"I have crossed swords with him--not literally, you understand, though nothing would please me better than a bout with him with the buttons off. I have one or two scores to settle with him. His Christian name would be more truly descriptive with the loss of a T. But how in the world did you come across him? He's not the kind of man I should expect to meet in your company."
"He's the cousin of my poor father's partner, Max Finkelstein. Max gives him a salary; he doesn't earn a penny of it, but Max is a kind-hearted beggar. He wouldn't do it if he knew that Hellwig was a--secret agent."
"Don't mind my feelings, my dear fellow," said Granger, with a laugh. "We're a very mixed lot, I assure you. Do you mind repeating what you overheard, as nearly as you can remember it?"
When the story was told, Granger acknowledged that ignorance of the position of the bridge was an obstacle to forewarning the Belgian authorities.
"Still, they ought to know every inch of the probable theatre of war," he said, "and may spot the place at once."
"We'll see in the morning," said Kenneth. "Meanwhile we had better take watch and watch about during the rest of the night. I don't suppose any one will come by while it's dark, but it's as well to be on the safe side. I'll take first watch."
"Very well. It will be light in less than five hours. I'll snooze for a couple of hours; wake me then."
The night was warm, and Kenneth, in his policeman's coat, suffered no discomfort. His watch passed undisturbed, and he was very sleepy when he roused Granger.
About five o'clock he was wakened from a sound sleep by a nudge from his companion.
"Sorry to disturb you," said Granger, "but there's a group of peasants approaching with scythes. Evidently they are going to mow the meadow."