ells shot out
across the valley in tall curves, dropping into a distant bit of
hazy blue woodland, or exploded above the trees; the column of
infantry below plodded doggedly southward; the infantry in the
flax-field lay supine. Clearly something was interfering with the
retreat of the troops--something that threatened them from those
distant woods. And now he could see cavalry moving about the
crest of the nearer hills, but, without his glass, it was not
possible to tell what they were. Often he looked at the nearer
forest that hid the Chateau de Nesville. Somewhere within those
sombre woods lay the dead marquis.

With a sigh he rose to his knees, shivered in the sunshine,
passed one hand over his forehead, and finally stood up. Hunger
had made him faint; his head grew dizzy.

"It must be noon, at least," he muttered, and started down the
hill and across the fields towards the woods of Morteyn. As he
walked he pulled the bearded wheat from ripening stems and chewed
it to dull his hunger. The raw place on his neck, where the rope
had chafed, stung when the perspiration started. He moved quickly
but warily, keeping a sharp lookout on every side. Once he passed
a miniature vineyard, heavy with white-wine grapes; and, as he
threaded a silent path among the vines, he ate his fill and
slaked his thirst with the cool amber fruit. He had reached the
edge of the little vineyard, and was about to cross a tangle of
briers and stubble, when something caught his eye in the thicket;
it was a man's face--and he stopped.

For a minute they stared at each other, making no movement, no
sound.

"Sir Thorald!"--faltered Jack.

But Sir Thorald Hesketh could not speak, for he had a bullet
through his lungs.

As Jack sprang into the brier tangle towards him, a slim figure
in the black garments of the Sisters of Mercy rose from Sir
Thorald's side. He saw the white cross on her breast, he saw the
white face above it and the whiter lips.

It was Alixe von Elster.

At the same instant the road in front was filled with French
infantry, running.

Alixe caught his arm, her head turned towards the road where the
infantry were crowding past at double-quick, enveloped in a
whirling torrent of red dust.

"There is a cart there," she said. "Oh, Jack, find it quickly!
The driver is on the seat--and I can't leave Sir Thorald."

In his amazement he stood hesitating, looking from the girl to
Sir Thorald; but she drew him to the edge of the