"I have some important information for you," said Franz, speaking in the tongue he hated. "Hush! do not make an alarm."
As he spoke he drew near to the officer with the sharp-pointed file in readiness.
"What is the information, and who are you?" asked the officer, who was a corporal.
"This!" exclaimed Franz, and he struck true and hard.
There was a gasping, choking cry, hardly audible above the sighing of the wind and the patter of the rain.
"I—I hope I don't have to do this again," thought Franz with a shudder. "It isn't like killing men in battle. But it has to be!"
The way was now clear for him. As quickly as he could he stripped off the corporal's uniform and donned it in place of his own rags. These latter he tossed under the building, where he also hid the body.
Possessing himself of the officer's keys Franz hurried into the shop. Fortunately he knew his way about even in the dark, and he caught up two complete uniforms and two long coats from a pile he had noticed that afternoon near the door, where they were stacked ready to be shipped out in the morning.
Hurrying back to the sleeping shack, clad in the dead officer's uniform, Franz carried with him the two other outfits he had picked up. Quickly Bob and a man named Rayburn donned these suits, and then, in the darkness and rain, they carried away enough uniforms to fit out the entire escaping party.
Feverishly the men worked to get into them, and at last they were outfitted. They were ready to be led to freedom by Franz now, if only fate were kind to them.