in ignorance.

For her part she intended to advise Nona to listen to whatever their
former friend wished to tell her. But just as Barbara opened her lips
to offer this advice, her companion spoke.

"Barbara, you have been in such a study you haven't asked for the piece
of news I have to give you. Do you remember almost quarreling with me
because I did not wish to write a note to the English fellow we once
knew when we were in Brussels, after you discovered him in prison
there?"

Barbara nodded, her mind immediately distracted from her former train of
thought.

"Lieutenant Hume? Why, do you know what has become of him?" she
inquired.

In reply Nona took a letter out of her pocket.

"I had a note from him today. You see, after your lecture I continued
writing him in prison every now and then during the year we spent in
Belgium. Just occasionally he was allowed to send me a few lines in
reply. Then a long time passed and I had almost forgotten him. Now he
writes to say that by an extraordinary freak of fortune he has been
returned home. It seems that he became very ill, so when the Germans
decided to agree on an exchange of prisoners, he and our little blind
Frenchman, Monsieur Bebe, were both sent back to their own lands.
Lieutenant Hume does not say what is the matter with him. His letter
isn't about himself. He is really tremendously anxious to hear news of
us. He has just learned of Eugenia's marriage to Henri Castaigne, and he
thinks we are pretty foolhardy to have offered our services for nursing
in Russia."

Instinctively Barbara held her companion's arm in a closer grasp.

"Far be it from me to disagree with him!" she murmured.

For her attention had just been arrested by the noise of a horse's hoofs
approaching. Both girls looked up to see a young Cossack soldier riding
toward them. He sat his horse as though he were a part of it, his feet
swinging in long stirrups and his hands barely touching the reins.

Both girls felt a stirring sense of admiration. But to their surprise,
as the horse drew near the young soldier pulled up and slid quietly to
the ground.

The next instant he came up toward Nona.

"You will pardon me," he said, speaking English, although with a
noticeable accent, "but it will not be wise for you to continue to walk
any further along this road. It is growing late and there are stragglers
coming in from several villages where a German raid is feared."

He had taken off his pointed