"She's here," he said. "She must have left those who were with her in the motor car, dropped her nurse's disguise and is now hiding in some hole, like a spider behind its web. I can see her, telephone in hand, giving her orders to a whole band of people, who have taken to earth like herself and made themselves invisible like her. But I am beginning to perceive her plan and I have one advantage over her, which is that she believes herself in safety. She does not know that her accomplice, Karl, is dead. She does not know of Élisabeth's release. She does not know of our presence here. I've got her, the loathsome beast, I've got her."
The news of the battle, meanwhile, was not improving. The retreating movement on the left bank continued. At Crouy, the severity of their losses and the depth of the mud stopped the rush of the Moroccan troops. A hurriedly-constructed pontoon bridge went drifting down-stream.
When Paul made his next appearance, at six o'clock in the evening, there were a few drops of blood on his sleeve. Élisabeth took alarm.
"It's nothing," he said, with a laugh. "A scratch; I don't know how I got it."
"But your hand; look at your hand. You're bleeding!"
"No, it's not my blood. Don't be frightened. Everything's all right."
Bernard said:
"You know the commander-in-chief came to Soissons this morning."
"Yes, so it seems. All the better. I should like to make him a present of the spy and her gang. It would be a handsome gift."
He went away for another hour and then came back and had dinner.