'Soh!' he said, with a evil smile, 'my young friends, the spies! Achmet'—this to the corporal—'you have done well. I will see that your conduct and that of your sergeant is recommended in the proper quarter.'
He turned to his companion.
'Ober-lieutenant von Steegman,' he said formally. 'The prisoners are those of whom I spoke last night to Colonel Henkel. Disguised in the overcoats of Turkish soldiers, they contrived to destroy one of our quick-firers, and to-day they were discovered hiding in a wood behind our lines. They had, it appears, been plundering our wounded, for food and a Turkish rifle were found in their possession.'
Ken could not speak German, but he knew enough of the language to gather the meaning of the man's infamous accusations. 'Liar!' he burst in. 'We were never in Turkish uniform. As for the gun, we took it in fair fight, and as—'
At a sign from Hartmann, Achmet, the corporal, struck Ken across the mouth.
'Roy brought them down on the man's head.'
It was probably the last thing he ever did in his life, for Roy, raising his shackled hands, brought them down upon the man's head with such fearful force that he dropped like a log, the blood gushing from his mouth and ears.
Instantly all was confusion. Hartmann sprang to his feet, shouting out furious orders. Two of the guard seized Roy and flung him to the ground, two more laid hands on Ken. Another drew his bayonet, and Ken saw it flash in the evening sunlight before his very eyes.
It was Von Steegman who sprang forward and seized the man's arm just in time.