"All of you remain quiet while I slip up and see what is on," he said, flinging back: "If your light is apt to shine through any hole or opening, better douse it or hang up covers. Make no noises until you hear from me." He was off, but not before the girl called to him:
"Be very careful, sir! We cannot spare you - yet."
"No, we can't, ma'am," remarked Blaine from the cot where he now sat upright with a bandaged head.
"Indeed, Sir," said the girl almost wistfully, "we cannot spare any of you. Just think, we have been here a week, and with more or less bombing going on each day and sometimes at night."
"May I ask, mademoiselle —" began Blaine.
"Just plain Miss," interrupted the girl. "Miss Daskam from Chicago!"
"Well, well!" Blaine was smilingly openly now. "That surely sounds homelike! Well, we're all Americans too. We were on an air raid and had a good deal of mixed luck. Blaine's my name; that's Erwin over there," pointing at the cot where Orris was grinning and smiling. "The chap who went out just now is Stanley. He is my observer. But our machine is smashed now and how we will all get back is more than I know. Eh, Orry?"
"Looks that way. But what's the use of worrying while we are in such charming company? I'm all right."
And to prove it Erwin stepped out on the floor, a little teetery perhaps, but once more himself. He made a not ungraceful bow.
"May I ask, Miss Daskam, how you happened to get cornered down here in this poor old chateau? It must have been a grand place once — but now!" He shrugged slightly, regarding Miss Daskam sympathizingly.