I grew cold as ice. Good God, what had happened?
V
In a bound I was down stairs and had opened the front door.
"Is H. wounded?" I gasped.
"No, Madame."
I breathed again.
"Where was he when you saw him?"
"On the road between Villers-Cotterets and La Ferte Milon."
"What's your message?"
The boy put his hand to his breast pocket and drew forth a slip of paper. The full moon shining on the white facade of the chateau threw such a brilliant reflection that I recognized a sheet from a sketch book, and could distinguish the following words scribbled in pencil: