without warning by many men, but they had struggled to take him alive.
Nothing else could account for the wrecked furniture, and the absence of
red stains.

His fears now became a horrible certainty, and without a thought of
Weber, rushing up the stairway, candle in hand, he knocked at the door
of Julie's room, the room that she and Suzanne were to occupy together.
There was no answer. He knocked again, loud and long. Still no answer
and his heart froze within him. He threw the door open and rushed in,
mechanically holding his candle aloft, and, by the dim light it shed,
looked about him, aghast.

This room also was in disorder. A chair had been overturned and a
mirror had been broken. There had been a struggle here too, and he had
no doubt that Suzanne had fought almost as well as her father. But she
and Julie were gone. To John the room fairly ached with emptiness.

He put the candle upon the dresser, sat down, dropped his face in his
hands and groaned.

"Be of good courage, Mr. Scott," said Weber. "No great harm can have
happened to Mademoiselle Lannes."

"It was the Germans whom you saw. They must have come here while we were
looking for them on the outskirts of the town."

"It would seem so. But don't be downhearted, Mr. Scott. Doubtless
they've made captives of Mademoiselle Lannes and her attendants, but
they have not done any bodily harm even to the big Picard. The absence
of all blood shows it. And the Germans would not injure a woman like