of the guns, the Countess d’Aurillac was an inspiring and beautiful picture.  The eyes of the officers, young and old, informed her of that fact, one of which already she was well aware.  By the morning of the next day she was accepted as the owner of the chateau.  And though continually she reminded the staff she was present only as the friend of her schoolmate, Madame Iverney, they deferred to her as to a hostess.  Many of them she already saluted by name, and to those who with messages were constantly motoring to and from the front at Soissons she was particularly kind.  Overnight the legend of her charm, of her devotion to the soldiers of all ranks, had spread from Soissons to Meaux, and from Meaux to Paris.  It was noon of that day when from the window of the second story Marie saw an armored automobile sweep into the courtyard.  It was driven by an officer, young and appallingly good-looking, and, as was obvious by the way he spun his car, one who held in contempt both the law of gravity and death.  That he was some one of importance seemed evident.  Before he could alight the adjutant had raced to meet him.  With her eye for detail Marie observed that the young officer, instead of imparting information, received it.  He must, she guessed, have just arrived from Paris, and his brother officer either was telling him the news or giving him his orders.  Whichever it might be, in what was told him the new arrival was greatly interested.  One instant in indignation his gauntleted fist beat upon the steering-wheel, the next he smiled with pleasure.  To interpret this pantomime was difficult; and, the better to inform herself, Marie descended the stairs.

As she reached the lower hall the two officers entered.  To the spy the man last to arrive was always the one of greatest importance; and Marie assured herself that through her friend, the adjutant, to meet with this one would prove easy.

But the chauffeur commander of the armored car made it most difficult.  At sight of Marie, much to her alarm, as though greeting a dear friend, he snatched his kepi from his head and sprang toward her.

“The major,” he cried, “told me you were here, that you are Madame d’Aurillac.”  His eyes spoke his admiration.  In delight he beamed upon her.  “I might have known it!” he murmured.  With the confidence of one who is sure he brings good news, he laughed happily.  “And I,” he cried, “am ’Pierrot’!”

Who the devil “Pierrot” might be the spy could not guess.  She knew only that she wished by a German shell “Pierrot” and his car had been blown to tiny fragments.  Was it a trap, she asked herself, or was the handsome youth really some one the Countess d’Aurillac should know.  But, as from his introducing himself it was evident he could not know that lady very well, Marie took courage and smiled.

“Which ’Pierrot’?” she parried.

“Pierre Thierry!” cried the youth.

To the relief of Marie he turned upon the adjutant and to him explained who Pierre Thierry might be.