Part 28 (2/2)

Craning his neck in order to obtain a clear view through the forest of dripping umbrellas--for the rain was now falling steadily--Kenneth could discern the head of the procession--a general, swarthy and heavy jowled, who scowled under his heavy eyebrows at the crowd as he rode by. He was the personification of German brute force, a stiffly-rigid figure in grey. He reminded Kenneth of a cast-iron equestrian statue smothered in grey paint.

In close formation came the various regiments of the invaders, men whose fresh uniforms and faultless equipment gave the appearance of troops straight from their regimental depots rather than war-worn veterans. And this, in fact, was the case. The men who had learned to respect the courage and determination of the hitherto despised Belgian troops had not been permitted to engage in the triumphal pageant through the surrendered city. Others of the almost innumerable Teutonic legions had been sent forward to impress the remaining inhabitants of Brussels.

Suddenly a guttural order rang out. As one man the grey-clad ranks broke into the machine-like goose-step. Possibly this spectacular display was meant to seal the impression upon the onlookers. If so, those responsible for the order were grievously mistaken. Regarding the action as one of insulting triumph, the Belgians strengthened their resolutions to impress on their absent troops the necessity of resisting to the last cartridge.

With the troops came large transport sections, motor machine-guns, batteries, and siege-trains. During that memorable afternoon nearly fifty thousand German troops poured into the city. They were resolved to hold and bleed the luckless citizens to the last gold piece--an indemnity for non-resistance.

”So they're here?” asked Rollo of his companion upon the latter's return. ”I heard the din and the terrific discord of their bra.s.s bands. Have they done any damage?”

”Not as far as I could see. It is too early to come to any conclusion.

At any rate, we'll lie low for a few days. I don't suppose they'll trouble us. How's the ankle?”

For the whole of the next day Kenneth remained indoors with his partly-crippled companion. Perhaps the most galling part of his detention was the total absence of news from without, for none of the papers were permitted to appear.

Small detachments of Germans patrolled the side streets, and, generally speaking, order was well maintained. The conquerors evidently wished to impress the citizens of Brussels with their magnanimous conduct; but, with the record of their deeds against the unresisting villages of the provinces of Liege and Brabant, the Germans made very little headway in gaining the goodwill of the inhabitants.

About nine on the following morning the lads heard a furious hammering on the street door of the house. They exchanged enquiring glances.

Kenneth rushed to the latticed window, opened it cautiously, and looked down into the narrow street.

Standing outside the house were a dozen Prussian infantrymen. A sergeant was about to hammer again upon the door. Beside him stood a lieutenant, drawn sword in hand. A crowd of inquisitive civilians stood at a respectful distance; while, from the windows of the houses on the opposite side of the street, the frightened inhabitants peeped timorously at the display of armed force outside the dwelling of the highly-respected Madame Hirondelle.

”What's up?” asked Rollo.

”Prussians. They're after us, old man.”

”Nonsense! Why should they be?”

”Someone's given us away,” declared Kenneth savagely. He realized that they were trapped. There was no means of escape along the roofs of the adjoining houses, no place in which to hide without being easily and ignominiously hauled out. Even had there been a chance of getting clear, Rollo's injured ankle had to be taken into consideration.

They heard the door being opened; the harsh voice of the German lieutenant interrogating Madame Hirondelle in execrable French; then the tramp of heavy boots as the file of soldiers entered the house and began to ascend the stairs.

Rollo sat up in bed. His companion stood by the side of the alcove, gripping the back of a chair.

Then came a heavy knock at the door of the room, as a harsh voice shouted:

”Englischemans, surrender; if not, we shoots!”

Then the door was pushed open a little way, and a spiked helmet thrust forward on the muzzle of a rifle. Finding that this emblem of German militarism was not the object of an attack, the lieutenant plucked up courage and dashed into the room, brandis.h.i.+ng his sword and revolver like an eighteenth-century melodramatic pirate.

After him crowded the sergeant and most of the men, two privates being left to guard Madame Hirondelle, in order that she would not be able to communicate with the supposed spies.

Kenneth was roughly seized by the throat. His hands were grasped and tied behind his back. The sergeant then proceeded to ransack his pockets, without discovering any doc.u.ments, incriminating or otherwise.

The unexpended portion of d.i.c.k Dacres's loan was taken possession of by the lieutenant, whose avidity in grabbing the money seemed to suggest that there was but slight possibility of it finding its way into the coffers of the Imperial treasury.

Meanwhile Rollo had been ordered to get out of bed. His clothes, after being searched and examined, were handed to him.

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