“Of course I do! There never was a prisoner, I expect, who didn’t dream of escape. More than that, I have planned it all out—getting across the German lines, I mean. It’s a beastly waste of time, but Heavens, I have to think of something. However, I’ll be out soon enough,” he added grimly. “They’ve kept me here to be questioned by the divisional commander. He came yesterday, and our talk was so dull I dare say I’ll be on my way to Germany within the week.”
“Oh, perhaps not—don’t think of it,” stammered Lucy wretchedly. Then she drew a quick breath. “I wish you’d tell me, anyway, about your plan to cross the lines, Captain Beattie. You must be so tired of thinking here, all alone. I want to talk to you a little while. The guard has just been around, so they won’t come again.”
“You know, I heard what those two fellows said the other night when they stopped in front here. Poor kid, how scared you must have been.”
“I was! You mean what one said about the château hill being a weak point in their defenses?”
“Yes—and he was right, too. I’ve been all over that part of the town—last month when the Germans were pushed back. I’m so sure of the ground that my plan for breaking through was made for that spot, even before I heard those soldiers talking.”
“How would you go about it? They must have some defenses there.”
“Oh, yes. There’s a trench line running right through the château park—an old one. But, poorly garrisoned as they are here, they don’t hold it in any force. They simply mount guard on the hill, as that fellow told us. They count on being able to reinforce the trenches long before an infantry column could advance across that pond and marsh.”
“But the big guns—aren’t there any up there?”
“There were last winter, but, from what he said, there are none now. They must plan to rush them from the rear, in case of an attack. It looks like a real shortage of artillery.”
“Well, aren’t you going to tell me your scheme?”