the eyes of Anfossi were turned toward her。 His face was expressionless。
His eyes neither accused nor reproached。 And with the joy of one who
has looked upon and then escaped the guillotine； Marie ran down the
steps to the waiting automobile。 With a pretty cry of pleasure she leaped
into the seat beside Thierry。 Gayly she threw out her arms。 〃To Paris！〃
she commanded。 The handsome eyes of Thierry； eloquent with
admiration； looked back into hers。 He stooped； threw in the clutch；
and the great gray car； with the machine gun and its crew of privates
guarding the rear； plunged through the park。
〃To Paris！〃 echoed Thierry。
In the order in which Marie had last seen them； Anfossi and the
staff officer entered the room of General Andre； and upon the
soldiers in the hall the door was shut。 The face of the staff
officer was grave； but his voice could not conceal his elation。
〃My general；〃 he reported； 〃I found this man in the act of giving
information to the enemy。 There is a wireless…〃
General Andre rose slowly。 He looked neither at the officer nor
at his prisoner。 With frowning eyes he stared down at the maps
upon his table。
〃I know；〃 he interrupted。 〃Some one has already told me。〃 He
paused； and then； as though recalling his manners； but still
without raising his eyes； he added： 〃You have done well； sir。〃
In silence the officers of the staff stood motionless。 With surprise
they noted that； as yet； neither in anger nor curiosity had General
Andre glanced at the prisoner。 But of the presence of the general
the spy was most acutely conscious。 He stood erect； his arms still
raised； but his body strained forward； and on the averted eyes of the
general his own were fixed。
In an agony of supplication they asked a question。
At last； as though against his wish； toward the spy the general
turned his head； and their eyes met。 And still General Andre was
silent。 Then the arms of the spy； like those of a runner who has
finished his race and breasts the tape exhausted； fell to his sides。
In a voice low and vibrant he spoke his question。
〃It has been so long； sir；〃 he pleaded。 〃May I not come home？〃
General Andre turned to the astonished group surrounding him。 His
voice was hushed like that of one who speaks across an open grave。
〃Gentlemen；〃 he began； 〃my children；〃 he added。 〃A German spy； a
woman； involved in a scandal your brother in arms； Henri Ravignac。
His honor； he thought； was concerned； and without honor he refused
to live。 To prove him guiltless his younger brother Charles asked
leave to seek out the woman who had betrayed Henri； and by us was
detailed on secret service。 He gave up home； family； friends。 He lived
in exile； in poverty； at all times in danger of a swift and ignoble death。
In the War Office we know him as one who has given to his country
services she cannot hope to reward。 For she cannot return to him the
years he has lost。 She cannot return to him his brother。 But she can
and will clear the name of Henri Ravignac； and upon his brother
Charles bestow promotion and honors。〃
The general turned and embraced the spy。 〃My children；〃 he said；
〃welcome your brother。 He has come home。〃
Before the car had reached the fortifications； Marie Gessler had
arranged her plan of escape。 She had departed from the chateau
without even a hand…bag； and she would say that before the shops
closed she must make purchases。
Le Printemps lay in their way； and she asked that； when they
reached it； for a moment she might alight。 Captain Thierry
readily gave permission。
From the department store it would be most easy to disappear；
and in anticipation Marie smiled covertly。 Nor was the picture
of Captain Thierry impatiently waiting outside unamusing。
But before Le Printemps was approached； the car turned sharply
down a narrow street。 On one side； along its entire length； ran a
high gray wall； grim and forbidding。 In it was a green gate studded
with iron bolts。 Before this the automobile drew suddenly to a halt。
The crew of the armored car tumbled off the rear seat； and one of
them beat upon the green gate。 Marie felt a hand of ice clutch at her
throat。 But she controlled herself。
〃And what is this？〃 she cried gayly。
At her side Captain Thierry was smiling down at her； but his
smile was hateful。
〃It is the prison of St。 Lazare；〃 he said。 〃It is not becoming；〃
he added sternly； 〃that the name of the Countess d'Aurillac
should be made common as the Paris road！〃
Fighting for her life； Marie thrust herself against him； her
arm that throughout the journey had rested on the back of the
driving…seat caressed his shoulders； her lips and the violet eyes
were close to his。
〃Why should you care？〃 she whispered fiercely。 〃You have me！ Let
the Count d'Aurillac look after the honor of his wife himself。〃
The charming Thierry laughed at her mockingly。
〃He means to；〃 he said。 〃I am the Count d'Aurillac！〃
THE DESERTER
In Salonika； the American consul； the Standard Oil man； and
the war correspondents formed the American colony。 The
correspondents were waiting to go to the front。 Incidentally；
as we waited； the front was coming rapidly toward us。 There
was 〃Uncle〃 Jim； the veteran of many wars； and of all the
correspondents； in experience the oldest and in spirit the
youngest； and there was the Kid； and the Artist。 The Kid
jeered at us； and proudly described himself as the only Boy
Reporter who jumped from a City Hall assignment to cover a
European War。 〃I don't know strategy；〃 he would boast； 〃neither
does the Man at Home。 He wants 'human interest' stuff； and I give
him what he wants。 I write exclusively for the subway guard and
the farmers in the wheat belt。 When you fellows write about the
'Situation；' they don't understand it。 Neither do you。 Neither does
Venizelos or the King。 I don't understand it myself。 So； I write my
people heart…to…heart talks about refugees and wounded； and what
kind of ploughs the Servian peasants use； and that St。 Paul wrote
his letters to the Thessalonians from the same hotel where I write
mine； and I tell 'em to pronounce Salonika 'eeka；' and not put
the accent on the 'on。' This morning at the refugee camp I found
all the little Servians of the Frothingham unit in American Boy
Scout uniforms。 That's my meat。 That's 'home week' stuff。 You
fellows write for the editorial page； and nobody reads it。 I write
for the man that turns first to Mutt and Jeff； and then looks to see
where they are running the new Charlie Chaplin release。 When
that man has to choose between 'our military correspondent' and
the City Hall Reporter； he chooses me！〃
The third man was John； 〃Our Special Artist。〃 John could write
a news story； too； but it was the cartoons that had made him
famous。 They were not comic page； but front page cartoons； and
before making up their minds what they thought； people waited to
see what their Artist thought。 So； it was fortunate his thoughts
were as brave and clean as they were clever。 He was the original
Little Brother to the Poor。 He was always giving away money。
When we caught him； he would prevaricate。 He would say the man
was a college chum； that he had borrowed the money from him；
and that this was the first chance he had had to pay it back。 The Kid
suggested it was strange that so many of his college chums should
at the same moment turn up； dead broke； in Salonika； and that
half of them should be women。
John smiled disarmingly。 〃It was a large college；〃 he explained；
〃and coeducational。〃 There were other Americans； Red Cross
doctors and nurses just escaped through the snow from the
Bulgars； and hyphenated Americans who said they had taken
out their first papers。 They thought hyphenated citizens were
so popular with us； that we would pay their passage to New York。
In Salonika they were transients。 They had no local standing。 They
had no local lying…down place； either； or place to eat； or to wash；
although they did not look as though that worried them； or place
to change their clothes。 Or clothes to change。 It was because we
had clothes to change； and a hotel bedroom； instead of a bench in
a cafe； that we were ranked as residents and from the Greek police
held a 〃permission to sojourn。〃 Our American colony was a very
close corporation。 We were only six Americans against 300；000
British； French； Greek； and Servian soldiers； and 120；000 civilian
Turks； Spanish Jews； Armenians； Persians； Egyptians； Albanians；
and Arabs； and some twenty more other races that are not listed。
We had arrived in Salonika before the rush； and at the Hotel Hermes
on the water…front had secured a vast room。 The edge of the stone
quay was not forty feet from us； the only landing steps directly
opposite our balcony。 Everybody who arrived on the Greek
passenger boats from Naples or the Piraeus； or who had shore
leave from a man…of…war； transport； or hospital ship； was raked
by our cameras。 There were four windowsone for each of us
and his work table。 It was not easy to work。 What was the use？
The pictures and stories outside the windows fascinated us； but
when we sketched them or wrote about them； they only proved
us inadequate。 All day long the pinnaces； cutters； gigs； steam
launches shoved and bumped against the stone steps； marines
came ashore for the mail； stewards for fruit and fish； Red Cross
nurses to shop； tiny midshipmen to visit the movies； and the
sailors and officers of the Russian； French； British； Italian；
and Greek war…ships to stretch their legs in the park of the Tour
Blanche； or to cramp them under a cafe table。 Sometimes the
ambulances blocked the quay and the wounded and frost…bitten
were lifted into the motor…boats； and sometimes a squad of marines
lined the landing stage； and as a coffin under a French or English
flag was borne up the stone steps stood at salute。 So crowded
was the harbor that the oars of the boatmen interlocked。
Close to the stone quay； stretched along the three…mile circle；
were the fishing smacks； beyond them； so near that the anchor
chains fouled； were the passenger ships with gigantic Greek flags
painted on their sides； and beyond them tra