He was not sleepy at all, and staying by the window he kept a strange watch.  He saw white flares appear often on a long line in the west.  He knew it was the flashing of the searchlights, and he surmised that what he saw was meant for signals.  The fighting would go on under steady light continued long, and that it would continue admitted of no doubt.  He could hear the mutter of the guns, ceaseless like the flowing of a river.

He saw the battery drive out of the grounds, then turn into the road before the chateau and disappear.  He concluded that the cannon were needed at some weak point where the Franco-British army was pressing hard.

Then a company of hussars came from the forest and rode quietly into the grounds, where they dismounted.  John saw that many, obviously the wounded, were helped from their horses.  In battle, he concluded, and not so far off.  Perhaps not more than two or three miles.  Rifle-fire, with the wind blowing the wrong way, would not be heard that distance.

The hussars, leading their horses, disappeared in a wood behind the house, and they were followed presently by a long train of automobiles, moving rather slowly.  The moonlight was very bright now and John saw that they were filled with wounded who stirred but little and who made no outcry.  The line of motors turned into the place and they too disappeared behind the chateau, following the hussars.

Two aeroplanes alighted on the grass and their drivers entered the house.  Bearers of dispatches, John felt sure, and while he watched he saw both return, spring into their machines and fly away.  Their departure caused him to search the heavens once more, and he knew that he was looking for Lannes, who could not come.

Now von Arnheim passed down the graveled walk that led to the great central gate, but, half way, turned from it and began to talk to some sentinels who stood on the grass.  He was certainly a fine fellow, tall, well built, and yet free from the German stoutness of figure.  He wore a close uniform of blue-gray which fitted him admirably, and the moonlight fell in a flood on his handsome, ruddy face.

“I hope you won’t be killed,” murmured John.  “If there is any French shell or shrapnel that is labeled specially for a prince and that must have a prince, I pray it will take Auersperg in place of von Arnheim.”

It was a serious prayer and he felt that it was without a trace of wickedness or sacrilege.  Evidently von Arnheim was giving orders of importance, as two of the men, to whom he was talking, hurried to horses, mounted and galloped down the road.  Then the young prince walked slowly back to the house and John could see that he was very thoughtful.  He passed his hand in a troubled way two or three times across his forehead.  Perhaps the medieval prince inside was putting upon the modern prince outside labors that he was far from liking.