the door. On a
stiff chair outside, snoring profoundly, sat Jean, fully dressed.

The light from her candle roused him and he was wide awake in an instant.

"Why, Jean!" she said. "Isn't there any place for you to sleep?"

"I am to remain here, mademoiselle," he replied in English.

"But surely--not because of me?"

"It is the captain's order," he said briefly.

"I don't understand. Why?"

"All sorts of people come to this place, mademoiselle. But few ladies.
It is best that I remain here."

She could not move him. He had remained standing while she spoke to him,
and now he yawned, striving to conceal it. Sara Lee felt very
uncomfortable, but Jean's attitude and voice alike were firm. She
thanked him and said good night, but she slept little after that.

Lying there in the darkness, a warm glow of gratitude to Henri, and a
feeling of her safety in his care, wrapped her like a mantle. She
wondered drowsily if Harvey would ever have thought of all the small
things that seemed second nature to this young Belgian officer.

She rather thought not.

IX

While she was breakfasting the next morning there was a tap at the door,
and thinking it the maid she called to her to come in.

But it was Jean, an anxious Jean, twisting his cap in his hands.

"You have had a message from the captain, mademoiselle?"

"No, Jean."

"He was to have returned during the night. He has not come,
mademoiselle."

Sara Lee forgot her morning negligee in Jean's harassed face.

"But--where did he go?"

Jean shrugged his shoulders and did not reply.

"Are you worried about him?"

"I am anxious, mademoiselle. But I am often anxious; and--he always
returns."

He smiled almost sheepishly. Sara Lee, who had no subtlety but a great
deal of intuition, felt that there was a certain relief in the smile, as
though Jean, having had no message from his master, was pleased that
she had none. Which was true enough, at that. Also she felt that Jean's
one eye was inspecting her closely, which was also true. A new factor
had come into Henri's life--by Jean's reasoning, a new and dangerous
one. And there were dangers enough already.

Highly dangerous, Jean reflected in the back of his head as he backed
out with a bow. A young girl unafraid of the morning sun and sitting
at a little breakfast table as fresh as herself--that was a picture for
a war-weary man.

Jean forgot for a moment his anxiety for Henri's safety in his fear for
h