"Jolly good advice about getting some sleep, at all events," remarked Kenneth, after the Major had gone. "I vote we turn in. I had no idea I was so horribly sleepy until just now."
"Guns or no guns, I think I can do my share of sleep," agreed Rollo. "Let us put the scheme into practice."
Just then the heavy armoured door of the gallery was thrown open, and an authoritative voice shouted:
"Dispatch-riders! Are there any dispatch-riders here?"
"Here, sir," replied the lads promptly.
"Ah! The English motor-cyclists," exclaimed the Belgian—a staff officer. "Do you know the headquarters offices in the Palace of Justice in Liége?"
"Yes, sir," was again the reply.
"Good! Take this paper—you!" (pointing to Kenneth)—"and deliver it into the hands of Commandant Fleurus at all costs, and await his commands. Your comrade will accompany you, so that should you meet with any mishap he is to take the paper from you and proceed. You understand? Good! Now, away!"
"A good spin will be almost as refreshing as a few hours' sleep, Rollo," said Kenneth, as the two chums made their way to the place where their motor-cycles were stored, protected by three feet of concrete and six feet of earth from hostile shells.
"With plenty of excitement thrown in," added Rollo. "We'll have a difficulty to dodge those shells as we get clear of the fort, I'm thinking."