The lieutenant was not satisfied that he had told all he knew, and pressed the man further. Under questioning, at first persuasive and then threatening, the man remembered that there had been a meeting of the Spartacides the night before in which the matter of disposing of the prisoners had been discussed. Some had been in favor of executing them out of hand. Others had objected. He did not know what decision had been reached.
Under pressure, he admitted that several executions had already taken place. Where? At the parade ground. Where was that? Not ten minutes walk from where they were now standing. Would he lead them to it?
At this he demurred. He was a peaceful citizen. He did not want to get tangled up in any political affair. He was strictly neutral. The Spartacides would take his life.
A cold glint came into the lieutenant's eyes and his hand dropped carelessly on the handle of his revolver. He toyed with it for a moment. Was the man quite sure that he did not want to show him where the parade ground was?
The man wilted on the instant. Certainly he would show them. He would go that minute if the Herr Lieutenant was ready.
"Very well," said the lieutenant, and promptly gave the order that the men should fall in line, and prepare to march.
In less than ten minutes they were at the designated spot. It was a bleak, wind-swept space of ground, rectangular in shape, on the edge of a stretch of wood. At the end of the grounds nearest the woods there was a blank wall about ten feet high.
As he caught sight of the wall, Frank gave an involuntary shiver that was not from cold.
"What's the matter?" asked Billy Waldon, looking curiously at his companion.
"Nothing," replied Frank Sheldon, studiously avoiding his comrade's eye.