“What you wish is a command,” politely conceded the man in the boat; “will the four come aboard?”
“It’s all in the deal,” said the captain, in a low tone to Henri. “I’ll have to quit here, and you boys are to go on. But it’s good luck and not good-by that I’m saying now. It’s not far to Dover, you know.”
When the motor chugged away, the four boys were in it.
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE FLIGHT UP THE SEINE.
The motor-boat swiftly threaded its way into the Seine, guided with the greatest skill, for it was a crowded waterway, and landing was made at the base of a stone staircase leading to extensive grounds, surrounding one of those old time mansions still holding its dignity against the modern building advances and commercial activity now prevailing in what was once Havre de Grace, named from a chapel of Notre Dame de Grace, founded in 1509.
From a large bay window of an upper room of the mansion, to which the boys were taken by order of the man with the empty sleeve, they could see great ship building yards and the tall chimneys of sugar refineries.
Looking at the tapestry-hung walls, Billy remarked: “This reminds me of Arras.”
“Sure, it does,” agreed Henri. “But,” he added, “without the noise of the big guns.”
“Wonder if it isn’t train time?”