"No," said Darrel, blandly. Guild turned to Michaud: "What were you saying?" The forester, controlling his anger and emotion, continued the story of the sniper near Trois Fontaines. Then he outlined the miserable affair of the hill pasture. "There remains for us now only two courses," he ended. "Either we turn franc-tireur and make our bivouac yonder in the forest, or we gather our people at The Pulpit, lie there tonight, and at daylight strike out for the Dutch frontier." Guild nodded. "There is a little hole in the rocks at The Pulpit--scarce large enough to be called a cave. Since the war came upon us, foreseeing necessity, my men have carried arms and provisions to The Pulpit--well hidden, Monsieur. I think, now, that it is a better refuge than this house." The three men looked up at the house. Michaud made a hopeless gesture: "I suppose _they_ will destroy it, now. God knows. But if Monsieur Paillard be truly dead as we now believe, and his poor body lies rotting under the ruins of Wiltz-la-Vallée, then there is nobody to mourn this house excepting the old forester, Michaud.... And I think he has lived on earth too long." He went slowly toward the house, entered it. One by one all the lighted windows grew dark. Presently he reappeared drawing the door-key from his pocket. Very deliberately he locked the door from the outside, looked in silence at the darkened house, and, facing it, quietly removed his hat. The silent salute lasted but a moment; he put on his grey hat with the pheasant's feather sticking up behind, picked up his fowling-piece and hung it over one shoulder, his big, weather-browned hand resting on the sling. "Eh bien, Messieurs?" he inquired calmly. "Bring in your men, Michaud," said Guild. "I know where The Pulpit is, but I couldn't find it at night. I'll wait at the carrefour for you." And, to Darrel: "What did you do with my luggage?" "Sent it to Quellenheim." "_That rücksack, too?_" "Yes." "Damnation," said Guild very calmly; "it had papers in it which are enough to hang anybody!" "You'd better go and get it, then." "I'll have to, that's all." They walked across the lawn and out along the dark drive in silence. Where the ride crossed at the carrefour they halted. There was a dilapidated shrine there to Our Lady of Lesse. They seated themselves on the stone base. "Harry," said Guild, "how long do you intend to follow me about in this absurd way?" "I'd like to see you safe across the Dutch frontier." "Thanks," said Guild drily. "Don't mention it. I really can reconcile myself to your having your bally head knocked off in uniform, but this sort of thing seems rather ghastly." "It is. Won't you go on to Quellenheim to oblige me?" "I'll wait till tomorrow morning," replied Darrel pleasantly. Guild was silent. They sat there for an hour or more scarcely exchanging a word. Then somebody whistled, cautiously, very near them, and another carefully modulated whistle answered.