"This is the side toward us," he said. "There are the magazines, the main one being here in the centre."
With a nod of understanding, Vard carried the drawing to the window and compared it carefully with the stretch of wall, swinging his pivoted machine from side to side to be sure that its range was ample. Then he refolded the map and returned it to Marbeau.
"It must be almost the hour," he said.
With a start, Marbeau pulled out his watch. It showed fifteen minutes to twelve. Then, watch in hand, he stood gazing out at the bastion. Four minutes passed, five, six, seven....
Suddenly from the fort came the deep boom of an alarm gun. A minute later, a file of men appeared upon the summit of the bastion; a gate, away to the right, swung open and an armed battalion marched out at the double-quick.
"The signal!" gasped Marbeau. "It is the signal! Their wireless men have picked it up!"
Again the alarm gun boomed sullenly, and they could hear the faint, shrill calling of a bugle. Then came the distant thunder of the answering guns from the forts about the town; from the streets rose excited voices, the clatter of running feet....
One minute—two—three—
"Now!" said Marbeau, snapped shut his watch and thrust it into his pocket.
Vard, his face twitching, closed the switch and touched the key. Again came the sharp crackle of flame, the deep hum of the vibrator. Marbeau, the marrow frozen in his bones but with the sweat pouring from his face, stared out—and then, close beside him, came a white burst of flame—the horrible odour of burning flesh—