restless."

"Well," she exclaimed, "if you will not come to the chateau, where shall
we meet?"

"I will write to you," he replied. "At this moment my movements are most
uncertain--they depend almost entirely upon the movements of others. At
any moment I may be called away. But a letter to Holles Street will
always find me, you know."

He seemed unusually serious and strangely preoccupied, she thought. She
noticed, too, that he had flung away his half-consumed cigar in
impatience, and that he had rubbed his chin with his left hand, a habit
of his when puzzled.

At the crossroads where the leafless poplars ran in straight lines
towards the village of Fresnes, a big red motor-car passed them at a
tearing pace, and in it Enid recognised General Molon.

Fetherston, although an ardent motorist himself, cursed the driver under
his breath for bespattering them with mud. Then, with a word of apology
to his charming companion, he held her gloved hand for a moment in his.

Their parting was not prolonged. The man's lips were thin and hard, for
his resolve was firm.

This girl whom he had grown to love--who was the very sunshine of his
strange, adventurous life--was, he had at last realised, unworthy. If he
was to live, if the future was to have hope and joy for him, he must tear
her out of his life.

Therefore he bade her adieu, refusing to give her any tryst for the
morrow.

"It is all so uncertain," he repeated. "You will write to me in London if
you do not hear from me, won't you?"

She nodded, but scarce a word, save a murmured farewell, escaped her dry
lips.

He was changed, sadly changed, she knew. She turned from him with
overflowing heart, stifling her tears, but with a veritable volcano of
emotion within her young breast.

He had changed--changed entirely and utterly in that brief hour and a
half they had walked together. What had she said? What had she done? she
asked herself.

Forward she went blindly with the blood-red light of the glorious sunset
full in her hard-set face, the great fortress-crowned hills looming up
before her, a barrier between herself and the beyond! They looked grey,
dark, mysterious as her own future.

She glanced back, but he had turned upon his heel, and she now saw his
retreating figure swinging along the straight, broad highway.

Why had he treated her thus? Was it possible, she reflected, that he had
actually become aware of the ghastly truth? Had he divined it?

"If he