“See him now,” said Colton, “and find out what he wants.”

He blew a whistle, and an orderly appeared, saluting.

“Bring Weber,” said the captain.

The orderly returned with Weber, the two coming from one of the narrow aisles, and John rose impulsively to meet the Alsatian.  But before offering his hand Weber saluted the captain.

“Go ahead.  Tell all,” said Colton briefly.

Weber first shook John’s hand warmly.  Evidently he had not been living the life of the trenches, as he looked fresh, and his cheeks were full of color.  His gray uniform, with the blue threads through it, was neat and clean, and his black pointed beard was trimmed like that of a painter with money.

“We’re old comrades in war, Mr. Scott,” he said, “and I’m glad, very glad to find you again.  You and Lannes left me rather abruptly that time near the Marne, but it was the only thing you could do.  If by an effort of the mind I could have sent a wireless message to you I’d have urged you to instant flight.  I hid in the bushes, in time reached one of our armies, and since then I’ve been a bearer of dispatches along the front.  I heard some time back that you were still alive, but my duty hitherto has kept me from seeing you.  Now, it sends me to you.”

His tone, at first eager and joyous, as was fitting in an old friend meeting an old friend, now became very grave, and John looked at him with some apprehension.  Captain Colton motioned to a small stool.

“Sit down,” he said to Weber.  Then he offered the Alsatian a match and a cigarette which were accepted gratefully.  He made the same offer to John, who shook his head saying that he did not smoke.  The captain took two or three deliberate puffs, and contemplated Weber who had made himself comfortable on the stool.

“Military duty?” he asked.  “If so, Scott’s concern is my concern too.”

“That is quite true, Captain Colton,” said Weber, respectfully.  “As Mr. Scott is under your command you have a right to know what message I bring.”

“Knew you’d see it,” said Colton, taking another puff at his cigarette.  “There!  Germans have ceased firing!”

“And our men begin!” said John.

The moment the distant German thunder ceased the French reply, nearer at hand and more like a rolling crash, began.  It would continue about an hour, that is until nightfall, unless the heavy clouds and falling snow brought darkness much earlier than usual.  The flakes were coming faster, but the three were protected from them by the rude board shelter.  John again glanced anxiously at Weber.  He felt that his news was of serious import.

“I saw your friend Lieutenant Philip Lannes about three weeks ago at a village called Catreaux, lying sixty miles west of us,” said Weber.  “He had just made a long flight from the west, where he had observed much of the heavy fighting around Ypres, and also had been present when the Germans made their great effort to break through to Dunkirk and Calais.  I hear that he had more than a messenger’s share in these engagements, throwing some timely bombs.”