e not done any bodily harm even to the big Picard. The absence
of all blood shows it. And the Germans would not injure a woman like
Mademoiselle Lannes. A prisoner, she is safe in their hands, she can be
rescued as she was once before or more likely be sent back to her own
people."

"But, Weber, we do not know what will happen in a war like this, so
vast, so confused, and with passions beginning to run so high. And I was
away when she was taken! I who should have been on guard every moment!
How can I ever meet Philip's look! How can I ever answer my own
reproaches!"

"You have nothing with which to reproach yourself, Mr. Scott. You did
what anyone naturally would have done under such circumstances. It has
been a chance, the one dangerous possibility out of a hundred, that has
gone against us."

John stood up. His despair was gone. All his natural courage came
flowing back in a torrent, and Weber saw in his eyes the glow of a
resolution, stern, tenacious and singularly like that of Lannes himself.

"I mean to get her back," he said quietly. "As you said, the one
dangerous chance in a hundred has gene against us, and to offset it the
one favorable chance in a hundred must come our way."

"What do you mean to do?"

"I don't know yet. But we can't remain in this hotel. It's no time to be
seeking our comfort when our duty lies elsewhere."

He took the candle again, holding it in a hand that was perfectly
steady, and led the way down the hall and the stairway to the little
lobby. He did not speak, because he was trying to think rapidly and
concisely. If he followed the strict letter of command he would return
that night to the hospital camp, and yet he could remain and say that he
was delayed by the enemy. He was willing to be untrue to his military
duty for Julie's sake, and his conscience did not reproach him.

"Is the snow diminishing, Weber?" he asked, as they came again into the
little lobby.

"Somewhat, I think, Mr. Scott," replied Weber as he went to the window.
"Are you thinking of pursuit?"

"Such an idea has been in my mind."

"But where and how?"

"My thought is vague yet."

"It's like an Arctic land outside. All footsteps, whether of men or
horses, have been hidden by the snow. There is certainly no trail for us
to follow."

"I know it, Weber, but it seems to me that Mademoiselle Lannes is
calling to me. She tells me to bring her back."

The Alsatian glanced at John, but the young man's face wa