"You see, Doctor," he continued, "if our defenses have been constructed upon the basis of attack from heavy field-guns and light howitzers—which is the system of most European armies—if our energy has been spent on disappearing cupolas and sunken masonry works which will resist gun-fire, is there not a terrible danger if we are attacked by heavy howitzers, dropping high explosive shells from overhead? To such shells it will make no difference whether the cupolas be raised or lowered.
"If it be true," the old reservist added, his voice rising with a note of presage, "if it be true what is whispered about these new German siege howitzers, then destruction will rain upon the forts of Liége as though the skies were a mouth of flame.
"Perhaps never before, in the history of the world, has so much hung upon the range and power of a modern weapon. We await the eruption of a man-forged volcano which may engulf us all in its fiery lava."
The doctor passed his hand over his face and looked up unconsciously, half in fear as though the doom was on them.
"You make it very ugly," he said.
The master paced on through the late dusk, a glow from the distant gunfire mingling with the faint starlight on his face.
"It matters very little if the End be ugly," he replied, "so long as the road be that of heroism."
The two men walked silently some little space, each following the trend of his own ideas, until, where the road branched off to Chénée, two men joined them.
"Have you any late news?" the master asked.