"I brought down a gentleman who was in a hurry. You see there are no more trains out of Paris on this line since noon! And there are not likely to be any for some time to come." "Will you take us as far as Charly?" "If it's on the way to Paris--yes! I'm in a hurry to get back. I've got to join my regiment at the Gaxe du Nord before midnight, but I'd like to ring in another job like this before that. It's worth while at 150 per trip!" "You've got to cross Charly--there's no other way to Paris." So we made our price and were whisked into our little market-town. The inhabitants were on their doorsteps or chatting in little groups, and we created quite a sensation in our Parisian vehicle. H. went to the Gendarmerie at once to see if there was any official news by wire since we had left town. "You're the one who ought to bring us news, Monsieur," said the _brigadier_. "What do they say in Paris?" "The mobilization will be posted at four o'clock." A hearty peal of laughter, that was most refreshing in the tension of the moment, burst from all three gendarmes. "Well, it's five minutes of four now. And if what you say is so, I should think we'd know something about it by this time! Don't worry. It's not so bad as you fancy--" H. shook hands and we left. At the hotel we got the chateau on the wire and asked for the victoria at once. As the horse had to be harnessed and there is a two-mile drive down to Charley, we stopped a moment and spoke to the proprietress of the hotel. "How does it happen that your motor was not at the station?" said H. "Oh," she replied, "our officers hired it early this morning and my husband bad to drive them post-haste to Soissons. He hasn't got back yet!" Before going farther in my narrative I shall say here, lest I forget it, that two of the supposed officers were caught within the fortnight and shot at Meaux as German spies--the third managed to make his escape. Hearing the carriage coming down the hill, we walked towards the doorway. At that same moment we saw the white-trousered _gendarme_ hastening towards the town hall. Catching might of H., he held up the sealed envelope he held in his band, and shouted, "You were right, Monsieur. It has come!" We jumped into the victoria, but as we crossed the square the _garde-champetre_ caught the bridle and stopped our turnout. "One moment, Monsieur." Then the town-crier appeared, instantly causing the staggering groups to cluster into one. He had no need to ring his bell. He merely lifted his hand and obtained instant silence, and then slowly read out in deep, solemn, measured tones, which I shall never forget until my dying day. "_Extrme urgence. Ordre de mobilisation generale. Le premier jour de la mobilization est le dimanche deux aout!_"