A decent, likable chap, this d'Aubrac, as reticent as any Englishman
concerning his part in the Great War. Duchemin had to talk round the
subject for days before d'Aubrac confessed that his record in the
French air service had won him the title of Ace; and this only when
Duchemin found out that d'Aubrac was at present, in his civilian
capacity, managing director of an establishment manufacturing
airplanes.

At the end of that week he left to go back to his business; and Louise
de Montalais replaced him at Duchemin's side, where she would sit by
the hour reading aloud to him in a voice as colourless as her unformed
personality. Nevertheless Duchemin was grateful, and with the young
girl as guide for the _nth_ time sailed with d'Artagnan to Newcastle
and rode with him toward Belle Isle, with him frustrated the
machinations of overweening Aramis and yawned over the insufferable
virtues of that most precious prig of all Romance, Raoul, Vicomte de
Bragelonne.

But the third week found Duchemin mending all too rapidly; the time
came too soon when the word "to-morrow" held for him all the dread
significance, he assured himself, that it holds for a condemned man on
the eve of execution.

To-morrow the detectives commissioned by Madame de Montalais's bankers
would arrive. To-morrow Eve would set out on her journey to Paris.
To-morrow André Duchemin must walk forth from the Château de Montalais
and turn his back on all that was most dear to him in life.

On that last day he saw even less of Eve than usual. She was naturally
busy with preparations for her trip, a trifle excited, too; it would be