André saw the old man--scrubbed pink and bristling--beside the guard at the door. With Victor was another of the village fathers--a farmer who had once been a schoolteacher. M. Blanc was a tall, square man, in a rough tweed suit. “I am here,” said Victor, speaking to both André and the guard--who did not understand a word--“about a matter which demands attention. It is the exasperating fact that an unexploded shell reposes in my--” André cried, “Wait!” and hastily translated for the guard’s benefit. Victor remained standing, with open mouth. The guard shouted, and Slim came running. The captain was swiftly consulted, and a demolition squad was rounded up. This took only a few seconds, since disposing of unexploded shells was an ever-present problem. On being questioned about where the “dud” was, Victor finished his sentence. “In my parlor, near the bay window.” At the last word, the demolition crew started running. André asked, “But isn’t Mme. Lescot frightened?” “She does not even know it is there,” Victor replied. “She has been off helping with some of the children since yesterday. I was obliged to prepare my own supper,” he finished crossly. Captain Dobie came to the door and gravely shook hands with the two Frenchmen. He eyed Victor curiously. After a moment’s study of the old man, however, he decided that to order Victor to stay out of danger would be a waste of time. It was M. Blanc who spoke. “We came, sir,” he said, “as spokesmen for the whole neighborhood. We wish to offer our services in any way you Americans consider helpful. We should also be grateful if you can tell us what to expect in the way of future danger to our community.” “I think,” replied Captain Dobie, “you people have accepted all this destruction with fine, very brave spirit. The Maquis, as well as all you other French people, have helped the landing forces more than you will ever know. We Americans want you to realize that we are grateful. It could have been much worse for us.” M. Blanc put up a hand. “Please, m’sieur, it is our battle also. And the Maquis have told us that the Americans up beyond Ste. Mère are heroic.” The captain said his men had been wonderful. “But until we dispose of these Germans, we can’t move forward into France beyond this peninsula.” “And the Canadians and British?” asked M. Blanc. “They’ve successfully landed a lot of troops and tanks. They’ve penetrated to a considerable depth toward Caen, I hear.” “_Bon!_” Victor’s head bobbed. “When you have disposed of these bothersome Nazis you speak of--you do what?” Captain Dobie frowned. “We must throw a line of troops from these beaches straight across the neck of the peninsula to cut off German reinforcements from coming to the rescue of the enemy in Cherbourg.” “No doubt,” frowned Victor, “the Nazis will respond by doing all the damage possible to our fine Cherbourg port.”