"Which ones, please, sir?" asked Tom Boldrigg eagerly.
"The Aisne and the Marne," replied Monsieur de la Voie. "Why do you inquire so?"
"Because, sir," replied the old seaman, "I lost a lad on the Marne."
The demonstrative Frenchman grasped Tom's hand.
"And I lost my only brother," he said. "We were on the right of a British division. Their dash was magnificent. Yes, I remember the crossing of the Marne. It was there that I gained this and lost that."
With a quick, almost apologetic gesture, he touched the ribbon of the Legion d'Honneur and then his arm. For the first time the Sea Scouts saw that he had an artificial hand.
"So now," he continued briskly, "all is practically arranged. If you will collect what baggage you require, my car will be here at six o'clock. Meanwhile, excuse me; there are certain business matters to which I have to attend."
Punctually at the hour, Monsieur de la Voie arrived in a magnificent touring-car. He had changed his saturated clothes, and was dressed in a suit of British cut and material.
Behind the car came a workmanlike equipage—a Daimler with a commercial body. Into the latter the Sea Scouts piled their kitbags and other gear, Roche and Rayburn being told off to act as baggage-guards.
"A low-down trick to do us out of a ride in a top-hole car," declared Dick, laughing. It was an enjoyable journey, but the thing that impressed the lads most was the fact that the traffic kept to the right-hand side of the road. They had noticed this—the Continental rule—before, but it was the first time that they had been in a vehicle in France.