And that our situation was full of difficulties and even dangers was certain. She was still suffering from the inevitable shock of the railway smash; she was done up and sorely in need of rest; it was out of the question to think of seeking a lodging in Osnabrück; the best we could look for was to shelter in some barn or out-of-the-way shed; fifty miles or more lay between us and the frontier, any yard of which might bring some incident which would involve discovery; and even if we got through safely, the job of crossing the frontier would be the most difficult and dangerous of any.
The little incident in the shed as we were leaving kept us both silent for a while. It was the first sign since we had met in Berlin to suggest the renewal of our old relations; and it was not until we reached a good spot for ridding ourselves of our own clothes that the silence was broken.
We struck out to the north of the town and turned along a footpath which would lead us round the outskirts. This took us across a broad stream, and Nessa pulled up on the bridge to suggest we should sink the clothes. We made them into two parcels, put some heavy stones in each, and I sunk them under some trees which overhung the stream a little distance along the bank.
"And when do you propose to put your thinking cap on about our plans, Jack?" she chipped when I rejoined her.
"I'm not going to think of anything else from this minute."
"Hear, hear. The 'anything else' must wait, eh?" she cried, with one of her bright silvery laughs.
"That's not very much like a German hobbledehoy's laugh, is it?"
"Righto, matey, I forgot. That was Nessa; this is Hans;" and she guffawed in her best Hans' manner.
"Not so much of your forgetting, young 'un. This may be no mere picnic."
"Keep your hair on; but I'm going to have the time of my life. By the way, what's your name?"