“The count, your husband,” he explained, “has learned of your detention here by the enemy, and he has besieged the General Staff to have you convoyed safely to Paris.”  The adjutant glanced at a field telegram he held open in his hand.  “He asks,” he continued, “that you be permitted to return in the car of his friend, Captain Thierry, and that on arriving you join him at the Grand Hotel.”

Thierry exclaimed with delight.

“But how charming!” he cried.  “To-night you must both dine with me at La Rue’s.”  He saluted his superior officer.  “Some petrol, sir,” he said.  “And I am ready.”  To Marie he added:  “The car will be at the steps in five minutes.”  He turned and left them.

The thoughts of Marie, snatching at an excuse for delay, raced madly.  The danger of meeting the Count d’Aurillac, her supposed husband, did not alarm her.  The Grand Hotel has many exits, and, even before they reached it, for leaving the car she could invent an excuse that the gallant Thierry would not suspect.  But what now concerned her was how, before she was whisked away to Paris, she could convey to Anfossi the information she had gathered from Thierry.  First, of a woman overcome with delight at being reunited with her husband she gave an excellent imitation; then she exclaimed in distress:  “But my aunt, Madame Benet!” she cried.  “I cannot leave her!”

“The Sisters of St. Francis,” said the adjutant, “arrive within an hour to nurse the wounded.  They will care also for your aunt.”

Marie concealed her chagrin.  “Then I will at once prepare to go,” she said.

The adjutant handed her a slip of paper.  “Your laisser-passer to Paris,” he said.  “You leave in five minutes, madame!”

As temporary hostess of the chateau Marie was free to visit any part of it, and as she passed her door a signal from Madame Benet told her that Anfossi was on the fourth floor, that he was at work, and that the coast was clear.  Softly, in the felt slippers she always wore, as she explained, in order not to disturb the wounded, she mounted the staircase.  In her hand she carried the housekeeper’s keys, and as an excuse it was her plan to return with an armful of linen for the arriving Sisters.  But Marie never reached the top of the stairs.  When her eyes rose to the level of the fourth floor she came to a sudden halt.  At what she saw terror gripped her, bound her hand and foot, and turned her blood to ice.

At her post for an instant Madame Benet had slept, and an officer of the staff, led by curiosity, chance, or suspicion, had, unobserved and unannounced, mounted to the fourth floor.  When Marie saw him he was in front of the room that held the wireless.  His back was toward her, but she saw that he was holding the door to the room ajar, that his eye was pressed to the opening, and that through it he had pushed the muzzle of his automatic.  What would be the fate of Anfossi Marie knew.  Nor did she for an instant