"He doesn't want to take us to Chauny," Brian whispered to me. We were all grouped together near the cars, with Sirius, a quiet, happy dog. "He's trying to think up a new excuse to get out of it."
I glanced at our guide. It was like Brian to have guessed what we hadn't seen! Now I was on the alert, the clear-cut French face did look nonplussed; and a nervous brown hand was tugging at a smart black moustache.
"Is there any reason why you think it would be better for us not to go there?" I decided to ask frankly.
"It's getting rather late," he suggested, in his precise English. "You have also the Pavilion of Prince Eitel Fritz before you. If it grows too dark, you cannot see St. Quentin well, in the distance, and the glasses will be of no use for Soissons."
"But we're going to Soissons day after to-morrow!" said Father Beckett.
"And there'll be a moon presently," added Dierdre. She had heard of the ruined convent at Chauny and was determined not to miss it.
"Yes, there'll be a moon," reluctantly admitted Monsieur le Lieutenant.
"Is there still another reason?" I tried to help him.
"Well, yes, there is one, Mademoiselle," he blurted out. "I had meant not to mention it. But perhaps it is best to tell, and then you may all choose whether you go to Chauny or not. There is a certain risk at this time of day, or a little later. You know we are close to the front here, and enemy aeroplanes fly nearly every afternoon over Chauny toward dusk. They hope to catch some important personage, and they come expressly to 'spot' automobiles. The road through the ruined town is white and new, and the gray military cars in which we bring visitors to the front stand out clearly, especially as twilight falls. I'm afraid we have lingered too long in some of these places. If we were a party of men, I should say nothing, but with three ladies——"
"I can answer for all three, Monsieur," said Mother Beckett, with a pathetically defiant tilt of her small chin.