"Have the Germans bothered you here?" asked Guild, buttoning a fresh collar.
"Not any to speak of. Of course they don't care anything about the frontier; they'd violate it in a minute. And I've been rather worried because a lot of these Luxembourg peasants, particularly the woodsmen and forest dwellers, are Belgians, or are in full sympathy with them. And I'm afraid they'll do something that will bring the Germans to Lesse Forest."
"You mean some sort of franc-tireur business?"
"Yes, I mean just that."
"The Germans shoot franc-tireurs without court-martial."
"I know it. And there has been sniping across the border, everywhere, even since the destruction of Wiltz-la-Vallée. I expect there'll be mischief here sooner or later."
Guild, tall, broad-shouldered, erect, stood by the window looking out between the gently blowing sash-curtains, and fastening his waistcoat.
And, standing so, he said: "Harry, this is no place for Mrs. Courland and her daughter. They ought to go to Luxembourg City, or across the line into Holland. As a matter of fact they really ought to go back to America."
"I think so too," nodded Darrell. "I think we may persuade them to come back with us."
Without looking at his business partner and friend, Guild said: "I am not going back with you."