ough the Prussian
lines."

"You take much for granted," laughed the poacher. "Now, did I
offer to do any such thing?"

"But you will," said Jack, "for the honour of the Province and
the vicomte, whose game, it appears, has afforded you both
pleasure and profit."

"Coeur Dieu!" cried Brocard, laughing until his bright eyes grew
moist. "You have spoken the truth, Monsieur Marche. But you have
not added what I place first of all; it is for the gracious
chatelaine of the Chateau de Nesville that I, Jean Brocard, play
at hazard with the Prussians, the stakes being my skin. I will
bring you through the lines; leave it to me."

Before Jack could speak again the door of the next room opened,
and a man appeared, dressed in tweeds, booted and spurred, and
carrying a travelling-satchel. There was a moment's astonished
silence.

"Marche!" cried Archibald Grahame; "what the deuce are you doing
here?" They shook hands, looking questioningly at each other.

"Times have changed since we breakfasted by candle-light at
Morteyn," said Jack, trying to regain his coolness.

"I know--I know," said Grahame, sympathetically. "It's devilish
rough on you all--on Madame de Morteyn. I can never forget her
charming welcome. Dear me, but this war is disgusting; isn't it
now? And what the devil are you doing here? Heavens, man, you're
a sight!"

Lorraine sat up on the bed at the sound of the voices. When
Grahame saw her, saw her plight--the worn shoes, the torn,
stained bodice and skirt, the pale face and sad eyes--he was too
much affected to speak. Jack told him their situation in a dozen
words; the sight of Lorraine's face told the rest.

"Now we'll arrange that," cried Grahame. "Don't worry, Marche.
Pray do not alarm yourself, Mademoiselle de Nesville, for I have
a species of post-chaise at the door and a pair of alleged
horses, and the whole outfit is at your disposal; indeed it is,
and so am I. Come now!--and so am I." He hesitated, and then
continued: "I have passes and papers, and enough to get you
through a dozen lines. Now, where do you wish to go?"

"When are you to start?" replied Jack, gratefully.

"Say in half an hour. Can Mademoiselle de Nesville stand it?"

"Yes, thank you," said Lorraine, with a tired, quaint politeness
that made them smile.

"Then we wish to get as near to the French Army as we can," said
Jack. "I have a mission of importance. If you could drive us to
the Luxembourg frontier we would be all right-