A muffled cough broke the silence. Then came the dull thud of a pick being driven into soft earth.
"This way," ordered the Captain, striding towards the end of the room. "Get a bomb ready."
"Not a blessed one between the lot of us, sir," reported M'Kane. "Thought we'd finished with Mills's pills for a bit. I'll nip back and get a few."
Captain Nicholson hesitated.
"No need," he decided. "The fellows, whoever they are, are trapped. They'll give in when they find that the game's up."
In the panelled wall, so skilfully fashioned that it almost escaped attention, was a door. The New Zealanders stopped and listened. Voices were heard talking excitedly, to the accompaniment of the tearing of paper.
Thrusting his torch into his breast pocket, the Captain, holding his revolver ready for instant action, threw open the door.
Another long room showed beyond the doorway. At the farther end a table extended almost from side to side. On the floor were several lighted candles that cast an unaccustomed glare upon the faces of a dozen German officers. Some of them were engaged in burning documents, others in tearing up books and plans. Right at the far end two men were attacking a fall of debris by means of pick and shovel.
This much Malcolm took in at a glance, as with levelled rifle he supported his captain.
"Surrender!" shouted Captain Nicholson sternly.