Van Drissel," and without further ceremony he darted into the hall as a lad in the uniform of the O.T.C., who had just got out of a taxi, flew up the steps three at a time and dashed in with a shout.

"Why, Bob, old boy!"

"Dennis, dear old man! This is a bit of luck! How are you?"

"Top-hole!" laughed the new-comer, beaming all over his face, which was a clean-shaven, boyish reproduction of his brother's, brown as a berry from the arduous training he had undergone with the Artists', and, breaking loose from Bob's grip, he kissed his mother tenderly.

"You got my wire, dear little mater, but you didn't expect me so soon. It is good to be home again, even if it's only 'How d'you do?' and 'Bye-bye.' But isn't it fine putting me in Bob's battalion? How are the kids? And, I say, mater, is there any grub going? I didn't wait for breakfast before I left, and I'm hungry as a hunter."

The wounded Belgian lieutenant in the adjoining room bit his lips as he overheard the joyful greetings. The rain had cleared, and as he stood looking out where the trim lawn sloped down to the water, he saw a couple of English Tommies in hospital blue sculling round one of the tufted islets.

"Dennis, let me introduce you to Lieutenant Van Drissel, of the Belgian army," said Bob, coming in as Van Drissel turned round. "This is my brother whom we have been talking about," and the two shook hands.

"Glad to meet you," said Dennis frankly.

"Lucky bargee," smiled Van Drissel. "Isn't that right?"

"Ah, you speak English? Yes, it is quite right. I am," laughed Dennis.

"He speaks everything under the sun," said his brother. "And, by the way, Dennis is a great stunt on languages. You two will be able to make us feel thoroughly ashamed of ourselves. My regular verbs are as rusty as a trench button."

"Will you smoke?" said the Belgian, producing a silver cigarette-case.

"Not just now, thanks. I'm going to have some grub first, and if you don't mind I'll bunk upstairs and get a sluice."

"That boy is one of the best in the world, although he's my own brother," explained Bob Dashwood when Dennis had gone.

"How old?"

"Eighteen and a half," replied Bob.

"It is young to be killed," said Van Drissel gravely.

"But he isn't killed yet. Never knew such a fellow for falling on his feet. Of course, we all have to take our chances out there, but I don't mind betting you he comes off with a D.S.O. or a Military Cross, or something or other. You will hear of him yet, mark my words."

Thanks to Bob's experience, the kit buying did not take long, and in three days the boy sported his service uniform, to the rather oppressive admiration of Billy and the huge delight of his sisters. The Medical Board, too, had passed Bob as fit for service again, and the kit leave went like a flash.

Altogether, it had been a great week, with Dennis like a sea breeze filling the house with his wonderful spirits. There were people to dinner almost every evening, among them Uncle Eric, who was a staff captain at the War Office.

And then it all came to an end, and the last night arrived, and the mother and her two soldier sons sat down to dinner alone.

Mademoiselle Ottilie pleaded a headache, and her brother also invented an excuse for being absent.

"You would like to be together," he had said confidentially in Bob's ear.

"They are very charming and considerate," said Mrs. Dashwood when Bob told her. "I do not care very much for Belgians, as a rule, but the Van Drissels are exceptionally nice people."

Dennis said nothing, but he had his own thoughts. He did not like mademoiselle's bright black eyes, and the lieutenant's perpetual smile had begun to get on his nerves.

Mrs. Dashwood had kept up very bravely, though her heart was sad enough in all conscience, and when eleven o'clock struck, and Dennis, who had been living at high pressure, suddenly yawned and said: "Would you mind, mater, if I turned in? I'm as tired as a dog." Mrs. Dashwood made no demur, but signed to her eldest son to remain a little longer.

"Come into the drawing-room, Bob," she said, when they heard Dennis close his bedroom door with a bang. "I have a letter from your father which I want you to read. I did not show it to Dennis because he is excited enough already."

"Any news, dear?" questioned the captain as they seated themselves on the great padded settee, into which one sank so luxuriously that one never wanted to get out of it again.

"Yes, there is news. I suppose he has really told me more than he ought to have done. The date of the Great Push is fixed. But here is the letter; it only came this evening, and you can read it aloud to me."

As he did so, Captain Bob's eyebrows lifted, for the brigadier had been remarkably outspoken.

"We are going to make a simultaneous advance, we and the French on our right," he wrote in one place. "Our sector will bear the brunt of it. The thing has been kept wonderfully quiet, and so far the enemy knows nothing. All their attention is turned on the 'Clown' Prince's insane operations against Verdun, and the German General Staff seem to have forgotten the Somme region altogether, and to underrate the British as usual. But there will be a big surprise for them.

"My fellows are in fine fettle; in fact, so is the whole army corps in this region," he continued. "You should see the artillery we have massed ready for the preliminary bombardment, which promises to be the biggest in history. I hope Bob will be out in time, but I have no news of Dennis, and, between ourselves, I am not really sorry."

"By Jove! the governor's let himself go for once in his life," said Bob, when he had finished the letter. "Half a minute, mater, I'll show you all these places on the map, and then when the thing comes off you will be able to follow it," and, going out into the hall where his brother's kit was ready for the morning and his own simple outfit with it, he returned with a chart of that sector of the British line where it joined up with the French.

The ormolu clock on the mantelpiece struck half-past twelve before he had finished his lecture, which Mrs. Dashwood followed with the keenest interest, and when at last they got up, the brave little mother clung to him for a moment, very near to the breaking point.

"You will look after Dennis, Bob, as far as you can?" she said in a hushed voice. "He is very young and very impetuous, and regards the whole thing as a glorious game to be played as keenly as he plays rugger."

"You know I will do all I can, darling," he said, taking her face in his hands and kissing it, and then she passed out, and he switched off the lights.

When the drawing-room door closed a figure rose from behind the settee, where he had crouched all the time, and Anton Van Drissel dusted the knees of his khaki trousers.

"Ach Himmel!" he muttered in German. "It is worth a stiff back to have heard what I have heard to-night!"

CHAPTER II

Off to the Front

He stood quite still for fully five minutes to make sure that they had really gone, and then he stole with catlike tread over the noiseless carpet, and, opening the door, listened again.

The billiard-room was at the opposite end of the vestibule, and, closing the door gently behind him, he switched on the electric light, which revealed Mademoiselle Van Drissel evidently waiting for him.

"What have you learned, Anton?" she whispered in German.

"I have learned