Major Marchand marched into the room breezily, still in the dress uniform Ruth had seen at Aunt Abelard's cottage.
"Ah, Mademoiselle!" he cried, having kissed his mother's hand and suddenly beholding the girl who had shyly retired to the other side of the hearth. "May I greet you?"
He came around the tea table and took her hand. She did not withdraw it abruptly this time as he pressed his lips respectfully to her fingers. But she did blush under his admiring glance.
"See, Henri!" his mother cried. "It is the good Bubu who has brought it. In code. Can you read it?"
She thrust the whisp of paper, taken from the dog's hollow tooth, under his eyes before pouring his cup of tea. Henri, begging Ruth's indulgence with a look, sat down before the table, his sword clanking. He smoothed the paper out upon the board and drew the reading glass to him.
"Wait!" Countess Marchand said. "You have had no luncheon! You are hungry, my dear boy?"
She hurried out of the room intent upon her son's comfort. Ruth watched the countenance of the major as he read the code message. She saw his expression become both serious and troubled.
Suddenly he turned in his chair and looked at the American girl. His gaze seemed significant, and Ruth began to tremble.
"Mademoiselle?"
"Yes, Monsieur?"