Once more the French commander became immersed in his work. He took no notice of Hal and Chester, who, though trying to be as patient as possible, were beginning to get restless and to fidget uneasily. At noon Marshal Foch showed no intention of stopping work for lunch. "I can stand it if he can, I guess," Chester told himself. At 2 o’clock the French commander was still with the papers and maps before him. At 3 o’clock General Marcel entered hurriedly. "General Dupree reports a flag of truce advancing from the enemy lines south of Rocroi, sir," he said, his voice trembling under repressed emotion. Marshal Foch was on his feet instantly. "By ’phone?" he demanded. "Yes, sir." "And what else did he say?" "That is all, sir." "Very well. Report to your own station, general. I’ll get General Dupree on the wire myself." General Marcel withdrew. "Colonel Matin!" The French commander’s secretary was on his feet instantly. "Get General Dupree for me on the wire at once." Colonel Matin seized the telephone. Five minutes later he said: "General Dupree on the wire, your excellency." Marshal Foch seized the instrument. "Hello, Dupree," he said into the transmitter. "This is Marshal Foch. Has the flag of truce reached our lines yet?" "No, sir," was the response over the wire. "There seems to be some doubt that it will reach our lines." "Some doubt? What do you mean?" "The bearer has turned back twice, sir, and—one moment." The voice broke off and for several moments Marshal Foch waited impatiently. At last General Dupree spoke again: "The flag of truce is advancing again, sir." "Good," said Marshal Foch. "I’ll keep the wire open. Inform me at once of what the messenger says." For perhaps five minutes Marshal Foch held the ’phone himself. From time to time his eyes wandered to the mass of papers that littered his desk. He called suddenly: "Major Crawford!" Chester sprang to his feet with alacrity and advanced to the marshal’s side. "Take this ’phone and inform me the moment General Dupree is on the wire again." Chester did as commanded, and sat motionless before the telephone. Marshal Foch, meanwhile, bent over his desk and buried himself in maps and papers. Not for a moment, it seemed, could this active man rest. He could not even content himself the few moments necessary to await further word from General Dupree. His mind was never idle. He was busy and active every minute he was awake. This, perhaps, was what made him the great and successful military genius he was. A voice came over the wire to Chester’s ear. "Your excellency?" "One moment," said Chester. He found it unnecessary to apprise Marshal Foch that General Dupree was on the wire again. At the first sound of the lad’s voice, the French commander had left his chair and stepped to Chester’s side. Now he took the receiver from the lad’s hand. "This is Foch," he said. "Well?"