She and the aviator stepped over the mercifully unconscious man on the floor. Frank, explaining in a few words Renaud's plans, helped the girl over the broken masonry. There was nobody to halt them. The Germans, panic-stricken, were fleeing from the front of the château.
Led by Carl, a comical enough looking figure with his bandaged head, they escaped from the vicinity, reaching without mishap the road that passed near the wood where Sanderson and the German airman had fallen.
The German troops chanced not to be following this road. But there were many of them, stubbornly fighting the French between the Americans and safety. Baum halted.
"I must return to my company, or be marked for punishment. Paul will be able to save me from that if I report at once. He is as much your friend as I am, Cousin Belinda, though our people are at war."
The boy was frankly weeping.
"If I take you with me, dear Cousin, I take you and your—your sweetheart into deeper trouble. For you are both under suspicion."
"But you and Paul?" Sanderson asked quickly.
"Fear not for us, mein Herr," the corporal said. "We shall get out of the scrape all right. Trust der schlaue Fuchs, Paul, for that. And me—am I not sure to get the Iron Cross for last night's work? Or, so they tell me," he added proudly. He thrust a pistol into the aviator's hand. "Take this," he said. "It may be useful."
The aviator wrung his hand. Belinda kissed him warmly.
"I do not wish to know where you go or your plans," Baum added hurriedly. "We retreat. It is a strategy of the great von Hindenburg they say. However, our ways separate here. Auf Wiedersehn!"