"Hallo, they've found something," he said to his companion. And they ran back; but before they could reach the terrace firing mingled with the roar of voices, and above the rattle of Mausers rose the bark of a machine-gun. There were perhaps sixty or seventy men of A Company in the upper part of the house when that hubbub arose; and, rushing out on to the gallery that surrounded the entrance hall, Dennis and Wetherby found the floor beneath them swarming with German infantry in the act of running a couple of machine-guns forward from the huge fireplace. They belonged to the same battalion which had so mysteriously disappeared, and it was obvious that in their subterranean excavations the Germans must have come upon a secret passage, old as the chateau itself, and connected it up with their new works. The back of the fireplace opened and revealed a black cavity, which vomited a never-ending horde in the wake of the machine-guns, one of which was slued round to command the garden, while the other was placed at an open window, and was the first to fire. "This is going to be very hot stuff!" shouted Dennis above the deafening din, as the men of A Company came running on to the gallery. "Be steady, lads, and let 'em have it." They lined up at the gilded balustrade, and fired down into the mob below them. A sea of upturned faces was turned to the gallery, and a stout Prussian officer, who took very good care to jump back under the shelter of the fireplace, pointed frantically to the marble stair and bellowed out a command. "Quick! Lend a hand, Wetherby!" shouted Dennis, seizing the end of a large settee. "Hawke, Davis, Johnson, bring all the heavy stuff you can find in that room behind us!" And as they dragged the settee across the head of the staircase, volunteers rushed into the adjoining rooms, staggering out again with chairs and tables to add to the barricade. They were in the nick of time, for the enemy came boldly up the staircase five abreast. "Carry on, lads!" cried Dennis. "And you stay here with them, Wetherby. I'll be back in a brace of shakes." And he ran round the gallery until he came opposite to the machine-guns, which were pouring their hail of death into the darkness of the garden. "This has got to be stopped," he muttered grimly between his teeth. And, groping in his bomb wallet, he took one out, withdrew the pin, and pitched the missile to the other side of the hall. It dropped where he had intended it should drop--immediately beneath the machine-gun at the open door, one of the gun crew trying to pick it up with a shout of warning to his comrades; but he was too late, and as his fingers grasped it there was a terrific explosion. The man who was firing fell backwards on to the marble floor, both his legs blown off, and a circle of grey-green heaps surrounded him.