huckle, and
remarked to the controller, "This is a customer who does not like his
little comforts to be disarranged!"

The controller nodded contemptuously.

"They must travel--the English! The tourism--that is sacred, even if all
Europe burns."

Hillyard strolled towards the stairs, and as he drew near to them his
eyes brightened. A man about six years older than himself, tall,
broad-shouldered, slim of waist, with a short, fair moustache, was
descending towards him.

* * * * *

The war has killed many foolish legends, but none more foolish than the
legend of the typical Frenchman, conceived as a short, rotund, explosive
person, with a square, brown beard of curly baby-hair and a shiny silk
hat with a flat brim. There have been too many young athletes of clean
build on view whose nationality, language and the uniforms of
powder-blue and khaki could alone decide. The more curious might,
perhaps, if the youth were in mufti, cast a downward glance at the
boots; but even boots were ceasing to be the sure tell-tale they once
used to be. This man descending the stairs with a limp was the
Commandant Marnier, of the 193rd Regiment, wounded in 1915, and now
attached to the General Staff. He was in plain clothes; he was looking
for Martin Hillyard, and no stranger but would have set him and the man
for whom he was looking in the same category of races.

The Commandant Marnier saw Martin Hillyard clearly enough long before he
reached the foot of the stairs. But nevertheless he greeted him with an
appearance of surprise.

"But what luck!" he said aloud. "You leave by this train?"

"Yes. It may be that I shall find health."

"Yes, yes. So your friends will pray," returned the Commandant, falling
into Hillyard's pace.

"The telegram we sent for you----" Marnier began.

"Yes!"

"There is an answer already. Your friend is unhurt. I have brought you a
copy. I thought that perhaps I might catch you before your train
started."

He gave the slip of typewritten message into Hillyard's hand.

"That was most kind of you," said Hillyard. "You have removed a great
anxiety. It would have been many days before I should have received this
good news if you had not gone out of your way to hurry with it here."

Hillyard was moved, partly by the message, partly by the consideration
of Marnier, who now waved his thanks aside.

"Bah! We may not say 'comrade' as often as the Boche, but perhaps we are