be far away."

John looked at his watch.

"It will be daylight in two hours," he said.

"Oh, by the way," exclaimed Carstairs, "what became of Weber?"

"We were making our escape in Mademoiselle Lannes' automobile when we
ran into a detachment of Germans. Our car was riddled; we both dodged
for shelter and that was the last I saw of him."

"He escaped. I wager a pound to a shilling on it. The Alsatian not only
has borrowed the nine lives of a cat, but he has nine original ones of
his own."

"I feel sure, like you, Carstairs, that he has escaped and I certainly
hope so. He's a clever man who has the faculty of turning up at the
right time."

"It promises to be a clear dawn," said Wharton. "You may not believe it,
Carstairs, but I'm a fine weather prophet in my own country, and if I
can do so well there I ought at least to do as well with the low-grade
weather supplied by an inferior continent like Europe."

"It's no wonder they call you a mad Yankee, Wharton. Low-grade weather!
Have you any fog that can equal our London variety?"

"It's quality, not quantity that counts with a superior, intellectual
people such as we are."