. But as they were on the far side of the town, and the
snow had grown deeper, it took them another half-hour to reach the
building.

They stood just inside the door, brushing off the snow and shaking
themselves. John glanced toward the door of the smoking-room but it was
dark there. He was somewhat surprised. Julie had doubtless gone to bed,
but Antoine, the grim and faithful, would be on watch.

"I expected Picard to meet us," he said.

"Probably they're all worn out, and anticipating no danger, have gone to
sleep," said Weber.

The candle was still burning in the bureau, and John, picking it up,
hurried into the smoking-room. A sudden, terrible fear had struck like a
dagger at his heart. The silence, and the absence of Picard filled him
with alarm. In the smoking-room he held the candle aloft, and then he
uttered a cry.

The room was in a state of utter disorder. Chairs, tables and
writing-desks were overturned, and glass was smashed. It was evident to
both that a mighty struggle had taken place there, but no blood was
shed. John's keen mind inferred at once that Picard had been set upon
without warning by many men, but they had struggled to take him alive.
Nothing else could account for the wrecked furniture, and the absence of
red stains.

His fears now became a horrible certainty, and without a thought of
Weber, rushing up the stairway, candle in hand, he knocked at the door
of Julie's room, the room that she and Suzanne were to occupy together.
There was no answer. He knocked again, loud and long. Still no answer
and his heart froze within him. He threw the door open and rushed in,
mechanically holding his candle aloft, and, by the dim light it shed,
looked about him, aghast.

This room also was in disorder. A chair had been overturned and a
mirror had been broken. There had been a struggle here too, and he had
no doubt that Suzanne had fought almost as well as her father. But she
and Julie were gone. To John the room fairly ached with emptiness.

He put the candle upon the dresser, sat down, dropped his face in his
hands and groaned.

"Be of good courage, Mr. Scott," said Weber. "No great harm can have
happened to Mademoiselle Lannes."

"It was the Germans whom you saw. They must have come here while we were
looking for them on the outskirts of the town."

"It would seem so. But don't be downhearted, Mr. Scott. Doubtless
they've made captives of Mademoiselle Lannes and her attendants, but
they hav