“Not at all, because that’s what I am.”

“Then don’t take too big a risk.  It hasn’t been long since you were a boy, and I don’t like to think of one so young being executed as a spy.”

“I don’t intend to be.”

“It’s likely that I may see Philip Lannes before long.  I go westward in two or three days and I shall find a chance to visit him in the hospital.  If I see him what shall I tell him about a young man whom we both know, one John Scott, an American?”

“You tell him that his sister, Mademoiselle Julie Lannes, came to the village of Chastel to meet him, in accordance with his written request, and while she was waiting for him with her servants, Antoine and Suzanne Picard, not knowing that he had been wounded since the writing of his letter, she was kidnapped and carried into Germany with the Picards by Prince Karl of Auersperg.  Prince Karl is in love with her and intends to force her into a morganatic marriage.  Otherwise she is safe.  The American, John Scott, in addition to his duties as a spy for France, a country that he loves and admires, intends, if human endeavor can achieve it, to rescue Mademoiselle Lannes and bring her back to Paris.”

Delaunois took one hand from the steering rudder and turned glistening eyes upon John.

“It’s a knightly adventure,” he said.  “It will appeal to Frenchmen when they hear of it, and yet more to Frenchwomen.  I should like to shake the hand of this American, John Scott, and since he is not here, I will, if you will let me, shake the hand of his nearest French relative, Jean Castel.”

He opened his gloved palm and John’s met it in a strong grasp.

“I’m glad,” said Delaunois, “that I saw you, and that I am able to give you this lift.  We’re over the edge of the mountains now, and presently we’ll cross the French lines.  I think I’d better go up a considerable distance, as they won’t know we’re French, and they might give us a few shots.”

The machine rose fast and it grew intensely cold.  John looked down now upon a country, containing much forest for Europe, and sparsely inhabited.  But he saw far beneath them trenches and other earthworks manned with French soldiers.  Several officers were examining them through glasses, but Delaunois sailed gracefully over the line, circled around a slender peak where he was hidden completely from their view, and then dropped down in a forest of larch and pine.  “So far as I know,” he said, when the plane rested on the snow, “nobody has seen our descent.  We’re well beyond the French lines here, but you’ll find German forts four or five miles ahead.  As you see, this is exceedingly rough ground, not easy for men to occupy, and so the French stay on one side of this little cluster of mountains while the Germans keep to the other.  And now, Monsieur Jean Castel, I leave you here, wishing you success in your quest, success in every respect.”

Again the two strong hands met.  A minute later the aeroplane rose in the air, carrying but one of the men, while Jean Castel, peasant of Lorraine, was left behind, standing in the snow, and feeling very grateful to Delaunois.