And Stewart, as briefly as might be, told the story--the meeting at Aix, the arrest at Herbesthal, the flight over the hills, the passage of the Meuse, the attack on the village--his voice faltering at the end despite his effort to control it. At first, the staff had kept on with its examination of the plans, but first one and then another laid them down and listened. For a moment after he had finished, they sat silent, regarding him. Then General Joffre rose slowly to his feet, and the members of his staff rose with him. "Monsieur," he said, "I shall not attempt to tell you how your words have moved me; but on behalf of France I thank you; on her behalf I give you the highest honor which it is in her power to bestow." His hand went to his buttonhole and detached a tiny red ribbon. In a moment he had affixed it to Stewart's coat. "The Legion, monsieur!" he said, and he stepped back and saluted. Stewart, a mist of tears before his eyes, his throat suddenly contracted, looked down at the decoration, gleaming on his lapel like a spot of blood. "It is too much," he protested, brokenly. "I do not deserve----" "It is the proudest order in the world, monsieur," broke in the general, "but it is not too much. You have done for France a greater thing than you perhaps imagine. Some day you will know. Not soon, I fear," and his face hardened. "We have other work to do before we can make use of these sheets of paper. You saw the German army?" "Yes, sir; a part of it." "It is well equipped?" "It seemed to me irresistible," said Stewart. "I had never imagined such swarms of men, such tremendous cannon----" "We have heard something of those cannon," broke in the general. "Are they really so tremendous?" "I know nothing about cannon," answered Stewart; "but----" and he described as well as he could the three monsters he had seen rolling along the road toward Liège. His hearers listened closely, asked a question or two---- "I thank you again," said the general, at last. "What you tell us is most interesting. Is there anything else that I can do for you? If there is, I pray you to command me." Stewart felt himself shaken by a sudden convulsive trembling. "If I could get some news," he murmured, brokenly, "of--of my little comrade." General Joffre shot him a quick glance. His face softened, grew tender with comprehension. "Fernande," he said. Fernande bowed. "Everything possible shall be done, my general," he said. "I promise it. We shall not be long without tidings." "Thank you," said Stewart. "That is all, I think." "And you?" "I? Oh, what does it matter!" And then he turned, fired by a sudden remembrance of a great white tent, of loaded ambulances. "Yes--there is something I might do. I am a surgeon. Will France accept my services?" "She is honored to do so," said the general, quickly. "I will see that it is done. Until to-morrow--I will expect you," and he held out his hand, while the staff came to a stiff salute.