"Our people always know what they are doing," said the sham Belgian, with a cunning leer. "What would you have? A family, the father of which is a brigadier-general at the front; the eldest son also a captain at the front; and the young boy on the point of joining the Army. They were just the very people likely to talk, to say nothing of that greatest fool of all, Uncle Staff Captain, who told me a great deal when he dined here on Wednesday. Ottilie, these English are lunatics, and it is not for nothing that we have opened their letters for the last six months without their discovering it. Still, I must confess I had never expected a piece of luck so complete and so timely as this," and he tapped the notebook in which he had recorded everything. He stooped towards her and kissed with as much affection as lies in the German nature to bestow upon anyone outside itself, and when he spoke again his whisper was very earnest. "You had a headache to-night--good. You can make the excuse in the morning to visit the pharmacy in Shaftesbury Avenue. I need not tell you where you will really go. But tell them that word must be sent to Fritz Hoffer to take me off at the old spot at seven o'clock to-morrow night." "Are you certain of a train that will get you there in time?" "I shall not bother about trains," he replied. "The Kilburn Rifles are doing coast duty there, and I will borrow Dennis Dashwood's motor-bike ten minutes after their car has left for Charing Cross. I shall be in the vicinity of Folkestone before their train arrives, and may possibly pass them in the Channel." * * * * * "Sure everything's in?" said Captain Bob with a keen glance round the hall, which looked so pathetically empty now that the little pile of brown cases had been carried to the car. "Well, time's up. Au revoir, mon lieutenant. I must air my bad French, you know," and he shook hands warmly with the "Belgian officer," who stood bareheaded on the step to see them off. "Hope to meet you over there one of these days. Buck up and get all right, you know." "We shall meet, never fear; perhaps sooner than you think," said Van Drissel with a quiet smile. "Good-bye and good luck to you both." Then the skunk saluted, and the car drove off, Mademoiselle Ottilie waving her handkerchief. Now they were gone, and as the three little girls filed back into the hall wiping their eyes, the Van Drissels exchanged a look. "You have nothing that matters if you leave it behind?" said the man. "Nothing at all--a refugee is not supposed to have belongings," replied his wife. "Very well, do not go yet until you have heard me start the engine. Then when I have gone, walk quietly out of the house just as you are. They might trace a taxi." * * * * *