master, a leader
of a Hungarian band, a manager of a Ritz hotel. But he was not above his
station. He even assisted the porter in carrying the coats and golf
bags of the gentlemen from the car to the coffee-room where, with the
intuition of the homing pigeon, the three strangers had, unaided, found
their way. As Carl Schultz followed, carrying the dust-coats, a road map
fell from the pocket of one of them to the floor. Carl Schultz picked
it up, and was about to replace it, when his eyes were held by notes
scrawled roughly in pencil. With an expression that no longer was that
of a head-waiter, Carl cast one swift glance about him and then slipped
into the empty coat-room and locked the door. Five minutes later, with
a smile that played uneasily over a face grown gray with anxiety, Carl
presented the map to the tallest of the three strangers. It was open so
that the pencil marks were most obvious. By his accent it was evident
the tallest of the three strangers was an American.

"What the devil!" he protested; "which of you boys has been playing hob
with my map?"

For just an instant the two pink-cheeked ones regarded him with
disfavor; until, for just an instant, his eyebrows rose and, with a
glance, he signified the waiter.

"Oh, that!" exclaimed the younger one. "The Automobile Club asked us
to mark down petrol stations. Those marks mean that's where you can buy
petrol."

The head-waiter breathed deeply. With an assured and happy countenance,
he departed and, for the two-hundredth time that day, looked from the
windows of the dining-room out over the tumbling breakers to the gray
stretch of sea. As though fearful that his face would expose his secret,
he glanced carefully about him and then, assured he was alone, leaned
eagerly forward, scanning the empty, tossing waters.

In his mind's eye he beheld rolling tug-boats straining against long
lines of scows, against the dead weight of field-guns, against the pull
of thousands of motionless, silent figures, each in khaki, each in a
black leather helmet, each with one hundred and fifty rounds.

In his own language Carl Schultz reproved himself.

"Patience," he muttered; "patience! By ten to-night all will be dark.
There will be no stars. There will be no moon. The very heavens fight
for us, and by sunrise our outposts will be twenty miles inland!"

At lunch-time Carl Schultz carefully, obsequiously waited upon the
three strangers. He gave them their choice of soup