Part 15 (1/2)

In Brussels the lads remained two days, having to await a reply to the dispatch they had brought. During their brief periods of leisure they hastened to call at the house of Major Resimont in the Rue de la Tribune, but the place was in charge of servants. No news was to be obtained of Mademoiselle Yvonne Resimont or of Kenneth's sister.

Beyond the unauthenticated report that the two girls had left the school at Vise a few hours before the commencement of the German bombardment, all traces of them were lost.

”Perhaps,” suggested Rollo, ”your sister went back to England and took Yvonne with her. They say that numbers of refugees have pa.s.sed through Rotterdam on their way across the North Sea.”

”Possibly,” agreed Kenneth. ”In which case we are completely in the dark until we are lucky enough to get letters from home.”

The inhabitants of Brussels were strangely calm. The fact that the German invaders had gained a firm footing in their country did not drive them into a panic. Possibly events of past history had taught them to regard the overrunning of Belgium as a foregone conclusion when the neighbouring Great Powers were at war. Above all, they continued steadfastly to rely upon the prompt arrival of the British Expeditionary Force, which, in conjunction with their own army and that of the French nation, would quickly send the barbarous Teutons fleeing for their lives across the Rhine.

”Hark!” exclaimed Rollo. ”The papers are out. Something important has happened.”

The chums had retired early to bed in their modest lodgings of the Rue Pontus, as they had been warned for duty at five on the following morning. Their stock of money, although augmented by their scanty army pay, was visibly dwindling; but after more than a week in bivouacs they were grateful to sleep under a roof, undisturbed by the nerve-shattering roar of hostile guns.

”It can wait till to-morrow,” said Kenneth with a prodigious yawn. ”I feel too jolly tired----”

The next moment he was out of bed and making for the window, for above the cheering on the Grands Boulevards came the oft-repeated cries of: ”The English Army in Belgium”.

Hastily scrambling into their clothes, the two excited lads made their way into the street and through the swarm of wildly exuberant citizens.

After a struggle they succeeded, at the cost of a franc, in obtaining a copy of one of the local papers, and bore it back to their room in triumph.

In huge letters were the words: ”LES ANGLAIS SUR LE CONTINENT”, the report being taken from the French paper, _Le Journal_, dated Thursday, the 13th August:--

”By our Special Correspondent.--For several days the valiant British troops, who are to co-operate with our soldiers to repel the German aggression in Belgium, have been crossing the Straits. Kept back at first by the risks of a naval combat which the English fleet was waiting to offer, in the North Sea, to the princ.i.p.al units of the enemy marine, the disembarkation has now taken place in perfect order and with surprising regularity. Up to the present the contingents sent forward in the direction of Namur are considerable.

”Under the favour of darkness and in great mystery the transports were organized. During Sat.u.r.day night, by small detachments all along the Belgian coast from Ostend to Zeebrugge, the steamers chartered by the British Admiralty disembarked at first a small army, which moved before dawn to the position allotted to it. Farther south, that same night, semaph.o.r.es signalled the arrival of mysterious s.h.i.+ps, which, after a brief stay, returned towards English sh.o.r.es. On the following day, too, at the same hour, similar operations and disembarkations took place with such rapidity and such silence that the inhabitants saw nothing.”

”Sounds promising,” remarked Rollo thoughtfully. ”But this is Friday.

Do you think it likely that our troops have been on Belgian soil for nearly a week and this is the first we've heard of it?”

”The Press Censor perhaps----”

”Cannot gag the mouths of a million, old chap. However, I hope it's true. Of course I know an army cannot be expected to land and proceed straight to the front, but if they are to do anything they'll have to jolly well hurry up.”

”Don't put a damper on the good news, old man.”

”All right, I won't, Kenneth; but, until I see a khaki regiment on Belgian soil, I'm hanged if I will believe. Take me for a doubting Thomas if you will. Anyway, I'm going to turn in again; we've to be up early, you know.”

In spite of the deafening clamour without, the chums slept soundly until the concierge knocked loudly at the door to announce that it was a quarter to five, and that the breakfast of messieurs les Anglais was ready to be served as ordered.

Upon arriving at the place indicated in their order, the two dispatch-riders found that they were to be temporarily attached to the mail escort. Letters and parcels for the troops in the field had acc.u.mulated during the last three days to enormous proportions. Five large motor-cars had been requisitioned to take this ma.s.s of correspondence from the capital, the convoy being accompanied by a patrol of lancers, cyclists, and motor-cyclists.

”Wonder if there's anything for us in that lot?” hazarded Kenneth, as four large wicker hampers addressed to the 9th Regiment of the Line were unceremoniously dumped into a car. The correspondence had already been pa.s.sed by a Belgian censor, and the baskets had been secured by an imposing wax seal.

”Perhaps,” replied Rollo. ”At all events we'll keep a special eye on the car. One never knows where to expect the unwelcome attentions of those ubiquitous Uhlans, and it will never do to let them pry into the family secrets of our comrades of the 9th.”

Through the flag-bedecked streets of Brussels the mail convoy made its way. The route, as supplied to the officer in command, was a circuitous one. Proceeding in an almost southerly direction, past the villages of Waterloo, Genappe, and Quatre Bras, the mails for Namur and the left flank of the Belgian field army were to be detached at the village of Sombreffe. The remainder of the convoy was then to proceed through Gembloux to Tirlemont, dropping the crates addressed to various regiments at the nearest points to their ultimate destinations.

The motor-cars set out at a rapid pace, so much so that by the time they were clear of the Forest of Soignies, less than ten miles from the capital, the horses and the cyclists were almost ”done up”. Either speed or the force at the disposal of the convoy had to be sacrificed, and after a hasty consultation with his subordinates, the officer in charge decided upon the latter alternative.

Accordingly the lancers were sent back, while a dozen of the cyclists were ordered to leave their machines at a wayside inn and to ride on the cars. From information received from various sources, there was every reason to believe that that part of the country was free from the attentions of the invaders, and no cause to doubt that the mail would be delivered in safety and with celerity. Again the convoy was set in motion, Kenneth and Rollo riding at a distance of about two hundred yards ahead, for their wish to keep an eye on one particular car had been abruptly nipped in the bud.