The short afternoon had waned away into brief twilight, and then, with a suddenness, into the blackness of the winter night. As they two faced out into the Grand Place, there was depth on depth of black space, from which came the throb of a motor, the whistle of a soldier, the clatter of hooves on cobbles. Only out from their window there fell a short-reaching radiance that spread over the sidewalk and conquered a few feet of the darkness beyond. Into this thin patch of brightness, there rode a grey car, two-seated, long, slim, pointed for speed. The same rays of the window lamp sufficed to light up the features of the sole occupant of the car:--high cheek-bones, thin cheeks, and pale face, tall form. "There he is," said Dr. McDonnell, enthusiastically; "there's our new member." With a stride of power, the green-clad warrior entered the cafe, and saluted Dr. McDonnell. "Ready for work," he said. "I see you are," answered Dr. McDonnell. "Will you sit down and join us?" "Gladly--in a moment. But I must first go across the square and see a Gendarme." "Your car is built for speed," put in Mrs. Bracher. "One hundred and twenty kilometres, the hour," answered the new-comer. "Let me see, in your language that will be seventy miles an hour. Swift, is it not?" "Why the double tires?" she asked. "You have a quick eye," he answered. "I like always the extra tires, you never know in war where the break-down will come. It is well to be ready." He flashed a smile at her, saluted the Doctor and left the cafe. "What a man!" exclaimed Dr. McDonnell. "That's what I say," agreed Mrs. Bracher. "What a man!" "Look at him," continued the Doctor. "I did, hard," answered Mrs. Bracher. * * * * *