He found it hard to tell her what message her father had sent, but he did.
"I am to go to Morteyn? Oh, I cannot! I cannot! Papa will be alone here!" she said, aghast.
"Perhaps you had better see him," he said, almost bitterly.
She hurried away up the stairs; he heard her little eager feet on the stone steps that led to the turret; climbing up, up, up, until the sound was lost in the upper stories of the house. He went out to the stables and ordered the dog-cart and a wagon for her trunks. He did not fear that this order might be premature, for he thought he had not misjudged the Marquis de Nesville. And he had not, for, before the cart was ready, Lorraine, silent, pale, tearless, came noiselessly down the stairs holding her little cloak over one arm.
"I am to stay a week," she said; "he does not want me." She added, hastily, "He is so busy and worried, and there is much to be done, and if the Prussians should come he must hide the balloon and the box of plans and formula--"
"I know," said Jack, tenderly; "it will lift a weight from his mind when he knows you are safe with my aunt."
"He is so good, he thinks only of my safety," faltered Lorraine.
"Come," said Jack, in a voice that sounded husky; "the horse is waiting; I am to drive you. Your maid will follow with the trunks this evening. Are you ready? Give me your cloak. There--now, are you ready?"
"Yes."
He aided her to mount the dog-cart--her light touch was on his arm. He turned to the groom at the horse's head, sprang to the seat, and nodded. Lorraine leaned back and looked up at the turret where her father was.
"Allons! En route!" cried Jack, cheerily, snapping his ribbon-decked whip.
At the same instant a horseless cavalryman, gray with dust and dripping with blood and sweat, staggered out on the road from among the trees. He turned a deathly face to theirs, stopped, tottered, and called out--"Jack!"
"Georges!" cried Jack, amazed.
"Give me a horse, for God's sake!" he gasped. "I've just killed mine. I--I must get to Metz by midnight--"