“Yes!” said Riley quickly.  “What is it?  We have heard nothing of the General.”

“Ah!” said the messman, eyeing him thoughtfully, “I thought maybe ye had heard.”

“We have heard nothing,” said Riley.  “What is it you are talking about?”

“About them fifty thousand francs, sorr,” said the messman, cunningly, “or five thousand, was it?”

“What’s this?” said the Captain, and the others making no attempt to answer his question, left the messman to tell a voluble tale of a German General ("though ’twas a Field-Marshal some said it was, and others went the length of Von Kluck himself”) who had been killed some days before, and lay out in the open with five thousand, or fifty thousand, francs in his breeches pocket, a diamond-studded gold watch on his wrist, diamond rings on his fingers, and his breast covered with Iron Crosses and jeweled Orders.

That both Riley and Brock, as well as the Captain, professed their profound ignorance of the tale only served, as they well knew, to strengthen the Tearaways Rifles’ belief in it, and after the man had gone they imparted their plan with huge delight and joyful anticipation to the Captain.

When they had finished tea and left the keep to return to their own posts, they were met by Sergeant Clancy.

“I just wanted to speak wid you a moment, sorr,” he said.  “I have been looking at that listening-post, and thinking to myself wouldn’t it be as well if we ran a sap out to it; it would save the crawling out across the open at night, and keeping the men—­and some wounded among them maybe—­cooped up the whole day.”

“There’s something in that,” said the Captain, pretending to reflect.  “And I see the last battalion had made something of a beginning to dig a trench out to the post.”

“And they must have been thinking with their boots when they dug it there,” said Riley.  “A trench on that side is open to enfilade fire.  It should have been dug out from the left corner of that curve instead of the right.”

“If you would speak to the O.C. about it, sorr,” said Clancy, “he might be willing to let us dig it.  The men is fresh, too, and won’t harm for a bit of exercise.”

“Very well,” said the Captain carelessly, “we’ll see about it to-morrow.”

“Begging your pardon, sorr,” said Clancy, “I was thinking it would be a good night tonight, seein’ there’s a strong wind blowing that would deaden the sound of the digging.”

“That’s true enough,” the Captain said slowly.  “I think it’s an excellent idea, Clancy, and I’ll speak to the O.C., and tell him you suggested it.”

A few minutes after, an orderly brought a message that the O.C. was coming round the trenches to see the company commanders.  The company commanders found him with rather a sharp edge to his temper, and Captain Conroy, to whom Riley and Brock had confided the secret of their plans, concluded the moment was not a happy one for explaining the ruse to the O.C.  He, therefore, merely took his instructions for the detailing of a working party from his company, and the hour at which they were to commence.