"Enough of this!" cried Chase, suddenly. "We don't want to stay here all night."
And turning abruptly on his heel, the new member of the Red Cross hurried away.
A few moments later the three uninvited visitors were ascending the stairway.
[CHAPTER VIII]
A MAN-HUNT
Some time previously a certain projectile had left a certain gun situated a certain distance to the rear of the German trenches, and this shell, no doubt owing to the correct calculations of a certain artillery officer, had exploded so near the Château de Morancourt as to destroy the upper portion of the tower. Perhaps it was this very same shell which had caused the French to decide that the château could no longer be used as an observation post.
"Let Americans not rush in where French officers fear to tread!" chuckled the aviator's son, as they entered the doorway leading to the tower.
Yet, notwithstanding his levity, the boy felt a certain sense of awe—of solemnity. There they were, in a place which only recently the Germans had made a target for their shells, and he fully realized that should suspicion be aroused, even in the slightest degree, it would mean another bombardment.
Had the builders of the ancient tower designed it for the purpose of giving the beholder a vivid impression of a prison they had succeeded well. The solid masonry and the long, narrow windows, heavily barred, through which the light feebly sought admittance, were all calculated to produce that effect.