to meet him. She put her hands in his and said:

"I knew that you would save me!"

Time and place were extraordinary, and war, the great leveler, was once
more at work.

"The chateau was set on fire by shells, Monsieur Scott," Picard said,
"and when the enemy saw the French force appearing across the fields
they took to flight. That dog of a prince, the Auersperg, tried to carry
off Mademoiselle Julie in his automobile, but the young prince
interfered and while they were quarreling I seized her and took her
away. All the other women have escaped too."

"Thank God, Picard," exclaimed John, wringing the huge hand of the
peasant, who was at once a peasant and a prince too.

"And look," said Carstairs, who with Wharton had approached unnoticed.
"An aeroplane comes like the flight of an eagle, and my guess is poor if
it is not our friend, the great Lannes."

Caumartin in truth had found Philip, and he came like the lightning,
circling and swooping until he touched the ground almost at Julie's
feet. Brother and sister were united in a close embrace, and Lannes
turned to John.

"I have heard from Caumartin that it was you who brought the word. We
can never repay you."

"We'll wait and see," said John.

Her brother did not see Julie flush rosily, as she turned her face away.

"And now," said Lannes, "we go to Paris. My duties allow me enough time
for the flight. No, John, my friend, don't object. She's been up in the
_Arrow_ with me before. Picard, you and Suzanne can come later."

The thunder of the battle rolling toward the east still reached them,
but Lannes quickly threw a coat around Julie, gave her a cap and huge
glasses to put on, and exclaimed:

"Now we go."

"But I must first thank Mr. Scott himself for saving me," she said.

She put her hand, small and warm, in his, American fashion, and the two
palms met in a strong clasp.

"Good-bye, Mr. Scott," she said.

"Good-bye, but not forever. I'm coming back to Paris."

"And it's my hope, too, that it's not forever."

She and her brother took their seats in the _Arrow_. Carstairs, Wharton
and the others gave it a push, and it soared up into the fresh blue of
the dawn. An ungloved hand, white and small, reached over the side and
waved farewell, a farewell which John felt was for him.

To the east the battle still rolled, but John had forgotten its
existence. Higher and higher rose the _Arrow_, flying toward Paris,
until it diminished to a mere dot in