Monsieur Marchand, was not indulging in hyperbole after all."

Sheila watched him go and said nothing.

That twilight, when Monsieur Satan joined her, he looked as harmless as
ever, only a trifle more bashful. "Perhaps ma'am'selle will care no longer
to promenade with the wicked man. N'est ce pas?"

"A brave man," corrected Sheila, and she looked straight into the black
eyes. "A brave man who has given himself body and soul to France."

"Body and soul. Oui, ma'am'selle. But listen--there is something--" His
face changed in a breath, the eyes were blazing again, the mouth had
turned as sinister as his _nom de guerre_ signified. But something in
Sheila's eyes checked him. He put out a hand unconsciously and laid it on
her as though to steady himself. "Non, ma'am'selle. One need not tell
everything. You will see enough--enough."

When they landed, his good-bys to her were curiously brief. He held her
hand a second as if he would have said a great deal; then with a quick
"_Au 'voir_" he flung it from him and was down the gangway. But with Peter
it was different. He found him alone and vouchsafed him for the first time
what might have been called conversation.

"I do not know until yesterday that you were betrothed to Ma'am'selle
O'Leary. That is so?"

Peter nodded.

"You have been generous, monsieur. I wish to thank you."

Peter held out his hand. "Oh, that's all right. American men aren't given
to being jealous, as a rule. Besides, Miss O'Leary is the sort one has no
right to be selfish with. I guess you understand?"

"Oui, monsieur. She belongs a little to every one, man or child, who needs
the sympathy, the kind word, the loving heart. Moi, I comprehend. Some
time, perhaps, I render back the service. Then you can trust me; the honor
of Bertrand Fauchet can be trusted with women. Adieu, monsieur."

By dawn the next day the passengers of the liner were scattering to the
far corners of the fighting-front. Jacques Marchand had gone, _via_ the
office of the _Figaro_, to Flanders. Monsieur Satan had been despatched to
relieve another captain of the Chasseurs Alpins with French outposts along
the Oise. Peter had received his war permits to join the A. E. F. in
action and Sheila had received her appointment to an evacuation hospital
near the front. Her parting with Peter was over before either of them had
time to realize it. Her train left the Gare du Nord before his. They had
very little to say, these two who had c