Moonchild

another cottage where that old Belgian mystic lives — the friend of Maeterlinck! ha! ha! He's really von Walder, a Dresdener. And he is in charge of another cable — underground three hundred [320] miles, thanks to Becasseux, who helped us with the road squads, to a place which by now is firmly in the hands of the Crown Prince. So all you have to do is to tell your man to sit and pretend to meditate — and tap. I shall send you plenty of information from the front. You will know my agents by a nick filed in a trouser-button. Each message will have a number, so that you will know if any go astray. All clear?" "Admirable. I need not say how proud I am to find that we are on the same side. I was very frightened of that uniform!" "L'habit ne fait pas le moine," replied Douglas gaily. "And now, sir, let us spend the night discussing our plans in detail — and some very excellent whisky which I happen to have by me." The spies pursued their double task, with pitiless energy, till morning was well broken. Later in the day Douglas left for Soissons. He was attached to the French army as chief of a corps of signallers — thanks, once again, to the good offices of Becasseux. His plans were perfect: they had been cut and dried for over fifteen years. [321]