n they do, these English flying men,
out there on the moors in the rain and wind? When the coast guard passes
we must tell him."

"After lunch I shall go out again as far as my strength allows.... If the
rain would cease and the mist lift, one might see something--be of some
use, perhaps----"

"Ought you to go, Monsieur Jacques?"

"Could I fail to try to find them--Englishmen--and perhaps injured? Surely
I should go, Marie-Josephine."

"The coast guard----"

"He passed the Eryx Rocks at daylight. He is at Sainte-Ylva now. Tonight,
when I see his comrade's lantern, I shall stop him and report. But in the
meanwhile I must go out and search."

"Spare thyself--for the trenches, Jacques. Remain indoors today." She
began to unpin the coiffe which she always wore ceremoniously at meals
when he was present.

He smiled: "Thou knowest I must go, Marie-Josephine."

"And if thou come upon them in the forest and they are Huns?"

He laughed: "They are English, I tell thee, Marie-Josephine!"

She nodded; under her breath, staring at the rain-lashed window: "Like thy
father, thou must go forth," she muttered; "go always where thy spirit
calls. And once _he_ went. And came no more. And God help us all in
Finistere, where all are born to grief."

CHAPTER VII

THE AIRMAN

She had seated herself on a stool by the hearth. Presently she spread her
apron with trembling fingers, took the glazed bowl of soup upon her lap
and began to eat, slowly, casting long, unquiet glances at him from time
to time where he still at table leaned heavily, looking out into the rain.

When he caught her eye he smiled, summoning her with a nod of his boyish
head. She set aside her bowl obediently, and, rising, brought him his
crutches. And at the same moment somebody knocked lightly on the outer
door.

Marie-Josephine had unpinned her coiffe. Now she pinned it on over her
_bonnet_ before going to the door, glancing uneasily around at him while
she tied her tresses and settled the delicate starched wings of her
bonnet.

"That's odd," he said, "that knocking," staring at the door. "Perhaps it
is the lost Englishman."

"God send them," she whispered, going to the door and opening it.

It certainly seemed to be one of the lost Englishmen--a big,
square-shouldered, blond young fellow, tall and powerful, in the leather
dress of an aeronaut. His glass mask was lifted like the visor of a
tilting helmet, disclosing a red, weather-beaten f