"We shall have to cross into German territory--a risky game. If caught we shall be instantly shot."
"We've risked a good deal already without damage. Let us try it. I know the country; I've often cycled from Cologne to Crefeld."
"That's to the good. Very well, then; I'll get leave to go first thing in the morning. We'll use the Taube and wear German uniforms. And in case any one comes hunting for Granger, let us pay our bill and go."
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At six o'clock next morning the inhabitants of an old farmhouse at Erkelenz, not far from the Dutch frontier, were seated at breakfast. There was an old man of some sixty years, his wife and daughter, boys and girls, and two women servants. The farmer himself and his male hands were all on service.
"I wonder where Daddy is now?" said one of the boys.
"And Fritz and Hans?" said a girl.
"Somewhere on the way to Paris, little ones," said the grandfather. "He will bring you back some fine playthings. Granny is wearing the brooch I brought from Paris forty years ago."
"Mother says Daddy may be killed," piped another boy.
"Nonsense!" said the old man. "Was I killed? Not even wounded. Why should your father be?"