"If you will wait here, sir," said the officer, and jumped to the pavement and hurried up the steps.
So Stewart waited, an object of much curiosity to the passing crowd. Other cars dashed up from time to time, officers jumped out with reports, jumped in again with orders and dashed away. Plainly, Belgium was not dismayed even in face of this great invasion. She was fighting coolly, intelligently, with her whole strength.
And then an officer came down the steps, sprang to the footboard of the machine, and looked at Stewart.
"I am told you have a message," he said.
"Yes."
"I am a member of the French staff. Can you deliver it to me?"
"I was told to deliver it only to General Joffre."
"Ah! in that case——"
The officer caught his lower lip between the thumb and little finger of his left hand, as if in perplexity. So naturally was it done that for an instant Stewart did not recognize the sign; then, hastily, he passed his left hand across his eyes.
The officer looked at him keenly.