"Very well," said John. "I bid you a brief _au revoir_, and when you hear a knock on your sitting-room door don't be alarmed, because it will be Antoine and I returning. Come, Antoine, we'll let the ladies rest while you and I look for the state apartments for ourselves."
Picard permitted a grin to pass over his broad face. His heart belonged to his daughter Suzanne and the Lannes family, and it was not moved easily by outsiders. Yet, this young John Scott from across the sea was beginning to find a favorable place in his mind. He spoke good French, he fought well for the French, he was highly esteemed by Monsieur Philip, he had done great service for Mademoiselle Julie and in the present crisis he was a tower of strength for them all. His daughter, Suzanne, regarded young Scott with a certain fear, but he, Antoine, could not share it. Henceforth John would have his distinct approval, and he felt a measure of pride in being now his comrade in danger.
When John had closed the door of the sitting-room and he knew that neither Julie nor Suzanne could hear him, he said:
Picard drew a heavy automatic revolver from the pocket of his jacket.
"Before I started I provided myself with this, knowing the dangers of the journey," he replied.
"Good, but don't use it, except in the last resort. Remember how near you came to execution as a _franc-tireur_."
"I scarcely know, Antoine. But things have come about too easily. We find here a furnished hotel waiting for us. I've no doubt that the kitchens of the Hôtel de l'Europe are well stocked, and we have all the comforts, even the luxuries sufficient for a hundred guests. So far as we know there is not a soul in all this town save our four selves. It doesn't look natural, my good Antoine. It's positively uncanny."
"But, sir, if what we want is here waiting for us, why shouldn't we take it?"
"That's true, wise Antoine. 'Take the goods the gods provide thee whilst the lovely Thaïs sits beside thee,' as Mr. Dryden said."
"Who is Mr. Dryden? Must I infer, sir, from his name, that he is one of our brave English allies?"
"Doubtless he would be if he were living, but he has been dead some time, Antoine."
"So it is, Antoine, but I refuse to grieve about it or get morbid over it. I like to live and living I mean to live. What do you think of this big room, Antoine? It has two beds in it, one for you and one for me, and it's near enough to hear any call from the suite, occupied by Mademoiselle Julie and your daughter."