The officer bowed low and rode back to the head of the column. He was a
gallant man and John liked him. But his attention was directed now to
the house, an old French chateau standing among oaks. The German flag
flew over it and sentinels rode back and forth on the lawn. John
remembered the officer's words that a "person of importance" was making
his headquarters there. It must be one of the five German army
commanders, at least.
He looked long at the chateau. It was much such a place as that in which
Carstairs, Wharton and he had once found refuge, and from the roof of
which Wharton had worked the wireless with so much effect. But houses of
this type were numerous throughout Western Europe.
It was only two stories in height, large, with long low windows, and the
lawn was more like a park in size. It as now the scene of abundant life,
although, as John knew instinctively, not the life of those to whom it
belonged. A number of young officers sat on the grass reading, and at
the edge of the grounds stood a group of horses with their riders lying
on the ground near them. Not far away were a score of high powered
automobiles, several of which were armored. John also saw beyond them a
battery of eight field guns, idle now and with their gunners asleep
beside them. He had no doubt that other troops in thousands were not far
away and that, in truth, they were in the very thick of the German army.
The chateau and its grounds were enclosed by a high iron fence and the
little procession of carts stopped at the great central gate.
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