"It's for me," said General Vaugirard, as he looked upward. "This flying
demon, this man without fear, was told to report directly to me, and he
conies at the appointed hour."
Something of the mystery that belongs to the gulf of the infinite was
reflected in the general's eyes. He, too, felt that man's flight in the
heavens yet had in it a touch of the supernatural. Lannes' plane had
seemed to shoot from white clouds, out of unknown spaces, and the
general ceased to whistle or breathe gustily. His chest rose and fell
more violently than usual, but the breath came softly.
The plane descended rapidly and settled down on the grass very near
them. Lannes saluted and presented a note to General Vaugirard, who
started and then expelled the breath from his lungs in two or three
prodigious puffs.
"Good, my son, good!" he exclaimed, patting Lannes repeatedly on the
shoulder; "and now a cup of coffee for you at once! Hurry with it, some
of you idle children! Can't you see that he needs it!"
John was first with the coffee, which Lannes drank eagerly, although it
was steaming hot. John saw that he needed it very much indeed, as he was
white and shaky. He noticed, too, that there were spots of blood on
Lannes' left sleeve.
"What is it, Philip?" he whispered. "You've been attacked again?"
"Aye, truly. My movements seem to be observed by some mysterious eye. A
shot was fired at me, and again it came from a French plane. That was
all I could see.
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