Sister Eila had gone to the front door; Magda and Linette stood behind her. And they saw the aëroplane alight in the meadow and a hooded figure, masked in glass and leather, step out, turn its goblin head toward the inn, then start rapidly toward them across the fields.
He was a tall thin man, and as he crossed the highroad and came toward them, he lifted the glass and leather mask and drew it back above his closely-fitting hood.
When he saluted Sister Eila's habit, he came to a full halt and his heels clicked together. Then he spoke in French, pleasantly, perfectly:
"Mr. Halkett, if you please, Sister. Is he still residing here?"
"Monsieur Halkett has left."
"Oh, I am sorry. Was not Monsieur Halkett expecting a messenger?"
"Have you a message for Monsieur Halkett?"
The airman twisted his pointed, blond mustache:
"I expected that Monsieur Halkett would have a packet for me. Did he leave none?"
"He left a letter," said Sister Eila.