Trixie's ambulance was packed, and Trixie was excited and
triumphant.

Her gestures waved them back as useless, much too late; without them she
had got in all the wounded. But in the end they took over two of them,
slight cases that Trixie resigned without a pang. She had had to turn
them out to make room for poor Gurney, the chauffeur, who had hurt
himself, ruptured something, slipping on a muddy bank with his stretcher.

Mr. Conway, she said, could drive her back to Ghent and Charlotte could
follow with the two men. She had settled it all, in her bright,
domineering way, in a second, and now swung herself up on the back step
of her car.

They had got round the turn of the village and Charlotte was starting to
follow them when she heard them draw up. In another minute John appeared,
walking back slowly down the street with a young Belgian lieutenant. They
were talking earnestly together. So soon as Charlotte saw the lieutenant
she had a sense of something happening, something fatal, that would
change Trixie's safe, easy programme. John as he came on looked perturbed
and thoughtful. They stopped. The lieutenant was saying something final.
John nodded assent and saluted. The lieutenant sketched a salute and
hurried away in the opposite direction.

John waited till he was well out of sight before he came to her. (She
noticed that.) He had the look at first of being up to something, as if
the devil of yesterday was with him still.

It passed. His voice had no devil in it. "I say, I've got a job for you,
Charlotte. Something you'll like."

There was no devil in his voice, but he stared away from her as he spoke.

"I don't want you to go to Ghent. I want you to go on to Zele."

"Zele? Do I know the way?"

"It's quite easy. You turn round and go the way we went that first
day--you remember? It's the shortest cut from here."

"Pretty bad going though. Hadn't we better go on and strike the
main road?"

"Yes, if you want to go miles round and get held up by the transport."

"All right--if we can get through."

"You'll get through all right." His voice had the tone of finality.

"I'm to go by myself then?"

"Well--if I've got to drive Mrs. Rankin--"

She thought: It's going to be dangerous.

"By the way, I haven't told her I'm sending you. You don't want her
butting in and going with you."

"No. I certainly don't want Trixie.... And look here, I don't
particularly want those men. Much better leave them here