Page 36 - A Hero of Liége

"Well now: let us keep cool. We can get into the room: that is certain. Can
we get out of it? We shall have to descend the stairs. Our chance of life

depends on one half-minute. 'Can a man die better than facing fearful
odds?' Look here: we'll toss. Heads: we'll go up; tails--why, hang it, we'll

still go up! Fortuna fortibus! Wait till we hear the rumble of the next
artillery wagon; then! ... "

They had not long to wait. Heavy traffic passed at short intervals.

"Now!" said the stranger.

Kenneth gave a heave. In a moment two planks were removed. Resting his

arms on the edges of those on either side of the gap, he hoisted himself up.
His companion quickly followed. They stood in the room.

The next half minute was filled to breathlessness. It was a bedroom. A
street lamp outside threw a little light into it. Hanging from a peg on the

door was a policeman's tunic and helmet.

"Fortune's our friend," murmured the stranger.

In ten seconds he had helped Kenneth to don the uniform. They crept out of

the room, and peeped over the stair rail. The way was clear. All sounds
within were smothered by the noise in the street. They stole downstairs,

past the closed door of the guardroom, through the outer door, and into the
open. "War with England!" shouted a newsman at the corner.

"We win the first trick!" chuckled the stranger, as they hurried along.