Monte shrugged his own shoulders. Then he laughed.
"After all," he said, "that is little enough to do for France. Inform the authorities they are welcome."
He saluted the guard, who returned the salute. Again he took Marjory's arm, and turned toward the hotel.
"There is nothing to do but to walk," he declared.
"Where?"
She could not understand his mood. It was as if this were a holiday instead of a very serious plight.
"Over the border. It is only some twenty-five miles. We can do it easily in two days; but even if it takes three—"
Even if it took a hundred, what did it matter, with her by his side? And by his side she must remain until her credit was restored. With only one louis d'or in her pocket, she was merely a woman, with all the limitations of her sex. She could not take to the open road alone. She did not have the physical strength that dictated the law for vagabonds. She must have a man near to fight for her, or it would go hard. Even Marie would be no protection in time of war.
Dumbly she followed his pace until they reached the hotel. The place was in confusion and the proprietor at his wits' end. In the midst of it, Monte was the only one apparently unmoved.
"Pack one small hand-bag," he ordered. "You must leave your trunks here."