, and presently noticed signs of bustle.
Several automobiles, one of much magnificence, drove up to the entrance
and halted there, obviously awaiting a company of importance. John had
no doubt from the first that it was the equipage of the Prince of
Auersperg. No one else would travel in such state, and he would stay to
see him go with his prisoners. Others drawn by curiosity joined him and
they and the young peasant stood very near.

John saw the door open, and a porter of great stature, clad in a
uniform, heavy with gold lace, appear, bowing profoundly. It was often
difficult to tell a head porter from a field marshal, but in this case
the man's deferential attitude not only indicated the difference, but
the fact also that Auersperg was coming.

The prince, preceded by two young men in close-fitting blue-gray
uniforms, came out. John was bound to confess once more that he was a
fine-looking man, large, bearded magnificently, and imposing in
appearance and manner. His effect at a state ball or a reception would
be highly decorative, and many a managing American mother would have
been glad to secure him as a son-in-law, provided the present war did
not make such medieval survivals unfashionable.

Auersperg entered his automobile, a very dark red limousine of great
size, and he was shut from John's view, save only his full beard
glimmering faintly through the glass. More men came, soldiers or
attendants, and among them was Antoine Picard, gigantic and sullen. His
arms were unbound and he went with the others willingly. Perhaps
Auersperg had divined that he would not attempt to escape, as long as
Julie was in his hands.

Then came the two women, Julie first, and John heard about him the
muttered exclamation: "The French spies!" He knew that this belief had
taken strong hold of the soldiers and people who stood about. Women,
when they chose to be, were the most dangerous of all spies and the
watchers regarded them with intense curiosity.

Neither was veiled. Julie was erect, and her chin high. John saw that
the girl had become a woman, matured by hardship and danger, and she
looked more beautiful than ever to him that morning. Her cheeks were
pale and tiny curls of the deep golden hair escaped from her hood and
clustered about her temples. John's heart swam with pity. Truly, she was
a bird in the hands of the fowler.

She gave a glance half appealing and half defiant at the people, but the
stalwart Suzanne who follo