"I have thought of that," she said. "See, my room is in the village, a stone's throw hence. A cloak, a hat, and boots of the English Guard are there, stripped from a dead officer. They will cover your uniform. But you must keep the cloak buttoned, for frock and tunic I have not got, alas! I have, too, my actress's box of colors. I will disguise you perfectly. Come at once, there is no time to waste." 

And so by two flickering candles her deft fingers transformed him swiftly into the image of a ruddy, beef-fed English officer of the English Guard, and when her work was done she accompanied him to the edge of the lines, where they paused. 

"For God's sake be careful," she urged. "The Pandours, the Grassins, the marauders, are prowling everywhere. Maybe, too, 'No. 101' may have varlets on the look-out. I would not frighten you, but you should know that the man or woman who has hunted 'No. 101'--and several have tried--has so far met with death." 

But André only smiled grimly. 

"Yes," she repeated, "all who have seen that traitor face to face have died. It is horrible, but the truth. Get the papers, that is all we need. Pry no farther, I beseech you. Ah, sir, a woman, even an actress, would not have on her soul the blood of a gallant gentleman who at her bidding risked all for France." 

"Death can come but once," he answered, "and in no nobler way than in the service of France and the King." 

"That is true, but you must live. For the King will be grateful, and I--I, too, will not forget." 

André smilingly put his hand on her shoulder. "And is that all?" he asked lightly, "all my reward, Mademoiselle?" 

"Come back," she whispered, "come back and you will see whether it is all. Meanwhile, adieu and _au revoir_." 

She had slipped from his grasp and vanished as mysteriously as she had come. Who was she? Bah! it did not matter now. The night and its work lay before him. But tomorrow--tomorrow! 

He mounted, gave the password, and rode into the night. 

Behind him lay the sleeping camp ignorant of its peril, in front the strangest, weirdest, most dangerous task he had ever embarked on; yet André felt no fear. His only thought as he trotted down the slope was a vivid reminiscence of the words of the crystal-gazer. Women everywhere in his life--always women at every turn--the princess in London--Yvonne--"La Petite 

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