"Where is my friend, Detroit?" asked Hamerton.
"He is safe," replied Von Schloss. "Before the firing commenced he was taken to the church, since we knew that would not be a mark for your guns."
"One more question, Herr Major; where is the commandant?"
"He is dead," replied Von Schloss, with evident emotion. "He fell during the bombardment."
Gravely Hamerton raised his right hand to the salute. His former enemy had given up his life on the altar of duty, a victim to his misguided efforts to further the interests of the Fatherland.
"I am sorry," he said.
"There is no need," rejoined Major von Schloss. "General von Wittelsbach died as he wished, in the defence of a charge entrusted to him by the Kaiser. Believe me, he would never have survived the humiliation. But now, Herr Hamerton, I bid you farewell."
Both men shook hands and parted, the major hurrying after his companions, while the Sub wended his way towards the old church.
A number of armed German marines stood without the weatherbeaten fane. They were stationed there to guard various prisoners who had been hastily removed from the barrack prison at the commencement of the attack.
But before Hamerton could approach and make known the nature of his mission a well-known voice hailed him from one of the narrow windows of the tower.