unctuality."

"Right, sir!"

The adjutant turned sharp about and went off.

"He is jolly amiable, that's sure!" was Fandor's comment.... "I
wonder, if by chance."...

Since Fandor had so rashly mixed himself up in this spy business, he
was inclined to see everywhere traitors and accomplices; but he
reminded himself that he must beware of preconceived ideas.

* * * * *

It was on the stroke of seven when Fandor showed his permit to the
sergeant at the gate of the barracks.

"Here's one who's going to amuse himself," grumbled the sergeant.
"Pass, Corporal!"

Fandor smiled joyously: but the smile did not express his real
feelings.

Instead of making directly for the road to the frontier, he strolled
about the town, went by roundabout ways, returned on his steps,
assuring himself that he was not being shadowed.

The day was fine; a slight violet haze lingered in the hollows; the
air, fresh but not chill, was deliciously pure. Fandor walked along
the high road at a smart pace. He turned over in his mind certain
warnings given him by Vinson.

"When an individual knows he is going to a rendezvous he makes a point
of talking to every person he meets whom he thinks likely to be the
individual he is to have dealings with."

But Fandor did not see a soul to speak to. The highway was deserted,
and the fields lay empty and desolate as far as an eye could reach.
Not a toiling peasant was to be seen.

He had been walking for over an hour, quite determined to carry this
adventure through to the end, when, from the top of a hill he caught
sight of a motor-car drawn up on one of the lower slopes of the road.

"They may, or may not, be the individuals I am out to meet," he
thought: "but I am glad enough to meet some human beings.... I shall
stroll near their car, which seems out of action: it will help pass
the time."

He went up to the motor-car. There were two people in it; a man clad
in an immensely valuable fur coat, and a young priest, so muffled up
in rugs and wraps and cloaks that only his two eyes could be seen.

Just as he got up to them, he heard the priest say in a tart voice to
the man in the fur coat, now standing in the road:

"Whatever is the matter? What has gone wrong with your car now?"

The priest's smart companion exclaimed in a tone of comic despair:

"It is not the right front tire this time: it is the back tire, the
left one, that is punctured!"

"Ought I to