Maurice, poor Marie's lover by now, almost tram-
pled on Henri's prostrate body. And Henri was
alone, and his work was to take them alive. They
had information he must have — how the modus
Vivendi had been arranged, through what channels.
And under suitable treatment they would tell.
He could not follow them through the fields. He
lay still, during a fiercer bombardment than the one
before, raising his head now and then to see if the lit-
tle house of mercy still stood. No shells came his
way, but the sky line of the village altered quickly.
Digitized by CjOOQ IC



THE AMAZING INTERLUDE 169

The standing fragment of the church towers went
early. There was much sound of falling masonry.
From somewhere behind him a Belgian battery gave
tongue, but not for long. And then came silence.
Henri moved then. He crept nearer the mill and
nearer. And at last he stood inside and took his bear-
ings. A lamp burned in the kitchen, showing a dirty
brick floor and a littered table — such a house as men
keep, untidy and unhomelike. A burnt kettle stood
on the hearth, and leaning against the wall was the
bag of grain Maurice had carried from the crossroads.
" A mill which grinds without grain," Henri said to
himself.
There was a boxed-in staircase to the upper floor,
and there, with the door slightly ajar, he stationed
himself, pistol in hand. Now and then he glanced
uneasily at the clock. Sara Lee must not be back be-
fore he had taken his prisoners to the little house and
turned them over to those who waited there.
