only as
the friend of her schoolmate, Madame Iverney, they deferred to her as
to a hostess. Many of them she already saluted by name, and to those
who with messages were constantly motoring to and from the front at
Soissons she was particularly kind. Overnight the legend of her charm,
of her devotion to the soldiers of all ranks, had spread from Soissons
to Meaux, and from Meaux to Paris. It was noon of that day when from
the window of the second story Marie saw an armored automobile sweep
into the courtyard. It was driven by an officer, young and appallingly
good-looking, and, as was obvious by the way he spun his car, one who
held in contempt both the law of gravity and death. That he was some
one of importance seemed evident. Before he could alight the adjutant
had raced to meet him. With her eye for detail Marie observed that the
young officer, instead of imparting information, received it. He must,
she guessed, have just arrived from Paris, and his brother officer
either was telling him the news or giving him his orders. Whichever it
might be, in what was told him the new arrival was greatly interested.
One instant in indignation his gauntleted fist beat upon the
steering-wheel, the next he smiled with pleasure. To interpret this
pantomime was difficult; and, the better to inform herself, Marie
descended the stairs.

As she reached the lower hall the two officers entered. To the spy the
man last to arrive was always the one of greatest importance; and Marie
assured herself that through her friend, the adjutant, to meet with
this one would prove easy.

But the chauffeur-commander of the armored car made it most difficult.
At sight of Marie, much to her alarm, as though greeting a dear friend,
he snatched his kepi from his head and sprang toward her.

"The major," he cried, "told me you were here, that you are Madame
d'Aurillac." His eyes spoke his admiration. In delight he beamed upon
her. "I might have known it!" he murmured. With the confidence of one
who is sure he brings good news, he laughed happily. "And I," he
cried, "am 'Pierrot'!"

Who the devil "Pierrot" might be the spy could not guess. She knew
only that she wished by a German shell "Pierrot" and his car had been
blown to tiny fragments. Was it a trap, she asked herself, or was the
handsome youth really some one the Countess d'Aurillac should know.
But, as from his introducing himself it was evident he could not know
that lady ver