The miller of Sais drove by on his way to the mill, drew rein to read the placard, looked up at the bullet-shattered window above, then jogged on, his furrowed features unaltered, his aged eyes fixed on his horse's ears.
One or two washerwomen on the way to the meadow pool stood gracefully regarding the poster, flat baskets of clothes balanced on their heads; then moved on through the golden sunrise, still graceful, unhurried, exchanging leisurely comments on life and death as they walked.
In the kitchen of the Golden Peach, Magda was astir, and presently Linette appeared, very sleepy. As they went about the routine business to which they had been bred, they too exchanged tranquil views concerning emperors and kings and the mortality of all flesh. Also they took counsel together regarding the return of Madame Arlon, the ultimate necessity of summoning a glazier from Ausone, the damage done in the garden by the ladder.
The door of Philippa's bedroom remained closed; Warner's door also. But Halkett, his hands in his pockets, was out at sunrise, pacing the road in front of the inn, sometimes looking up at the shot-riddled windows, or at the placard on the front door, or along the road at the telephone wires which appeared to be intact as far as he could see.
But somewhere they had been cut, and communication still remained interrupted.
Deeply worried over the non-appearance of Gray, the cutting of the telephone wires now became a matter of serious concern to him. He scarcely knew how to act in his sudden isolation, and, though his instructions held him at Sais until further orders, the decree for general mobilization would have started him off for Paris except for one thing. That was the continued absence of Gray and the possibility that something alarming had happened to him.
He could not take his envelope and start for England until he had met Gray or some authorized messenger from Gray. He had not explained this to Warner.
But the truth was that what plans he carried were useless without the interlocking plans carried by Gray. All the eggs had not been trusted to a single basket. And, vice versa, the information carried by Gray was of no practical account until supplemented by the contents of the long, thin envelope.
Gray's papers and his, taken together, were of vital importance to England or to any enemy of England; separate they could be of no use to anybody, enemy or ally.
The determined attack on him the night before proved that others besides himself understood this. And it also made him realize the more clearly that since he had parted from Gray in Antwerp, the latter had been as open to such attacks as had he. The question now was: had they caught Gray? If so, it must have occurred within the last thirty-six hours, because he had talked over the telephone to Gray the evening of his own arrival at Sais.
But since that conversation, which ended with the understanding that Gray should set out on his motor cycle for Sais, not a word had he heard concerning his colleague, except that his cap had been found on the road south of Sais, and that the condition of the roadside bank, and a few drops of blood, gave evidence of an accident--if, indeed, it had been an accident.
Nor had Halkett any idea who it was that had called him up on the telephone to tell him this.
As he stood there, looking down the road, terribly perplexed and filled with keenest apprehensions concerning his colleague, far away through the vista of poplars and telephone poles something white glimmered in the sunlit road.
It was the white cornette of a Sister of Charity; after a few minutes Halkett recognized the advancing figure and walked forward to meet her.
The color of early morning freshened her youthful cheeks, framed by the snowy wimple. She extended a friendly hand to him in salutation, as he came up and uncovered.
"At such an hour, Monsieur, only birds and Sisters of Charity are supposed to be on the wing. Is it curiosity that has awakened you to see how the sun really looks when it rises?"
But as she spoke she detected the deep anxiety which his smile masked, and her own face became responsively serious.
"Have you had bad news?" she asked gently.
"Worse--I have had no news at all. Are you going to the inn?"
"Yes."
"May I help you gather your flowers?" he asked.
"Thank you--if you care to."
They walked on in silence, skirted the garden wall westward, then north to the bullet-splintered green door.
Immediately she noticed the scars of the fusillade, gazed at them curiously for a moment, then laid a questioning forefinger across a bullet hole.
And while she stood so, he told her in a few words what had occurred the night before--told her everything, including the posting of the notice ordering a general mobilization.
She listened, her finger still resting over the shot hole, her calm face raised to his. And, when he ended:
"Then it is war already," she said quietly.
"War has not been declared.... Yes, it is virtually war. Why not say so?"
She nodded; he pushed open the heavy little door, and Sister Eila bent her white-coiffed head and stepped lightly into the garden.
For a while she moved slowly along the flower-bordered paths, as though uncertain what to choose from among the perfumed thickets, then, setting her ozier basket on the edge of the walk, she knelt down before the white clove pinks; and Halkett dropped on his knees beside her.
They worked there together, exchanging scarcely a word, slowly filling the basket which lay between them.
Ariadne came up with a cheery mew of greeting, and after marching around and rubbing herself against Halkett, mounted to his shoulders and settled down, purring like a teakettle beside his ear.
When the basket was filled, Sister Eila stood up and straightened her shoulders, and Halkett rose too, the cat still perched on his shoulder.
He lifted the flower-heaped basket and set it in the shade of the arbor; Sister Eila seated herself and Halkett sat down on the stone steps at her feet.
After a silence, made resonant with Ariadne's loudly cadenced purring, Sister Eila clasped her hands in her lap and looked steadily down at the heap of flowers in the green ozier basket.
"What is going to happen?" she asked in a low voice. "If there is to be a war, it will come here, I suppose."
"I am afraid so."
"Yes; Sais cannot escape."
"The Vosges are too near," he nodded. "So is Ausone. So is the Rhine, for that matter." He glanced up at her from where he sat caressing Ariadne. "Belgium also is too near, Sister Eila."
"You believe _they_ will arrive that way?"
"I feel very certain of it. And this means that England moves."
"Where?"
"To the firing line."
"With France?"
"Yes, Sister."
She said quietly:
"That is as it should be, Mr. Halkett. The two great wardens of European liberty should stand together in its defense."
"They've got to stand for _each other_," he said, "--whatever else they stand for."
"Alsace--Lorraine--I think this is to be a very holy war--for France," she murmured to herself.
He said nothing. He was not very clear concerning the exact amount of holiness involved, but he knew that war had now become a necessity to England, if she meant to retain the autocracy of the seas.
"We're bound to go in," he remarked, stroking Ariadne; "there's nothing else left for us to do. And if they don't give us an excuse by invading Belgium, we'll go in anyway. That's the meaning of all this! It has only one real meaning. The 'Day' they've been drinking to so long is--Today! This entire matter has got to be settled once and for all. And that's the truth, Sister Eila."
He sat for a while silent, gazing out across the quiet garden. Then, again:
"As for Sais, if there is an invasion of France, it must pass this way: if the Vosges are to be defended, Sais will see war."
"That will be very sad for us," she said. "It seems as though there were already enough violence and misery in the quarries--enough of wretchedness and poverty. If the quarrymen are called to the colors with their classes, and if the quarries and cement works close, I don't know what is to become of our school."
"You said that it is a free school."
"Yes, but the children live elsewhere, and are clothed and fed elsewhere. Except at noontime, we do not feed them. If we had money to provide beds and food, the school is large enough to shelter the children. However, I suppose we shall hear from the rue de Bac--the mother house, you know?"
She rose, picked up her basket of flowers, and Halkett also stood up.
"Good-by," she said. "Thank you for helping.... I--I suppose you do not remain very long in Sais?"
"I don't know how long."
She inclined her young head gravely.
They walked together to the green door in the wall, and again her eyes became riveted on the bullet marks.
"Perhaps," she said, "you will have time to--to come to the school again before you leave Sais? ... Unless you think it dangerous----"
He looked up, then away from her.
"I'll come--to the school."
"Then--it is au revoir, I hope."
He stood uncovered, holding open the door, and, as she passed in front of him, he took from her basket a white clove pink. She saw what he did, and halted instinctively to give him his choice. Suddenly, without any reason, her cheeks flushed brightly; she bent her head and stepped quickly through the archway, leaving him standing there with the dull color deepening in his sun-tanned face.