The Belgians to the Front | Page 4

we can look at his papers, and see what there really is there besides the sketch of Fort Boncelles. If that's all there was in the papers, I don't see why he was so awfully anxious to get them back. Perhaps we've done even better than we know, Arthur."
"All right, I won't say anything," said Arthur. "But you are going to do something about it, aren't you, Paul?"
Paul laughed. He knew that Arthur was a little disappointed at the idea of having to keep what they had done secret, especially as he had probably rehearsed already the astonishment with which all those at the dinner table would greet the startling announcement of the discovery of the spy.
"I certainly hope we're going to do something about it, Arthur," he said. "We'll slip away from the table as soon as we can, and then when we're alone, we'll see exactly what it is we've got."
But at the table there was a great surprise for them. Their uncle (though they both called him uncle the relationship was not really so close) was not in his accustomed seat, and Madame de Frenard's eyes were suspiciously red. She had been crying.
"Uncle Henri may not be back for two or three days," she said, gravely. "He is a member of parliament, as you know, and he has been called to Brussels on account--on account of what we all hope may not come."
"War?" asked Arthur, in a hushed voice.
"It looks terribly as if war must come," she said. "And if it does, I am afraid our poor Belgium must suffer as well as the lands that are really concerned. We have done nothing; we want nothing except to be left alone. If they will only do that! But I am afraid we must not hope for that. Your uncle expects to join the army at once if there is an invasion."
"Then we'll stay here and look after you," proposed Arthur, promptly. "Won't we, Paul?"
"For as long as we are needed," Paul said, gravely.
It was easy enough for them to cut their dinner short that night. The house was uneasy, stirring with a strange foreboding of what was to come. Servants, everyone, indeed, seemed to look always toward the east. There were the Germans. Often during the summer they drove to Aix-la-Chapelle, the first city over the German border--Aachen, as the Germans called it. Paul remembered, with a smile, as he thought of the German city, how indignant he had been when he had first discovered that the Germans invariably spoke of Liege as Luttich, and how he had been appeased when he was told that he and most people outside of Germany refused to adopt the German name for Aix-la-Chapelle.
No one in the house, least of all their aunt, had time that night to think of the two boys. As a matter of fact, it was that now famous Saturday upon which Germany finally cast the die by declaring war upon Russia in the interest of her Austrian ally, whose quarrel with Servia she thus made her own. France, as the ally of Russia, was bound to fight Germany. Belgium lay between the two huge powers on either side of her, well-nigh certain to be caught in the disaster that war meant. But the news that war had actually been declared had not yet come. Madame de Frenard was waiting with the utmost anxiety for a telephone message from her husband in Brussels, who had promised to send her word as soon as there were any important developments.
And so Paul and Arthur slipped out to the garage, which was a favorite hiding place. Now it was especially safe, since Marcel, the chauffeur, had gone to Brussels with their uncle, and there was no likelihood of any unwelcome interruptions. They repaired, therefore, to the room above the one in which their uncle's automobile was kept, and spread out the papers they had captured from the German spy. First there was the sketch they had already seen of the Boncelles fort; then, equally detailed, they found sketches and maps of the other forts--Flemalle, Embourg, Chaudfontaine, Fleron, Evegnee, Pontisse, Liers, Lanlin, Longin and Hollogne--the great chain of detached forts that made Liege, in the opinion of military engineers, one of the strongest fortified towns in Europe.
These forts were not immediately in the town; they were about five miles, on an average, from the old citadel, long since disused as a place for actual fighting. The connections between the various forts, intended, as both boys knew, for the greater facility of their defence by means of troops fighting more or less independently, were carefully traced on another map, in which the contour of the land and the natural shelter were shown. And on this map, at certain spots, there were strange