"I will try, mijnheer," she said quietly, with the firm look of the Flemish housewife.
There was much noise from the room beyond. The troopers were eating and drinking hard. Pariset and Kenneth stepped behind a large Dutch clock when the women pushed open the door, carrying a dish of steaming stew. They saw her recoil a little when the Germans hailed her appearance with boisterous shouts. She beckoned to her two maids, stout Flamandes like herself, then disappeared towards the right.
The two airmen waited anxiously. Would the housewife's nerve fail? Would the Germans detect her? They had fallen gluttonously on the new dish, praising Belgian viands after the short commons of the days preceding.
Presently the woman reappeared at the door. Her face was pale; she was grimly pressing her lips together, and when she had entered the kitchen and closed the door she took from the folds of her gown a rifle.
"The maids stood in front of me," she murmured.
"Take the rifle into the harness room," said Pariset to the wagoner. "Another, meffrouw."
The poor woman trembled, but summoning her courage she passed again into the room. The door at the further end was now open, and the sergeant stood in it. He had consulted his dignity by dining alone in the parlour.
"More wine!" he shouted. "It's poor stuff, mother, but I must make the best of it till we get to Champagne. Then we'll break a few necks--of bottles and Frenchmen."
Roars of laughter from the men greeted this sally. One of the maids carried a fresh bottle into the parlour. Meanwhile the housewife had taken advantage of the diversion caused by the sergeant's pleasantry to remove another rifle. Three more she brought out at intervals; then Pariset said it was enough; to abstract more might lead the men to notice the diminution of the pile. Pariset examined each of the five; there were cartridges in all.
"Do your maids know German?" he asked the woman.