"Go to it, then, and don't bother us," retorted Roger. "We want to get through with our writing before mess. To-night——"
Roger was interrupted by a sudden exclamation from Jimmy. The latter's glance happening to stray to an open door at the far end of the long, barn-like room, he leaped to his feet and hurried to it. A uniformed man stood on its threshold, his dark eyes roving up and down the place, as though in search of someone.
"Mon cher, Blaise!" he exclaimed with outstretched hand as Jimmy neared him. "It is for you I have been searching."
"We had given you up, sir." Jimmy was radiant with delighted surprise. "We thought you had been detailed to some special movement against the Boches."
"Not as yet." Voissard smiled mysteriously. "I have been in Paris since last we met. But to-morrow night my work begins."
Before he could say more, Jimmy's bunkies had come up, and were respectfully greeting the Flying Terror of France.
"I have come to invite you to the petit souper at the Inn," Voissard presently said. "There we shall be able to talk for a little. I have some things to relate to you of my nephews whom I saw while away. There is also the old matter of the man whom you described to me. Also there is another matter to be discussed."
Cousin Emile's invitation was gladly accepted, and a few minutes later the five men left the barrack for a quaint little inn, to which the aviator conducted them.
Seated together at a rear table, the four Brothers were not concerned as to what they ate. They had found one inn to be about the same as another in regard to "eats." All offered eggs, cheese, brown bread, red wine, and not much else.