“Was he well when you saw him?” asked John.  “He had not been hurt?  He had not been in any accident?”

“He was in the best of health, bard and fit.  But his activities in the Arrow had diminished recently.  Snow, rain, icy hail make difficulties and dangers for aviators.  But we wander.  He had not heard from his mother, Madame Lannes, or his sister, the beautiful Mademoiselle Julie, for a long time, and he seemed anxious about them.”

“He himself took Mademoiselle Julie back to Paris in the Arrow," said John.

“So he told me.  They arrived safely, as you know, but Lannes was compelled to leave immediately for the extreme western front.  The operations there were continuous and so exacting that he has been unable to return to Paris.  He has not heard from his mother and sister in more than two months, and his great anxiety about them is quite natural.”

“But since the retreat of the Germans there is no danger in Paris save from an occasional bomb.”

“No.  But a few days after seeing Lannes my own duties as a messenger carried me back to Paris, and I took it upon myself to visit Lannes’ house.  I had two objects, both I hope justifiable.  I wanted to take to them good news of Lannes and I wanted to take to Lannes good news of them.”

“You found them there?” said John, his anxiety showing in his tone.

“I did.  But a letter from Lannes, by good luck, had just come through the day before.  It was a noble letter.  It expressed the fine spirit of that brave young man, a spirit universal now throughout France.  He said the fighting had been so severe and the wounded were so many that all Frenchwomen who had the skill and strength to help must come to the hospitals, where the hurt in scores of thousands were lying.”

“Did he mention any point to which she was to come?”

“A village just behind the fortress of Verdun.  To say that she was willing was not enough.  A great spirit, a magnificent spirit, Mr. Scott.  The soul of chivalry may dwell in the heart of a young girl.  She was eager to go.  Madame, her mother, would have gone too, but she was ill, so she remained in the house, while the beautiful Mademoiselle Julie departed with the great peasant, Antoine Picard, and his daughter Suzanne.”

“Do you know how they went?”

“By rail, I think, as far as they could go, and thence they were to travel by motor to the tiny village of Chastel, their destination.  Knowing your interest in Mademoiselle Julie, I thought it would not displease you to hear this.  Chastel is no vast distance from this point.”

A blush would have been visible on John’s face had he not been tanned so deeply, but he felt no resentment.  Captain Colton took his cigarette from his lips and said tersely: 

“Every man likes a pretty face.  Man who doesn’t—­no man at all.”

“I agree with you, Captain Colton,” said Weber heartily.  “When I no longer notice a beautiful woman I think it will be time for me to die.  But I take no liberty, sir, when I say that in all the garden of flowers Mademoiselle Julie Lannes is the rarest and loveliest.  She is the delicate and opening rose touched at dawn with pearly dew.”