it wasn't easy work. I met this officer in his motor car, and he
brought me along the last stage of the journey. Can you tell me
where my brother is? His name is Harry Leroy."

Torn said afterward that he felt as though he had gone into a
spinning nose dive with a Boche aviator on his tail, while Jack
admitted that he felt somewhat as he did the time his gasoline pipe
was severed by a Hun bullet when he was high in the air and several
miles behind the enemy's lines,

"Your--your brother!" Tom managed to mutter.

"Yes, Harry Leroy. He's from the United States, too. Perhaps you
know him, as I notice you are both aviators. He told me if I ever
got to France to come to see him, and he mentioned the names of two
young men--I have them here somewhere--"

She began to search in the depths of a little leather valise she
carried, and, at that moment, the military chauffeur who had brought
her to the aviation field turned to her, and spoke rapidly in
French.

She understood the language, as did Tom and Jack, and at the first
words her face went white. For the chauffeur informed her that her
brother, Harry Leroy, whom she had come so far to see, was, even
then, lying dead or wounded within the German lines.

"Oh!" the girl murmured, her fare becoming whiter and more white.
"Oh--Harry!"