"I hope to return well before that, sir!" said Dennis, and Sir Douglas smiled.
"I know what is in your mind, Mr. Dashwood, but that will rest entirely with yourself," said the Commander-in-Chief. "So far, from what I am told, you seem to have surprisingly good luck. Good-bye, the car is ready for you now."
The frank, handsome face of the distinguished cavalry soldier was still before Dennis's eyes as the little six-cylinder motor, with the small Union Jack fluttering from one of the lamp brackets, whirled him away on a long journey and an important errand.
His driver was a young Frenchman, who enjoyed that mad dash every whit as much as the English lad.
At Soissons they were told that the Generalissimo had left for Châlons that morning, and at Châlons opinions were divided as to whether he would be found at Reims, or Bar-le-Duc, which were in opposite directions.
"Which shall we try?" said the driver. "Reims means going back."
"Then get ahead," decided Dennis. "We can always return." And opening out the magnificent little car, they tore along the white ribbon of road at terrific speed.
"Peste!" cried an officer to whom they made known the object of their search when they reached Bar. "Only one hour ago Father Joffre passed through here. How unfortunate! But I can tell you where you will find him. He has gone to Saint Dié to present medals to a battalion of the 'Little Blue Devils' at that place. Lose no time, and you may assist at the very interesting ceremony."
"Allons!" said the chauffeur, using the stump of his nineteenth cigarette to light the twentieth. "If we finish up on two wheels we will reach him." And reach him they did in a small village half a dozen leagues farther on, where they pulled up, white with dust from head to foot, after a fine run.
The well-known figure of the famous general paced backwards and forwards under the shade of a row of lime trees, in earnest conversation with another officer with three silver stars on his cuffs, and Dennis paused a moment as he got out of the car.