WORLD'S END

Sounds travel clearly over smooth water. They heard footsteps, people moving; then came splashing and, unmistakably, the sound of muffled oars. "They're coming after us!" exclaimed Lanny; and his tutor grabbed their oars and began to row for dear life for the shore, less than a hundred feet away.

Would the people on the submarine turn on a searchlight and open fire on them? It was something they both thought of, and they had a good right to be scared. But nothing of the sort happened. They got to the shore and crept out of the boat; then, safe behind rocks, they listened again, and heard the muffled oars, undoubtedly coming nearer - but a little farther down the shore. Very plainly they heard the rowing stop, and after a minute or less it began again - the boat, or whatever it was, was going back to the submarine.

"They came to get somebody," whispered Jerry.

"Or else to put somebody ashore."

"It must be an enemy. No French boat would behave like that." A moment later the tutor added: "Somebody on shore may be looking for us." That called for no argument, and the pair got up and started to climb toward the road.

"Look here," whispered Jerry, suddenly; "this may be very serious, and we ought to tell the police or the military. If anybody was put ashore, he'd be armed, and he'd mean business."

"That's right," answered the younger boy, in a delightful state of excitement.

"Do you know where there'd be a telephone?"

"In almost any of the villas along the road."

"Well, let's go quietly; and if anyone tries to stop us we'll bolt - you go one way and I'll go another. They can hardly get us both in the dark."

They tiptoed down the road, and presently came to a house with lights, and asked permission to telephone the nearest police station. The police ordered them to wait right there, which they were glad to do, and meanwhile told their story to a family of English people who were greatly excited. A car with gendarmes arrived soon, and another with military men a little later. They took the Americans down to the shore and asked them a hundred questions. There was no sign of any submarine, only Lanny's boat, which the tide was about to float away. Launches came, and men searched the shore, finding no trace of anything - but would there have been, on those masses of rocks? The two young fellows managed to convince the authorities of their good faith, and one of the army men said that it must have been an Austrian submarine from the Adriatic.

That was all they said. A curtain of silence fell about the matter; nothing was published - but there was a lot of patrolling by torpedo boats and "aerohydros" in the neighborhood. M. Rochambeau, who knew about military matters, said that the enemy's purpose must have been to put ashore some important agent who was too well known to come in with a neutral passport. Doubtless he would have a place of refuge prepared. The secret service of the Allies would be trying to find out who he was and what he had come for.

Besides the open war of arms, there was this underground war of spying and sabotage always going on; both sides had their agents in all the services of the enemy, and were spending fortunes to corrupt and undermine. The French had gathered up the known enemy aliens in the Midi and interned them on the ile Ste.-Marguerite, which lay just offshore from Cannes, and had been the peaceful home of some fifty nuns, and a place where tourists came to sit under the big pine trees and have tea. But of course there must be many Germans at large in France, posing as Swiss, or Danes, or citizens of the United States, or what not; they would be watching troop movements, perhaps planning to blow up railroad bridges, or to put bombs upon merchant vessels, or even warships. If they were caught, you wouldn't hear anything about it; they would be taken to some military fortress, and stood against a wall blindfolded and shot through the heart.

IX

The dread news came for which Beauty had been waiting many weeks. It was written by a comrade of Marcel's, a "ground man" whom he had pledged to this duty. The comrade regretted to inform Madame Budd that her friend had been severely injured; his "kite balloon" had been attacked by two enemy planes, and had been hauled down, but not quickly enough; some fifteen meters above ground it had caught fire, and Marcel had leaped out, and had been badly smashed up, also burned. He had been taken to the base hospital at Beauvais, and the writer could not say as to his present condition.

After her first collapse, Beauty's one idea was to get to him; she couldn't stop sobbing, and was in the grip of a sort of convulsion of shuddering - but she must go, she must go - right now, come on! She wouldn't even wait to put clothes into a suitcase. She had visions of her lover mutilated, defaced - he would be in agony, he might be dying at that moment. "Oh, God, my God, help me, help my poor Marcel!"