"Look at it. Do you
see? The route in red!"
As I realized the astounding thing I choked down an exclamation. There,
beneath my finger, lay the village of Bleau, a tiny dot; and from it,
straight into the war zone, the traced line ran through Le Moreau and
Croix-le-Valois and St. Remilly; ran to--what was the name? I spelled it
out: P-r-e-z-e-l-a-y.
Though it was early in the game to be a wet blanket, I found myself
gasping.
"But," I protested weakly, "you can't do that! It's in the war
country; it's forbidden territory. One has to have safe-conducts,
_laissez-passers_, all sorts of documents to get into that part of
France."
"I didn't come unprepared," she answered stubbornly. "Before I started
I knew just what I should need. I can get as far as the hospital at
Carrefonds; and Carrefonds is beyond Prezelay, ten miles nearer to the
Front!"
"But--" The monosyllable was distinctly tactless.
She straightened, challenging me with brave, defiant eyes.
"I know," she flashed. "You mean it looks suspicious. Well, it does;
and if I told you everything, it would look more suspicious still.
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