right side. The Frenchman had his range at last.

Almost simultaneously his machine turned completely over. With groping,
desperate fingers the German strove to gain control over the levels and
right himself. In vain--and as he started in the downward rush, the
hurrying wind carried the frenzied whisper:

"The cross, dear God, the cross!"




CHAPTER III

POWERS THAT PREY


Not far as the crow flies from the scene of the German airman's
catastrophe, but with its presence hidden from general knowledge, was
the Grosses Hauptquartier, the pulsing heart and brain of the Imperial
fighting forces. Vigilant sentries patrolled the park leading from the
chateau commandeered for the use of the War Lord and his entourage, to
the quarters of the Great General Staff. In a secluded room of the
latter building a dozen men sat in conference about a table littered
with papers; they had been there since early evening, but no man
permitted his glance to stray to the dial of a library clock whose hands
were gradually approaching two o'clock. Truly, the chiefs of the
divisions were tireless toilers.

The Herr Chief of the Great General Staff was emphasizing his remarks