“That morning,” Alice went on after a time, “another beautiful girl, Gabrielle Petiti, was to be shot as a spy. Louise and Charlotte heard her walking to the place of her execution and they heard her cry: ‘Salut! O mon dernier matin!’ (Salute, O my last morning!)” “Oh!” Peggy whispered. “And were—” Tillie began. “No, Louise and Charlotte were not shot.” There was a catch in Alice’s voice. “Because of their loyalty and great bravery they were sent to prison for life. “Two months and two days before the great war ended Louise died in prison. Charlotte lived on and went back to keeping shop. Perhaps she’s living still.” “And now perhaps she’s a spy again.” Peggy shuddered with ecstasy. “I’m going to be a spy some day.” “Alice, my dear,” said Lady Applegate, “that’s no story to tell to a child.” But Tillie whispered very low, “I—I think it is wonderful, Alice. I—I’d like to kiss you.” And she did. Just then there came a scratching at the door. “It’s Flash!” Cherry cried. “We’ve all forgotten him.” As she threw the door open the dog went creeping across the floor to curl up, still whining low, at Alice’s feet. _Chapter_ XV Until the Very End For sometime the dog lay quietly at Alice’s feet. At last, once more at ease, he rose, stretched himself, walked twice across the dungeon floor, then, marching up to Dave whined low. “What’s this?” Dave demanded. “You want to go out again? Haven’t you had enough for one night?” In answer the dog walked to the door, then whined again. “O. K.,” said Dave “I don’t hear any motors. Perhaps the big show is over. Let’s get going.” “I’ll go with you,” Brand said quietly. Arrived at the outer castle door, Dave took one look, then let out a low whistle. “Old boy,” he said in a hoarse voice, looking down at the dog, “how did you escape?” “What do you mean, escape?” Brand asked. “Look!” Dave pointed to a dark spot in the brightly lighted meadow. “See that black hole? What stood there two hours ago?” “Say!” Brand stared. “A stone building stood there.” “But then,” he added after a thought, “what does it matter? It was just an empty old out building.” “I’m not so sure it was empty,” Dave replied soberly. “Last time I looked at that building a man and a dog were going through the door. That was less than two minutes before the first blast. There,” his was a dramatic gesture, “question is, where’s the man? If he is at all any more.” “Stop talking in riddles,” Brand’s voice rose. “This has been a bad night.” “Sit down and I’ll tell you,” Dave invited as he dropped to a place on the well-worn door sill. The story of his visit to the top of the tower both astonished and thrilled his companion. “And the fellow who went into that shack,” Dave added with a flourish of his arm, “was none other than the assistant to old John, the shoemaker. What’s more, his real name is Nicholas Schlitz.” “No!” Brand sprang to his feet. “It can’t be!”