"No need of that," came his voice; "I shall be gone in five minutes." But she went away with her lighted candle and entered her room. The travelling gown she wore from England lay ready; boots, spats, and waist. Swiftly she unbraided and shook out her hair and twisted it up again, her slim fingers flying. A sense of impending danger seized and possessed her; almost feverishly she flung from her the frail night garments she wore, and dressed with ever-increasing fear of something indefinitely menacing but instant. What it might be she did not even try to formulate in thought; but it frightened her, and it seemed very, very near. She dragged on her brown velvet hat and pinned it, and at the same moment she heard a sound in the hallway which almost stopped her heart. It was the ringing step of a spurred boot. Terrified, she crept to her door, listened, opened a little way. Near the stair-head a candle shone, its yellow light glimmering on the wall of the passage. Then she heard Guild's guarded voice: "Karen?" "Y-yes," she faltered in amazement as a tall figure turned toward her clothed in the complete uniform of the Guides. "Kervyn! Is it _you_? Why are you in that uniform?" She came toward him slowly, her knees still tremulous from fear, and rested one hand on his arm. "Dearest, dearest," he said gently, "why are you trembling? There is no reason for fear. I am in uniform because I shall attempt to take a few recruits and volunteers across the railway line tonight. We are going to try to make Antwerp, which is a quicker, and I think a surer, route than through Luxembourg and Holland. Besides, they _might_ interne us. They would without a doubt if I were in uniform and if the Lesse men came to the frontier with their guns and bandoulières." "Kervyn, how _can_ you get to Antwerp? You can't _walk_, dear!" "We'll start on foot, anyway," he said cheerfully. "Now I must go. They're waiting. Why did you dress, Karen?" "I don't know." She looked up at him in a dazed way. "I wanted to be with you." "I'm going back to the forest, dear." "Could I come?" "No. I don't want you to be out at night. There's only a fireless camp there and a dozen ragged and dirty men. Besides, there might be some sort of trouble." "Trouble?" "Not likely. Still there _might_ be patrols out from Trois Fontaines, even from Lesse. I don't know. Michaud says he can take us across the railway line before daylight. If he can do that I think we shall find the country clear beyond. Anyway, we'll know soon. Now I must say good-bye." She laid her cold hands in his, tried to speak, but could not. Then, of a sudden, her fingers gripped his in terror; there came the rushing swish of an automobile around the gravel circle outside, a loud resonant humming, a sharp voice speaking in German, a quick reply in the same tongue.