall be safe against any surprise." It was a back-cellar separated from the first by a brick wall containing a breach through which they easily made their way. They rapidly filled up the breach with bricks that had fallen from the ceiling and the walls. They had hardly finished when a sound of steps was heard overhead and some words in German reached their ears. The troop of soldiers seemed to be fairly numerous. Bernard fixed the barrel of his rifle in one of the loop-holes in their barricade. "What are you doing?" asked Paul. "Making ready for them if they come. We can sustain a regular siege here." "Don't be a fool, Bernard. Listen. Perhaps we shall be able to catch a few words." "You may, perhaps. I don't know a syllable of German. . . ." A dazzling light suddenly filled the cellar. A soldier came down the ladder and hung a large electric lamp to a hook in the wall. He was joined by a dozen men; and the two brothers-in-law at once perceived that they had come to remove the dead. It did not take long. In a quarter of an hour's time, there was nothing left in the cellar but one body, that of Rosenthal, the spy. And an imperious voice above commanded: "Stay there, you others, and wait for us. And you, Karl, go down first."