“To one of those dictates of the mind for which there is sometimes no accounting,” gravely stated the scholar, “you owe your lives, my young friends. Within these walls,” indicating the room by a sweep of the hand, “I hear no sound. But I was moved to open yonder door, and the drumming of the knocker drew me to the front entrance. By the cries for help I knew someone was in distress. At all times the side streets about here are dangerous for night travel, and in these times there is no protection at all. You came a strange way, my boys.” “I had forgotten that it was not like it used to be,” explained Henri, “and, too, I made a wrong turn, owing to the fact that the tower lights no longer serve to guide.”
“Yes,” continued the scholar, “the new element of warfare, the death-dealing airships, are responsible for that precaution. But in the morning my[186] man, Armand, will set you right. He has gone up into the city for food supplies, and will not return to-night. Rest with me until then.”
With the light of day, and it was a glorious sunlit day, the terrors of the past night folded their wings and disappeared.
Armand well fitted into such a day; he was a jolly fellow, all smiles and a waistband that extended a long way ’round. He could not for the life of him see, he declared, how the boys ever got into queer street, when the way (to him) was so straight to the big boulevards. He was full of a story how he had seen some great flying by noted aviators only the day before.
“It is wonderful, this flying, is it not?”
This question as much to promote his enthusiasm as anything else.
“How fine is that Gilbert,” he rambled on, “and, to think, two young boys who also traveled the air just like the master.”
“It just happens, my friend,” said Henri, “that those two boys are standing close to you this blessed minute.”
“Mon Dieu!” (Goodness me!)
Armand was a slave from that minute.
He must tell the great doctor in the library all about it. And the great doctor himself also had a second look at his young guests.
His was a kindly farewell, but he lifted a hand[187] when the boys tried to thank him for the boon of life he had conferred by his action of the night.
“In your prayers, my boys; in your prayers.”
He turned and shut himself in with his books.
“You know of this location?”
Henri read to Armand from the address on the packet.
“Do I know my name? It is the grand boulevard. And the number—that, too, is easy.”
Armand knew his Paris.
“March on!” Billy giving mock command.
Reddy’s dream of Paris had first been realized in the form of a nightmare, but now it ranged to climax of delight—the Place de la Concorde, one of the largest and most elegant squares in Europe; the Egyptian obelisk; the magnificent Arc de Triomphe; the column to Napoleon I; the gardens of the Tuileries; the Louvre; the Art Palace; the Eiffel tower—just a few of the beauty spots noted in the passing on that first day when trouble was napping.
Armand was not only able to secure one cab, but had two at his bidding. A wonderful fellow was Armand, and much given to style.
“Here you are,” he announced with a flourish to Henri when the cabs drew up before a handsome residence, with bronze lions crouching on the stone rests at each side of the entrance.
It was agreed that Henri should enter alone with[188] his precious packet, which delivered and his trust fulfilled, he would be at liberty to seek his mother and place in her own hands the Trouville fortune that had been so hardly won from the iron-bound chest in the depths of the now ruined chate............