I confess that as I read my heart sank.  If the civilians were so over-confident, might not the generals have fallen into the same trap?  Blenkiron alone was unperturbed.  Mary said nothing, but she sat with her chin in her hands, which with her was a sure sign of deep preoccupation.

Next morning the papers could tell us little more.  The main attack had been on both sides of St Quentin, and though the British had given ground it was only the outposts line that had gone.  The mist had favoured the enemy, and his bombardment had been terrific, especially the gas shells.  Every journal added the old old comment—­that he had paid heavily for his temerity, with losses far exceeding those of the defence.

Wake appeared at breakfast in his private’s uniform.  He wanted to get his railway warrant and be off at once, but when I heard that Amiens was his destination I ordered him to stay and travel with me in the afternoon.  I was in uniform myself now and had taken charge of the outfit.  I arranged that Blenkiron, Mary, and Peter should go on to Boulogne and sleep the night there, while Wake and I would be dropped at Amiens to await instructions.

I spent a busy morning.  Once again I visited with Blenkiron the little cabinet in the Boulevard St Germain, and told in every detail our work of the past two months.  Once again I sat in the low building beside the Invalides and talked to staff officers.  But some of the men I had seen on the first visit were not there.  The chiefs of the French Army had gone north.

We arranged for the handling of the Wild Birds, now safely in France, and sanction was given to the course I had proposed to adopt with Ivery.  He and his guard were on their way to Amiens, and I would meet them there on the morrow.  The great men were very complimentary to us, so complimentary that my knowledge of grammatical French ebbed away and I could only stutter in reply.  That telegram sent by Blenkiron on the night of the 18th, from the information given me in the Pink Chalet, had done wonders in clearing up the situation.

But when I asked them about the battle they could tell me little.  It was a very serious attack in tremendous force, but the British line was strong and the reserves were believed to be sufficient.  Petain and Foch had gone north to consult with Haig.  The situation in Champagne was still obscure, but some French reserves were already moving thence to the Somme sector.  One thing they did show me, the British dispositions.  As I looked at the plan I saw that my old division was in the thick of the fighting.

‘Where do you go now?’ I was asked.

‘To Amiens, and then, please God, to the battle front,’ I said.

’Good fortune to you.  You do not give body or mind much rest, my general.’

After that I went to the Mission Anglaise, but they had nothing beyond Haig’s communique and a telephone message from G.H.Q. that the critical sector was likely to be that between St Quentin and the Oise.  The northern pillar of our defence, south of Arras, which they had been nervous about, had stood like a rock.  That pleased me, for my old battalion of the Lennox Highlanders was there.