"Ziss is ze last card they have to play—to stab little Switzerland in ze back and break through," the old man said. "In ze south runs a road from ze trench line across to ze Rhine. Near zere I have an old comrade—Blondel. Togezzer we fight side by side, like brothers. When ze boat comes, many times he comes to see me. Ze last time he come he tell me how ze new road goes past his house—all women and young girls working. It comes from ziss other road zat goes from ze trenches over to ze Rhine. South it goes—you see?" he added shrewdly. "So now if you are so clevaire to see a fleur-de-lis where none is intentioned, so zen you can tell, maybe, why will zey build a road zat goes south?"
Tom, fascinated by the old man's sagacity and vehemence, only shook his head.
"Ah, you are not so clevaire to suspect! Ziss is Amerique! Nevaire will she suspect."
Tom did not altogether like this reference to Uncle Sam's gullibility, but he contented himself with believing that it was meant as a thing of the past.
"They can't flim-flam us now," Archer ventured.
"Flam-flim—no," the old man said, with great fervor.
"Maybe that's where they took my friend's sister and his mother," Tom said.
"I will tell you vere zey take them," the old man interrupted. "You know Alsace—no? So! See! I tell you." He approached, poking Tom's chest with his bony finger and screwing up his blue eyes until he seemed a very demon of shrewdness. They wondered if he were altogether sane.
"Nuzzing can zey hide from Melotte," he went on. "Far south, near Basel, zere lives my comrade—Blondel. To him must you show your button—yess. In Norne he lives."
"We'll write that down," said Tom.