s enemies
where there was a price upon his head.

The story had to do with a night when he had left the French lines
behind him. His commander had been quite frank. The mission meant his
probable death. He was to wear a German uniform; to land inside the
lines of the kaiser, to conceal his plane, if luck favored him, among
the trees in the grounds of the old chateau of Ranceville; to get what
knowledge and sketch what plans he could of defenses against which the
French attacks had hitherto broken vainly, and to bring them home.

All had gone well at first. His gallant little plane had winged its way
into the unknown like a darting swallow; he had landed safely; and after
he had walked for hours with the Germans about him and death beside him,
he had gained his spoils. It was as he rose for the return flight that
the alarm was given. He got away; but he had five hostile aircraft after
him. Could he hope to elude them and to land safely at the French lines?

It was in that hour, while the night lingered and the stars still shone
and the cannon of the two armies challenged each other steadily, that
the Firefly of France fought his greatest battle in the air. Since his
whole aim was escape, it was bloodless; he had to trust to skill and
cunning; he dared manoeuvers that appalled others, dropped plummet-like,
looped dizzily, soared to the sheerest heights. He had been wounded. The
framework of his plane was damaged. Still he gained on his foes and won
through to the lines of France.

"But I might not land there," he explained. "The Germans followed. A
mist had closed about us, hiding us from my friends below. I heard
only my propeller; and that, by now, sounded faint to me, for I was
weakening; one shot had hit my shoulder and another had wounded my left
arm."

The girl swayed closer against him, watching him with eyes of worship.
Well, I didn't wonder, though it cut me to the heart. Even a
fairy prince could have been no worthier of her than this
Jean-Herve-Marie-Olivier; of that at least, I told myself dourly, I must
be glad.

"As I raced on," said the duke, "there came a certain thought to me.
We had traveled far; we were in the country near Prezelay, my cousin's
house. The village, I knew, was ruined, but the chateau stood; and if
I could reach it, old Marie-Jeanne would help me. You comprehend, my
weakness was growing. I knew I had little more time."

The shrouding mist had aided him to lose those pursuing vultu