"No. But all the same there should be something in it."
"What else can there be in it?"
"We shall know presently. But at the moment I confess to my shame that I should like before——"
She paused; and with one accord they cried:
"What?"
She laughed.
"Well, the truth is I'm hungry—hungry with a two-hundred-year-old hunger—as hungry as the Marquis de Beaugreval must be. Has any of you by any chance——"
The three young men darted away. One ran to his motor-cycle, the other two to their horses. Each had a haversack full of provisions which they brought and set out on the grass at Dorothy's feet. The Russian Kourobelef, who had only a slice of bread, dragged a large flat stone in front of her by way of table.
"This is really nice!" she said, clapping her hands. "A real family lunch! We invite you to join us, Maître Delarue, and you also, soldier of Wrangel."
The meal, washed down by the good wine of Anjou, was a merry one. They drank the health of the worthy nobleman who had had the excellent idea of bringing them together at his château; and Webster made a speech in his honor.