r-car, which now stood awaiting him
with glaring headlights in the barrack-square.

As the hall emptied Paul glanced around him while awaiting Enid. On the
walls the French tricolour was everywhere displayed, the revered
_drapeau_ under which he had so gallantly and nobly served against the
Huns.

He presented a spruce appearance in his smart, well-cut evening coat,
with the red button of the Legion d'Honneur in his lapel, and to the
ladies who wished him "bon soir" as they filed out he drew his heels
together and bowed gallantly.

Outside, the night was cloudy and overcast. In the long rows of the
barrack windows lights shone, and somewhere sounded a bugle, while in the
shadows could be heard the measured tramp of sentries, the clank of
spurs, or the click of rifles as they saluted their officers passing
out.

The whole atmosphere was a military one, for, indeed, the little town of
Ronvaux is, even in these peace days, scarcely more than a huge camp.

For a few minutes Le Pontois stood chatting to a group of men at the
door. They had invited him to come across to their quarters, but he had
explained that he was awaiting mademoiselle. So they raised their
eyebrows, smiled mischievously, and bade him "bon soir."

Soldiers were already stacking up the chairs ready for the clearance of
the gymnasium for the morrow. Others were coming to water and sweep out
the place. Therefore Le Pontois remained outside in the square, waiting
in patience.

He was reflecting. That evening, as he had sat with his wife watching the
play, he had been seized by a curious feeling for which he entirely
failed to account. Behind him there had sat a man and a woman, French
without a doubt, but entire strangers. They must, of course, have known
one or other of the officers in order to obtain an admission ticket.
Nevertheless, they had spoken to no one, and on the fall of the curtain
had entered a brougham in waiting and driven off.

Paul had made no comment. By a sudden chance he had, during the
entr'acte, risen and gazed around, when the face of the stranger had
caught his eyes--a face which he felt was curiously familiar, yet he
could not place it. The middle-aged man was dressed with quiet elegance,
clean-shaven and keen-faced, apparently a prosperous civilian, while the
lady with him was of about the same age and apparently his wife. She was
dressed in a high-necked dress of black lace, and wore in her corsage a
large circular ornamen