"My leave has not expired, it is true, Monsieur," he said, "but I have some rounds to make. Pray excuse me!"
The thin, red-bearded young man did not seek to detain him. The interview was at an end: the business done for that evening.
"You will return, will you not, Corporal?" asked his host. "We are at your disposal, I and my brother, whenever you have need of us—our friends also. They will regret having arrived too late to meet you!... And, Corporal ... we know some officers—if you want leave now and again—you must let us know—will you not?"
Corporal Fandor-Vinson said the expected things, and hastened away, glad to be quit of this red-bearded young spy of a printer. He hurried off towards the centre of the town, covering his tracks as Juve had taught him how to do. He had time to spare before returning to barracks. He entered a small café and ordered a drink.
"Behold me one of the precious spy circle of Verdun," thought he. "I must make the most of my privileges."
His glass remained untouched while he sat thinking long and deeply.