They had got round the turn of the village and Charlotte was starting to follow them when she heard them draw up. In another minute John appeared, walking back slowly down the street with a young Belgian lieutenant. They were talking earnestly together. So soon as Charlotte saw the lieutenant she had a sense of something happening, something fatal, that would change Trixie's safe, easy programme. John as he came on looked perturbed and thoughtful. They stopped. The lieutenant was saying something final. John nodded assent and saluted. The lieutenant sketched a salute and hurried away in the opposite direction. John waited till he was well out of sight before he came to her. (She noticed that.) He had the look at first of being up to something, as if the devil of yesterday was with him still. It passed. His voice had no devil in it. "I say, I've got a job for you, Charlotte. Something you'll like." There was no devil in his voice, but he stared away from her as he spoke. "I don't want you to go to Ghent. I want you to go on to Zele." "Zele? Do I know the way?" "It's quite easy. You turn round and go the way we went that first day--you remember? It's the shortest cut from here." "Pretty bad going though. Hadn't we better go on and strike the main road?" "Yes, if you want to go miles round and get held up by the transport." "All right--if we can get through." "You'll get through all right." His voice had the tone of finality. "I'm to go by myself then?" "Well--if I've got to drive Mrs. Rankin--" She thought: It's going to be dangerous. "By the way, I haven't told her I'm sending you. You don't want her butting in and going with you." "No. I certainly don't want Trixie.... And look here, I don't particularly want those men. Much better leave them here where they're safe and send in again for them." "I don't know that I _can_ send in again. We're supposed to have finished this job. The cars may be wanted for anything. _They'll_ be all right." "I don't _like_ taking them." "You're making difficulties," he said. He was irritable and hurried; he had kept on turning and looking up the street as though he thought the lieutenant might appear again at any minute. "When _will_ you learn that you've simply got to obey orders?" "All right." She hadn't a chance with him. Whatever she said and did he could always bring it round to that, her orders. She thought she knew what _his_ orders had been. He cranked up the engine. She could see him stooping and rising to it, a rhythmic, elastic movement; he was cranking energetically, with a sort of furious, flushed enjoyment of his power. She backed and turned and he ran forward with her as she started. He shouted "Don't think about the main road. Get through.... And hurry _up_. You haven't got too much time."