"Take your choice, old man," said Fuller with a grin. "We'll stuff our discarded emblems of servitude up the chimney. It doesn't look as if they had a fire here very often. Wonder who the old josser is?"
Five minutes later the chums were rigged out in worn but serviceable garb. They would easily pass for well-to-do Danish artisans.
"Now for grub," decided Tressidar. "Let's forage in our unknown host's larder."
"Evidently no shortage of food in this establishment," said Fuller, as the two officers ate with a voracity that would have raised a storm of protest in the ward-room of one of H.M. ships. "Dash it all! I feel another man already. Now, what's the plan?"
"Esbjerg, as soon as possible. We'll either have to stow ourselves on board a tramp bound for a British port, or else throw ourselves upon the generosity of her skipper. These Danes are downright good fellows.... It's very quiet down here. I'm curious to know more about the owner of this remarkable place."
"I think your wish will be gratified," rejoined Tressidar grimly, as a motor-car that had driven up at high speed stopped outside the house. "Lights out! Up aloft as sharp as we can."
The two amateur cracksmen had barely gained the bedroom when they heard the key grate in the lock. Then a voice exclaimed in German:
"That will do, Karl. Take this car as far as Rodgrund's farm and await us there. It will not arouse suspicion. Now, Herr Oberfurst, at your service."