home and his mistress, but he was sure now. God was sending him. All would be well.
With a deep sigh the man lay back upon his knapsack. Once his lips moved, but no words came. Taps sounded, and he slept with the smile of victory on his pale face.
Three days later a footsore, forlorn Airedale limped up the shady avenue to the château on the Loire. Five minutes afterwards the actress's private secretary was reading the Colonel's love note to Madame. When she had finished, she wiped the tears from her eyes, and tied the note carefully back on the collar.
She noted that the War Cross was safe upon the dog's breast. She also noted a bullet hole in one of his ears and blood upon his face.
