Mrs. Smythe did not return to the canteen again that afternoon, being engaged, as Grace surmised, in arranging for a new building to take the place of the one destroyed when the ammunition dump blew up. At six o’clock Grace went home to prepare their supper, leaving Elfreda to wait for their relief at the canteen. There was no effort on Grace’s part this time to enter her home quietly, still she made no noise that she was conscious of, but she had no more than gotten to her room than there came a tap on the door. It was Marie. Grace welcomed her smilingly. “I am glad to see you out again. How do you feel?” “Not very well, Madame. I am sore all over. All Huns are brutes!” “Do you include the good doctor?” “Ah, the doctor. He is fine on the outside, but the soul, Madame! Why should one say it when one does not know?” Grace nodded thoughtfully and asked who was with Mrs. Smythe. Marie informed her that Miss Marshall was taking supper with Madame and talking of the war. “Madame told me to say to you when you came in that you were to go to the new canteen in the morning. It is near the river on the same street as the old one. You are to be there at six o’clock in the morning. Is there anything I can do for you?” “I believe you have already done something for me. Did you make up the bed and slick up the room?” Grace regarded her smilingly. “Yes, Madame.” “Thank you very much. Did Madame go to headquarters this morning?” Marie nodded and grinned. “She went to ask them to send you home, but instead they told her she was the one who should be sent home. Was that not glorious? Oo-lá-lá, how I should have loved to hear it and to see the face of Madame.” “That will do, please, Marie,” rebuked the Overton girl. “She is our superior. Thank you for your kindness about the room.” Marie smiled and nodded as she backed to the door, then closed it softly behind her. Grace stepped over and locked the door, and pulling the shade down began a thorough examination of the room. First she examined the furniture, then the fireplace, the lighting fixtures and the baseboard that extended all the way around the room. “All clear,” muttered the girl. Next, the walls came in for a scrutiny. Not only did she look the walls over, but felt them gingerly with her finger tips. What the result of that search was Grace Harlowe did not even confide to Elfreda Briggs, but she was satisfied that her intuition again had served her well, and was now determined to be more watchful than ever.