Dalroy made after him, seized the fallen stick, and recognised--Jan Maertz! "How now," he said wrathfully, "are you, too, a Prussian?"
Jan raised a hand to ward off the expected blow. "_Caput!_" he cried. "I'm done! You must be the devil! But may the Lord help my poor master and mistress, and the little Léontine!"
"That is my wish also, sheep's-head! What evil have I done you, then, that you should want to brain me at sight?"
"They're after you--the Germans. They mean to catch you, dead or alive. A lieutenant of the Guard pulled me away from in front of a firing-party, and gave me my life on condition that I ran you down."
Here was an extraordinary development. It was vitally important that Dalroy should get to know the exact meaning of the Walloon's disjointed utterances, yet how could he wait and question the man while the Prussian sultans were feasting in the mill?
Dalroy stooped over Maertz, who had risen to his knees, and caught him by the shoulder. "Jan Maertz," he said, "do you hope to marry Léontine Joos? If so, Heaven has just prevented you from committing a great crime. She, and her mother, and the lady who came with me from Aix, are in the mill with four German officers--a set of foul, drunken brutes who will stop at no excess. I'm going now to get a rifle. You make quietly for the stable opposite the kitchen door. You will find Joos there. He will explain. Tell me, are you for Belgium or Germany in this war?"
The Walloon might be slow-witted, but Dalroy's words seemed to have pierced his skin.
"For Belgium, monsieur, to the death," he answered.
"So am I. I'm an Englishman. As you go, think what that means."
Leaving Maertz to regain his feet and the stick, Dalroy rushed on up the hill. The unexpected struggle had cost him but little delay; yet it was dark, and the miller was nearly frantic with anxiety, when he returned.
"Is Maertz with you?" was his first question.
"Yes, monsieur," came a gruff voice out of the gloom of the stable.
"Do you know now how nearly you blundered?"
"Monsieur, I would have tackled St. Peter to save Léontine."
"Quick!" hissed Joos, "let us kill these hogs! We have no time to spare. The others will be here soon."
"Jan will tell you later. Come, now. Leave Busch to me!"