Fritz took them
all," interpreted George. "_Ecoutez, Mademoiselle_. We have beds.
_Trois lits. Nous les avons. Tous les trois. Oui. A la gare.
Absolument_."
Mademoiselle looked at Madame with a kink of her pretty brows. Madame
rose like a balloon to the need.
"No beds," she said very distinctly, with a rounding of eyes and
mouth. "No beds, Messieurs. No-o-o--_beds_."
Before George could recover John interfered. He makes a hobby of
cutting Gordian knots.
"Oh, what's the earthly use of telling 'em we have beds when they
can see for themselves that we haven't? They just think we can't
understand. Let's go up and take the rooms if they're decent. Then
we'll get the stretchers and put 'em up. That's the only sort of
argument we can handle."
Manfully George went to work again. And reluctant, and yet obviously
fascinated by his French, like a bird by a snake, Mademoiselle led
up the narrow stairs and into a sizeable room, clean as a pin and as
naked. On the threshold Madame washed her hands of hope.
"_Regardez!_ No beds. _C'est affreux!_"
George began again. He had courage. Whatever else Nature and luck
denied him there was no question of that.
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