"A very good disguise, isn't it?" said Granger. "But there is little time to spare. The bullet is in an amiable Teuton who popped round the corner at an unfortunate moment--for him. No doubt he was shadowing me: I must make another change in my outward favour, that is clear. His confederate missed me and winged the accomplice. I couldn't catch the fellow. Probably he has gone back to the town to get assistance, and I must be moving. I've a few minutes, however, and you can help me. I was on my way to headquarters. I have just heard that the Germans are bringing up some heavy siege guns to demolish the forts. They are coming by road: were last heard of at Crefeld--huge things, drawn by innumerable traction engines from the estimable millionaire's works at Essen. Will you carry the news to headquarters for me? You will save time--and probably my skin."
"Certainly," said Pariset at once. "This explains the cessation of the bombardment."
"No doubt. They did not expect that poor little Belgium would turn into a Jack-the-Giant-Killer, or they would have brought up these monsters of theirs before. They represent the last word in Culture--according to the gospel of Krupp. I will leave you, then."
"Ware spies!" said Kenneth, as they shook hands.
"We set a thief to catch a thief, don't we?" said Granger with a smile.
He put on his hat and was gone.
"We had better get away at once," said Pariset, biting the end off a Dutch cigar. "But I don't care about reporting by hearsay. What do you say to taking a look at them?"
"At what?"
"At these new apostles of culture."
"The big guns!--why not?"