The crash of guns had been growing infrequent; now it had subsided. The drone of planes could be no more heard. The invader had been driven back; hard on his heels our aerial cavalry were following across the Channel, awaiting their moment to exact revenge when he tried to land. [Illustration: 0059] The restored normality seemed to rouse her reserve. Lifting the sleeping head from her lap, she whispered, “Wake up, Robbie; we can go home now. It's all over.” The officer had risen and stood leaning against the mantel, “So it's good-bye?” “I'm afraid so.” “You've made me happy when I least expected to be happy. Shall we meet again, I wonder?” She smiled at his seriousness. “Perhaps. One never knows what the good God will allow. We didn't expect to meet tonight.” He was sensitive to her evasion and laughed, pretending to make light of it. “We don't want them to think they've had burglars. We had better leave something for the coals we've burned.” He placed a pound note on the mantel. Taking Joan in his arms and going first, he led the way down the stairs. When they were out of the hall and the front-door had closed behind them, he left the little group on the steps and went in search of a taxi. After a lengthy expedition he found one and, by promising an excessive fare, induced the driver to accompany him back. He knew neither the name of the square nor the number of the house, so he had to keep his head out of the window and shout directions. On entering the square he searched the pavement ahead, but could catch no sign of his recent companions. He halted the cab against the curb at the point where he thought he had left them; he was made certain that it was the point when he saw the notice TO LET. Perhaps the caretaker had come back and invited them to enter till he returned. He rang the bell and knocked vigorously. The driver was eyeing him with suspicion. When his repeated knockings were unanswered, he got into the taxi and ordered him to move slowly round the square. She had completely vanished. Either she had picked up a conveyance for herself, while he had been engaged in his search, or else she had lost faith in him and had taken it for granted that he had deserted her. He did not know her name. She had given him no address. Tomorrow night he would be in France. He had neither the time nor the necessary information to hunt for her. In reply to the driver's request for further instructions, he growled the name of his hotel. Then he spread himself out on the cushions and gave way to disconsolate reflections. The night was full of smoke and heavy with the smell of a bonfire burnt out. Things had become again uninteresting. He told himself that the most wonderful hour of his life was ended. CHAPTER V [Illustration: 9065]