Be at the rendezvous by Thursday. Hans, the chauffeur, has full
directions. Do not miss the seventeenth.

After rereading the contents of the note the man tore it into tiny bits
and, not content with that, stuffed them among the tobacco in his pipe.
Striking a match he lighted his pipe and planting his feet on the bag he
gazed long and earnestly at his initials stamped on the much labeled
buckskin. The slowing up of the limousine aroused him from his
meditations, and he glanced out of the window to see which way they were
headed. London, the metropolis of the civilized world, lay behind him.
Catching his chauffeur's backward glance, he signaled him to continue
onward as, removing his pipe, he muttered:

"_Gott strafe England_!"




CHAPTER II

OUT OF THE VOID


Slowly, the sullen roar of artillery, the rattle of Maxims and rifles
sank fitfully away. A tall raw-boned major of artillery stretched his
cramped limbs in the observation station, paused to look with callous
eyes over the devastated fields before him, then sought the trench.
Earlier in the day the Allies had been shelled out of an advance position
by the enemy and had fallen back on the entrenchments.