"So I will; we might pick up something," replied the junior airman, and the next moment he climbed into a straggling, low-branched tree, uncoiled a small aerial, and, starting his little battery, listened attentively for any stray message that might be floating through the ether.
"Anything?" asked Keane, coming to the foot of the tree.
"Nothing," remarked the other.
"Then we'll push off."
Five minutes later, having adjusted their packs, collected their nets, and having stamped out the remains of the fire, they were ready to start.
"Which path shall we take?" asked Sharpe, for there were two ill-defined, grass-grown tracks which led away from the clearing. One led past Jacob Stendahl's cottage, and had been followed by the Schwarzwalder, and the other, the lesser trodden of the two, led they knew not where.
"Let us take the one on the right," said Keane, indicating the latter. "It is more likely to yield us something," and the next moment they were hidden from sight amid the dense undergrowth of this part of the forest.
Scarcely had they disappeared from view when one of the upper branches of a tree near to the edge of the clearing suddenly appeared to move, then to swing loosely for a second, and drop to the ground. Then for a moment there was silence, save for the call of a nightjar which had been disturbed, but a moment later a dark shadow debouched from the edge of the forest and crossed quietly but quickly to where the fire had been burning a few minutes previously.
A low whistle, repeated twice, brought a similar shadow from the opposite side of the clearing, and the two indistinct, but human shapes, met each other face to face.
"Who were they, Professor?" asked the second arrival of the first.