But John knew better.  Those journeys of his with Lannes through the heavens and their battles in the air for their lives were unforgettable.  Stopping on the last slope of Montmartre he studied space with his glasses.  He was sure that he saw captive balloons on the horizon where the German army lay, and one shape larger than the rest looked like a Zeppelin, but he did not believe those monsters had come so far to the south and west.  They must have an available base.

His heart suddenly increased its beat.  He saw a darting figure and he recognized the shape of the German Taube.  Then something black shot downward from it, and there was a crash in the streets of Paris, followed by terrible cries.

He knew what had happened.  He caught another glimpse of the Taube rushing away like a huge carnivorous bird that had already seized its prey, and then he ran swiftly down the street.  The bomb had burst in a swarm of fugitives and a woman was killed.  Several people were wounded, and a panic had threatened, but the soldiers had restored order already and ambulances soon took the wounded to hospitals.

John went on, shocked to the core.  It was a new kind of war.  The flying men might rain death from the air upon a helpless city, but their victims were more likely to be women and children than armed men.  For the first time the clean blue sky became a sinister blanket from which dropped destruction.

The confusion created by the bomb soon disappeared.  The multitude of Parisians still poured from the city, and long lines of soldiers took their place.  John wondered what the French commanders would do.  Surely theirs was a desperate problem.  Would they try to defend Paris, or would they let it go rather than risk its destruction by bombardment?  Yet its fall was bound to be a terrible blow.

Lannes was on the steps of the Opera House at the appointed time, coming with a brisk manner and a cheerful face.

“I want you to go with me to our house beyond the Seine,” he said.  “It is a quaint old place hidden away, as so many happy homes are in this city.  You will find nobody there but my mother, my sister Julie, and a faithful old servant, Antoine Picard, and his daughter, Suzanne.”

“But I will be a trespasser?”

“Not at all.  There will be a warm welcome for you.  I have told them of you, how you were my comrade in the air, and how you fought.”

“Pshaw, Lannes, it was you who did most of the fighting.  You’ve given me a reputation that I can’t carry.”

“Never mind about the reputation.  What have you been doing since I left you this morning?”

“I spent a part of the time in the lantern of the Basilica on Montmartre, and I had with me a most interesting friend.”

Lannes looked at him curiously.

“You did not speak of any friend in Paris at this time,” he said.

“I didn’t because I never heard of him until a few hours ago.  I made his acquaintance while I was going up Montmartre, but I already consider him, next to you, the best friend I have in France.”