“He still thinks it was a devil who lit in the oats,” she ran on, “so if you intend to stay here for some time we must think of a way of leading him to believe that you are not the person who came down from the sky. You must get some other clothes, and a pack, and walk into the clearing as if you had come in all the way from Boiling Pot on foot. I may be able to fix over some of his things so that he won’t recognize them. Haven’t you a hat? And is that your only coat? You must have been very cold up in the air.”
“I have a cap and a wool-lined leather coat,” he replied. “They are both hidden away with the engine of the poor old bus; and if I am wise I will hide this one, too.”
She looked at him curiously, and he returned her gaze gravely.
“This is a military coat, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes, a khaki service jacket.”
“You are a soldier, then.”
“An officer of the Royal Air Force.”
“I knew you were a soldier when I saw you asleep in the chair yesterday. I knew by that ribbon.”
She placed the tip of a finger on the left breast of his jacket, and he kinked his neck and looked down at it.
“The Legion of Honor. So you have seen that ribbon before.”