Folding them up carefully, he thrust them into his coat and stored them, displaying, however, less triumph than I had thought he would.  The truth was that he looked preoccupied, and I wondered why.  For the first time in all the hair-trigger situations that I had seen him face I sensed a strain in him.

“So much for that.  Now, Mr. Bayne, what do you think we mean to do to you?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I am sure,” I answered rather absently; I was weighing the relative merits of jiu-jitsu and my five remaining revolver-shots.  “Is there anything sufficiently lingering?  Let me suggest boiling oil; or I understand that roasting over a slow fire is considered tasty.  Either of those methods would appeal to you, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t deny it!” Blenheim answered in a tone that was convincing.  “You haven’t endeared yourself to us, my friend, in the last hour.  But we can’t spare you yet; our plans for the evening are lively ones and they include you.  I told you, didn’t I, that we were going to no man’s-land via the trenches, when we finished this affair?”

“You told me many interesting things.  I’ve forgotten some of the details.”  I was aware of a thrill of excitement.  The man was worried; so much was sure.

“You will recall them presently, or if you don’t, I’ll refresh your memory.  The fact is, Mr. Bayne, you have put a pretty spoke in our wheel.  It stands this way:  our papers are made out for a party of four officers, and you have eliminated Schwartzmann.  Don’t you owe us some amends for that?  You like disguises, I gather from your costume.  What do you say to putting on a new one, a pale-blue uniform, and seeing us through the lines?”

He looked, while uttering this wild pleasantry, about as humorous as King Attila.  Could he possibly be in earnest?  After all, perhaps he was!  War rules were cast-iron things; if his pass called for four men, four he must have or rouse suspicion; and it was certain that Herr Schwartzmann would do no gadding to-night or for many nights to come.  That shot of mine from the gallery had upset Blenheim’s plans very neatly.  I stared at him, fascinated.

“Well?” said he.  “Do you understand?”

“I understand,” I exclaimed indignantly, “that this is too much!  It is, really.  I was getting hardened; I could stand a mere impossibility or two and not blink; but this!  It is beyond the bounds.  I shall begin to see green snakes presently or writhing sea-serpents—­”

“No,” Blenheim cut me short savagely, “you are underestimating.  Unless you oblige us what you will see is the hereafter, Mr. Bayne!”