The girl took his hand confidingly and walked beside him, holding one arm before her face to shield her eyes from branches in the darkness.
They had gone, perhaps, a dozen paces when a man stepped from behind a great beech-tree, peered after them, then turned and hurried down the slope to where the Swiss wire stretched glistening under the stars. He ran along this wire until he came to the dry bed of a torrent.
Up this he stumbled under the forest patches of alternate moonlight and shadow until he came to a hard path crossing it on a masonry viaduct.
"Harry!" he called in a husky, quavering voice, choking for breath.
"Cripes, Harry—where in hell are you?"
"Here, you blighter! What's the bully row? Where's Helsa—"
"With Recklow!"
"What!!"
"Double-crossed us!" he whispered; "I seen her! I was huntin' along the fence when I come on them, thick as thieves. She's crossed us; she's hollered! Oh, Cripes, Harry, Helsa has went an' squealed!"
"HELSA!"
"Yes, Helsa—I wouldn't 'a' believed it! But I seen 'em. I seen 'em whispering. I seen her take his hand an' lead him up through the trees. She's squealed on us! She's bringing Recklow—"