“You remember the Captain of Koepenick trick,” she said.  “Well, Francis played it off on the sergeant and those six men.  He slept at Cleves, had himself trimmed up at the barber’s, bought those field-boots he is wearing, and stole that helmet and great-coat off the pegs in the passage at Schmidt’s Cafe, where the officers always go and drink beer after morning parade.  Then he drove out to the Castle—­he knew that the place would be deserted once the shoot had started—­and told the sergeant he had been sent from Goch to inspect the guard.  I think he is just splendid!  He inspected the men and cursed everybody up and down, and sent the sergeant out to the paddock with orders to drill them for two hours.  Francis was telling me all about it as we came along.  He says that if you can get hold of a uniform and hector a German enough, he will never call your bluff.  Can you beat it?”

The hours dragged wearily on.  We had no food, and Maggs, who had eaten the last of his provisions twenty-four hours before—­the British soldier is a bad hoarder—­soon consumed the last of my cigarettes.  It was past ten o’clock when I heard a step outside.  The next moment Francis came in, white and breathless.

“They’re beating the forest for us,” he panted.  “The place is full of men.  I had to crawl the whole way there and back, and I’m soaked to the skin.”

I pointed to Monica, who was fast asleep, and he lowered his voice.

“Des,” he said, “I’ve hoped as long as I dared, but now I believe the game’s up.  They’re beating the forest in a great circle, soldiers and police and customs men.  If we set out at once we can reach the frontier before they get here, but what’s the use of that ... every patrol is on the look-out for us ... the forest seems ablaze with torches.”

“We must try it, Francis,” I said.  “We haven’t a dog’s chance if we stay here!”

“I think you’re right,” he answered.  “Well, here’s the plan.  There’s a deep ravine that runs clear across the frontier.  I spent an hour in it.  They’ve built a plank bridge across the top just this side of the line, and the patrol comes to the ravine about every three minutes.  It is practically impossible to get out of sight and sound along that ravine in three minutes, but ...”

“Unless we could drar the patrol’s attention away!” said Sapper Maggs.

But Francis ignored the interruption.

“...  We can at least try it.  Come on, we must be starting!  Thank God, there’s no moon; it’s as dark as the devil outside!”

We roused up Monica and groped our way out of the cave into the black and dripping forest.  Somewhere in the distance a faint glare reddened the sky.  From time to time I thought I heard a shout, but it sounded far away.

We crawled stealthily forward, Francis in front, then Monica, Maggs and I last.  In a few minutes we were wet through, and our hands, blue and dead with cold, were scratched and torn.  Our progress was interminably slow.  Every few yards Francis raised his hand and we stopped.