the road to write a letter
to Dick, when she was aware of a large man on a white troop-horse. How
Torpenhow had managed in the course of twenty hours to find his way to
the hearts of the cavalry officers in quarters at Vitry-sur-Marne, to
discuss with them the certainty of a glorious revenge for France, to
reduce the colonel to tears of pure affability, and to borrow the best
horse in the squadron for the journey to Kami's studio, is a mystery
that only special correspondents can unravel.

'I beg your pardon,' said he. 'It seems an absurd question to ask, but
the fact is that I don't know her by any other name: Is there any young
lady here that is called Maisie?'

'I am Maisie,' was the answer from the depths of a great sun-hat.

'I ought to introduce myself,' he said, as the horse capered in the
blinding white dust. 'My name is Torpenhow. Dick Heldar is my best
friend, and--and--the fact is that he has gone blind.'

'Blind!' said Maisie, stupidly. 'He can't be blind.'

'He has been stone-blind for nearly two months.'

Maisie lifted up her face, and it was pearly white. 'No! No! Not blind!
I won't have him blind!'

'Would you care to see for yourself?' said Torpenhow.

'Now,--at once?'

'Oh, no! The Paris train doesn't go through this place till to-night.
There will be ample time.'

'Did Mr. Heldar send you to me?'

'Certainly not. Dick wouldn't do that sort of thing. He's sitting in
his studio, turning over some letters that he can't read because he's
blind.'

There was a sound of choking from the sun-hat. Maisie bowed her head
and went into the cottage, where the red-haired girl was on a sofa,
complaining of a headache.

'Dick's blind!' said Maisie, taking her breath quickly as she steadied
herself against a chair-back. 'My Dick's blind!'

'What?' The girl was on the sofa no longer.

'A man has come from England to tell me. He hasn't written to me for six
weeks.'

'Are you going to him?'

'I must think.'

'Think! I should go back to London and see him and I should kiss his
eyes and kiss them and kiss them until they got well again! If you don't
go I shall. Oh, what am I talking about? You wicked little idiot! Go to
him at once. Go!'

Torpenhow's neck was blistering, but he preserved a smile of infinite
patience as Maisie's appeared bareheaded in the sunshine.

'I am coming,' said she, her eyes on the ground.

'You will be at Vitry Station, then, at seven this evening.' This was
an order d