“Hi, you!” cried the Guardsman to Maertz, “describe these two.”
Maertz did his best. Dalroy, to him, was literally a railway employé; but his recollection of Irene’s appearance was fairly exact. Moreover, he was quite reasonably irritated and alarmed by the trouble they had caused. Then the lamp and sabots were produced, and the questioner swore mightily.
“Leave this matter entirely in my hands,” he advised his confrère. “It is most important that these people should be captured, and this is the very fellow to do it. I’ll promise him his life, and the safety of his friends, and pay him well into the bargain, if he helps me to get hold of that precious pair. You see, we shall have no difficulty in catching and identifying him again if need be. Personally, I believe he is telling the absolute truth, and is no more responsible for the killing of your men than you are.”
Lieutenant Karl von Halwig’s comparison erred only in its sheer inadequacy. The communications officer’s responsibility was great. He had failed to control his underlings. He was blind and deaf to their excesses. What matter how they treated the wretched Belgians if the road was kept clear? It was nothing to him that an old woman should be murdered and a girl outraged so long as he kept his squad intact.
“So now you know all about it, monsieur,” concluded Maertz. “When I met you in the ravine I thought you were escaping, and let out at you. God be praised, you got the better of me!”
“Was the staff officer’s name Von Halwig?” inquired Dalroy.
“Name of a pipe, that’s it, monsieur! I heard him tell it to the other pig, but couldn’t recall it.”
“And when were you to meet him?”
“He had to report to some general at Argenteau, but reckoned to reach the mill about nine o’clock.”
“Oh, father dear, let us all be going!” pleaded Léontine.