John felt compunctions at striking an unsuspecting enemy from behind, but their desperate need put strength in his blow. The officer fell without a cry and lay motionless. At the same instant Wharton and Carstairs seized the operator by the throat, and dragged him down. He was a small spectacled man and he was only a child in the hands of two powerful youths. In a minute or two and almost without noise they bound him with strips of his own coat, and gagged him with a handkerchief.

Then they stretched him out on the roof and turned to John's victim.

The man lay on his face. His helmet had fallen off and rolled some distance away, a ray of moonlight tipping the steel spike with silver. A dark red stain appeared in his hair where the pistol b.u.t.t had descended.

The figure was that of a powerful man, and the set of the shoulders seemed familiar to John. He rolled him over, and disclosed the face of von Boehlen. Again he felt compunction for that blow, not because he liked the captain, but because he knew him.

"It's von Boehlen," he said, "and I hope I haven't killed him."

Carstairs inserted his hand under his head and felt of the wound.

"You haven't killed him," he said, "but you struck hard enough to make him a bitter enemy. The skull isn't fractured at all, and he'll be reviving in a few minutes. He's a powerful fellow, and we'd better truss him up as we have his friend here."

While Carstairs and Wharton were binding and gagging von Boehlen, John went to the railing about five feet in height that surrounded the central or flat part of the roof, the rest sloping away. The railing would hide what was pa.s.sing there from the Uhlans below, but he wanted to take a look of precaution.

The men were riding up and down with their usual regularity and precision, watching every approach to the house, and making the ring of steel about it complete. This little wheel of the German machine was Working perfectly, guarding with invincible thoroughness against the expected, but taking no account of the unexpected. He came back to his comrades.

"All well below," he said.

Von Boehlen and the operator, the big man and the little man, were lying side by side. Von Boehlen's face was very pale, but his chest was beginning to rise and fall with some regularity. He would become conscious in three or four minutes. The operator was conscious already and he was staring at the three apparitions.

But Wharton was paying no attention to the captives. His soul fairly leaped within him as he took his seat at the instrument which was sputtering and flashing with unanswered questions.

"Is that the Chateau de Friant?" came the words flashing through the air.

"Yes this is the Chateau de Friant," replied Wharton, learning for the first time the name of the house, in which they had made themselves at home.

"Then why don't you answer? You broke off suddenly five minutes ago and we couldn't get another word from you."

"Something went wrong with the instrument, but it's all right now. Go ahead."

"Is Captain von Boehlen still there?"

"At my elbow."

"Take from his dictation the answers to the questions I ask you."

"At once, sir. He is ready to dictate."

"Have you seen anything of British troops, Captain von Boehlen?"

"I have sir. I saw them marching northward this afternoon."

"In what direction?"

"Toward Mons."

"What seemed to be their purpose?"

"To effect a junction with the main French army."

Wharton improvised rapidly. His whole soul was still alight. It had seldom been granted to one man, especially one so young as he to have two such opportunities, that of the papers, and that of the wireless, and he felt himself ready and equal to his task.

"Were they in large force?" came the question out of the dark.

"Larger than any of us expected."

"How many do you think?"

"About one hundred and fifty thousand men."

For two or three minutes no other question came, and Wharton laughed silently. "I've created a hostile force of a hundred and fifty thousand men," were his unuttered words, "and they don't like it."

"Is it possible for our advance column to get in between them and the French?" finally came the next question.

"It's too late," went back the winged answer. "The column would be destroyed."

"This is not in accordance with our earlier reports."

"No sir. But both the English and French have shown amazing activity. A French force of more than one hundred thousand men, of which we have had no report before, faces our right. It is prepared to strike our line just where it is thinnest."

Another silence, and Wharton's heart beat hard and fast. John standing near him, did not know what was being said through the dark, but he knew by the look on Wharton's strained face that it must be momentous. The wireless was silent, and now he heard the measured tread of horses'

hoofs, as the Uhlans rode back and forth, guarding the wireless station against the coming of any foe.

Wharton listened intently at the receiver. Were they accepting all that he said? Why shouldn't they? He had given them no answer which they could know to be wrong.

"You are entirely sure of what you say?" came the question.

"Entirely sir. My Uhlans and I were able to ride under cover of a forest to a point within a few hundred yards of the enemy. We saw them in great ma.s.ses."

"And their field artillery?"

"We were not able to count the guns, but they were very numerous."

"Then it seems that we can't drive a wedge between the English and the French."

"I fear that we can't sir."

"Send out a portion of the Uhlans under your best officers and report to me again at daylight."

"They shall go at once sir."

"Then good night. Captain von Boehlen. I congratulate you upon your energy and the great service that you have done."

"Thank you sir."

"We may call you again in the night."

"I shall be here sir."