"What's your message?"

The boy put his hand to his breast pocket and drew forth a slip of
paper. The full moon shining on the white facade of the chateau threw
such a brilliant reflection that I recognized a sheet from a sketch
book, and could distinguish the following words scribbled in pencil:

"Give bearer fifty francs, then in the name of the love you bear me,
evacuate now; go south, not Paris."

The last words were underscored three or four times.

"What time was it when H. gave you this?"

"Noon or thereabouts."

"How did you come? On foot?"

"No, bicycle."

"But it's after midnight!"

"I know, but I got lost and had three bad punctures."

Here were marching orders for fair, and if I intended obeying enough
time had already been lost. To stay in spite of everything was to be
responsible for all the young lives that looked to me, for protection.
Could I promise it? No. Then go it was!

At that same moment and as though to reinforce my decision, the strange