"We are not old enough for commissions, sir," replied Kenneth; then on the spur of the moment he added: "Couldn't we be attached to the Belgian army as dispatch-riders?"
Rollo almost gasped at his chum's impetuosity, but loyalty to his chum and a desire to do something against the oppressor of Europe checked his inclination to counsel caution.
"We will see," said the Major gravely. "It is good to see such a spirit amongst Englishmen to come to the aid of our brave Belgians. You are resolute?"
"Rather!" declared Kenneth stoutly; and Rollo likewise signified his willingness.
The Quartermaster having been found at his office, Major Résimont soon obtained the requisite order for the release of the Englishmen's motor-cycles.
"Now, this way!" he exclaimed.
Five minutes' brisk walk brought them to the door of a large building at which were stationed two soldiers in the uniform of the Grenadiers. These stood stiffly at attention as the Major entered, drawing themselves up with an alertness that was almost entirely lacking in most of the men of the line regiments.
Giving his name to a staff officer, the Major had to wait in an ante-room, with at least a dozen other officers, mostly of brevet rank. At length his turn came, for business was being carried out with dispatch.
"Monsieur le Major Résimont, mon Général," announced a junior officer, as he opened the door and motioned for the Belgian Major and his two companions to enter.
Seated at a table was a man in the undress uniform of the Belgian staff. He was sparely built, although from his attitude it was impossible to judge his height. His features were sallow, one might almost say cadaverous, with a bright tinge of red upon his prominent cheek-bones. Heavily-bushed eyebrows overhung a pair of deep-set eyes that seemed hawk-like in their intensity. His closely-cropped hair was iron-grey. A slightly drooping moustache hid a resolute mouth.