he garden," I finished, and risked one straight look at him. "I can
trust you, Georges?"

The young man's throat seemed to close.

"_Monsieur le duc_ was my foster-brother, _Monsieur_," he whispered. "I
would die for him."

Who the deuce _monsieur le duc_ might be I did not tarry to discover.
I had done all I could; the future was on the knees of the gods. Having
smoked one more cigarette for the sake of verisimilitude, I rose,
stretched myself ostentatiously, and crossed the courtyard to the
stairs, where madame was descending. She had, she informed me, been
preparing my bed.

"And I wish monsieur good repose," she ended volubly. "Hitherto, no
Zeppelins have come to Bleau to disturb our dreams. Though, alas, who
knows what they will do, now that we have lost our most gallant hero?
Monsieur has heard of the Firefly of France, he who is missing?"

That name again! Odd how it seemed to pursue me.

"I believe I shall meet that fellow sometime if he's living," I
reflected as I climbed the stairs.

In my room, my candle lighted, I resigned myself to a ghastly night. I
don't like discomfort, though I can put up with it when I must. The
bed looked as hard as nails; the bowl made cleanliness a duty, not a
pleasure. And to think that I might have been sleeping in comfort at the
Ritz!

Tossing from side to side, pounding a cast-iron pillow, I dozed through
uneasy intervals, and woke with groans and starts. I could not rid
myself of the sense of something ominous hanging over me. The gray car
ramped through my dreams; so did Van Blarcom; and between sleeping
and waking, I pictured my coming interview with the girl, her probable
terror, the force and menaces I should have to use, our hurried flight.

At length I fell into a heavy, exhausted slumber, from which, toward
morning I fancied, I sat up suddenly with the dazed impression of some
sound echoing in my ears. Springing out of bed, I groped my way to the
window. The galleries lay peaceful and empty in the moonlight, and down
in the courtyard there was not the slightest sign of life.

I went back to bed in a state of jangled nerves. Again I dozed, and
a dim light was creeping through the window when I woke. I looked out
again.

"Hello!" I muttered, for though the hotel seemed wrapped in slumber, the
door of the garage now stood ajar. Was it possible that Miss Falconer
had stolen a march on me, that the automobile could have left the
premises without my being roused?