The Belgians to the Front | Page 8

certain that, had anyone been there,
he would have heard breathing, no matter how anxious the other
occupant of the house might be to conceal his presence.
Then he switched on the light, shielding it with his hand, so that no
reflection of its faint glow should betray him, by means of the windows,
to anyone approaching from outside.
About the big room in which he found himself there was nothing to
excite suspicion at first sight. The room seemed ordinary enough; the
usual living-room of a peasant. One thing was curious; he could see a
trap door, evidently leading to a cellar below. But that he reserved for
later inspection, preferring at first to look upstairs. He reached the
second floor by the stairs; there, too, there seemed at first nothing out
of the ordinary. But when he threw aside all scruples and looked
everywhere, he found something that confirmed some at least of his
suspicions--a bundle of letters, all written in German script. He did not
stop to read the letters, but on the chance that they might contain
something that would prove valuable or important, he slipped them into
his pocket.
As yet, however, he had made no real discovery. The letters might
prove a great deal; for the moment he was obliged to leave them unread,
since his time might prove to be very short. Down he went, light out,
pausing in the big living-room to listen for some sound from the
watcher outside. There was none.
Now he lifted the trap door, and found, as he had been sure he would, a
ladder leading to the cellar below. He hesitated for a moment now.
There seemed to be no safe way of propping up the trap door. To
descend, closing it after him, meant that he would be shut into the
cellar, where he could not hear the warning signal from Arthur, should
it be sounded. But his hesitation lasted only a minute.
"It's a chance, but I've got to take it," he said to himself. "After all, I
haven't really found anything anywhere else. The cellar's the last place

to look--and the most likely, too."
One thing was a relief; when he was safely down he could turn on his
light, unafraid. From the cellar, without a window, with no means of
egress save that by which he had entered it, there was no danger that a
stray beam of light would betray his presence to the lawful dwellers in
this cottage, should they chance to return while he was there. And what
he saw in the light when he switched it on was ample reward for his
daring in braving the dangers of the place.
The place was an arsenal! Arranged against one wall were the parts of
three powerful guns, all ready to be assembled. And all about, neatly
stacked, were shells. He looked at them, pointing his light at them, to
make sure. They bore the stamp of the Krupp works at Essen in
Germany, the world-famous works whence the greater part of German
munitions of war come.
Here was a discovery indeed! The Germans were ready to attack Liege.
Of that there could no longer be even the shadow of a doubt. Not only
had they prepared a place for the reception of guns; they had even
smuggled the guns themselves over the border. It was, as he could see,
not a matter of really great difficulty. The border was not far distant;
the guards, on the Belgian side at least, had had no great reason in the
past year or so to be especially vigilant. But Paul was horrified by this
proof of the determination of the great power to the east and north not
to hesitate to invade Belgium, should that course be necessary to enable
it to reach its most formidable antagonist, France.
There was something horrible and cold-blooded about such minute
preparation. He was thrilled by his discovery. No less was he thrilled
by the feeling that it was within his power now really to serve the land
he loved. He was not old enough to be a soldier, but he felt that if he
could get back to Liege with the information that he and Arthur had
garnered that night they might serve Belgium as well as soldiers could
do.
Light in hand, he made his way back to the ladder. Then he switched
off the light and started to climb the ladder. And as he did so, he

stopped, appalled. Above there was the sound of a closing door; then
heavy footsteps sounded on the trap door over his head.
CHAPTER IV
THE FLIGHT
From his hiding place outside the cottage, Arthur had been watching
faithfully while Paul explored the inside. He heard the steps that