Guild rose and went to the door of the compartment, where a lantern glimmered, held high. Soldiers opened the door; an officer of Guard Cuirassiers saluted.
"We control the line no farther," he said. "Telegraphic orders direct me to send you forward with a flag."
"May I ask where we are?" said Guild.
"Not far from Antwerp. Will you aid Madam to descend? Time presses. We have a motor car at your disposal."
He turned, aided Karen to the wooden platform, which was thronged with heavy cavalrymen, then lifted out their luggage, which a soldier in fatigue cap took.
"There was also a box," said Guild to the officer of Cuirassiers.
"It is already in the tonneau." He drew a telegram from his pocket and handed it to Guild, and the young man read it under the flickering lantern light:
Captain the Comte d'Yvoir:
I am told that I shall recover. It has been, so far, between us, only the sword; but I trust, one day, it shall be the hand. Luck was against me. Not your fault.
I send to you and to my daughter my respect and my good will. Until a more auspicious day, then, and without rancour.
Your friend the enemy,
Von Reiter, Maj.-Gen'l.
Karen, reading over his shoulder, pressed his arm convulsively. Tears filled her eyes, but she was smiling.
"May we send a wire?" asked Guild of the officer.