That evening, with faint heart, he returned to the wireless office at the aerodrome and tried to continue his work, tuning up the wireless set ready for the official tests. But it was in vain. He was, very naturally, thinking more of Sylvia than of the elaborate and highly-efficient apparatus under his care, notwithstanding the fact that it represented the latest development of the Marconi Company’s system of instant communication, and was, therefore, of special interest.
Next day was Tuesday. At first he resolved not to keep his appointment with Mademoiselle Levie, who was to take him to see Monsieur Marvaut at his country house on the Semois. Yet Marvaut was the director of the civil aviation, and it was his duty to the Company to see him, if only for an hour. He had told Monsieur Guiette this, and promised to be back in Bouvignes for the test next morning, so that he could be rung up from Brussels.
Torn by stress of apprehension he managed to control himself sufficiently to meet Mademoiselle Odille when about seven o’clock in the evening she drove up before the Tête d’Or, in Dinant to keep her appointment. The thin-faced watcher was again driving. Meeting Geoffrey she laughed merrily, and asked:
“Could we have a more glorious evening? It has been perfect ever since we left Brussels.”
“Won’t you come in for a moment, mademoiselle?” Falconer asked.
“No, thanks. We’re late now,” she said. “I promised monsieur to get you to the château before dark. Come, get in.”
So Falconer got in beside her, and a few moments later they were speeding along the narrow, old-world streets of Dinant, past the tall Roche-à-Bayard, a rock in the riverside road, and on through the charming little village of Anseremme. Then by the winding road through beautiful country they went by way of Malvoisin and Monceau, down into the Semois valley, one of the most picturesque spots in southern Belgium, that country now remote and still undisturbed as it was before the Hun invader swept through it with fire and sword on his way to Brussels.
They had left the river and passed through a great dark forest when, in the falling darkness, the young man who drove the car—the same person who had watched Geoffrey in the Café Métropole—suddenly turned into a well-kept side road which led to a large country mansion, the Château de Rochehaut.
The door stood open as they pulled up, and on alighting, mademoiselle conducted him through a large but well-lit entrance-hall, upstairs to a small, well-furnished room on the first floor, where she left him, saying that she would go and fetch Monsieur Marvaut. The heavy curtains of purple silk damask were drawn, and the place presented a more cosy aspect than is usual in Belgian houses.
Suddenly the door reopened and Geoffrey stood amazed, for he met Sylvia face to face!