“What comes next,” she confessed, “is terrible. I can hardly believe it. As I look back, it seems to me that we were all a little mad. To get through the war zone to Prezelay I had to have certain papers; and I got them from an American girl, an old friend of Enid’s and of mine, Marie Le Clair. The morning I arrived in Paris she came to say good-bye to Enid. She was acting as a Red Cross nurse, and they were sending her to the hospital at Carrefonds to take the first consignment of the great new remedy for burns and scars. Carrefonds is very near Prezelay. It all came to me in a moment. I told her how matters stood and how Enid was dying little by little, just for lack of any sure knowledge. She gave me the papers she had for herself and her chauffeur, Jacques Carton, and I used them for myself and for Georges, Jean’s foster-brother, who was at home from the Front on leave and was staying in his old room at the house.” “Great Caesar’s ghost!” I sputtered. “You didn’t--you don’t mean to say that--Why, good heavens, didn’t you know--?” Then I petered off into silence; words were too weak for my emotions. She had seen the risk of course, and so had the girl who had helped her; but with the incredible bravery of women, they had acted with open eyes. “Yes,” she faltered; “I told you I felt mad, looking back at it. But Marie is safe now; Jean has worked for her, and his relatives and friends have helped, and the minister of war. It was the only way. Under my own name I could never have got leave to enter the war zone while Jean was missing and suspected--What is the matter, Mr. Bayne?” For once more I had groaned aloud. “Simply,” I cried stormily, “that I can’t bear thinking of it! The idea of your taking risks, of your daring the police and the Germans--you who oughtn’t to know what the word danger means! I tell you I can’t stand it. Wasn’t there some man to do it for you? Well, it’s over now; and in the future--See here, Miss Falconer, I can’t wait any longer. There is something I’ve got to say.” But I was not to say it yet, for, behold! just as my tongue was loosened, I became aware of a most distinguished galaxy approaching us round the lake. All save one of its members--Dunny, to be exact--were in uniform; and the personage in the lead, walking between my guardian and the duke of Raincy-la-Tour, was truly dazzling, being arrayed in a blue coat and spectacularly red trousers and wearing as a finishing touch a red cap freely braided with gold. Miss Falconer had risen. “Why,” she exclaimed, “it is General Le Cazeau!” “Then confound General Le Cazeau!” was my inhospitably cry.