Skilful, vigilant, and almost silent as they had been, they were yet after all caught napping. How or by whom they never knew, until, some time after, Dubec told them of a tale that was going the round among the workmen to the effect that one of Schenk's hired ferrets had all the time been hidden on the upper floor. Strange to say, he had been there not so much to deal with disaffected workmen--the sentinels were expected to do that--as to spy upon the watchmen themselves. The story seemed to fit in well with what Max knew of Schenk's character, and he accepted it as in all probability true. At any rate, neither Max nor Dale dreamed that aught was amiss until the latter heard the sound of marching outside, and that upon an unusual scale. He slid quickly to the nearest window and peeped out. "We're done, Max!" he cried soberly. "Scores of soldiers, and they look to be forming a cordon right round the building." "Are you sure?" Max cried incredulously, hurrying to a window on the opposite side of the block. One glance was enough to show that a strong cordon of soldiers was being drawn--nay, to all appearances was already drawn--all round the workshop. The soldiers faced inwards, and stood with bayonets fixed, as though prepared for an attempt at escape from some body of men caught within their armed circle. "We've been seen, Jack, old man!" cried Max, coming back to the side of his friend. "It's all up, I fear. They've made up their minds they've got us, and do not intend to let us slip. I'm so sorry, old man, you should have been mixed up in this. It's really not your quarrel, but mine." There was a new note in Max's voice, one his friend had never heard before, and it was with something suspiciously like a break in his own that Dale replied as he seized and wrung his hand: "Don't say another word, Max. It's my affair too, and I won't have you blame yourself on my account. We've simply fought for our country, and have now got to die for it--that's all." For a moment or two the friends stood silent, grasping one another's hands. That moment they were indeed friends, and each would cheerfully have given up his own life to save the other. Then the ruling thought which still swayed Max's mind asserted itself once more. "It seems so, Dale. Well, then, let us die to some good purpose. Here we have under our hands the most valuable of the workshops filched from us. It is only partly out of action. Let us complete the good work, and we shall at least have deserved well of our country." "Aye; but how so?" "Let us burn it down." "With us in it?" "Aye, if need be. But if we will we can always sally out and exchange that fate for the bayonet's point." Dale gazed at his friend in undisguised admiration. "You are a terror, Max," he said slowly. "These old works are your very life-blood, and I believe you would go through fire and water to keep the Germans out of 'em."