heir position inside the lines was of the greatest strategic value.
The rooms of the servants were under the roof, and that Briand should
sleep in one of them was natural. That to reach or leave his room he
should constantly be ascending or descending the stairs also was
natural. The field-wireless outfit, or, as he had disdainfully
described it, the "knapsack" wireless, was situated not in the bedroom
he had selected for himself, but in one adjoining. At other times this
was occupied by the maid of Madame Iverney. To summon her maid Madame
Iverney, from her apartment on the second floor, had but to press a
button. And it was in the apartment of Madame Iverney, and on the bed
of that lady, that Madame Benet now reclined. When through the open
door she saw an officer or soldier mount the stairs, she pressed the
button that rang a bell in the room of the maid. In this way, long
before whoever was ascending the stairs could reach the top floor,
warning of his approach came to Anfossi. It gave him time to replace
the dustboard over the fireplace in which the wireless was concealed
and to escape into his own bedroom. The arrangement was ideal. And
already information picked up in the halls below by Marie had been
conveyed to Anfossi to relay in a French cipher to the German General
Staff at Rheims.

Marie made an alert and charming hostess. To all who saw her it was
evident that her mind was intent only upon the comfort of her guests.
Throughout the day many came and went, but each she made welcome; to
each as he departed she called "bonne chance."

Efficient, tireless, tactful, she was everywhere: in the dining-room,
in the kitchen, in the bedrooms, for the wounded finding mattresses to
spread in the gorgeous salons of the Champagne prince; for the
soldier-chauffeurs carrying wine into the courtyard, where the
automobiles panted and growled, and the arriving and departing shrieked
for right of way. At all times an alluring person, now the one woman in
a tumult of men, her smart frock covered by an apron, her head and arms
bare, undismayed by the sight of the wounded or by the distant rumble
of the guns, the Countess d'Aurillac was an inspiring and beautiful
picture. The eyes of the officers, young and old, informed her of that
fact, one of which already she was well aware. By the morning of the
next day she was accepted as the owner of the chateau.

And though continually she reminded the staff she was present