"

"Of Germany?" snapped Madame, flashing violet lightning from her eyes.
Sensation! The two French women broke into screams of rage, dreadful
to hear; the patron raised his clenched hands, and roared like a
furious beast. Rust, a brave man, shrank for a long, startled moment.
His flesh quivered, as if it felt fierce French nails fasten into it.
He saw the blood-lust flame in the eyes which searched his face. He
trembled, but spoke up firmly.

"No. The Secret Service of England."

"Liar!" roared the patron. "_Menteur! Espion_! Foul seducer of a
desolate _veuve de France_! Die, traitor! Madame, raise your pistol;
shoot--shoot instantly for the honour of France!" The man, a fat,
comfortable bourgeois, was transfigured with frightful, murderous
rage. He had become a figure almost heroic.

But Madame did not shoot. In ten seconds her swift brain had recalled
the whole series of incidents during her commerce with Rust; she
penetrated to the heart of the mystery, and immediately became
convinced that he spoke the truth.

"No," said she. "_Monsieur le patron_ and you, _mes demoiselles_,
cease your cries. You do the brave Capitaine Rouille a very grave
injustice for which you must pray his forgiveness _sur le champ_. He
is a soldier of France, and of our noble Allies, the English. He is an
officer of the English Secret Service. The mistake was mine, for
which, _mon capitaine_, I implore your pardon."

She lay back in her bed, and the laughter poured out of her in one
unbroken flood. She laughed until she became weak as a baby, for the
idiotic comedy which they two had played--at the expense of the
British Treasury--was beyond any other means of expression. Rust, who
began to grasp something of the truth, also broke into a laugh, and
the amusement of the principals brought instant conviction to the
audience. The repentance of those who had thirsted for Rust's blood a
moment since was very pleasant to witness. The women begged permission
to kiss his brave hands, which had slain the foul Boches, and the
patron cast his burly person upon Rust's pyjama-clad bosom and saluted
him on both cheeks. He had a stiff, hard beard!

"And now," cried the patron, "this scene, so deplorable and
scandalous, is happily ended. Our beautiful Madame and the brave
captain, their mistakes and misunderstandings removed, are again
lovers of the fondest. Let us go, my friends, and leave them to
forgive one another as they will desire to do in dec